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“I wouldn’t find that hard to believe,” Moe said, “but we got our orders.”
The guy from the SUV gave a grunt and hefted the cinderblock.
“No! Help!” I yelled. “Helllllllp!”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Moe said to me. “Always the pain in the ass.”
“Help!” I screamed. “Somebody help me!”
Some cars slowed to look, but no one stopped.
“For crissake,” the SUV guy said. “Move her! I’m gonna pop a hemorrhoid holding this motherfucking cinderblock.”
Moe had me by one arm, and Shorty had me by the other. I was struggling against them, kicking out with the foot not tied to the cinderblock, but I was losing ground. They got me to the guardrail, and I could see the Delaware River dark and deep, swirling away from the bridge abutments.
I was still screaming and kicking as I was lifted off my feet, and I felt the guardrail against my back.
“Shove her over,” the SUV guy said.
“I’m fucking trying,” Moe said. “We should have tied her other foot.”
I connected with Shorty’s crotch and heard him expel a woof of air. He released my arm and doubled over. The SUV guy dropped the cinderblock and grabbed me. There was a lot of swearing and grunting and struggling, and I went over the side. I dropped about ten feet, heard something go thunk, and I hung there, twirling around in the breeze.
“What the fuck?” Moe said.
“The goddamn block is stuck,” the SUV guy said.
“Are you shitting me?”
“No. It got pulled into the guardrail when she went over, and it’s caught there.”
I heard more grunting and swearing and then a moment of silence.
“It’s not coming loose,” the SUV guy said.
“So cut the rope,” Moe said.
“I haven’t got a knife,” the SUV guy said. “You got one?”
“Isn’t there one in the car?”
“Why would we have a knife in the car? In case we want to cut salami? I don’t use a knife. I’m a gun guy.”
“Great. Then fucking shoot the rope,” Moe said.
I heard someone leaning on a horn, more swearing, and the sound of men running. There was shouting and car noise, but I couldn’t sort any of it out. I had my own problems. I was hanging upside down by one foot with my heart racing and the rope biting into my ankle.
I tilted my head to look up at the bridge and saw Ranger straddling the guardrail.
“Try to stay still,” he said to me. “I’m going to pull you up, but you have to stop twirling. You’re loosening the knot.”
I instantly froze, but I was still gently swaying, and I felt the knot slip. A heartbeat later I was in free fall. I caught a glimpse of Ranger flying off the bridge after me. I curled into a cannon-ball position, and took a deep breath a split-second before I hit the water. I plunged below the surface and came out of my fetal position disoriented. I felt myself being pushed up, and in the longest moment of my life I struggled not to breathe and suck in river water. I surfaced sputtering and gasping for air. I went under briefly and was pushed up again. I could feel Ranger against my back, his arm wrapped around me.
“Relax!” he shouted. “I’m going to float with the current and tow you in.”
I tried to tell him I could swim, but I was shaking and my teeth were chattering and I couldn’t get any words formed. By the time we reached the bank there were four Rangeman guys in the water waiting to help us, and an EMS truck and a police car were idling a short distance away, lights flashing.
I was pulled out of the water and wrapped in a blanket. Someone removed the cuffs. Ranger held me tight against him, his cheek against mine.
