rapids

  As it tipped forward the rear of the raft cut down into the water and came against the submerged ledge.
  “Whunk!”
  Brian heard it hit, felt the impact and the sound through his whole body. He grabbed, tried to hold on to the logs beneath Derek, but it was no use.
  The stern kicked off the ledge, slapped him up and away, clear of the raft, completely in the air.
  He hung for a split instant in midair, looking down on the raft, on Derek — then he plunged down, down into the boiling, ripping water.
  Everything was madness — frothy green bubbles, hissing, roiling water.
  He came up for a moment, saw the raft shooting away downstream carrying Derek, then he was down again, mashed down and tumbled by the pressure wave, smashed into the rocks on the bottom, and all he could think was that he had to stay alive, had to get up, get air, get back to the raft.
  But the wave was a great weight on him, a house on him; the world was on him and he could not move up against it.
  He fought and clawed against the rock, broke his face free, then was driven down again, hammered into the bottom.
  Sideways.
  He’d have to work sideways. Smashed, buffeted, he dragged himself to the side beneath the pressure wave.
  It became stronger. He could not rise, could not get air, and his lungs seemed about to burst, demanded that he breathe, even if it was water. He willed the urge away, down, but it grew worse, and just when he knew it was over, when he would have to let the water in — when he would die — just then he made the edge of the pressure wave at the side of the boulder.
  The current roared past the rock and took him like a chip, sucking him downstream.
  He brought his head clear for one tearing breath, opened and shook water out of his eyes long enough to see that the raft was gone, out of sight — then he was driven back under, down to the bottom, smashing into boulders in a roaring green thunder, end over end until he knew nothing but the screaming need to breathe, to live, and then his head smashed into something explosively hard and he thought nothing at all.

Chapter 21


Bright light flashed inside Brian’s eyes — red and glaring — and he opened them to find that he was on his back, staring directly at the sun.
  “Ecchh!” He rolled onto his stomach and spit and nearly choked on water.
  He was in the shallows below the rapids, caught up in a small alcove in the shoreline.
  The water was six or seven inches deep, with a gravel bottom. His senses returned and with them came the realization that he was all right. He was bruised, but nothing was broken; he had taken a little water, but apparently had coughed it out.
  He was all right.

Chapter 22