“All right, ladies,” I say. “We’re coming up on the last set of rapids. The most difficult ones. We shouldn’t have any trouble, just keep a good eye out.”
“Okay,” Emily says. “Thank you.”
They all settle down immediately and focus in. That’s a relief. Some bachelorette parties don’t take the warning seriously. Those are the trips that I’ve had to fish people out of the river, and that’s never fun for anyone.
This is my favorite part of the route. The rapids are difficult enough to still get my heart pounding even after all this time, but they’re not so hard that beginners can’t go through them safely. With the water so high this time, I don’t want to take any chances.
But as we turn the corner, I see that it’s far faster than when I rode this current the other day. The river is a churning mess of white water and almost nothing resembling the rapids I have memorized. Shit.
“This way,” I paddle to the left of the river where the water looks smoothest and the least of the rapids are. On a good day, we could go through the hard ones. This is not a good day.
My regret is instant, and I push down a splash of panic. I should have walked down the shore to double check yesterday. I should have made sure that it was okay instead of relying on last week’s trip. If anything happens, it will be my fault.
The water fights me as I dig in with the paddle. It’s strong even for me. We’re heading straight for a crevice between two rocks, and we could get stuck there like this. It has the potential to shatter the canoe or worse. “Diana, left.” I yell quickly.
She does her best to help, pushing the paddle into the water on the right, and it’s enough. We barely clear the rock, but we’re through. And not. A scream comes from directly behind me. Diana and I made it out, but the canoe with Emily and Sarah did not.
Their canoe hit the rock, the force of the current shoving it up and over so they were tilted. They weren’t prepared for it. The third canoe is about to crash into both of us.
I lunge on instinct, just within reach as we’re being swept downstream to grab the tip of their canoe and haul it back down into the water before they’re thrown from the boat. “Paddle hard,” I shout to them, but they’re frozen in shock, and my own canoe is tilting backwards.
Diana is gone. We’re all still moving way too fast, but in a moment, I know what happened. My unexpected movement tilted the canoe to the right, and that along with the water, was enough to knock her into the river.
Fuck.
My heart pounds in my ears. I have to get her out. The river is dangerous like this. She could get injured, and it will be entirely my fault.
I paddle like a man possessed, getting control of the canoe and past the rocks that caused the accident. I don’t see her. She’s nowhere.
The only good thing in this situation is that the rapids are brutal, but they’re short. In seconds, we’ll be through. But Diana might not have seconds.
I turn back to the other canoes. “Paddle straight and do not stop. Get out when it’s calm.”
Looking back at the water, I don’t wait to hear an acknowledgement or anything else. Give me a sign. Please.
I see her life jacket caught on a huge trunk trapped in the water, changing the natural direction of the rapids. Shit. Without that she’s even more vulnerable to the current. Where the fuck is she?
There. Across the river there’s a hand reaching out of the water, and it’s gone as fast as I saw it, sucked down into the furious current. How much air did she have left? Did she manage to take a full breath as she was falling? Was she conscious?
I survey the swirling water a fraction of a second longer before standing and jumping in one movement. Icy cold slams into me, nearly knocking my breath away. Shit. This kind of cold doesn’t even let you think. But I don’t have to think, I just have to swim. Because if I don’t, then it could be too late.
3
Diana
One second I’m in the boat and the next I’m trapped in a storm of ice. At least that’s how it feels. How did I get here? That’s the only thought that I have, but I know that’s not the thought I need to be having. The water is pulling me so fast that I’m dizzy and I’m honestly not sure which way is up.
The life jacket is pulling on me so hard that I’m choking. It hurts. Whatever I’m stuck on is keeping me down. Have to get it off. Have to get it off. The second I touch the clasps, I’m ripped away down into the water, and I’m not better off. I still don’t know where the surface is.