The Last Bastion (Book 4): The Last Bastion

by K. W. Callahan

  “So what’s our move here?” Wendell asked, praying that someone, anyone had an idea.

  Wendell looked the most worried of all the Blenders squeezed inside the tent. He had been proud of himself up to this point. It had taken so much effort to control his fear of water and of drowning. Only Charla knew just how much the trip had bothered him. And he recognized that even she didn’t realize the full extent of the fear that had gripped him during certain portions of their journey. He’d even managed to find some enjoyment in their new island home, rationalizing that should he ever want to abandon their living location, it would only take a short boat trip across the smoothly flowing river to do so. A minute or two at most and he would be freed from his proximity to water.

  But now, his worst fears were coming to fruition. He found himself trapped on a water-created prison, a situation born from his worst nightmares.

  “The way I see it,” Michael said, “there isn’t a whole lot we can do other than sit tight and hope that the rain stops. With the current the way it is, we couldn’t venture out in the boats even if we only wanted to get across the river to shore. We’d be swept downstream so fast that we would probably capsize in the waves or be hit by some of the same sort of debris that Josh mentioned.”

  “But what if the rain doesn’t stop?” Wendell asked.

  “Has to stop at some point,” Patrick pointed out.

  “But what if that point is too late for…for…us?” Wendell finally got out the words, not wanting to say them, especially in front of the kids, but finding himself forced by the severity of the situation.

  “That’s a question I can’t answer,” Michael said, his eyes steely, almost glazed.

  Wendell could tell the man’s thoughts were elsewhere. He wasn’t sure where; maybe a place Wendell had no desire to go, or that he had already gone but didn’t want to return to.

  “For now,” Michael continued, “I don’t see any other way forward but to sit tight and hope this damn rain stops soon.”

  Wendell wished he hadn’t asked. He found Michael’s words worse than the man having said nothing at all. He needed reassurance, confirmation that everything would be okay. He’d been so strong recently. Now it was time for the others to be strong for him, but he wasn’t finding that strength, not in this situation. It seemed that everyone was just as frightened as he was. The thought of just sitting and waiting for the water to come to them was torturous to Wendell. And yet, Michael was right. At this point, there was no other good option.

  * * *

  Michael stood beside Josh at the river’s edge, now just yards from where their camp was positioned.

  “We need to get off this island,” Michael said. “If we wait much longer, the whole place is going to be submerged.”

  “The question is, how?” Josh shook his head. “You already said the current is too swift. I mean, look at it,” he gestured to the rapid flow, swirling and eddying past them. And look at all that debris.”

  “It’s too swift for the canoe and the fishing boat, but maybe we could make it in the kayak,” Michael suggested.

  Josh made a face of uncertainty as he considered the idea, tilting his head to one side. “Maybe, but even if you could make it, it’d only get two people across. Then they’d be stuck. It’d be too dangerous and take too long to try to ferry people back and forth to shore across the river. Plus, the kayak only holds two people. You’d have to send it back with just one person to be able to ferry someone else across. And I don’t think any of us are strong enough on our own to battle those sorts of currents. I don’t even know if two of us are. It’s just moving too damn fast.”

  “I know,” Michael breathed heavily. “I thought about that too. But what if we made a safety line?”

  “What? Like a rope or something hooked onto the kayak? I don’t think we have a rope long enough to span the river.”

  “We have a couple shorter ropes. We could knot them together.”

  “They’d better be damn tight knots,” Josh nodded toward the current. “That current looks strong enough to take you a half mile or more downstream in just a few minutes.”

  A moment of silence passed between the two men as each contemplated their own thoughts.

  “So okay,” Josh picked up where Michael had left off with his point, “you get your tether tied onto the kayak so that you can pull the boat back to shore if something goes wrong. Then what? We’re still in the same predicament. The current is too doggone strong to fight. We’ll just end up having to haul the people in the kayak back to the island with the tether when they can’t make it across.”

  “No,” Michael shook his head. “I was thinking that if we could get the kayak across the river just once, we could tie the tether off to a tree on the other side. It would create a sort of guideline. Then we could use the guideline to help us get the other boats across.”

  “Ohhhh,” Josh drawled, nodding as he contemplated the theory. “That’s a pretty good idea,” he said after several seconds. “You know what? That might actually work.”

  “It’s the only thing I can come up with.”

  “Better than anything I’ve got,” Josh admitted. “Better than anything anyone else has got too,” he added.

  After another moment of standing in the pouring rain, staring out across the raging torrent the river had become, Josh said, “So I assume that as the camp’s strongest paddlers, this task would fall to me and Patrick?”

  His question was met with a grim smile and sad eyes from Michael.

  Josh nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Well, I’m in if Patrick’s in,” he said in as upbeat a tone as he could muster.

  Michael put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks,” was all he said.

  * * *

  No one was pleased with the tether idea to ferry the Blenders across the river, but it seemed to be the only viable option. And all of the Blenders came out in the driving rain to support the effort.

  Michael didn’t want to soak the entire camp, but at the same time, he felt it a pertinent idea to have all hands on deck just in case they were needed.

  Should they be successful in their tether efforts, it was going to be a race to get their camp broken down, packed up, and across the river as quickly as possible. But he didn’t want to get ahead of themselves. Getting the kayak across the river and the tether in place was the first step. Then they could worry about all the rest.

  “Looks like everything is set,” Michael gave the end of the rope a stiff tug where it was attached to a nearby tree.

  The group had formed up at what remained of the northernmost tip of the island, a significant portion of which was now under water. The beach was completely gone, and the floodwaters were continuing to creep their way into the foliage that divided the sandy shore from the heavier woodland at the island’s center.

  There was a slight dead zone in the river’s current at the tip of the island where the river broke around it. Michael felt that starting the kayak as far north as they possibly could, would give the paddlers more latitude against the current. It would then take them longer to be swept downriver as they made their crossing. Therefore, the paddlers would head due north initially, straight out from the end of the island through the current’s dead zone. This would give them some extra room before turning into the current.

  As soon as the current became too difficult to paddle against, the kayak would hook an immediate left, still angling upriver if possible. Michael felt that this would give them enough of a head start against the current that they wouldn’t run out of tether before they made it across to the riverbank opposite them. But he had no idea if the plan would work. It was all theory at this point. It depended on so many unknown factors that there was no real way of knowing until the two men were already in peril.

  “I think we’re good to go,” Josh gave the rope a tug against where it was attached to the end of the kayak.

  “You should have plenty of
rope to get across the river,” Michael said. “If you can’t make it, though, and you get pulled downriver, the tree will stop your progress. And if you can’t paddle back upstream, we’ll tow you back in.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Josh tried to appear upbeat but sounded less than certain.

  Hugs, well wishes, and words of encouragement were quickly exchanged among the group and the two men preparing to venture out into the raging river. Both were adorned in T-shirts, lifejackets, pants, and socks. They had shed their shoes and bulkier clothing to make it easier to maneuver in the water should something happen that caused them to bail from the kayak and be forced to swim for it.

  “Remember,” Michael said, “if the current is too strong or you encounter any other sort of difficulty while you’re out there, you just turn around and come straight back. We can always give this another shot later.”

  “Don’t know about that,” Josh looked up at the sky. “Losing light fast and we probably won’t have another shot at this until tomorrow morning.”

  Michael didn’t argue, not wanting to waste more time, “Just be safe out there,” he instructed the two men, one of whom was his son, the other of whom was like a son.

  “Will do,” Josh nodded along with Patrick, both standing with double-ended paddles in hand and lifejackets cinched tight.

  The forlorn group of Blenders watched solemnly, huddled beneath a nearby pine tree, their only shelter against the driving rain, as the two men climbed into and settled themselves within the kayak.

  Michael and Wendell shoved them off, and then stood watching the boat paddle away for a moment before rejoining the group.

  The kayak made good progress at first. The paddlers indeed found the water at the end of the island far calmer than the raging current on either side of them. They cut smoothly through the water for almost 20 yards before they began to encounter the full strength of the river’s current and slow. After another ten yards, they were paddling in place.

  Michael had warned them not to fight the current too hard right away. He didn’t want them over exerting themselves so much that once they were out in the middle of the flow they didn’t have the strength to push on to the other side or return to the island if things got too rough. Therefore, after the men paddled in place for about five seconds, and after some indecipherable words shouted back and forth between them, the kayak began to angle left.

  The kayak continued moving upstream at a 45-degree angle for about another ten yards before the full strength of the current made its presence known. The chopping swirl of the muddy river water caught the front of the kayak and shoved the bow so that it was perpendicular to the opposing bank. At this angle, the kayak began to be swept more swiftly downstream.

  The group watched in silence as the two men paddled furiously in an effort to get the kayak turned back into the current while at the same time make some headway toward the opposite bank. But progress was agonizingly slow. For every ten or twenty strokes, the men managed but a yard or two toward the opposite bank.

  Michael realized that if they could extend the tether, the men could simply paddle, angled downriver, and eventually make the riverbank. But there just wasn’t enough rope length available for such a maneuver. They had at most a hundred yards worth of tether, and that would easily be consumed well before the men ever reached the other shore. And then the tether would keep them from further progress and they’d have to be hauled back. Angling upriver was the only way.

  “Come on,” Michael waved for the others to follow as he moved to stay with the kayak as it began to be pushed past where they stood on the island.

  Everyone followed him, picking their way along the waterlogged island.

  Michael must have realized their predicament at the same time Josh and Patrick did. They weren’t making enough headway toward the bank and were beginning to run out of tether line. They needed more room to maneuver. After some quick shouts back and forth between the two paddlers, they turned the kayak so that it was headed directly upriver. They paddled with all their might, digging their paddles in against the water, straining as they worked to pull themselves forward. But their efforts were of little use. They were smack dab in the middle of the river’s main current and were still losing ground, albeit more slowly now.

  “Oh no!” Caroline cried, pointing upriver about 30 yards from where the kayak was working to tread water.

  Michael and the others turned to see a large log bobbing in the water, headed straight for Josh and Patrick.

  Michael cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled as loudly as he could, “WATCH OUT!”

  Patrick, in the rear of the kayak, must have heard his father because he shouted something to Josh who looked upriver.

  The two quickly adjusted the angle of the kayak, maneuvering it to the right to avoid what was at least a 15-foot-long log as it bobbed past.

  Michael breathed a sigh of relief. At the same time, he realized the danger the river, and the objects in it, posed. He was amazed at how quickly the log had moved downriver and how little time the kayak had to avoid it. He shook his head, not liking the situation. And now, he began to realize their mistake. They should have tied the end of the tether line off to a tree farther down the island but started their upriver journey at the same point. It would have given the kayak more line to work with as they were pushed downriver. But it was too late for that now.

  The log was past the kayak and well beyond the southern end of the island in just seconds. It took the Blenders a moment to redirect their attention back upriver. By the time they did so, it was almost too late. They were aghast by what they saw. An entire tree – a massive, hulking thing that outstretched, consumed nearly two-thirds of the river channel in which Josh and Patrick paddled – was rapidly approaching. Branches, many of which still had leaves clinging to them, jutted 20, and in some spots, 30 feet into the air. They created a sort of comb-like structure that was sweeping the river as it went, collecting an array of debris along the way. There were barrels, trash bags, smaller limbs and logs, and a collection of other junk strewn within the tree’s crooked arms.

  As soon as Michael saw the floating obstruction, he tried to yell to the kayak. But he found his voice strained after making his other calls, and it broke and came out hoarse and weak.

  “Come on!” he croaked to the others, gesturing toward the kayak. “Yell!” his voice cracked as he began an uncontrollable coughing fit.

  The others began to yell and to scream an array of warnings regarding the approaching tree, but their efforts were to no avail. The oncoming tree was moving too fast, and the men in the kayak saw it too late. They had just gotten the kayak turned, and were beginning to make their way back toward the island, when the first outstretched branches of the tree and the sea of junk carried with them swept by. They were able to dodge the first few branches, but then the tangle of limbs enveloped them.

  At first, all that happened was that the kayak was pushed farther downriver, carried along with the tree. But then the tree caught on an unseen obstruction somewhere below the waves. Whatever it had lodged upon beneath the raging current slowed the tree and caused it to rotate, its fingerlike branches acting like a giant hand, coming straight down upon the kayak and the men inside it. The stunned onlookers on shore gasped in horror as they watched their loved ones disappear from sight as the entire kayak was shoved below the water. Julia pulled Justin tight up against her, turning him away and holding his head to her bosom, sheltering him from the terrible fate befalling his father.

  The Blenders had been so enthralled with what was happening in the river that they had forgotten to continue walking to keep pace with the kayak as it moved downriver.

  “Come on!” Michael waved the others after him as he started to pick his way down the island in an effort to reach the spot where the kayak had disappeared. But then he stopped short, halting the others who jostled and bumped into one another.

  Michael was watching the rope that still tethered the
kayak to the island. It had grown taut, having reached its limit. And now it was straining against the force of the tree that was entangled with the kayak.

  The tree in the river slowed and then suddenly stopped, the kayak acting as a sort of anchor. The far end of the tree, a good portion of its roof system jutting from the water, slowly began to pivot.

  Michael turned to look back to where the other end of the tether was tied. He knew that if the rope were to snap or come free from its anchor point on shore, the kayakers would surely be drowned, carried downstream in the tree in which they were currently ensnared. He was horrified to see the pine tree to which they’d affixed the rope tilting perilously. He ran back to the tree, finding that while the rope was strained to its limit, it was holding. What wasn’t holding was the tree itself. The roots were pulling free from the oversaturated island soil. There was no way to support the tree itself, so Michael did the next best thing, the only thing he could think of to alleviate some of the stress upon the pine.

  “Grab the rope and pull!” he called to the others.

  The group wasted no time in latching onto the kayak’s tether in an effort to form a human anchor. Everyone, even little Justin – especially little Justin – pulled with every iota of strength they had, hoping to support the pine tree while praying the rope didn’t break.

  They could feel the immense force against which they struggled. The tree in which the kayak was tangled continued to pivot, now having turned so that it was almost in line with the river’s current. The Blenders’ hands ached against the rope. Feet slid in the mud. Some people fell, scrambled back to their feet, and re-gripped the rope. Hands slipped and searched for grip, the rope burning them in the process. But no one felt the pain. They only felt heartache for the two men still being held beneath the river’s muddy waters. Everyone knew what they had to do. It was life or death; and in a few more seconds, it might only be death for the two paddlers who had been under water for nearly half a minute.