The chugging rotors that had become such white noise over the past several days sounded like the trumpet of a cavalry charge.

Then, from above, he saw something in the light. They were lowering a rescue basket. They were trying to rescue him.

No.

Archie couldn’t even get a full breath anymore—his lungs were too tired, too full of muck. But he took in as much air as he could.

He’d promised himself that he could save her.

He dove straight down, pushing the icy water with all his strength, and as he did, his hand brushed against something.

He flailed toward it, grabbed hold, and swam for the surface.

Chapter 60

CHAPTER

60

Susan’s first awareness was of vomiting water.

It splashed onto the pavement beside her like coffee poured out the window of a moving car. Her belly cramped as she gagged, and she had a splitting headache. Her body hurt all over. And she was chilled to the bone, every muscle clenched with cold.

She could hear a noise. The same sound over and over again, and after a while she realized what it was:

“Susan?

“Susan?

“Susan?”

Why was someone saying her name? She was hungover. Or had the flu. Or was having a terrible dream. She needed her rest.

“Can you hear me?” the voice said.

It was Archie’s voice.

“Leave me alone,” she said.

“Do you know who I am?”

She mumbled his name.

“Do you know your name?”

What was his problem? “Susan,” she said.

And then it all came back. The river. The flood.

She looked around, her consciousness straining through the fog, grappling for details.

She was on her back on pavement. On a bridge. There were people kneeling around her. Archie. Random, clean-cut National Guard faces. They were all beaming, like they’d baked a pie.

Something felt funny on her chest and she reached her hand for it, and found a giant sticker, some wires. She saw the automatic external defibrillator on the pavement beside her, wires leading to her chest.

They’d resuscitated her.

Holy fuck. She’d been dead.

“You’ll be okay,” Archie said.

He was soaking wet. He’d done it. He’d found her and pulled her out in time.

Her brain felt like pudding.

“Thanks,” she said. And then she vomited all over his feet.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I’m wet anyway.”

She saw the lights of the ambulance before she heard the whoop-whoop of its siren. Her senses felt jumbled like that, her brain still struggling to organize information.

“Where’s Patrick?” she tried to ask. But it came out more like “Werspatick?”

Somehow, Archie seemed to know what she was talking about. “We haven’t found Patrick yet.”

The EMTs arrived with a rush of comforting efficiency. They peeled off the AED pads, wrapped Susan in blankets, and strapped her to a gurney.

“Carey’s dead,” Archie said as they wheeled her away.