Alice kept swimming, getting her second wind. Her legs went rubbery but they were still churning. Her arms wind-milled. She was only fifty feet from Jersey. She swam ugly but she was getting there, stroke by stroke.
The fifty feet became forty, then thirty, and she looked up, wondering how to get up onto shore. There were dark industrial buildings ahead, with a crumbling stone wall lining the riverbank. She couldn’t see more through the rain. She swam like a demon, ignoring the downpour. She closed in on the stone wall, ten feet, then finally five.
She treaded water for a minute, her chest heaving. The wall crumbled in parts, and she finally reached it, grappling the edge with her fingertips. It felt slick and cold, and she groped for a ledge between the stones. She found one and tried to hoist herself up. The messenger bag was a dead weight but she couldn’t let it go. She slipped back down, splashing into the water.
She tried again. Her fingertips raked the stone. She found a grip and pulled herself up with all of her might. She started climbing, wedging her hands and toes into the cracks. She clawed her way to the top and flopped exhausted on top of the wall, then rolled over it into the mud and scrambled to her feet.
She hurried out of the shadows and ran across a parking lot. It was a deserted industrial stretch, and she hurried past abandoned cars rusting in place. She ran along the street, and ahead shone the lights and attractions of the Camden waterfront. Rain ricocheted off the asphalt. Stones dug into her soles but she kept running. There wasn’t much traffic, and a minivan sped past her, spraying water and grit.
A sign read WIGGINS PARK AHEAD, but it looked too far away. She didn’t have time to waste. She had to get to the airport. She couldn’t keep up this pace much longer.
A cab turned the corner, slowing at a stop sign, and she bolted for it, tore open its back door, and shouted at the woman passenger, “Get out!”
“Hey! What?” The young girl edged backwards in fear, her short dress riding up. “Help!”
The cab driver twisted around, startled. “Lady, what’re you doin’? This is my cab!”
Alice yanked the girl out by her elbow, then slammed the door closed. “Drive! There’s five hundred bucks in it for you!”
“Bull!”
“Drive, I said!” Alice stuck a hand into her soggy messenger bag, where the bundles of money sat in a pool of water. She grabbed one and waved it at the cabbie, spraying him. “It’s wet but it’s green.”
“Whoa!” The cabbie hit the gas. “Where we goin’?”
“To the airport, and hurry.”