The raft flipped.
Before the girls could surface the second boat hit the raft and flipped. Eight people swimming.
Duff put his camera down and waved his hands to stop the anymore rafts from entering the current. I stood up, looking for swimmers, counting heads. Smurf coached one of the girls and two of the guys into the raft with the swimmers from the previous flips. Isaiah snagged two girls with the bull rope, one of whom appeared to be bleeding from beneath her helmet. Probably caught a paddle.
“Mike!” I shouted. “Looking for two!”
He shook his head. “Right there!” he yelled and pointed.
In the wash behind Dimple a swimmer materialized. She jerked awake with the rush of air into her mouth. Her hands frantically cleared the hair from her eyes.
Smurf paddled into the eddy behind Dimple. “Fuck me,” he said, eyeballing me like it was my fault.
“One more,” I said. “Looking for one.”
“Collins!” Duff blew his whistle and pointed.
In the white foam pillowing in front of Dimple the last gurgling swimmer appeared, his eyes locked on the sky. He sank as fast as he’d appeared. The buoyancy of his life jacket kept him from getting swept free of the rock. He bobbed there, like a fishing lure.
Duff threw a line across the swimmer’s shoulder, a perfect shot. The swimmer didn’t respond. I got on my knees and blew my whistle, a prayer to whoever was listening. At that very moment I hated myself. Six feet away and not a fucking thing I can do about it except blow a fucking whistle.
“Rope! Grab it!” Duff blew his whistle and jumped up and down on the rock. “Grab the fucking rope!”
The swimmer made no motion, no movement at all except to cough.
“Grab the rope!” Duff slowly reeled his throw bag in, hoping the movement would attract the swimmer’s attention. Like trying to get a trout to notice a fly.
The swimmer washed up to Dimple again, then disappeared. I stepped to the edge of the rock and looked at Alex. She was on her feet with her hands over her mouth.
Duff blew his whistle again as he traded his throw bag to one of the geeks for a new one. Duff aimed and tossed it, another excellent shot. But there was nobody to receive it. The foam had swallowed the swimmer.
I took off my hat and threw it to Alex. Tucker County High School Baseball. One of the only things I grabbed when I left the house. Then I picked my own throw bag up, waved it at Duff, and tossed it to him. I yelled, “I need people in the water. Mike, get some of those guys in their boats.”
I pointed to the eddy behind Pinball. To their credit, the geeks scrambled. Maybe it was just to have the story to tell. Whatever. My hand was shaking.
I took my end of the rope, clipped a carabineer into the loop then wrapped it over my left shoulder and beneath my right armpit twice. I clipped the end Duff held back into the carabineer.
“Henry!” Duff yelled. “Collins! Don’t, man. Fucking don’t.” From the other side of Dimple Smurf yelled, “What is it?”
Duff said, “Stay in your boat and watch me. Got it? Just stay in your boat.” “Just follow the bubbles,” I told myself. “Follow the bubbles.”
I locked eyes with Duff on Vulture Rock. A thousand miles away. “Don’t let go, man.” I laughed when I said it.
And before he could say anything back, I dropped into the water to the right of the hole where I thought the swimmer was.
Cold washed over me and took my breath. The rush of current filled my ears. I fought to surface. The green of the deep pool gave way to the clear blue of late morning sky as I found my feet on the ledge. On the other side of the rock Smurf yelled at Isaiah to get the radio from the big first aid kit and to get on it.
I could no longer see the swimmer. I swept my foot through the current hoping he’d be close enough to grab.
“Do you see him?” I stood in the shallow water next to Dimple with my left hand on the rock. “Does anybody see him?” I yelled.
Dimple loomed next to me, same as it always had. The swimmer had vanished, swallowed by the hole below the rock. I turned, giving one last look at Mike on Vulture Rock. He shook his head ‘no’.
To deny why I was doing it would’ve been stupid. Jane drowning. Me staying up night after night thinking about how I could’ve saved her. I knew if I died saving this guy nobody’d be able to say anything about me not doing enough for Janie.
If I died beneath Dimple, with my lungs full of water, nobody’d ever be able to call me a coward.
“Do you see him?” I yelled. I wanted him to be out more than anything. “Fucking look!”
Nobody responded. “Follow the bubbles,” I told myself, one last time. “Look!”
I knew where he was. I didn’t need visual confirmation.
“Henry!” Duff yelled again. “Just wait!”
I exhaled deeply then inhaled through my nose, then repeated the breaths, hyperventilating so I’d be able to stay down longer.
I felt for the edge of the ledge with my foot. My toes hit the end and the current started to pull. I forced myself to keep breathing. “Follow the bubbles.”
Another step and the aerated pillow swallowed me. I succumbed to the fluid. The only thing I could do. The bubbles were all going the wrong way. Everything went down into the blackness. My lungs tightened.
Feeling my way along the underside of Dimple brought me to his limp body. The same current that threatened to rip me away held him fast under the rock. I grabbed the shoulder of his life jacket to keep from getting washed downstream.
I thought I could hang on to the rope with my free hand and let the current pull us both out, but he wouldn’t budge. I tried pushing off with my feet, but the river water was like concrete. Illuminated green water forced itself into my eyes and mouth, but I clung to him like a deer tick on a hound dog.
The air in my chest started to boil. I didn’t want to fail. Follow the bubbles. With options washing away I did the last thing I could and put an arm around his waist. The current pushed me into the rock, cutting my back and shoulders as I unbuckled his PFD. The green started to fade.
The first three buckles came undone easily, but the release of tension caused him to sink down until his chin pushed against the last buckle. Now more like a noose. I couldn’t get my fingers around the strap. I reached for the knife on my PFD.
My heart thudded wildly in my chest. No air. Didn’t want two bodies down here. Time ran away from me, the cold made me weak. Let go of him!
My plan was shitty. I’d end up just cutting his throat. I dropped the knife and released the rope, my lifeline, to free up both hands. My arms and legs felt nearly played out. I clamped my fingers beneath his armpits, forming an iron ring. His hair touched my face. I didn’t want him to be a person. If he was a person, he could die.
I felt so weak.
I shrank into the rock, paused, then pushed into the current with what I had left. I looked for bubbles.
But it was all black. The tiniest bit of green hid at the edges, but it faded fast.
Bad plan, Henry. Bad plan. Now you’re going to die too. The strength to keep the water out of my lungs left me and I started to cough. Inches above my face sunlight fell through leaves and splashed onto the river’s surface. A movie started to play in my head—in a single moment I knew everything I’d ever know. I saw every picture, heard every voice, every day in school, every birthday party. I saw everybody I ever knew. Nobody was dead. An unending calm came over me as the river’s surface rushed toward me. I didn’t fight. I didn’t cry. I didn’t pray.
It wasn’t until I slammed into Washover Rock that I realized we were free. My body tried to breath before my mouth could find air. More water washed into my nose and throat. Mike started to pull on the rope.
“No!” I yelled in between coughing fits, but my voice couldn’t find enough air to make any sound. My heart went off like a string of firecrackers. I waved my arm. “Help!”
The tug of the rope beneath my armpits flipped me onto my b
ack. I tightened my grip to make sure nothing could pull the swimmer from me. But hanging on to him was drowning me.
“Let go of the rope!” In my mind I yelled it, but I don’t think any words came out. Just coughs. Violent, never-ending coughing. The shore looked so far away. The water was cold. I didn’t have anything left. We dropped over a shallow ledge. Blood came from brand new scrapes on my elbows. Suddenly I realized I couldn’t hang on to him and save myself too. I had to quit. I tried paddling with my free arm and kicking with both feet, but the shore got no closer. I just wanted another second here. Another second to make things different. I’d give a pint of blood for a few seconds. For a few more seconds I’d live a whole other life.
I squeezed my eyes, shut them to the thought that he wouldn’t make it. My arm had to be iron.
Has to be. I can’t do this again.
From the eddy I heard a voice. Smurf paddled up to me. “Grab my loop!” he yelled.
Unable to respond, I clung to the swimmer like he was my only chance at redemption.
“Collins!” Smurf’s eyes found mine, snapping me out of my daze. He offered the loop at his kayak’s stern again, then paddled furiously to the left-hand shore while I hung on. On the hot dry rocks a flurry of hands pulled me from the water. More hands took the victim from me and moved him to a backboard.
Somebody patted my shoulder as he ran past, but I couldn’t see who. I sank into onto the sunny rocks, breathless, coughing up water. Life returned to me slowly.
After a few minutes Alex plopped down next to me. She was wearing my hat. She reached into the river and splashed cool water onto her face, then gazed upstream, at the cliffs and laurel. “You get paid to do this, huh?”
Alex wanted to hang out ‘with the guys’ and meet the rest of my friends despite my insistence I didn’t have any more. All I wanted to do was protect her from a sleazy dive bar, smoky and loud with neon beer signs and bug lights for ambiance. Not her kind of place. And not the kind of place her mother had in mind when she sent her to me for safety. For Alex I pictured candles and a waiter, maybe even some silverware. Definitely not fifty-cent tacos and dollar drafts.
And no more river stories. After today—rehashing the incident with the boss, paramedics, state park officials and the state police—I didn’t want to hear any more river stories.
Gravel crunched under the tires. A small puff of dust hovered in a shaft of light that lingered in the still evening air. The smell of grease and hot sauce announced to the world it was wing night, practically a holiday up here. Glossy green mountain laurel leaves shared space with hand-painted dogwood flowers on the sign in front of the bar. At the end of the lot were five or six ginormous pickup trucks, the kind driven by lumber company buyers and land guys. They were worse than the geeks as far as a sense of entitlement went. They wouldn’t let anybody near the pool table. They were brutally mean to the local girls. And they liked to fight.
Out on the patio, people bullshitted beneath strings of small, round light bulbs that erased the stars. Tiki torches and bug zappers kept people from drifting into the woods far better than they kept mosquitos away.
“Last chance to back out. You sure you about this?” It was a loaded question, because I wasn’t. I didn’t want to talk about Dimple, the river, and I sure as hell didn’t want to share Alex with all the guys she didn’t meet today. I didn’t want to share her with anybody.
Alex fiddled with a braid. The tiny blond strand fell over her high cheekbone, reminding me of the first time I ever saw her. Down at Black Bear after helping Jane get settled in at the Towers her freshmen year. I rode the PRT back up to Evansdale with them, even though I’d been parked in town.
Tonight Alex had gotten ‘dressed up’ for our outing—a sparkly little dress, make-up and strappy shoes instead of her ever-present cowboy boots. Too much for the ladies of the Wildwood. I wanted to tell her this wasn’t High Street and that she’d have a better chance of seeing a mountain lion eating a possum than one of WVU’s starting five. But I also wanted to tell her she looked nice, and couldn’t find the courage to do that either.
“Henry, everybody wants to see you, and I need to be around people laughing for a change.” She looked at her phone and seemed disappointed she didn’t have any texts waiting.
“I don’t know, I’m a little…” “Nervous?”
“No. Today brought back a lot of things, and—”
Before I could finish, the Jeep door flew open and I tumbled toward the parking lot. A pair of arms, thick as logs, caught me in a tremendous bear hug and pulled me from the vehicle. Alex’s surprise turned into shock.
“Smurf, here he is. Fucking hero is waiting for the valet. I told you he was going to get cocky.”
“Alan.” I struggled to free myself, but he was too strong. “Seriously?”
He said, “Duff, look at these flabby arms.”
Duff waited on the other side of the Jeep to get the door for Alex. “Just keep him like that, Alan. I’m ‘bout to buy this beautiful girl a drink.”
Alan threw me into the Jeep’s frame as I struggled to cover up my gasps. He said, “Heard about you and Dimple and all that. Big shot, huh?”
At least he’d said it with a smile.
“Good to see you. I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking,” I said in between breaths. “Alex Ramsey, meet Alan Straight. This is what you wanted, right? Meet the guys? They just keep getting worse after him.”
“Brother,” Duff said, “when he saw you with this beautiful woman he knew you were doing fine.” He picked his Yuengling up off of the gravel. Gray dust stuck to the condensation on the glass bottle. He led Alex toward the bar still dressed in his river shorts and Tevas, while Alex was dressed for New Year’s Eve.
Some of the people sitting at the picnic tables turned at the commotion of our arrival. For the most part we never did anything quietly. These guys were my fraternity, my band of bros. We wore the same uniform—river shorts, sandals and ball caps—whether we were grabbing pizza or going down into Uniontown. I’d known them since I turned eighteen. They’d become more of a family to me than my own. I felt good being around them. I didn’t have to hang my head and be solemn.
Smurf already had his arm around Alex’s shoulder, even though she was three or four inches taller. Cigarette smoke and the smell of beer came through the flimsy screen door from the bar. From inside I could hear my name being called.
“Get your ass in here.” Rich Kravnik yolped from over by the big TV. Like a dog could only bark, Rich could only yolp, otherwise you couldn’t see his lips moving beneath his big handlebar mustache. When I started up here he was like a Mongol warrior, but he’d gotten progressively less scary the longer I worked here. He was wearing a Molly Hatchet t-shirt. As I came through the door he yelled for people to get the fuck out of my way. “Rewind it!” he said as I shook his hand.
A couple of lumber guys in the corner laughed when everybody got quiet. Like they wanted Rich to say something to them.
A Bong-Squadder patted me on the shoulder as I pulled a stool out for Alex. I tried to get the bartender’s attention, but she was at the other end smoking a cigarette. The only drinks she knew how to make were PBRs and Jack and Cokes. But I guess the owner thought she was pretty.
“What’s this?” Alex leaned up against me and the guys at the pool table became less of a priority.
Smurf plopped down on the stool next to her. The familiar hiss of whitewater met my ears as I recognized the tape from this morning’s trip on the big screen. Rich cranked the volume on the TV.
“It’s the video from the trip,” I said, not sure if I wanted to see it. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Alex rested her hand on my knee.
My heart started to race and my breathing got faster, reliving it like this. “Like it’d really make up for Jane? It was stupid.”
Rich turned to me and said, “Shut the fuck up or you can leave too, you big pussy.”
Most everyone else hushed as
the tape rolled. The screen door slammed as a few folks came in from the patio. The lumber guys continued to shoot pool. Duff’s voice blasted out of the shitty speakers. For a second I felt pretty proud of the way I looked. My hand motions were fluid and confident. I even had a smile on my face. For a second, I must’ve loved my job.
My hands started to shake. I whispered into Alex’s ear, “I don’t know how I can go back on the river tomorrow.”
When the first boat flipped I tensed up. Things kind of got blurry in my head, and I kept looking for the guy who got trapped. I found myself holding my breath. The applause from the geeks on the tape came out of the speakers like another type of static.
The only people in the whole place still talking were the lumber guys over by the pool table. I looked, and adrenaline shot through me. I instinctively moved to block Alex’s view of that area, hoping to hide her from Darren Lewis, Billy’s older brother. Darren and two guys wearing Lewis Lumber jackets harassed a couple of pretty girls who worked for the state park. The tall guy was Danny Eddings. I played baseball with him in high school. I didn’t know the other guy.
“Here it is,” Rich said.
Darren and his guys looked at the TV. My first instinct was to turn away, but I couldn’t. Darren made eye contact with me and stood up a little straighter. He tipped his head back and finished his beer, an excuse to break eye contact.
I turned back to the TV in time to see me toss my hat to Alex. I looked scared, grabbing the rope tightly with both hands. Duff must’ve handed the camera off by this point, because the two of us were the only ones talking. The throw rope left me and ended at a disembodied point just off camera. When I shouted across the river my voice sounded angry, and it embarrassed me a little. One of the guys behind the camera kept saying, “No, no…”
Without warning I dropped into the river and immediately started feeling for the edge of the ledge. I yelled a few more times and the camera panned to Smurf. His face was white.
Hellbender (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 2) Page 5