Black Water Read Online Free PDF Page A

Oh God. Oh God."
    She
was the girl, she was the one, she was the passenger, she was the one trapped
in the safety belts, no it was the door and part of the roof that had buckled
in upon her, she was upside down was she? thrown on her right side was she? and where was up? and where was the top? and where was the air? the weight of his body thrown upon
her too struggling and gasping for air pleading "Oh God" a sob in his
voice, a man's voice, a stranger's voice, you would not choose to die like
this, to drown, in murky black water with a stranger, but her right leg was
pinned, as in a clamp, her right kneecap had been crushed but she had no
sensation of pain, she might have been in shock, she might have been dead, so
soon! so soon! the black
water filling her lungs to drown her lungs thus the oxygen to her brain would
cease thus her thoughts would cease and yet her thoughts were detached and even
logical: This isn't happening.
    This
person, this man, his weight thrown on top of her—she'd forgotten who it was.
He too clawing and clutching and scrambling and kicking frantic to get out of
the capsized car.
    That distinct voice, a
stranger's—"Oh God."
    Not
in a curse but in a hortatory appeal.
    Had
the speeding Toyota not lost control on the hairpin curve estimating a probable
speed of forty-five miles an hour from the skid marks in the road and the
considerable degree of damage to the vehicle it would very likely have collided
with the railing of the narrow bridge ahead with a subsequent crash, a fall
into the water, a similar result. Or so it would be speculated.
    The
name of the fast-running stream was Indian Creek. You would not have thought it
had a name. In the marshy wasteland, in the seemingly uncharted swamp dense
with mosquitoes and shrill with nocturnal insects in a midsummer frenzy of
procreation.
    You
would not have expected a creek, as deep as eleven feet in some stretches,
twenty feet wide, running in a northeasterly direction to empty into a tidal
pool of the Atlantic Ocean, thus into the ocean, approximately two miles to the
east in Brockden's Landing.
    Am
I going to die? Like this?
    And no witnesses. And no other motorists traveling on Old Ferry.
    As
if to punish her for her behavior her performance as a self not herself:
not Kelly Kelleher really but she rejected such a thought, she
was not superstitious, she did not believe in even the Anglican God.
    He had chosen her. You could see that from the first. The quick rapport! the ease of their smiles! a girl
his daughter's age!
    Yes
they had surprised the others—a few of the others. Those who
knew. Disappointing Buffy St. John by saying they were leaving to catch
the 8:20 p.m . ferry to Boothbay Harbor.
    Actually,
as Buffy would recall, The Senator had wanted to catch an earlier ferry... but,
somehow, they hadn't left on time... The Senator had another drink. Or two.
    The
Senator and Kelly Kelleher his passenger had left the party at 17 Derry Road at
approximately 7:55 p.m . Which gave them twenty-five minutes to get
to the ferry, enough time if you drive fast and if you take the right route.
    Turning
onto Old Ferry was the mistake but it was an understandable mistake, you would
not need to be under the influence of alcohol to make such
a mistake at dusk.
    Old
Ferry, no longer maintained by Grayling Township, should have been officially
shut down: road out.
    Three
hundred acres of the swampland were preserved as the Grayling Island Wildlife
Sanctuary under a federal funding. Such birds as phalaropes, whippoorwills,
swifts, both surface-feeding and diving ducks, egrets, great blue herons,
terns, killdeers, many varieties of woodpeckers, thrushes, tanagers, as well as
the more common of northeastern birds. Such marsh vegetation
as cattails, sea oats, sedge, wool grass, pickerelweed, dozens of varieties of
rushes and reeds, jack-in-the-pulpit, trillium, marsh marigold, arrowhead,
water arum. Such animals as... Kelly Kelleher had in fact skimmed a
tourist flyer at