Page 61 of Merging Wright

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Playlist: “If I Die Young” – The Band Perry

[Jane]

My first thought upon hitting the water is—fuck, it’s cold.

My second—I am in the river.

The shore drops off quickly, and the water moves fast. I can’t seem to swim.

Instead, I catch the bald trunk preceding me into the water. Stripped of all branches and leaves, the dead wood rolls like a lumber log. This isn’t good. The tree heads toward the bridge’s underpass.

I’d closed my mouth as I went under, but my nose and ears are clogged. Sounds are muffled. The only noise is the roar of the water around me.

Could a fish be beneath me?

Do fish eat humans?

Will a fish mistake me for a giant plant?

My heart races with fear of being eaten versus the danger of being dragged down the river.

With a thud, the giant log stalls on the bridge footing. The trunk is in the way of me grabbing onto the bridge base. I can’t fight the current to go around the tree. I can’t risk swimming to another bridge support. Instead, I struggle to hold onto the large trunk, threatening to roll me under.

Maybe I can get on it, like a canoe.

With an arm draped over the tree, I attempt to wrap my leg over the slippery hump. I lose my grip and plunge beneath the surface. My ears fill again. My leg is stuck. This is really not good.

I lift my head, gasping for air. My boot laces have caught on peeling bark. With my ankle practically above my head, I can’t reach my foot. I twist and go under once more. River water fills my throat. Every scream for help is met with another rush of water.

I can’t breathe.

You can drown in two inches of water, if you panic.

I don’t want to die by . . .

Rushing river.

Deep water.

Fish eating me.

My head slams into something, and everything goes dark.

+ + +

Time passes in a montage of flashes.

My name.

Chest burning.

Throat aching.

Muddled sirens.

My name again.