EPIPHANY

By Anna McLain

EPIPHANY
By Anna McLain

Franny squinted at the road ahead and swiped at the windshield as though that would dissipate some of the torrential rain that pounded the road. The merciless onslaught had started thirty minutes before and showed no sign of stopping soon. The rain blurred the evening landscape into a solid soft gray. The outer edge of the pavement blended with the dirt shoulder and grass beyond. It's like driving in the Twilight Zone, she thought.

She hit the steering wheel in annoyance. "Great! Great job, Franny! Rent a car to go see Cheryl's new baby and you end up driving through a Great Lakes hurricane!" She squirmed in the itchy new dress she wore. It crossed her mind that she ought to pull over and wait out the rain, but she was an impatient person and already late.

She punched the off button for the radio. It had issued only static for the past half-hour. "So, *this* is why Benton looked so surprised. This is why he asked if you checked the weather forecast, Franny. But *No* you were too hung up on getting him to look at your bellybutton! And now you're gonna drown!" she berated herself, leaning over to fluff her bangs in the mirror.

She squinted again and leaned as far forward as she could. She could just make out the taillights and rear-end of a car ahead of her. Silently, she thanked the Mother Mary and all the Angels that the guy was driving a bright yellow car.

"And who's the genius who didn't paint a white stripe on this hick road?" Franny whined. She was impatient with her sudden fear. What was there to be afraid of: the rain, not being able to see, the irrational feeling that if she stopped something would walk up to her car and she wouldn't see it until it was too late?

Franny eased her rental car closer so she wouldn't lose the other vehicle. Let *him* worry about where the road is, she thought and settled back in her seat. All she had to do was follow his taillights.

Abruptly, the car ahead of her swerved and fishtailed. The lights winked out and the vehicle vanished in the rain.

"What?" Franny exclaimed. She hit the brakes and felt the trunk of her car begin to slid toward the shoulder. Automatically, she eased up on the brake and turned into the spin. The car straightened out and she slowed to a stop not far from where the other vehicle had vanished.

Franny let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. It's a good thing Ray isn't here to grill me about my driving, she thought. She pulled to the side of the road and noticed that she was on a bridge. She glanced out the side window and turned to look out the rear. Rain. Foggy grey rain.

"So, where is he? What'd he do, beam up?" she muttered sarcastically. Then realization struck her hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She was on a bridge. The other car
had spun! It must've gone over the edge! "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, please don't let them be dead," she prayed and dug through her purse for her cell phone. She couldn't find it. Frantic, she dumped her purse out on the seat and pawed through the pile of makeup until it fell on the floor.

"Please, please, please, please—" she chanted, then turned on the phone and listened.

Silence.

"What?" she screamed, feeling tears form. "No service?"

She chucked the phone into the backseat with a growl of frustration. She started to feel lightheaded, closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing her breathing, hands over her face. After a moment her head cleared and she had more control.

"Okay, Franny. They're probably not in the water, but you gotta look." She slid over to the passenger seat, pushing the makeup onto the floor and, cautiously, opened the door a crack. Chilly rain sprayed into her face. She scowled.

"Of course," she muttered. "Just when I pay forty bucks to get my hair done."

Franny threw the door open and heard it hit the bridge railing. She squeezed out of the car, then struggled against the wind to the edge and looked over. She saw black water swirling. No car. She squinted at the bank, shielding her eyes with one hand. No car. Carefully, she put one foot up on the bridge rail and leaned out, holding on tight. Headlights under the bridge!

She gasped. "Lo base Mary, lo aiuta," she murmured. "Signore, che cosa faccio?"

The lights were nearly under water. She could make out the wheels and underside of the vehicle in the darkness. It was upside down. Disbelief and confusion hobbled her. She clung to the bridge railing like a punch-drunk boxer while the wind and rain pummeled her face.

Franny felt nauseous. She knew she didn't have time to find another phone or to drive and find help. The people in the car didn't have time. Someone would have to do something. She whirled
and looked up and down the storm-battered road. Empty.

*She* would have to do something.

After a moment's hesitation, she reached down and took off her high heels, tossed them in the car, then ran on tiptoe to the edge of the bridge and climbed over the guardrail. She didn't know what she was going to do, what she *could* do, but prayed that Mother Mary would tell her what to do once she got there.

Her feet sunk up to the ankles in the sodden grass. Mud squished between her toes. She grimaced in distaste, but kept going. She half jumped, half slid down the steep embankment to the small river below.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Franny," she told herself. Briefly, she thought of her new dress, muddy and ruined now. She reached the river's edge. Trees on the opposite bank whipped in a frenzied dance with the wind.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. Softly, she began to recite the words to the Lord's Prayer. "IL signore e il mio Shepard…"

The water had risen. The headlights were completely submerged. The overturned car was dented and smashed, but the windows were all intact. Steam rose from the muffler with each raindrop that struck it. Soon, the occupants would drown if they weren't dead already.

"Think, Franny, think!" she yelled, flailing her hands in the air. She stared at the overturned car and the churning, slow-moving black water. Branches, leaves and other debris twisted and twirled in a slow waltz through the glow of the headlights, bounced off the car and disappeared into the gray void of rain. The overpowering stench of muck and wet, rotting leaves dredged up from dark hiding places made her dizzy.

"I must be crazy," she whispered. "Signore, lo aiuto."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and swiped at the hair plastered to her face and the water streaming into her eyes. She looked around wildly, desperate for a rescuer, but she was alone with the roar of rushing water, the pounding of rain through the trees. "You can do this."

Using both hands, she pushed her hair off her face and stepped into the water. It was tepid and the bottom felt like stepping into thick pudding. She shuddered at the smell, like garbage left in the sun and at the thought of what kind of creatures might live in the muck. The car wasn't very far out. Carefully, she waded over to it.

"Hey, can you hear me?" she shouted and bent to look through the submerged passenger window. Her hair brushed the water.

Hands splayed on the inside of the dirty window. Franny started and nearly lost her footing.

She saw a woman's fingernails scratch at the window. Then the trapped woman began to frantically pound on the glass. The waist-deep water tugged at Franny's legs. She tried the door handle. The door opened an inch then stuck fast. Water seeped into the car. She yanked on the handle. It was a strange angle; her chin dipped into the water. The door didn't budge. She struggled with it but could not pull it free. Upon closer inspection she saw it was dented and smashed-in at the front. She would need the Jaws of Life to get it open.

She glanced at the other side of the overturned car. Maybe she could get the driver's door open. She scowled. The water was deeper there. She would get washed away before she could open the door.

The current slowly picked up speed. It sucked at her legs, trying to sweep her off her feet, breaking down her resistance. She was already beginning to tire.

Franny looked around wildly for anything that would help. The water was inching above her waist. Under the bridge she saw a pile of rocks and metal rods.

She waded over and picked through the pile until she found a rod the length of a baseball bat. Getting back into the water she slipped and a sharp pain radiated up her leg. She ignored it and
struggled back to the car. She stubbed her toe on a rock on the bottom and went under. She came up spluttering with a leaf stuck to her cheek and found herself five feet downstream. Sheer
determination enabled her to fight her way back to the car, still clutching the metal rod.

When she reached the side of the vehicle she collapsed against it, clinging to the underbelly long enough to catch her breath. Then she pushed herself off, stood back about two feet, raised the rod over her head with both hands and swung at the window. Despite the speed of the rod through the air, when it hit the water it deflected and wrenched her shoulder painfully. She barely tapped the glass.

She let out a roar of frustration. Why did it do that when it hit the water, she thought? There had to be another way. Her mind raced. Then she changed her grip on the rod and held it under the
water.

She held in a deep breath and rammed the rod straight into the window with both hands. The current tried to wrench the slippery rod from her grasp. She hit the window again as hard as she could; again, and again. Desperation took over her movements and she lost track of how many times she beat on the glass before it cracked. All she was aware of was being wet and freezing with limbs that burned and tingled as if she'd run a marathon and smelling like she'd rolled in a compost pile. Even the muscles in her neck throbbed. The combined roar of the rain and river created a white noise that seeped into her brain and nearly drowned out conscious thought. Her
ears rang. Her head buzzed. Her feet were numb. The roar reverberated through her bones.

I won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow, she thought, except, maybe for a long lavender bubble bath.

The window cracked. The glass marbleized. The water pressure shattered it inward. It crumbled into a thousand fragments; some carried away by the river. Franny was dunked as the suction of the water entering the car pulled her off balance. Tiny shards of glass nicked her legs like the bites of baby piranha. Frantically, she grabbed for the car and hung on, using it to pull herself back to her feet as the pressure inside the vehicle equalized.

Once she caught her breath, she found the water nearly up to her chest. Something grabbed her ankle. She screamed. It yanked on her foot insistently. She realized it was the woman inside the car. She turned her head to the side and dipped her face into the water, then reached down as far as she could and grasped the hand. The other woman gripped her hand so tightly her fingers went numb. Franny pulled the woman out.

She came to the surface, coughing, choking and crying. "My…husband…Levon, he's unconscious. Levon!" she screamed. Franny stared in horror at the car. The waves lapped at her neck and face. A floating branch struck her shoulder. She flung it away.

"We gotta get him out!" she yelled at the woman. "You gotta help me. I can't do this by myself!"

The woman nodded, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Okay." Franny thought for a moment. "I'm gonna dive under."

"Okay, okay, just hurry." The woman stared around her numbly, as if noticing the torrential downpour and rising water for the first time. She was taller than Franny and the river only reached her mid-section.

"He was in the driver's seat?"

"Yes, yes." She nodded. "I moved him so the seatbelt holds him out of the water, but I couldn't get him out."

The woman grasped the edge of the car tightly with both hands. They exchanged nods before Franny took a deep breath and dove under. The current was stronger near the bottom. Grit and leaves battered her face. She didn't bother to open her eyes, she knew it was too murky. Feeling her way along, she slipped in through the open window, bent her knee over the window's edge and stuck her hand up, searching for air.

The air pocket was quite large. She pressed her forehead against the seat, gulping in oxygen. She looked around wildly and saw the man, propped against the driver's window, suspended by the seatbelt looped under his arms. His face was barely out of the water. She stretched over and, taking a deep breath, unbuckled the unconscious man. He dropped into the water, causing it to slosh inside the car. A dirty wave splashed over both of their faces. Franny slipped her arms under him, holding his head in the air.

With rising panic, she tried to figure out how she was going to get him out of the car. Distraught, her tears welled up and spilled. She felt herself beginning to lose control and forced herself to
breathe slowly, eyes closed. A strange sense of calm came over her. Her breathing evened out and the buzzing inside her head disappeared. Levon would fit through the window, she decided. They were going to have to go out through the window; it was inevitable. He would probably inhale some water; that was also inevitable. She would have to do it quickly.

Franny took a deep breath, tightened her grip on the man, and submerged.

A surge of adrenaline gave her the energy of five espressos. She backed out of the car with the man in tow in one fluid motion. Finding her footing, she brought his face above the surface of the water that was now nearly up to her neck. The current had almost swept them past the rear of the car. Her foothold was precarious. The water tried to wrestle Levon from her grasp and carry them both away.

Franny heard splashing. The taller woman grabbed Franny under the arms, lifting her off the bottom and propelled her toward the shore. Together, they dragged the man onto the muddy bank.

"Is he breathing?" the woman sobbed.

Franny checked him. She was amazed. "Yes." She laughed. "He's still breathing! God, thank You! He's breathing."

The woman held him in her arms and rocked back and forth. The trio looked battered and filthy. The rain pounded the mud and debris off them in seconds. Franny grimaced as she noticed worms and leaves washing off the woman and slipping into a rivulet that streamed back
into the river. She didn't even want to think about what was washing out of her hair onto her ruined dress. She shuddered.

The woman leaned over and gave her a quick, tight hug, then cradled her husband.

With a sigh, Franny closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky. The cold rain-washed away the grime and fatigue and the doubts from her soul. Silently, she said a prayer of thanks and smiled.

Finis.