With the radio going, I sat back, grabbing my sunglasses. The day was surprisingly warm for mid-June, the gauge reading eighty-four. Normally, the late spring season held on until we were closing in on July. Because of the lovely weather, I had my windows down, enjoying the fresh air. While I’d adored everything about living in the city from the incredible food to the music scene, the eclectic neighborhoods and festive celebrations, there was something special about the mountains in Missoula.
When I rounded a bend, I was given a spectacular view of the Bitterroot Mountain range. It had been years since I’d bothered to come home for even a visit, the last time only for a couple of days around Christmas. Maybe the fresh air would clear my head, the time spent allowing me to consider my options.
Not that I had any. While I was here, I’d spruce up my resume and update my information on Indeed. Since I was staying with my parents, I’d be able to save money. A win if I didn’t know my father was up to something.
I settled in, singing along with every song that came on the radio. While I might be a little off key, there was no one here to chastise me for being imperfect. Even when the reception grew hinky, I belted out a Billie Eilish song, one of my favorites. I hadn’t felt the need to invest in satellite radio either. Why bother? I usually took a trolley to work, preferring the sounds of the city to any musical group.
Now I might add the luxury item to my bucket list. When a shadow fell across the glass, I yanked off my shades and glanced out the driver’s window. Wow. When had the dark clouds rolled in? When I’d been lost in the pretense that I was enjoying returning home to Montana.
A rumble in the distance meant my father was right. A storm was rolling in. June was notoriously the wettest month in Missoula, but usually only rain. Nothing to worry about.
I continued driving, making good time. When the first drops of rain hit the windshield, I resisted rolling up the window. At least with the trees flanking both sides of the road, the scent of rainwater hitting the dark green leaves was fresh. Even the fragrance of wildflowers floated into the cab.
Popping on the headlights, I slowed down as I rounded another curve.
Jesus Christ. You would think the clouds broke free, the sudden deluge shielding my view.
The windshield wipers couldn’t keep up, swishing back and forth with a slight squeak from needing to be replaced. I hurried to raise the window, shocked at how fast the rain was coming down.
Yes, I’d seen horrific rains before, but not usually in Missoula. With my eyes darting back and forth from the road to the radio station, I tried to find one with weather. There was nothing but static. I almost dropped the phone when I grabbed it, hoping to see a few bars of reception. At least I could try to find a place to pull over.
Nothing. Not a single bar.
Great.
I slowed to a crawl, rocking back and forth as the water rushed across the road. I’d made it to the Bitterroot range, the location at the base of the mountains. On the other side was the Clark Fork River, which basically ran through the city.
In other words, there was little room for error and few places to pull off safely. I had to keep going. Leaning all the way forward, both hands were gripping the wheel and I was suddenly freezing, my entire body shaking.
This was bad. Very bad.
While humming, I managed to make it maybe two miles in ten minutes. At least here were no other vehicles on the road.
I rolled around another bend, noticing some standing water. Not too bad. A sign caught my attention. If I could make it another two miles, I’d reach my turnoff. There was no turning back. I rolled forward and the moment my tires hit the puddle, a terrible feeling washed into the pit of my stomach.
The water was too deep and in a split second, the truck started to shift sideways toward the drop-off to the river.
Holy shit. I caught sight of the body of water between the trees. The river was swollen more than I could ever remember seeing,the current rushing past at breakneck speed. There was already debris in the water. How in the world had the river overrun its banks so quickly?
I did what I could to control the truck, pulling my foot off the brake. My baby was out of control, the current dragging her toward the water.
No. No. No!
A shrill scream erupted as panic rushed in.
Before I had a chance to react, the truck was pitched forward, fishtailing as it was dragged toward a bank of trees.
With a sharp cry, I braced for impact, thankful when the passenger side took the brunt, even though I was jarred and terrified. “Jesus.”
Every creaking sound was a reminder I was in danger where I was. I took several deep breaths, trying to figure out what to do.
When the truck shifted again, I yelped, fighting tears. What I couldn’t do was to stay here. With my hands shaking, I unfastened the seatbelt and twisted in the seat. I wasn’t very far off the road and there was a higher vantage point maybe two yards away. If I could reach the area, I should be able to hike to the turnoff. There were a few houses in the area. At least that’s what my brain remembered.
I turned off the engine, grabbing my purse and shoving my phone inside. Everything that truly mattered to me was inside my bag. The clothes and laptop I could replace. When the strap was around my neck and waist, I tried the door. It was stuck.
Another wave of panic hit me, another slight scream when the truck moved again. I frantically rolled down the window,fighting nerves and uncertainty before hoisting myself out the opening.
I’d never felt so alone in my life.
