by Tina Michele
So far that morning the skies were clear and the light began to flood over the walls of the canyon. Haven was careful to use her right hand for any pushing or pulling of the boats and equipment. It was easy enough with help from Diego and his two-armed kayak lifting skills. Haven and Wendy preferred the teamwork method with one of them on each end of the boat. They finished lining up the boats and tossed everyone’s gear into their corresponding kayak while MC gave the campers a quick overview of the day’s run.
After his safety review, everyone headed off toward their boats. Once everyone was loaded into their boats and launched, Haven would bring up the rear. Everything had gone smoothly until she reached down to grip her paddle with her left hand. It was the first time that morning that she’d tried to grasp anything, let alone pick something up or handle it. She went through a series of stretches and movements with her fingers to try to relieve some of the stiffness. It seemed to reactivate the throbbing sensation from earlier that morning. As best she could, Haven slipped into the boat and pushed herself into the current, using her core muscles and hips to maneuver the boat to compensate for her weakened left stroke. It would work. Though she already knew she’d would be beyond exhausted at the end of the day. She floated along in her boat not far behind the group and drew her hand along through the cold water. Though not as cold as an ice pack, it did well to relieve the sting of her knuckles, and she was glad for that. Haven was going to have to rely mostly, if not solely, on her helmet camera to capture images for the day. She was thankful that she at least had the option so she wouldn’t miss capturing today’s moments. They were about to begin as they approached the first rapid of the day, Maintenance Rapid.
She wasn’t surprised that everyone made it through without swimming. It was simple Class II with an easy line and no major obstacles, save for the steep pour-over on river left that MC had everyone avoid. A good start to the day all the way around. She noticed that Willa was up front, following closely behind MC and charging into the waves. Haven was pleased to see her getting right back into it after her struggles the day before. If anything, she seemed a bit more gung-ho, and Haven guessed that was her confidence and determination taking over. As Haven approached the rapid, she overcorrected her lineup to compensate for her injury and was sucked into the left line toward the hole. She went over the drop and hit the boil at an angle, causing her to capsize. Instinct kicked in, and she initiated a standard roll technique. She leaned forward against the deck and braced her knees and heels against the inside of the hull to keep herself securely inside the boat during the maneuver.
Haven swept her paddle from bow to stern at an angle to create lift beneath the surface, but her grip on the shaft was compromised by her weakened hand. She flicked her hips and pushed her right knee against the deck to give herself the momentum to right herself, but without the brace from the paddle her attempt was useless. Knowing that a second attempt would be pointless, she raised her arms into the air and waved them. Almost immediately, she felt the bump of another kayak and pulled herself to the surface using Scrat’s boat as leverage. Once she had righted herself, the rapid had washed them out into the calmer water where the group had gathered into a huge eddy. Great. So much for the perfect start to the day—both she and her ego were sopping wet. Thankfully, that was the only damage she had sustained. Though when she caught a glimpse of Willa’s concerned face she took a small hit to her conscience as well. Haven refused to accept that Willa, or anyone else, might have been right about her staying off the river today.
MC gave them a rundown of the next few rapids and what to expect. The busiest portion of the run was within the first four miles of their eleven-mile trip save for a few rough drops and rolls when they reached the infamous South Canyon Rapid at the end of the day. Haven couldn’t think about that right now. She had to get through the next few miles in one piece, and then she’d worry about how she would manage that when they got there. Once back in the water, Haven watched Willa zip back toward the front of the pack with MC and Spartan. A part of her hoped that Willa would hang back a little in order to have time to judge the coming features, but she and Spartan now seemed to be jockeying for a lead position, which set of a few alarm bells in Haven’s head. She didn’t know what they were doing, but she still didn’t like it. She hoped MC noticed it, too.
* * *
Willa’s heart raced. It hadn’t stopped pounding since they’d launched the boats that morning. Between anxiety, adrenaline, and watching Haven struggle with a roll that should’ve been second nature, Willa’s system was in overdrive. She had been right about Haven and knew she shouldn’t have been on the river with her injury. But Haven had made it abundantly clear that no one was going to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do. Willa had little time to worry as they sped toward the next rapid.
She heard the feature before she could see it. MC called out a series of instructions to prepare the first half of the group for the next four consecutive rapids. She struggled to hear him over the increasing roar of the river and the rushing of blood through her ears. Spartan hooted in excitement as the ripples grew larger in preparation of the big water ahead. “Come on, Willa. Don’t be scared!”
“Dick,” she murmured to herself. Willa watched as MC took the line down center of the left-angled shoot, followed closely by Spartan, who glanced back at her and winked. It seemed easy enough as long as she hit the same line and stayed just to the right of the rollers that threatened her with a swim. “Loose hips,” she reminded herself before moving in after Spartan. She splashed through the lateral wave that curled into the flow. The bow of her boat disappeared beneath the surface as the cold water washed up over her and her kayak. Willa paddled through the surf as it bounced her from side to side, threatening to toss her into the water if she would let it.
It was both invigorating and frightening to be at the mercy of Mother Nature. Ahead, Spartan had made it into the green water beyond the action and turned to watch the others come down the drop. The last thing she wanted was him watching and judging not just her, but everyone else, on their technique. Her body tensed, and the river took advantage of the opportunity. Distracted by Spartan and his smug stare, Willa was caught off guard by the last surge as it crashed into her boat, pushing her sideways toward a large boulder near the center of the river.
Her instinct was to paddle against the flow and lean away from the impact with the rock. As soon as she did so, Willa realized her mistake. She corrected herself by jerking her hips and raising the hull of the boat toward the current to hug the rock and push herself around it.
“Whoop, whoop. Careful, now,” Spartan hollered at Willa.
As soon as she was free from her hang-ups, she drifted out of the flow and ferried into the eddy with MC and Spartan. In spite of the cold water bath she’d just received, Willa was comfortable. Her rapid heart rate and her flaming temper were keeping her warm. There weren’t many things that could send Willa into a mood spiral, but Spartan had become one of them. Cancer or not, he was an arrogant tool, and she would love nothing more than to baptize him in the river with her hand on the back of his head.
Willa found it hard to understand why some people had to ensure they embodied the worst of every masculine stereotype. Assholes could easily be found in every group of people, but some of them, like Spartan, seem to give an extra effort in achieving the designation. Instead of acknowledging him or his instigating comments, Willa focused her attention of the rest of the group coming through the drop. She kept her fingers crossed for each of her friends coming down the chute.
Dunkin’s head appeared above the horizon. Willa whooped and cheered as he maneuvered his way through the curling waves. “Yeah!”
“Bet he eats shit,” Spartan said.
Willa rolled her eyes and ignored him. “You got this, Dunkin. Paddle through, man. Nice!”
“Nope. He’s gonna get washed out,” Spartan said. Willa looked at him incredulously but said nothing.
The sam
e rogue wave that caught Willa from the side hit Dunkin too and sent him toward the same rock. “Hug the rock, Dunkin,” she called out to him.
“More like eat the rock. Ha!”
Willa’s head snapped around. “Shut the fuck up, dude.”
“Whoa, woman. Don’t get your panties twisted. I’m just having fun.”
“At the expense of others, and believe me when I say that you’re not funny. You aren’t any better at this than any one of us.”
“I’m a little better,” he countered arrogantly.
“You’re a dick, do you know that?” By this time not only had Dunkin made it down successfully, but so had Shark and Diego. “We get it, man. You’re amazing, but damn, shut up about it already.”
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Diego asked as he ferried over and docked against Willa’s boat.
“Nothing,” she said.
He looked at Spartan for his reply, but he pretended not to be involved in the conversation at all. Diego let it go. “If you say so.”
Mateo and Survivor made the descent look effortless even with a boat twice as long as everyone else’s. There was a jubilant round of applause and cheers from the group when Survivor lifted her paddle in the air in triumph.
“Why are we cheering? It’s not like she made it through on her own.”
That was it. Willa had enough of his egotistical and malicious comments. She took a quick stroke and turned her boat toward him. “Who do you think you are? You’re just the same as everyone else here and not better in any way. You’re just an asshole with a bad attitude, and I don’t even know why you’re still here if this is all so rudimentary for someone of your caliber.”
“Well, someone doesn’t recognize friendly banter among friends.”
“That is not banter, and you’re not my friend. And while I can’t speak for others, something you have no problem doing, I’m not sure you can count the rest of them among those ‘friends’ you talk of.” By this time most of the group had now made it down to the eddy and were gathering around and gaping in awe at Willa.
Haven came down the run as MC interrupted the heated conversation and advised the group that they would be stopping here for lunch. Just up the bank from the eddy was a gazebo and picnic area, and for Willa it was a perfect time for a break from sitting in the boat and putting up with Spartan.
Willa beached her kayak and unlatched herself from the boat. She pushed herself out and gave herself a good back stretch from side to side.
“You’re not the first person to call me an asshole, Willa,” Spartan said when he sidled up to her on the shore.
“That honestly doesn’t surprise me at all. Excuse me,” she said, scooting around him to avoid any further conversation.
He followed her. “I think people are intimidated by me. Men think I’m too strong, and women—”
“Don’t tell me. Can’t get enough of you?” Willa rolled her eyes and kept walking.
“Especially the lesbians.”
Oh for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t be serious. Willa spun around to face him. She stood up straight and took a deep breath before speaking. At full stretch, Willa was a good four inches taller and many pounds heavier than he was. “I’m only going to say this once, and for your benefit, I will say it to you alone. I recommend that from this point forward if you feel the need to speak to me or about me, don’t.” He took a step back and nodded in acceptance in spite of the words she knew hung on his lips.
* * *
It was obvious that Haven had missed something between Willa and Spartan. And while he wasn’t injured or bleeding, he was sitting off by himself instead of with the rest of the group. It seemed that he was starting to feel the effects of his constant boastfulness, and part of her felt bad for him in a way. She wasn’t sure what kind of man he had been before his diagnosis, so she wondered how much of who he was now was a result of the illness.
“Hey. What’s got you sitting over here alone?”
“I do better on my own,” he said without further explanation.
Haven sat in the seat opposite and decided to dig a little deeper if only to satisfy her own curiosity. She opened a large, waterproof trauma bag filled with a variety of medical supplies and picked out items she needed to tend to her wounds. The organized prep kit seemed to catch his attention. “This should scar up pretty well in a few days, I think.”
He scooted over to get a better view of her hand and the items she pulled out of the bag. “That’s gauze. You need another Tegaderm bandage. I’d cut it like this to give your fingers more range to bend.” Spartan showed her where to cut notches on the film so it would fit more like a glove and less like webbing between her fingers.
“I hadn’t even thought about that.”
“I’m not surprised.”
She looked at him quizzically. “And why not?”
“I’m a trained survivalist, ready and waiting for shit to hit the fan, so to speak. I’ll be able to live for weeks out of my backpack when it’s time to bug out. People like you aren’t smart enough to think about that stuff.”
“Wow. Okay then. Good to know on the survival info,” Haven said. “How long have you been a prepper?”
“Since Obama was elected. But I got serious after the doctor said I had cancer. I figured I’d pack a bag and hike off into the woods to die.”
“Ah. So you figured that personal or collaborative skills weren’t a necessity?”
“I’ve never had those. I think most people are idiots and incapable of doing anything for themselves,” Spartan deadpanned.
“Well, that’s not exactly true. I’m thinking you’d see that if you stopped being self-righteous now and again.”
“Not possible, sweetie.” Spartan measured and cut the bandage for Haven’s hand and helped her apply it.
“Thanks.” He was right; it pulled on her wounds less and gave her better range of motion. He smiled knowingly, although Haven couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. He was a cocky bastard, and it had nothing to do with cancer. Haven was almost positive that he was born a tool.
With lunch over and everyone’s bladders empty, MC whistled his rallying cry and signaled to the river. It was time for the last half of the run through downtown Glenwood and into South Canyon. Haven had checked the speed and flow of the water that morning. It was high and fast and guaranteed to be a significant challenge to all of the campers. But before then, they could enjoy a few fun bumps and a hippy dip or two along the way.
They picked up on the river in the same order they had been except for Haven, who now took a place near the center of the pack. Her hand was still pretty much useless for anything except resting in the water or cradling the paddle shaft, although Spartan’s bandage technique eased much of the pulling on her wounds, which helped. Haven couldn’t figure him out. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought he and Willa had been friends. It was probably such similarities between them that contributed to their conflict. But Haven had to give more credit to Willa, as she was nowhere near as self-absorbed as Spartan. Although that opinion quickly changed when she spotted the two of them grappling for position heading into the canyon.
Haven could see that they were much too close to each other. The South Canyon rolls and waves were far too unpredictable to have more than one boat tackle it at a time. MC knew this and he whistled for them to hang back, though neither listened. Willa was the first up and probably had no idea that Spartan was so close to her stern. If she took a sharp hit from the right, she and her boat could end up taking them both out. Scrat and Mateo saw the danger as well and called out for Spartan to hold up, but it was too late. The riffle transformed into huge, billowing waves crashing and breaking in no order. Enormous boulders and an ever-changing riverbed combined with 3,000 cubic feet of water per second made South Canyon into an unpredictable series of lateral waves, undulating troughs, and fast water hitting from every direction.
As she feared, Spartan had been hit sideways. It knocked him off
balance, exposing his hull to the next surge and pushing him straight into Willa’s boat. The impact turned them both over and Haven gasped. The two capsized boats sped downriver and there was no sign of either Spartan or Willa. Haven’s heart stopped as she frantically scanned the rapid for any sign of their red PFDs. She heard a shout from downstream river left, on the opposite side of where they had gone over.
Diego and Wendy had headed for the boats, while MC and Scrat each went for a swimmer. Haven tried to push herself through the rapid, but without complete control of her paddle she was left trying to get herself through safely. She watched helplessly as Willa was tossed around and overcome by wave after wave. Spartan was now in the center of the flow headed for the bridge piling much as she had once done. Haven was frozen between saving Willa or Spartan, knowing that she couldn’t help either with her mangled hand.
Before she could make her choice, Mateo and Survivor sped past her toward Willa as Scrat and MC raced to Spartan. Willa had managed, either by luck or by maneuvering, to make it toward shore where she could grab hold of the rocks and get leverage to hold herself in position until they reached her. Spartan was in panic mode. He was flailing and struggling against the current, which did nothing but push him closer to danger.
He cried out in pain that could be heard throughout the canyon. Scrat reached him just in time before his body slammed into the piling as Haven had once done. She heaved him up by his PFD and he clung to the side of her kayak as she ferried him toward the pullout just beyond the bridge. Willa was doing the same alongside Mateo and Survivor’s boat.
With everyone safe, Haven focused on the remaining campers riding the rapids down to her. One by one, they conquered the South Canyon like champs, something she knew Willa could’ve done had she just listened and not tried to race Spartan to it. Her impetuous start and his competitive personality caused a chain reaction that could’ve killed her. Her fear and anxiety morphed into anger and frustration by the time she reached the boat ramp. Haven nearly dropped her paddle from the intense shaking of her hands.