Wild River (8 page)

Last summer. I wanted to be back there. Back when my biggest problem was Mom fussing at me for wasting time.

So I sang that song. Over and over. Trying to keep my mind on last year. Trying not to think about Tanner. Or the hour I’d wasted on the mountain. Or the time I’d wasted at Grey Pine Creek.

I went through a few stretches of choppy water without any problems. Every minute or two I looked ahead, hoping. No bridge.

I never stopped singing. After a while my song got quieter. In fact, sometimes I don’t think I said the words out loud. But I kept singing.

And I kept floating downstream. Too slow, of course. But I was staying in the current and doing all I could.

Then, on a stretch of easy water, my hands started shaking worse than usual. And my legs did the same.

I had to stop.

I hated the idea. Time was running out. It was already four-forty-five. I only had a few hours of daylight left. But I had to get warm.

I spotted a flat area up ahead. Except for some shadows along the edge, it was still in the sun. I steered my mattress into shallow water and slid off. I fell twice trying to get to shore. My legs just didn’t work right.

Out of the water, I worked and worked to get my life vest unbuckled. Then I dragged myself across rocks to a stretch of sand. I wanted to flop down on that sand and never move again.

I sat down hard but didn’t lie down. Instead, I began pulling up my soaking sweatshirt. Once the sweatshirt was off, I kicked off my shoes and started squirming out of my soggy jeans.

It took forever to pull off those jeans. When I was finally free, I threw them aside and collapsed on the sand. I still had on a wet swimsuit, but I didn’t care.

I lay on the warm sand for a long time. With the sun on my back, I soon quit shivering. My body felt heavier and heavier. I could feel myself drifting off to sleep.

“No!” I shouted. I dragged myself to my knees and looked at the watch. Five-oh-five. I grabbed my sweatshirt. It was still sopping wet. I wrung out some of the water. But I couldn’t stand to put it on.

I ended up tying the sweatshirt around my waist. I gritted my teeth when the wet sleeves touched my bare stomach. My jeans were right by my foot. “No way,” I said out loud. I pulled on my wet tennis shoes and shivered when my feet hit the cold. I stood up and hurried back toward the river.

I strapped on my life vest again and dragged the mattress into the water. I felt funny about leaving my jeans behind. That probably sounds silly. But it felt strange to go off and leave my good jeans.

Before I shoved off, I remembered the granola bars and pliers. Back there in my jeans pockets. But I didn’t even look that way. I was running out of time.

I was already shivering when I flopped down on
the mattress. I decided right then that I wouldn’t stop again until the bridge.

But I was wrong.

A few minutes later I hit a patch of rough water. I wasn’t worried at all. I’d been through lots worse.

But then the mattress rose up and dumped me into the river.

I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was a wave. Or a rock I didn’t see. Or the River Demon playing a little joke.

I didn’t have time to think about it. Suddenly I was underwater and freezing all over again. The life vest popped me up. I sucked in a breath and realized I was floating along downstream.

The mattress was about six feet ahead of me. I tried to swim toward it, but I couldn’t gain much ground. Both the mattress and I drifted along, six feet apart.

Then I hit shallower water. My feet dragged on the bottom. I lifted them high, but soon one foot scraped again. That spun me around.

By then the mattress was fifteen feet ahead. I wanted to scream. I could see it, but I couldn’t catch up to it.

All afternoon that mattress had been drifting out of the current. Not now, when I wanted that to happen. Now it sailed along midstream. Getting farther and farther away.

I
t was terrible to watch the mattress getting smaller and smaller. I floated along, hoping it would slip out of the current. No such luck.

There was only one thing to do. Obviously. But my brain wasn’t working very well. It took me a long time to think of it. Then I paddled and kicked into shallow water. I waded to the shore and started running. I raced along the water’s edge. Up ahead I
could see boulders. If I got that far, I’d have to swim again.

I was almost even with the mattress when it hit some fast water. It shot ahead of me again. I would have screamed if I’d had any breath.

But then the mattress turned sideways for a second. I ran past it and rushed into the river. I kept my eye on the mattress, still upstream from me.

I waded into deeper water. The current pulled at my legs. When I was waist deep, I stopped. I was still wearing my life vest. And it was too late to take it off. If I went any farther, the river would pick me up. And I’d be floating again.

I stopped and watched the mattress come closer. It was moving steadily, right in the middle of the stream. I crouched down and waited.

When the front of the mattress was even with me, I made my leap. I got an arm across the mattress, and it carried me along for a minute. But then it turned sideways, and I eased it toward shore.

I dragged it into shallower water and slid on. I
was still breathing hard from the run, and it felt good to lie down. Even on that mattress.

On and on I went. I checked my watch about once a minute. Every time I looked ahead, I expected to see the bridge. But all I saw was more river.

I was shivering hard. I tried to make up a song about the bear to keep my mind off the cold. But I couldn’t get past the first line:

I could think of lots of rhymes:
square, fair, hair
. But right then putting words together was too much work.

I gave up the song and started playing games, trying to keep from looking at the watch. I kept my eyes on the water in front of me while I counted to a hundred. Then I glanced at the
watch and looked up for the bridge. Then counted again.

I tried to name twenty-five video games I’d played. That didn’t work. Right away I started thinking about Tanner.

So I counted backwards from a hundred. And looked up. I counted to five hundred by fives. And looked up. I said the alphabet, then tried to say it backwards.

After counting to ten in Spanish three times, I looked up. And there was the bridge. A plain old metal bridge. But to me, it was beautiful.

I had done it. I’d ridden my crazy mattress-boat all the way. I’d beaten the River Demon.

Paddling toward shore, I kept looking up at that beautiful bridge. Of course, it would have been even more beautiful if people had been standing on it. But I wasn’t complaining.

I slid off the mattress and waded to shore. I stripped off my life vest while I ran across the rocks. My sweatshirt, sopping wet, was still tied
around my waist. I tried to untie it, but my hands were shaking too hard.

I climbed up the bank to a paved road. I stopped for a second and looked both ways. And saw nothing.

I felt like screaming again. It wasn’t fair! I’d come all the way down the river to the bridge. I’d won the game. But there was nothing here. Just an empty road with trees and bushes in both directions.

I glanced down at Tanner’s watch and took one long breath. Then I started to run. I chose the left for no reason and raced down the middle of the road. At first, my legs were wobbly. But it still felt good to be moving.

I spotted a metal roof up ahead and ran even faster. Off to the right, down a dirt driveway, was a cabin. Painted white, with a green door. No cars parked in front.

The place looked empty. I ran down the driveway and pounded on that green door anyway.

Nobody there.

I grabbed a rock. I’d use it to break a window. Then I’d climb in and use the phone.

I ran to the first window and looked inside. Bunk beds, an old woodstove. Hanging from the ceiling was an old-fashioned oil lantern.

I groaned and dropped the rock. There wouldn’t be a phone in there. They didn’t even have electricity.

Just then I heard the rumbling of an engine. What an awesome sound! A truck. Coming this way.

I raced down the driveway. I spotted the truck off to my left. Barreling along. Getting closer and closer.

I couldn’t let it get past. This was a race I couldn’t lose. I stretched out and ran as hard as I could. Straight into the road.

I stood right in the middle, waving my arms over my head. I heard the horn and squealing brakes. The truck swerved to the edge of the road.

I started to smile. I had won the race. The truck was going to stop.

The squealing brakes got louder. The left headlight was coming right at me. I stood there and watched it get bigger and bigger.

I finally realized that the truck couldn’t stop in time. I leapt to the side, and a big fender zipped past me.

The truck screeched to a stop. The air was full of blue smoke from the tires. I rushed forward and slammed my fist against the driver’s door.

“You idiot!” the driver shouted. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Emergency!” I yelled. “Emergency!”

T
he truck driver gave me a jacket and took me to a store with a phone booth on the porch. I called 911. I talked to the operator, then the sheriff’s office, then a helicopter pilot from Search and Rescue. When I told him about the yellow X, he laughed and said, “Good job, buddy. This will be a piece of cake.” I dropped the phone and slid down onto the
porch. My legs couldn’t hold me any longer. I curled into a ball and closed my eyes.

After that, things get foggy A woman wrapped me in a blanket and put a bandage on my chin. Somebody gave me hot chocolate, and I spilled it all over the driver’s jacket. I spent some time on an old couch, but I can’t remember how I got there. I woke up later when Dad was carrying me to the van. “Don’t try to talk,” he told me. “Tanner’s in the hospital. He’ll be fine. Just rest.”

Six days later, Tanner was home. He had a bandage on his head, and some of his hair had been shaved. His eyes were purple and puffy. But he still had his puppy-dog smile. Our house was full of balloons and candy. Half the girls in town came by to visit him.