At the bottom he sloshed through the river, still pulling her along behind. The water was only inches deep, but the mud was tugging at her shoes, threatening to pull them off. The growth was dense and oppressive and she was thankful that he was breaking trail for her. Chills ran up her spine, sliding under the sweat that was running down her back. She was as frightened now as she’d been on the plane. She squeezed his hand tighter as he led her toward the road and safety.
“ Shit, I think they’re headed back toward the road,” the gravel voice from behind said, and Broxton answered her squeeze by gripping her hand even tighter as he picked up his pace through the shallow river, pushing low overhanging branches aside with his other hand.
“ Bridge up ahead,” Broxton said. “We have to go under.”
But when she looked ahead she didn’t see a bridge at all, just the highway above the trees and a place where the river vanished into the undergrowth beneath it and he was pulling her steadily toward it.
“ No,” she said, jerking on his hand and forcing him to stop. “Let’s climb up this side.”
“ That’s what they’ll expect,” Broxton said. “They might even have somebody up there waiting.”
“ Who?” she asked.
“ Don’t know and we don’t have time to discuss it,” he said, then he released her hand and turned toward the spot where the river disappeared under the road. “I hope there’s no snakes under there” he said. “I hate snakes.”
She shivered. “Me too,” she whispered, as he slung the bags over his neck and dropped to a crouch, making his way toward the dense growth.
“ Going to have to crawl.” He dropped his hands and knees into the water. She watched as he forced himself through the wet and slimy foliage that guarded the area under the bridge, and then she couldn’t see him anymore and she was alone. She heard the slight murmuring of people overhead and the sound of a siren off in the distance, but there were no traffic sounds on the highway, no cars whizzing by above. Traffic was stopped. She didn’t want to go in there. Maybe she could climb up on this side. There were people there, she’d be safe.
“ Hurry up.” It was the gravel voice behind her. “Not much farther,” it said, and it made her mind up. She dropped to a crawl and scooted through the muck and slime, pushing as much of it away from her face as she could. Her heart was racing, sweat chilled her skin and she felt insects crawling on the back of her neck. She wanted to scream each time her fingers curled into the muck, but she fought it back and pushed forward.
She was closed in by the dark, like a letter in an envelope and she was waiting for somebody to seal her in. Then she felt something else under her hands. The mud and muck had a bottom to it and it was solid. A chill rippled through her as she pulled a hand out of the river. She reached out to her left and shivered when she struck something solid. A wall. She thrust her hand above her head and whimpered when it touched the concrete top.
She was in a drain pipe.
Every ounce and fiber of herself screamed, Go back, but she bit into her lower lip, closed her eyes and plunged on ahead. Then she felt sunlight on her eyelids, and when she opened them she saw Broxton. She pushed herself out of the pipe as a great wave of relief flooded through her.
But as quickly as it came, it went, when she saw she had nothing to be relieved about. They’d gone only halfway. They were under the highway, between the lanes. There was another drain pipe on the other side. She was going to have to do it all again. She didn’t know if she could.
He leaned toward her and put his lips to her ear. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “You’re doing fine.” His whisper calmed and soothed her. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, trying to get control of herself. “That’s the way,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”
She shivered, but not as much as before. She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a place where trolls lived. Under the bridge, under the feet of people and the wheels of cars. A mythical, fairytale, dangerous kind of place. There were things here she didn’t want to know about. Creepy crawlies and slithering slimies, all chucky jammed full of poison. She wanted out and the only way was to slide through that other drain pipe.
He took her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze, then he turned away and went back down on all fours. She followed and again she was in the dark and again she felt the chili whillies shoot through her, but this time she wasn’t alone, because she grabbed onto one of Broxton’s feet as he crawled ahead and not God or the devil himself could have made her let go.
Then they were through it and on the other side. She let go of his foot and he took her hand again and led her up the embankment, onto the far side of the highway. Then she saw why she’d heard no traffic sounds. The car that hit them had itself been rear ended and the result was an accident on the bridge, causing traffic to be backed up in both directions. People were out of their cars, some were helping the victims on the bridge, others were in the park assisting the taxi driver and still others were watching, talking, laughing, having a good time, enjoying the excuse to take a few minutes off toward the end of the day. Most of the drivers were apparently viewing the accident more as entertainment than aggravation.
The BMW was sitting four cars back from the bridge. It was unoccupied.
“ Come on,” Broxton said, leading Maria over to the car. He peeked in the open window. “Keys are in it. Let’s go.”
“ You’re not going to take the car?”
He turned and faced her, smiled, and without a word, opened the door and tossed the bags onto the back seat.
“ But that’s stealing.”
“ Better hurry, before they come back,” he said, getting in. She hurried around to the passenger side. Broxton had the engine started before she had the door closed.
Chapter Six
Broxton threw the car in reverse and backed up till he tapped the car behind, then he shifted into drive, cranking the wheel all the way to the right, moving forward till he bumped the car in front. The accident on the bridge had traffic backed up for miles and the cars were packed in tight. There was only inches between bumpers.
The driver behind saw what he was trying to do and backed up a few inches, giving him that much more room to maneuver. Broxton stuck a hand out the window and flashed him the peace sign and the driver responded with a short honk.
“ Friendly people,” he said.
“ Seems so,” she answered. He liked the sound of her voice. It had a smile in it despite everything she’d been through.
“ Stop them,” a voice rang out.
“ You better hurry,” she said and Broxton backed up till he tapped the bumper again, cranked the wheel and moved forward, but he still didn’t have enough room to make the turn and get out of the squeeze.
“ Two of them and they’re running,” Maria said. Broxton didn’t see them but he heard the urgency in her voice and he jammed the BMW back into reverse, this time tapping the car harder then he’d done the last two times and this time the honk wasn’t as short and didn’t sound as friendly.
“ They’re getting closer,” she said, as he again cranked the wheel and bumped the car in front, this time pushing it a few inches forward before throwing it back into reverse and hitting the car in the rear. Hard. The driver behind responded with a loud, steady honk, not friendly at all anymore.
“ They’ve got guns,” she said and Broxton cranked the wheel and stepped on the gas. He hit the front car’s bumper with a hard glancing blow, but he was able to squeeze out and he turned onto the right shoulder.
“ They’re getting ready to shoot,” she said. Broxton put his foot to the floor and the BMW responded like the thoroughbred that it was, tires spinning, sending dirt and grass flying from behind as they flew along the stalled cars going in the opposite direction.