SWAINS LOCK (The River Trilogy, book 1) by Edward A. Stabler Read Free Book Online

then flicked the lighter and played it over the pipe bowl,
drawing steadily. The flame drew down toward the bottom of the bowl
as an encircling orange glow rose toward the surface. When the glow
subsided, she exhaled and passed the ensemble to Miles.
    He tapped the pipe against his boot to empty
it, then ducked down to refill it for a long hit. A bud caught fire
and he nodded in approval, exhaling with a cough as he passed the
pipe to Des. “That’s good shit,” he croaked. Des dropped down and
Miles popped up, eyeing their perimeter. No one was watching. A
small cloud of smoke was forming in the car and drifting toward the
tops of the windows and the open tailgate window. He looked out
over the water upstream. They were halfway across the river.
    Des surfaced, gave him a conspiratorial
look, and handed him the dugout, pipe, and lighter again. He
forwarded them to Kelsey but she pressed them back, and in the
exchange the pipe fell to the floor and skidded under the seat.
Miles rocked forward into a crouch and twisted to reach for it, and
his back pushed the beams closer to the steering column. “Got it,”
he said, thrusting his arm further under the seat and grasping the
pipe. And instantly the car lurched, then started rolling
backward.
    “Shit, we’re in reverse!” Des said.
    “Shift back!” Miles said, but the gearshift
arm was pinned against the beams. He reached around them and tried
to pull them away from the steering column as Des leaned into them
from the driver’s side.
    “Hit the brakes!” Kelsey said.
    Des stomped her foot onto the pedal and the
car accelerated backward. “Shit!” she yelled. She shifted her foot,
stomped again, and missed both pedals as the wagon crashed into the
gate behind them. The gate held for a split-second before the
gate-post sheared in two at a rusty spot near its base. Carrying
the snapped-off post with it, the gate swung wide over the water.
The wagon’s rear wheels powered clear of the ferry and its
undercarriage dropped quickly to the deck. Momentum kept the front
wheels turning for another foot before the wagon stopped for an
instant, its fulcrum defined. The paving stones prevailed, and the
wagon’s tail fell with a powerful splash into the churning water
behind the ferry. A wave coursed over the tailgate and into the
car. The ferry’s transom scraped forward along the wagon’s
undercarriage, hit and spun the front tires, gave a parting smack
to the underside of the front bumper, and then left the wagon
half-submerged in its swirling wake. The car’s front end tilted
skyward as its tail sunk quickly under the weight of the stones.
Water surged up to and over the dashboard.
    “Windows!” Miles yelled, reaching past
Kelsey to claw at the passenger door. Kelsey groped through the
chest-high water until she found the handle, then spun the window
open. The river poured in, knocking her back toward Miles. Her left
temple struck the edge of a floating beam, and Miles saw a stream
of blood flow across her cheekbone. Only a sliver of air remained
between the car’s ceiling and the rising tide. Heart pounding,
Miles tilted his head to capture a breath from the vanishing air
pocket as water shot to the ceiling. It tasted like smoke. A
counter-wave from his left pushed the beams into his ribs and he
felt an arm against his lower leg, then a biting pain in his ankle.
Underwater now, he twisted blindly toward the window and spread his
arms. His right hand brushed Kelsey and found the frame of the
submerged window. He opened his eyes and saw brown water, his own
pale arm, the window frame, and Kelsey’s legs receding. Past the
windshield, he saw the front end of the wagon drop below the
surface.
    He gripped the edges of the frame with both
hands and pulled his head through the window. When his shoulders
reached the opening he looked up to see light refracting through
water, and he realized the wagon was sinking tail-first toward the
bottom of the river. Fuck! He tried to