I thought the screech of breaks and scream were part of my dream but now I am awake and all to aware of my reality. If I crane my neck I can see the road, the broken barrier, the marks in the dirt. The sound of the rain on the hood beats it's warning out to me. I must get out. I can see the water rising over the windscreen and feel it edge around my feet, I can see the reflection of Mary's face, contored and smashed. I do not want to look directly at her. A twig, some leaves and candy wrapper float by reminding me that as I sit here my changes of survival drop like a car in a river. I grab the torch from the glove box and swing, suddenly there is no more view from the passanger window, just a rush of water moving in.