Sarah's athleticism stood her in good stead. She slipped through the rear window, and hung onto the car.
"Go for the branches! Climb!" He was afraid the current would take her if she held onto the car. He was scrambling back into the rear seat, then squeezing himself through the window. The car was pulling loose, trembling at first, then distinctly moving, rolling around the debris pile, and he was still half out the window.
"Peter!" Sarah shouted.
He lunged, throwing himself forward into the branches, scratching his face but feeling his hands close around large branches and he pulled his body clear of the car just as the current ripped it away, dragging it under the bridge.
The car was gone.
He saw Sarah climbing up the debris stack, reaching up for the concrete railing of the roadway. He followed her, shivering from cold and fear. In a few moments, he felt a strong hand reach down and pull him up the rest of the way. He looked up and saw Sanjong grinning at him.
"My friend. You are a lucky one."
Evans came over the railing and toppled onto the ground, gasping, exhausted.
Distantly, he heard the sound of a police siren, and a bullhorn barking orders. He became aware of the traffic on the bridge, the honking horns, the panic.
"Come on," Sarah said, helping him up. "Somebody's going to run over you if you stay here."
Trooper Rodriguez was still getting everybody into their cars, but there was pandemonium in the parking lot and a traffic jam on the bridge. The rain was starting to come down hard. That was making people move faster.
Rodriguez cast a worried eye at the waterfall, noting that it was a darker brown, and flowing more heavily than before. He saw then that the TV crew had gone. The van was no longer atop the cliff. That was odd, he thought. You'd think they'd have stayed to film the emergency exit.
Cars were honking on the bridge, where traffic was stalled. He saw a number of people standing there, looking over the other side. Which could only mean that the SUV had gone over the cliff.
Rodriguez slipped behind the wheel to radio for an ambulance. That was when he heard that an ambulance had already been called to Dos Cabezas, fifteen miles to the north. Apparently a group of hunters had gotten into a drunken argument, and there had been some shooting. Two men were dead and a third was injured. Rodriguez shook his head. Damn guys went out with a rifle and a bottle of bourbon each, and then had to sit around drinking because of the rain, and before you knew it, couple of them were dead. Happened every year. Especially around the holidays.
FLAGSTAFF
MONDAY, OCTOBER 11
4:03 P. M.
"I don't see why this is necessary," Sarah said, sitting up in bed. She had electrodes stuck to her chest and legs.
"Please don't move," the nurse said. "We're trying to get a record."
They were in a small, screened-off cubicle in the Flagstaff hospital emergency room. Kenner, Evans, and Sanjong had insisted she come there. They were waiting outside. She could hear them talking softly.
"But I'm twenty-eight years old," Sarah said. "I'm not going to have a heart attack."
"The doctor wants to check your conduction pathways."
"My conduction pathways?" Sarah said. "There's nothing wrong with my conduction pathways."
"Ma'am? Please lie down and don't move."
"But this is--"
"And don't talk."
She lay down. She sighed. She glanced at the monitor, which showed squiggly white lines. "This is ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with my heart."
"No, there doesn't seem to be," the nurse said, nodding to the monitor. "You're very lucky."
Sarah sighed. "So, can I get up now?"
"Yes. And don't you worry yourself about those burn marks," the nurse said. "They'll fade over time."
Sarah said, "What burn marks?"
The nurse pointed to her chest. "They're very superficial."
Sarah sat up and looked down her blouse. She saw the white adhesive tags of the electrodes. But she also saw pale brown streaks, jagged marks that ran across her chest and abdomen. Like zigzags or something--
"What is this?" she said.
"It's from the lightning."
She said, "What?"
"You were struck by lightning," the nurse said.
"What are you talking about?"
The doctor came in, an absurdly young man, prematurely balding. He seemed very busy and preoccupied. He said, "Don't worry about those burn marks, they'll fade in no time at all."
"It's from lightning?"
"Pretty common, actually. Do you know where you are?"
"In Flagstaff hospital."
"Do you know what day it is?"
"Monday."
"That's right. Very good. Look at my finger, please." He held his finger up in front of her face, moved it left and right, up and down. "Follow it. That's good. Thank you. You have a headache?"
"I did," she said. "Not anymore. Are you telling me I was struck by lightning?"
"You sure as heck were," he said, bending to hit her knees with a rubber hammer. "But you're not showing any signs of hypoxia."
"Hypoxia..."
"Lack of oxygen. We see that when there's a cardiac arrest."