We slam against the bank, scrabbling for footing amid the slimy trash and broken glass. Pete groans as we pull him up after us. The night sky strobes with lightning, silhouetting the torn guardrail on the bridge. Rain spits down like bullets. Behind us, the choppy water closes over the car, gushing through the smashed windshield, gulping it down whole.
“C-cell phone?” Mandy tries to put pressure on Pete’s wounds. Everything’s so wet, so dark, Jesus, so much blood.
“In my purse.” The handbag is tangled around my neck. I claw at it, ripping my nails on the zipper.
I tear the zipper open with my teeth, tasting copper, and disgorge the contents out into the mud. Notepad, gum, water bottle, checkbook, cell phone—
I snatch up the phone with numb fingers. “It’s dead!” But it isn’t, it’s just turned off, it’ll be fine, I just have to hit the power button. My hands seize up into cold cramped claws. I can do this, I can do this.
“HURRY!” Mandy screams. Pete screams too, but the sound is nothing human.