Chapter 3 - The Weight of a Dangerous Stranger
Minna pulled with every ounce of strength left in her freezing frame, but nothing happened; the man seemed impossibly heavy, anchored to the car by his own mass and the crushing pressure of the water. Suddenly, the entire sedan shifted ominously beneath them, groaning like a wounded animal as it began sinking faster toward the muddy riverbed. “Leave me,” the man muttered, his voice rough, gravelly, and astonishingly steady despite the impending watery grave. “It’s a trap.” A wave of fierce, blinding rage washed over Minna, obliterating her fear and exhaustion. “Shut up and push!” she screamed, thinking instantly of her late mother, the crushing medical bills, the predatory collection agencies, the empty house, and the freezing, lonely nights curled up in the backseat of her rusted Honda Civic. Every drop of humiliation and anger she had swallowed over the past six months funneled directly into her biceps and core.
She let out a primal scream and yanked with a surge of adrenaline that defied her slender 110-pound frame. Whether fueled by pure adrenaline or the sheer terror of dying in a filthy river, the man found a shred of latent strength and shoved hard with his legs against the steering column. With a sickening suction sound, he slid free through the shattered window frame, tumbling out into the open water. Minna wasted no time; she wrapped both arms tightly around his muscular chest and began kicking furiously toward the muddy embankment. He was semi-conscious at best, his dead weight dragging her down, but she refused to let go. “Don’t die,” she wheezed, swallowing a mouthful of foul river water as her muscles burned with agonizing lactic acid. “I am not dying for a stranger tonight.” They finally reached the sloping, trash-strewn mud bank beneath the bridge, and Minna dragged him upward until both of them collapsed onto the cold, damp earth.
