Time slowed to a crawl. The unfamiliar feeling of going airborne once the car tore through the guardrail was almost like an out-of-body experience. We were floating - gliding - at a toxic speed. It felt like we were being catapulted to our death.

As soon as the car went off the bridge, the airbags deployed. It felt like I'd been hit in the face with a basketball. Joey grimaced at the impact of the airbags. He kept a steady grip on the steering wheel as we went down.

"Joey!" I screamed, watching the river we were about to land in get closer and closer.

I couldn't stay calm like he was. We were nosediving into deep water. I wished I had a steering wheel to hold onto, too.

I saw a flash of regret in Joey's eyes when he looked over at me.

"Try not to panic," he said in the calmest voice he could muster. "Just focus on getting out."

Try not to panic? What planet was he orbiting?

I attempted to steady my breathing, holding onto the door handle for support as we hit the water. The impact felt like being hit head-on in traffic. Part of me had hoped we'd get lucky and just float until a rescue crew found us, but that was unrealistic thinking and I realized a little too quickly how fast a car actually sinks.

Water begun flooding in, engulfing our feet in the floorboard. I tried to push the airbag out of my way, looking to Joey for help. He'd told me what to do but in my panicked state, common sense wasn't registering.

"Unbuckle your seatbelt," he instructed while fighting to undo his own. "Roll the window down and get out."

I did as he said, freeing myself of the restraint and pressing the button for my window to open. To my horror, it only went down halfway. I yanked the door handle several times but the force of the water wouldn't let it open.

"Joey, what do I do?"

The water, already up to our waists, started pouring through my partially open window, filling the vehicle faster.

Joey struggled to turn his body in his seat, still held by his seatbelt. He reached in the backseat, jerking his bag toward us. I tried to help by unzipping it and watched as he retrieved his ka-bar. The water level had risen to our chests and I was about to hyperventilate. Joey raised the knife to the cloth top of the convertible and slashed the material open faster than I could blink.

"Go!" he shouted, water up to our necks now. "Get out! Now!"

I hesitated. I couldn't leave him behind. He'd told me not to wait for him, but I was terrified of the possibility of him not following after me. He shoved me and I reluctantly did as he said, fighting the water to climb out of the car through the tear Joey had created. I took a deep breath, glancing back once to see him struggling to cut through his seatbelt, but the pain in my lungs told me I didn't have time to help him. I was going to quickly run out of air. I swam toward the surface as fast as I could, gasping for air once my face was clear from the water.

The muscles in my arms begun to give out while I powered toward land. Finally reaching the muddy riverbank, I pulled myself to safety, flinching when the rocks tore holes in my jeans. My sopping wet clothing made me feel a hundred pounds heavier. I laid back against a wall of dirt and rock, panting and trying to calm myself to no avail.

Looking back to the river, I saw bubbles rising to the surface. My first thought was that Joey hadn't been able to get out of the car. Facing my fear of deep water and the possibility of drowning, I mustered up all the strength I had left and pushed myself to reenter the water, fighting against the flow of the river to get back to the car. Halfway to my destination, I recognized Joey swimming toward me. He wrapped an arm around my waist and brought both of us to the water's edge, coughing and breathing hard.

I was overjoyed to see that he'd made it out, but my heart's intense pounding wasn't slowing down any time soon.

We crawled toward the muddy grass and Joey flopped down on his back. The sky was a vivid blue with big white puffy clouds slowly passing overhead. A chilly breeze sent shivers through my body. The water had been frigid and my cold, soaked clothes had raised goosebumps all over my limbs. The realization that we had no vehicle and that all our clothing and weapons were gone was starting to sink in. Now what the hell were we going to do? We didn't even have a fucking phone!

"We need to get away from the scene," Joey coughed.

People were gathered on the bridge looking down at the accident scene and off in the distance were the sounds of sirens heading our way.

I tripped on rocks trying to get up. Joey grabbed my hand to help me and we made a run for the nearby woods to get out of sight. Even though I was traumatized and almost couldn't wrap my mind around what had just happened, I was still able to feel a jolt of electricity when his hand touched mine. I tried to ignore the warm, inviting feeling, telling myself I had no business getting excited over Joey under those circumstances.

We reached the tree line and Joey's hand left mine. Part of me wished the trek to the woods had been further so I could've held his hand longer. I told myself I wasn't thinking clearly. The water had gotten to me, invading my lungs. That had to be it.

"Where are we going?" I panted, following him through the dense, prickly forest.

There were bugs everywhere and the terrain was a nightmare to try to walk through. It was humid and there was no end to the woods in sight.

Joey continued down what looked like the remnants of an old hiking or bike trail. There were small patches of scattered gravel in a mess of mud, twigs and leaves.

"We're going to get some clothes. I'm going to meet an old friend and see if he can help me out with a little firepower. Then we're going to get a new car," he listed off his plans between grunts, climbing over downed limbs.

"We're going to rent a car?" I frowned.

Joey raised an eyebrow, looking at me like I was an idiot. "We're going to borrow a car."

Yeah. We're going to borrow it and probably never return it, I thought to myself. I wondered what Joey's friend would say when he found out we'd wrecked his convertible and left it at the bottom of a river almost two thousand miles from where he lived. I didn't want to be nearby when they had that conversation.

We wandered through the woods for another hour until we came to a road that looked like it rarely saw traffic. Joey pulled me against his chest, ducking behind a tree when a game warden drove by. I was worried when we saw the truck's brake lights, thinking he might've noticed us. Thankfully, he was just slowing down around a curve.

"This is a nightmare," I groaned.

Joey's brief chuckle alerted me to how close we actually were to each other. Although we were still soaked and cold, I felt warm where my side met his chest. I looked up to meet his eyes and for a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in them. Obviously, my stomach was not yet ready to evict the butterflies.

"We'll make it," Joey tried to reassure me. "We got this far, didn't we?"

He had a point, but it felt like we were back at square one.

The invasion of chilly air against my body when Joey moved away sent me cuddling back into his chest. He looked down at me and embarrassment flooded through me. I forced myself to move away from him and we continued to walk down the road until we reached a small town. I felt like everyone's eyes were on us and our tattered, muddy clothes as we made our way toward an Exxon station.

"I'm going to use the phone," Joey opened the door to the convenience store. "Why don't you try to clean up a bit while you wait for me?"

I was reluctant to leave his side, half expecting someone to snatch one of us while the other's back was turned. I forced myself to go to the bathroom anyway and I was startled when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My hair was peppered with mud and grass, and my clothes looked like I'd been in a tornado. I looked like some sort of Louisiana swamp monster.

Outside the door was an impatient woman waiting to use the restroom. She knocked on the door seven times before finally giving up. I took the opportunity to wash my hair in the sink with hand soap. It was difficult to do and I was beginning to think the brown color of the water washing the mud out of my hair would never end, but it paid off. I cleaned off my hair ties and pulled my wet hair into a tight bun in hopes of looking a little less out of the ordinary. There was nothing I could do about my clothes though.

A knock came at the door again. Assuming it was the woman who had previously knocked, I finally snapped.

"Hang the fuck on! I'm having issues!" I exclaimed.

The chuckle outside the door informed me it was Joey.

"Ready when you are," he said.

I opened the door, trying and failing to smooth out the wrinkles in my ripped shirt.

"Remind me to never drive off a bridge with you again," I sighed dramatically.

I followed him outside where we sat down on the curb. I remembered it was Saturday. I had two essays due. I couldn't imagine how it would go if I tried to explain to my professors what had happened, as an excuse for them to let me make up my work later. They'd think I'd gone insane! Who would possibly believe my story? It would be more believable if my nonexistent dog ate my essays.

"I'm waiting on Mike," Joey spoke up. "We roomed together when I lived in Thief River Falls. He's going to pick us up and help us get what we need."

I wasn't anxious to meet Mike. I wondered if Joey had told his friend the truth about what was going on, or if he'd made up a more believable story.

By the time Mike arrived, the weather had shifted, the temperature cooling down and rain clouds moving in. Joey and Mike exchanged pleasantries and I awkwardly said hello. Mike looked surprised by our appearance but didn't comment on it.

We climbed in the backseat of his beat up Lincoln and I zoned out, staring at the cars, buildings, and trees passing by while the two men discussed their plans.

Mike pulled into a parking space at Goodwill and Joey pulled his wallet out of his jeans. At least that item had survived the accident. Mike handed him a credit card and said he'd wait for us.

"Why are you using his card?" I asked.

Surely, a plastic card could still function after being submerged in water.

Joey trailed close behind me into the store. "Because my transactions would pinpoint our location."

Joey insisted on staying by my side while I picked out clothes. I wasn't interested in finding cute outfits and we didn't have time for that anyway. I followed him to the men's section where he grabbed some jeans, T-shirts, and a few other items, and we went to check out. I noticed Joey kept his head down, avoiding the camera to our right while he paid for our clothes.

"All I have is the two," Mike said once we returned to the car.

He handed Joey two cellphones and chargers and we got back in the vehicle. I wondered what kind of work Mike was into that allowed him access to burner phones.

Joey went ahead and started changing clothes while Mike drove to our next destination. I tried to avoid looking at him while he changed but I could still see his reflection in my window. He looked a lot better with fresh clothes on, even though the shirt was two sizes too big, but his hair still resembled a wet bird's nest.

We stopped at a mall. I recognized the familiar Macy's sign on the side of the building. The sky had darkened more and it was on the verge of pouring rain. Joey thanked Mike for his help and I noticed Mike told him to hang on to the credit card, handing him a blue mesh backpack. I gave a small wave as he drove off.

"Now what do we do?"

Joey surveyed the parking lot, squinting as if that would make it easier for him to find what he was looking for. "Now we get another car."

"Oh god," I groaned.

He was going to steal someone's car.

Joey scanned the area, making sure there were no mall cops in sight, and started peeking through windows and tugging on door handles to see if anyone had left their car unlocked. He stopped when he found an old white Toyota that had the keys in the ignition. The driver's side door was unlocked but he didn't get in just yet.

"I'll be right back. Stay here. Don't talk to anyone," Joey instructed, jogging off toward an auto shop across the street.

When he returned, he held a screwdriver. He made sure no one was watching us and quickly removed the license plate of the vehicle we were going to take, as well as the plate on the little red car beside it.

"Joey-"

"I'm switching the plates," he answered my question before I could ask. "When they report their car stolen, they'll be looking for the plate number that's on the red car. The cops will never think this is the car they're looking for because it's not the plate number the owners will give them. Usually, people wouldn't notice for quite a while if their plate was switched, as long as you switch it with one from the same state."

The idea was genius. I wondered if he'd come up with that on his own or if he'd learned it from arresting car thieves.

He expertly reattached the plates, putting the red car's plate on the white car and vice versa. We then climbed inside the Toyota and Joey drove off. I kept expecting a police car to show up in the mirror, but we successfully made it to the Iowa state line a few hours later with no trouble.

"Where are we going now?"

I looked out at the vacant land that stretched for miles. There was no town in sight.

Joey turned on the radio, turning the dial several times only to receive static and turn it back off.

"I'm not sure, Jess."

The ride was silent until we passed through Cedar Rapids. I wanted to talk to Joey, but I couldn't find the right words to express how I felt. I decided to ask how he felt instead.

A deep sigh left his body and he squirmed in his seat to get more comfortable.

"Honestly?" He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read. "Like I've successfully acquired PTSD."