Wild River (2 page)

“See how we bounced?” Tanner said. “That’s why we’re using this old plastic job.”

“You should have told me,” I said. “I thought if
we hit a big rock, it was”—I made my voice really deep—“‘Tough luck, Chuck. Heh-heh-heh.’”

“‘Tough luck, Chuck’? Where’d that come from?”

“This video game I was playing last night. Chopper Demon. It’s a motorcycle race. You go roaring along, making jumps and zapping bad guys. Then this skeleton on a giant motorcycle— Chopper Demon—comes along and wipes you out. And he yells things like ‘Eat dirt, Squirt!’ and lets out this rotten laugh: ‘Heh-heh-heh.’”

Tanner laughed. “‘Eat dirt, Squirt.’ I like that. How long did it take you to beat him?”

“I just got the game yesterday. Kenny let me borrow it. He hates it. Says he’s tired of losing and getting laughed at.”

“What about you?”

“I’m working on it. I was up till midnight last night. You have to go after the Demon early in the game. Mess up his tires and his gas. But he’s tricky. I’m still getting crunched most of the time.”

“If you worked half that hard—” he started.

“You sound like Mom,” I said.

Tanner laughed. “You’re right, Ryan.” He lowered his voice. “Shut your face, Ace. Heh-heh-heh.”

We floated along for a while. When we hit some quiet water, I blasted out with a song I’d made up:

“That’s bad,” Tanner said. “Even for you, that’s bad.”

I laughed. Tanner was Superstudent and Superhero, but I was Bad Song Champion. I made up the worst songs in the world. And my singing was even worse than my songs.

Hey, like my dad says, everybody’s good at something.

“This is great,” Tanner called out a few minutes later. “The Harrison boys riding on the Boulder River.” He used his paddle to flick some water on me.

The cold water made me jump, and the kayak
rocked a little. “Just so we stay
on
the river and not
in
it,” I said. “That water’s freezing.”

“Quit worrying,” Tanner said. “The biggest danger you’ll have today will be burning your tongue on a toasted marshmallow.”

But he was wrong. Very wrong.

“L
ift your paddle over your head,” Tanner told me. “Arms straight.”

I raised my paddle. “What’s going on?”

“See where your hands are? That’s where you want them when you paddle.”

Tanner was right. As usual. It was easier to paddle that way.

“Okay,” I said, “back there you said we were lucky. What did you mean?”

“We got a real break,” Tanner said. “The river’s a lot higher than it was last year. They must be letting extra water out of the dam. That’s why you see all the leaves and wood floating around. And that log down there.”

“Why is that a break?” I asked.

“Last year Brady and I had to carry the kayak a bunch of times. The water was too shallow. Besides, we should get a little white water now.”

“White water? What do you mean?”

“You know. A few rapids. A little action.”

“Oh, great,” I said. “Maybe we’ll get so lucky, we can flip over. Have ourselves a lucky swim.”

Five minutes later, I thought we were going to get that lucky swim. We hit some rough water and bounced around. Then we scraped a boulder. The back of the kayak swung around, and we ended up floating downriver sideways. Right into some more rough water.

The kayak rocked and twisted. We hit a wave, and one side of the kayak rose up. I thought we were going over. “Ride ’em, cowboy!” Tanner yelled.

We bounced a few more times. Then Tanner got the kayak straightened out, and things were quiet again.

“Tanner,” I called over my shoulder, “this is crazy What are we doing on this wild river?”

Tanner laughed. “Two answers, Ryan. First, this is
not
a wild river. A wild river is a river that hasn’t been dammed. And this one has a dam about five miles up the canyon.”

“It’s wild enough for me,” I said. “I don’t care what you call it.”

“Second,” Tanner went on, “what do you think we’re doing here? We’re having some fun. A little excitement. Instead of sitting around playing video games, we’re out here doing something real.”

I didn’t bother to answer. You can’t argue with Tanner.

We were in a deep canyon, steep on both sides. When I looked up, all I saw were trees and black cliffs. So I kept my eyes on the river, watching out for big rocks while I made up a new song.

When I was ready, I leaned back and blasted out:

“That’s bad,” Tanner said. “But not as bad as most of your songs.”

We were on smooth water, but the kayak started rocking. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“We’re fine. I’m going to be wiggling around for a while. Just keep us in the current.”

The kayak started bouncing and tipping. “What are you doing back there? It feels like you’re jumping up and down.”

“I’m getting ready to fish,” he said. “And I’m taking off this stupid life vest. It’s in my way.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“Hey, Ryan, we’re not going to flip. And even
if we did, the river’s not that deep. I could stand up anywhere.”

I tried to keep the kayak heading straight downstream. Sometimes that wasn’t easy. It kept turning to the side.

“Pull off to your right,” Tanner called. “I think there’s a monster fish in that pool over there.”

I shoved my paddle in the water and held it. The kayak turned that way. Then I paddled toward the shore, out of the current.

“Okay,” Tanner said. “It’s shallow now. Use your paddle to keep us right here.”

I reached down with my paddle. It crunched on sand. The water was only a foot deep. Tanner let his line float downstream.

Right away his pole started bouncing. “Got one,” he said. “I told you we’d have a fish dinner tonight.” He reeled in his line. The fish was only about five inches long.

“Not a very big dinner,” I said.

Tanner used a cloth to hold the fish. Then he
pulled out the hook with his special pliers. He held up the fish and laughed. “He wouldn’t even be a mouthful.” He dropped it back into the water.

“Will the fish be all right?” I asked.

“Sure,” Tanner said. “That’s why I use hooks with no barbs.” He reached forward with his pole. “You try it, Ryan.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’d probably hook the kayak and sink us.”

“Try it!”

“You go ahead. I’m no good at that stuff. Too many things to do at once.”

“Too many things at once? Come on, Ryan. You’re the guy who does his homework, plays video games, and makes up songs—all at the same time.” He flipped the line into the water, then shoved the pole into my hand. He used his paddle to keep the kayak in place. “Okay, now reel it in slow.”

Right away I felt a pull. “Hey!” I yelled.

“Keep reeling,” Tanner shouted. “And keep the tip of the rod high.”

I kept reeling, but the fish pulled one way, then the other. “I think I got the monster!”

I brought the fish up close to the kayak. Tanner reached out with a net and lifted the fish out of the water. “Way to go,” he said.

It was another five-incher. “Not exactly a monster,” I said.

Tanner dropped the fish back into the water. “Hey, you did great.” He nudged me. “And it was fun, right?”

“Right,” I said.

“So let’s see if his big brother is in there.”

In the next ten minutes Tanner and I caught four more fish and let them go. They were all little. Maybe it was the same fish over and over.

I had time to make up a new song:

Tanner surprised me by coming back with his own song:

“Cut that out,” I said. “I’m the singer, not you. Besides, my fish were bigger than yours.”

“No way.”

“Much bigger,” I said. “At least half an inch.”

Tanner picked up his paddle. “Let’s keep moving. The real fishing is down at Grey Pine Creek. We’ll camp where it flows into the river and walk upstream from there. You’ll catch so many fish, you’ll get tired of hauling them in.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“You’ll see. Creek full of big trout, and almost nobody fishes it.”

“Why not?”

“Too much work. It’s a long way in there. Steep. And then you have to hike back out.” He laughed. “Unless you’re smart enough to kayak in. And nobody else does that.”

“Why not?”

“Think about it, Ryan. All these boulders. You wouldn’t dare do it in a regular kayak. Besides, the river’s too shallow most of the time. We got lucky today.”

We floated for a while. It was warm in the sunshine, and Tanner took off his shirt. He caught one more fish and let it go. “Bigger,” he said. “But not big enough.”

I looked downstream. Then I took a really good look. “Tanner,” I said, “there’s nothing but rocks up ahead.”

He laughed and shouted, “Get ready for the chute!”

“The what?”

“The chute. River gets narrow for a minute. It’s like a waterslide. No big deal. Just keep going straight.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Tanner had put down his fishing pole and picked up his paddle.

I could hear the roar of water. That scared me a little. “It sounds like Niagara Falls,” I yelled.

“Relax, bro. It’s just a little waterslide.”

Up ahead I could see a steep cliff on one side. On the other side were big black rocks. In the middle was a little opening. I hoped our kayak would fit.

“Keep ’er straight!” Tanner yelled.

The opening was wider than I’d thought at first. But I couldn’t see anything past it. And the roar got louder and louder.

The nose of the kayak went straight into the opening. Then we were headed down too fast for me to do anything but hold on. We hit a pool at the bottom and shot ahead.

“All right!” Tanner yelled.

I glanced back. The chute didn’t look very high. Or very steep. But I knew better.

“That was awesome,” Tanner said. “Brady and I didn’t get anything like that last year.”

I waited a minute, then asked, “Tanner, didn’t that scare you?”

“Sure,” he said. “That’s why it was fun.”

“Maybe for you,” I said. “I’m no hero.”

He didn’t answer. He was getting out his fishing
pole again. A few minutes later he hooked a fish, but it got away. I kept the kayak steady in the current.

“Hey, Ryan,” he said, “that hero stuff—that’s garbage. The only heroes these days are in video games or comic books.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” I looked back at him for a second. “You ran into that burning house and saved that old guy.”

“I just happened to be there. You’d have done the same thing. Later on, they made a big deal about it. But it was no biggie.”

“I probably would have been too scared.”

“You’d have been scared, sure. Everybody gets scared. But that wouldn’t stop you. You do what you have to do.”

“Maybe,” I said. But I didn’t believe it.

We drifted along for a while. It was warm in the sun. Until some icy water splashed on me. Which happened every minute or two.

“We’re coming up on another chute,” Tanner said. He reeled in his line, then picked up his
paddle. “I think this one is shorter. Maybe a little steeper.”

This time there was no cliff. Just big boulders on both sides of the river. I could hear the water roaring. The sound scared me. Maybe not as much as the first time, but I was still scared.

We did everything right. The kayak was straight, and we were in the middle of the river. I lifted my paddle and braced myself for the slide.

“Hang on, buddy!” Tanner yelled.

Just as we started down, I saw something ahead. A big black log. Right in the middle of the chute. With a jagged end pointing straight at us. And it wasn’t moving. Not at all.

I opened my mouth to yell, but no words came out.