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.I finished e-mailing myself the article and jumped into Vicky.While in the car, I called Unc and Aunt Lorna.Twenty minutes later, the three of us nearly collided in the driveway.I ran up the steps, unprepared for what I saw.Sketch was kneeling at Tommye’s bedside, holding her hand.Running in behind me, Unc looked at Lorna.“Take Buddy into the house.”Tommye lay in bed.Her eyes were nothing but slits, her face was flushed in places and gray in others, and the room smelled of human waste and vomit.I placed my hand on her forehead and looked at Unc.“She’s on fire.”He knelt, sliding his hand beneath hers, and I dialed 911.I placed the phone to my ear, but she grabbed it and flipped it shut.She shook her head and motioned us both closer.Her speech was labored.Her mouth was cottony-white, her tongue swollen, and blood oozed from her mouth, nose, and around her eyes.She placed her hand on Uncle Willee’s chest and closed her eyes, catching her breath.“Do something for me.”Uncle Willee nodded.She opened her eyes, and they danced around the room and finally focused on him.She lifted her head off the pillow.“Baptize me.”“But I.”Her breathing was short and shallow.She shook her hand.“I can’t hold on much longer.”He pulled the sheet back, and I almost turned my eyes.Tommye had lost control of her insides, and the sheets were soaked—front and rear.Unc scooped his arms beneath her, lifted her off the bed, and turned to me.“Crank Vicky.”He carried her down the stairs and climbed inside, holding Tommye in his lap.We drove through the Zuta and pulled up to the landing where the water level averages from knee-deep to waist-deep.Uncle Willee nodded at my four-wheel-drive stick.“Are the hubs locked in?”I knew what he meant.I stopped, locked the hubs, shifted into four-low, and eased down into the water.The water level came up above the top of the wheels, then spilled into the cab, covering up our feet but stopping short of rising above our knees.I eased her across the sandy bottom, the slight current of the water washing over us.We steered around stumps, between trees, through holes, and Vicky never stuttered.It was as if she knew.We drove the half mile across the swamp bottom, then pulled up to one of the small streams that fed into the Altamaha—the stream where Unc and I had done most of our fishing.I knew it was deep.I also knew I couldn’t leave Vicky.I downshifted her into Granny gear—my hands below the level of the water—and eased down into the deeper water.The water rose over the hood, pushed against the windshield and up to my shoulders.Midway across, we bumped into something too big for Vicky to push out of the way.Her tires spun, dug into the sand, and I shook my head.We were ten yards from shore, but she would go no further.I didn’t know how long she could continue to run under water.As long as she kept running, the exhaust would force the water out of the engine, but I wasn’t sure about her plugs, distributor, or anything else.We swam out of her, and I helped Uncle Willee get Tommye to shore and keep her head above water.Her eyes were closed and her body limp.Uncle Willee picked up the pace, nearly running through the trees.Five minutes later, winded and wheezing, we reached the swimming hole on the far side of the Sanctuary.There was no moon.Clouds covered the sky and threatened rain.Uncle Willee stepped into the water at the edge of the swimming hole where we’d spent our summers, and Tommye opened her eyes.“Wait.”He knelt on the sand, her body spilling around him.She tried to lick her lips, but her mouth was mostly blood.She swallowed, caught her breath, and looked at Unc.“One last thing.” She focused on him.“Speak at my funeral.please.”He choked back a sob, then nodded.She pressed him.“Say it.”He whispered, “Okay.”“Lastly.” She choked and coughed, gasping.Her chest rose and fell.She recovered one last time.“Tell him.”Tears broke from his eyes.She poked him in the chest.“Promise me.”He nodded.Her head bobbed backward, and her body went limp.Unc stood, and her breathing grew more shallow.He tried to stand, but stumbled.“Help me.”I held her head as we waded in.Waist deep, we stood holding Tommye, her arms and legs floating limp.Unc tried to speak but couldn’t
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