Wild River (5 page)

I wrapped my legs around the log and held tight to the rope with one hand. With the other, I took the knife and started slicing. First I cut around the spot where the log had gone through. I made the hole bigger and bigger. Then I sliced up the side.

It was slow work. The icy water was pulling at me, and I couldn’t see what I was doing. But I kept reaching out and slicing. And slicing some more.

Then, all at once, the kayak gave way and smashed into me. I flopped backward and went underwater. The kayak was on top of me, holding me down.

It was like something out of a nightmare. I tried to dive down to get free, but the life vest held me up. I pushed and yanked at the plastic on top of me. My lungs ached for air, but I was trapped.

A thought flashed through my mind:
This is the goofiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m going to be drowned by a flat kayak
.

Then my brain started working again. I’d been flopping around like a fish out of water. I knew better than that.

I reached up with both hands and shoved the kayak to one side. Then I shoved it again. On the third shove, my head finally popped above the water. I sucked in tons of air.

My foot banged against rocks. I put both feet down and stood up. I was waist deep in the water. The kayak was off to my right, hardly moving.

I stood for a minute and caught my breath. Now that I was safe, the whole thing was almost funny Almost.

I dragged the kayak toward the far shore. It was heavy—flat now but partly full of water. Once I hauled it onto dry land, most of the water drained out.

I was ready to cut the kayak into strips to make
my
HELP
sign. Except for one thing: the knife was gone.

I turned and looked at the pool below the chute. Somewhere in there was the knife. The pliers too.

I flopped down on the rocks. I was too tired to do anything else.

After a few minutes, I jumped up. Then I caught myself. This was like playing video games. When I got in a hurry, I made mistakes. And I didn’t need any more of those. So I stood there on the bank until I had a plan.

First I checked to be sure the rope was still there. It was bobbing on top of the water, just like before. I went downstream and crossed where the water was shallower. Moving upstream, I stopped to check on Tanner. No change.

Then I went on and got my paddle again. I took off my life vest, waded in, and used the paddle to snag the rope. I kept trying to see into the pool. All I could see was bubbles, caused by the crashing water. But the knife had to be there somewhere.

After a minute I spotted something shiny about ten feet downstream. Those silver pliers.

I held on to the rope and slid into the water. The rope kept me from being swept downstream while I kicked out to the middle of the pool. When I was about five feet upstream from the shiny pliers, I made a quick dive and grabbed them.

For once, everything worked the way it was supposed to.

For the kayak, I had another simple plan. I’d cut strips to spell out
HELP
. I wrote the word in the sand and saw that I’d need thirteen strips—five long and eight shorter.

It wasn’t a bad plan. It just didn’t work. The plastic was too hard to cut. And I couldn’t cut in a straight line.

Besides that, I didn’t have enough plastic. Even if I could cut the kayak into thirteen strips, they would be too small. Nobody could see them from the sky.

All that work for nothing.

It would have been neat. A big yellow
HELP
sign.

I plopped down on the rocks and looked at the kayak. I found myself thinking about video games again. If something didn’t work—

I sat up straight. I couldn’t make a
HELP
sign. But maybe I could do something else. Maybe a big yellow X.

I grabbed the pliers and went to work. It took me a long time, but I managed to cut the kayak into two pieces. I dragged those pieces to the middle of the open area and made my X. A little crooked. But an X all the same.

If somebody flew over, maybe they’d see that yellow X. Maybe they’d wonder what it was and fly lower. Then maybe we could wave them down.

It wasn’t a giant
HELP
sign. But it was the best I could do.

When I got back, Tanner looked the same. His breathing was loud but steady. I knelt down by him and shouted his name. He didn’t move.

I sat in the sun and ate some more crackers and peanut butter. I kept looking up at the sky. No planes. No helicopters. Not even a cloud.

I wondered what time it was. Then I remembered that Tanner had a watch. He wasn’t wearing it, so it had to be in one of his pockets.

I picked up the wet shorts and started digging. “Tanner, wake up,” I shouted. “You’re being robbed again.”

I found the watch in a side pocket. It said twelve-thirty.

That couldn’t be right. It had to be later than that. I figured the watch was broken. But I watched the seconds tick off.

So it was only twelve-thirty. In twenty-eight or thirty hours, somebody might start looking for us. If we were lucky. And so far our luck had been rotten.

I glanced over at Tanner’s white face. He needed help soon. Not thirty hours from now. I had to do something. Something besides sitting there wishing for a helicopter to rescue us.

“H
ey, Tanner,” I shouted, “wake up and I’ll sing you an awesome song.”

He didn’t move.

“Okay, wake up and I promise
not
to sing. For a whole day. For a week. For a month!”

I hated just sitting there. I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t think of anything. Except to hang around and watch my brother. I wondered if I was watching him die. I tried not
to think that way, but I couldn’t help it. He’d been out cold for a long time. That was bad. Really bad. I didn’t need first-aid training to know that.

No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get rid of the terrible thoughts. Along with other horrible things, I started thinking about the night ahead. Somehow that scared me most of all.

I had the feeling that Tanner would die that night. I’d be sitting around, doing nothing, and Tanner would die.

“No!” I shouted, and stood up. I had to go for help now.

I was at the bottom of a steep canyon. I couldn’t go up the river. And I couldn’t go down. So I’d have to climb out.

I looked across the river, past the open area where I’d put the yellow X. I could see brush and trees and big rocky cliffs. I had to tilt my head back just to see where the cliffs met the sky.

But somewhere up there was a road. This morning we had been on that road. We’d looked down
from there and seen the river. If I could get up to that road, I could get help.

I kept looking up at those cliffs. Wondering if I could find a way up. I had to try. It was the only chance I had.

I worried about Tanner waking up while I was gone. I wished I had a pencil and paper so I could leave him a note. Just in case.

If he did wake up, he’d be thirsty. Maybe even hungry. I pumped the bottle full of clean water again and set it beside his head. I put the box of crackers next to it. And his watch. Maybe he’d wake up and wonder how long he’d been out. I hoped so.

At the last minute I dragged the whole dry bag over next to him. That way he could reach anything he wanted. And I fixed it so that it kept the sun off his face.

When everything was ready, I stood there and looked down at Tanner. “Hang on, Tanner,” I told him. Then my throat got really tight. “You better not die on me.”

I grabbed the sweatshirt and jeans Tanner had packed for me. I carried them across the river, then put them on. The dry jeans felt good on my cold legs.

I passed my X and started looking for a trail. Ahead of me were thickets of willows. Above them, the hillside was covered with bushes and trees. It looked like a jungle.

I kept having horrible thoughts. Like telling Mom that Tanner was dead. And wondering where he’d be buried. Those thoughts were like nightmares. Worse, because I was awake.

Trying to get those things out of my mind, I started talking to myself, even singing:

I found a break in the willows and headed uphill. Soon I was in brush higher than my head. I tried to hurry, but it was slow going. I zigzagged,
looking for openings, and ended up crawling most of the time.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking of the climb as a game. I was headed up the mountain, taking on the Mountain Demon. To keep away the bad thoughts, I kept singing about what I was doing:

I was breathing too hard to really sing. But I kept it up, even when I had to whisper.

The game and the singing worked for a while. But pretty soon I’d catch myself thinking about Tanner in the dark. And I’d break out singing again. Louder. Trying to chase away the nightmare thoughts.

After a long time, I came to an open area. No
bushes, no trees. Just a gigantic pile of rocks. I was happy until I looked up—and saw where the rocks had come from.

Above me were rocky cliffs. The same dark color as the rocks I was standing on.

I could almost hear the Mountain Demon laugh.

I tried to find a way around the cliffs. I stayed on the piles of rock and moved sideways for a while.

Nothing. Just more cliffs.

I stopped and looked up again. The cliffs weren’t straight up and down. There were cracks and humps and ledges.

Maybe I could work my way up. Maybe.

I had two choices. Either I went up the cliffs, or I gave up and went back down the hill. To sit by Tanner and wait for dark.

So really there was only one choice.

I scooted across the rocks until I found a good place to climb. Where I started, the going was steep but not straight up and down. Above that was a split in the cliffs, a crack that seemed to go all the way to the top.

I felt better. I had found a way out.

For a few minutes I had forgotten about the game. But I began to sing again when I started climbing:

I liked that idea. Same game. Different location. And I was still moving up.

I had climbed a few walls at the YMCA gym. (Tanner thought I’d enjoy it. Even when I told him I didn’t.) I knew how you were supposed to do it: you hold on with three—two feet and one hand or two hands and one foot—and reach with the fourth. But that’s easier on the gym wall. There are lots of handholds. And you’re wearing a safety harness.

I moved up quickly. I kept my eyes steady. No looking down.

For a while I counted. Then I started singing to myself as I climbed:

The same dumb song over and over. I was too busy to come up with anything else.

In no time I was at the bottom of the crack. The crack was bigger than I expected. And it was rough enough along one edge to give me good handholds.

I moved up at a slow, steady pace, singing that same song. I tried to keep my mind fixed on each move. But I still thought about Tanner now and then.

The crack started getting smaller. And my song got much slower.

Then I looked up but couldn’t see anything to grab. I glanced to the left. Then to the right. Finally I held on with both hands and leaned back for a better look.

Nothing above me but slick, solid rock. Straight up and down for at least ten feet.

I couldn’t go any farther. Dead end. The Mountain Demon had struck again.

I had to go back down.

Just thinking about it scared me. It had been hard enough going up, when I’d been able to look at each handhold before I grabbed it. Now I wouldn’t be able to see where I was going. And I was way up high.

I could almost feel myself falling. I held tight to the rock with both hands, listening to my heart beating loud.