Cold black water closed over my head.
The shock was absolute, a fist of ice that drove the air from my lungs and replaced it with the bitter taste of silt and iron. The current was stronger than it looked from the bank, deceptive, hungry, alive. It spun me like a rag doll, slamming me against a submerged rock that drove the breath from my chest. My injured shoulder screamed as the cold seeped into the torn flesh. The mark on my wrist burned even underwater, lighting the darkness in short, frantic pulses that seemed to mock my struggle. Each pulse was a heartbeat, a year, a piece of my life bleeding away into the black water.
20.
I kicked upward, my legs burning, my lungs screaming for air. I broke the surface with a gasp so sharp it tore at my throat. The vial tumbled in the air three
