Wild River (6 page)

I stayed like that for a minute or two. My stomach hurt, and I kept tasting peanut butter.

Then I thought about Tanner lying by the river. I had to settle down. He was depending on me. Even if he didn’t know it.

I took a slow, deep breath, then reached down with my left hand. Once I had a good grip on a rock, I reached down with my right foot until it hit something solid. Then I held on tight with both hands and slowly shifted my weight onto that foot.

That was the way it went. No more singing. No more game. Just one careful move. Then another. Then another. Always with two hands gripping hard before I reached down with my foot.

Finally the crack got wider and wider. I knew I was getting close to the bottom. I wanted to hurry. But I stayed with the same steady movements. And I didn’t look down.

Then both feet were on solid rock at the bottom of the crack. I closed my eyes and leaned against the rock. I had made it.

After resting for a minute, I started looking for another way to go up. I was still about forty feet up from the rock pile at the bottom. I hated the idea of climbing down there and starting over.

I was looking off to the side, and stepped that way. Whatever I stepped on crumbled under my foot. I stumbled in that direction and lost my handhold. I reached back, but my hand touched nothing but air. My stomach smacked the rock, and I went sliding down.

I tried to grab on to something. Anything. But I
kept sliding. And sliding. Down, down. My chin banged on something, and my head bounced back. And I kept sliding and sliding. All the way down to the rock pile at the bottom.

When my feet hit something solid, I crumpled into a ball. Little rocks, sliding with me, bounced off my back.

I was lucky. Instead of sliding, I could have tumbled backward and taken a fall. But right then I didn’t feel lucky at all. I just lay there on the rocks. I didn’t know how bad I was hurt. My whole body was shaking.

After a minute or two, my breathing slowed down. I started by moving my fingers. Then my hands. Then my feet. Everything still worked.

I was scratched-up and sore. My chin stung like crazy, and blood was dripping down onto my sweatshirt. But I was still in one piece.

I was through climbing. Maybe somebody, like Tanner, could have climbed out of there. But I couldn’t. I didn’t even look at the cliffs again. The game was over.

I turned around and started back toward the river. I tried not to think about anything. But I was sure the Mountain Demon was laughing his head off.

I couldn’t even go back the way I’d come. I lost the trail right away. So I crawled through brush again. And fought my way through the willows.

By the time I got to the river, sweat was pouring off me. I thought about diving into the water, clothes and all. But I caught myself just in time. My jeans and sweatshirt were dirty and bloody, but they were dry. Later, when it got cold, I’d need dry, warm clothes. I pulled them off, then waded in.

The water was too cold to feel good. Especially when it hit all my scratches and scrapes. My whole body was stinging and burning. Instead of swimming, I washed off quickly and waded across the river.

“Tanner,” I shouted, “wake up! I’m back.”

He didn’t move.

I flopped down beside him. “I’m sorry, Tanner. I
tried. I did the only thing I could think of. But I couldn’t make it. And I just about got killed.”

Tanner groaned quietly. He almost seemed to be answering me. But his eyes were still closed, and his face had that same empty look.

I drank the water I’d left for him. “Now what?” I said.

What else could I do but sit there and watch Tanner die?

I
reached over and checked Tanner’s watch. Almost one-thirty. I was amazed. I was beat up and beat out. But the whole trip up the mountain had taken less than an hour.

And now we were stuck. There was nothing to do but wait. And wait. And wait.

All of a sudden I was mad. Plain old ticked-off mad. “Tanner,” I yelled, “this is all your fault! Every bit of it! I didn’t want to come on this stupid
trip. And you knew it. But you always have to get your way.”

Tanner just lay there with his mouth hanging open. It was like yelling at a rock.

I used the pump to filter some more water. Then I sat down and munched on crackers. I kept my eyes on the river. I didn’t want to look at those cliffs.

Tanner had said that guys hiked in to fish on Grey Pine Creek. But the land had to be different down there. I couldn’t believe anybody could hike in to where we were.

I looked across the river at my yellow X. I wished I hadn’t cut up the kayak. I should have tried to get it off that log and patch it. Then maybe I could have gone down the river to the mouth of that creek.

I might have found fishermen there. Guys who could go for help.

Even if nobody was there, I could take their trail and hike out myself.

But the kayak was cut in two. Like Humpty Dumpty, it couldn’t be put back together again.

Tanner moaned and shifted one leg. “Tanner!” I shouted. “Tanner! Can you hear me?”

His face had the same dead-man look. But at least he’d moved. That seemed like a good sign.

I looked up at the empty sky. No helicopters. No miracles in sight.

Then I looked back at Tanner, stretched out on that green mattress. Seeing him like that reminded me of something. Last summer my friend Kenny and I had blown up air mattresses and used them in his swimming pool. Most of the time we just lay on them and soaked up the sun. But sometimes we played battleship and tried to knock each other into the water.

I ran over to the dry bag. Who needed a kayak? I had an air-mattress battleship.

I unrolled the other mattress and started blowing. Five breaths, then rest a second. Then five more.

Everything seemed possible now. I’d head down the river and get help at Grey Pine Creek.

I felt good about the new plan. But I also felt a little stupid. I should have thought of this plan first. That way I could have skipped that whole rotten climb. And that slide down the mountain that had scraped off half my skin.

And I wouldn’t have wasted all that time. If I’d been smarter, I might have been at Grey Pine Creek already.

Once the mattress was full, I put water and crackers next to Tanner’s head and put the dry bag back in place.

“Hang in there, Tanner,” I said. “This time I won’t be back without help.” As soon as I said that, I started to get scared. If I went down the river, Tanner was stuck here by himself. What if he woke up and needed my help?

But Tanner needed a doctor now. Today. Not tomorrow or Monday. I still had the feeling that he wouldn’t make it through the night unless I got help.

I grabbed the mattress. I was going down the
river. It might be another mistake. I’d made plenty of them already. But I had to try. I wasn’t going to sit there and watch him die.

I decided to wear my sweatshirt and jeans. They were filthy and bloody, but I thought they might protect my arms and legs. Mainly, though, the jeans had pockets, so I could carry the pliers. I probably didn’t need them, but I liked having them. Mostly for the knife.

I shoved two granola bars into other pockets. Their foil wrappers would keep them dry.

Finally, I strapped on the life vest. It was still wet. And cold.

I checked Tanner once more. His face was shaded, and he could reach everything. “Okay, Tanner,” I said. “Take it easy.” My throat was so tight I could hardly talk.

At the last minute I grabbed his watch and slipped it on my wrist. I wanted to keep track of the time.

I pushed the mattress into the water, then flopped onto it. All my scrapes and scratches stung
when the water hit them. Lying on my stomach, I used my hands to paddle into the current, then grabbed the sides of the mattress. I was on my way.

The mattress held me up, but water sloshed over it. My chest and stomach were never dry. Somehow it was colder to have only part of me wet. Soon my teeth were chattering.

As I headed downriver, I started thinking about Tanner. Wondering if I should have left him. It was too late to change my mind, but I kept thinking about him up there alone. What if some animal—like a bear—came along?

I didn’t need nightmare thoughts like that. I had trouble enough. My mattress was a rotten boat. It kept trying to turn sideways. And it kept drifting out of the current. A few times I got spun around and ended up floating down backwards.

To keep from thinking, I started singing again. That got me remembering my last game. Being wiped out by the Mountain Demon.

But I wasn’t going to get wiped out this time. I
was handling the mattress a little better, and I was moving along pretty well. I figured I could beat the River Demon:

I didn’t sing loud, but I kept making noise. Sometimes it was the same verse over and over. Once in a while, I made up a new one:

Sometimes I had to use my hands to paddle. And I had to be careful not to move quickly. If I did, I’d get off balance and end up sliding into the water.

I checked the watch every few minutes. And I kept looking ahead for Grey Pine Creek. It couldn’t be that far. That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.

Floating along, I heard something. I stopped singing and listened. That sickening roar. No way to mistake it. I jammed down my hand to turn the mattress and paddled into shallow water.

When I stood up, the roaring was louder. And I could see the place where the river narrowed. Another chute.

I was taking no chances. No more chutes for me. I hurried to shore, dragging the mattress behind me.

Right away I had to decide. I was going around the chute. No question about that. But should I let the air out of the mattress?

It was already two-fifteen. I hated to take the time—and the energy—to blow up the mattress again.

I tried carrying it. But that wasn’t easy. For a while I held it against my side with one hand. Then I bent forward and walked with it on my back, using both hands to hold it in place. That worked until I needed a hand for climbing.

I finally gave in and let out the air and rolled it
up. That way I could carry it under one arm and use both hands if I needed to. And I did need to in a few spots.

I climbed over boulders, then down through brush. I didn’t get a good look at the chute until I was below it. It was a little steep but not very long. I figured I could have handled the trip down. And I would have saved fifteen minutes.

But I had made it past a bad spot. I felt good about that. The River Demon wasn’t going to stop me.

I blew up the mattress again and waded back into the river. My clothes had dried a little by then. So the water froze me all over again. Right away I started to sing:

A stupid song. Especially when I sang it over and over. But it kept me from thinking—most of the time.

I was learning to handle the mattress. Slow movements. Short strokes. I stayed in the current and floated along.

After a while I relaxed a little. Laid my head sideways on the mattress to rest my neck. I even quit singing. I started thinking about the campground up ahead. And the guys who would go for help.

By the time I heard the roar, it was too late. I shoved a cupped hand into the water, and the mattress turned sideways. I felt it sliding across my stomach. I tried to grab on, but I was off balance by then. The far side of the mattress rose into the air, and I was dumped into the water.

I must have been yelling, because my mouth was wide open when I went under. Water filled my mouth and nose, choking me. In just a second, the life vest popped me up to the surface, coughing and spitting.

I was moving fast by then, swept along by the current. I reached down with my feet but couldn’t touch bottom.

I looked ahead and saw the mattress disappear into the chute. I was about a second behind it.

I leaned back and got my feet in front of me. If I banged into a rock, I wanted to do it with my shoes. Not my head.

Then I was in the chute. It was all noise and splashing water. I was thrown one way, then the other. My shoulder bounced off a rock. All I could do was clench my teeth and wait for it to be over.

The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Suddenly the roar was behind me. I looked up and saw the mattress off to the side. I swam over to it and hauled it into knee-deep water. Then I flopped down onto it and eased into the current.

I didn’t look back at the chute. I had no idea how long it was or how steep. And I didn’t want to know.

I’d been lucky. But I wasn’t going to try my luck again. After that, I kept listening for any change of sound. And I kept my eyes fixed on the river in front of me.

Ten minutes later, I spotted something green up
ahead. Not a natural green, though. It was the green you see on tents.

I smiled for the first time. This time I had won the game, beaten the River Demon. I’d made it to the campground.