At last he made it to the opposite side. The water dragged at his clothes as he pulled himself up the spongy bank. Once he reached firm ground, he dropped to his knees, hung his head, and gulped air into his lungs.
When he had regained his breath, he selected a stout tree trunk and tied the rope around it. He tested it several times before wading into the river again. He pulled himself across on the rope. It wasn’t as strenuous as swimming, but even so, it was exhausting work to fight the current. It took him several moments to recover once he had reached them.
“Got the idea?” He was bent at the waist, his palms resting on his knees, when he lifted his head and glanced up at Kerry. His hair was plastered to his head. Several sodden strands striped his forehead. His eyelashes were wetly clumped together. Kerry was tempted to comb the hair off his forehead and touch his bristly jaw. To keep from touching him, she actually had to squeeze her fist so tightly that her nails bit into her palm.
“Yes, I get the idea, but what about the truck?”
“It stays. We go the rest of the way on foot.”
“But—” The objection died on her lips. Only minutes ago he had tested her fortitude. He had all but promised her that the going from here on would be a nightmare. She had insisted on bucking the odds. “All right,” she said softly. “What do you want me to do?”
“You take Lisa. Carry her piggyback. I’ll get Mary. Joe,” he said hitching his chin toward
the eldest boy, “you get Mike this time. You and I will have to make several trips I’m afraid.”
The boy nodded his head in understanding.
“I can make more than one trip,” Kerry said.
Linc shook his head no. “You’ll need to stay on the other side with the children. This is no joy ride, believe me. Explain the procedure to them, and for God’s sake stress to them that they must hold on tight.”
As she translated for the children, she tried to make crossing the river sound like a grand adventure, at the same time emphasizing how treacherous it could be and how vital it was for them to hold on to the adult carrying them.
“They’re ready,” she told Linc as she bent down and let Lisa climb onto her back. The child’s arms folded around her neck and her ankles crisscrossed in front of Kerry’s waist.
“Good girl, Lisa,” Linc said, tousling the child’s glossy hair.
When she beamed a smile up at him, he returned her grin and patted her back. Kerry looked up at him, marveling over his soft expression. He caught her surprised look, and they exchanged a brief stare before he turned away and leaned down so Mary could climb onto his back.
“Have you got your passport?” he asked Kerry.
They would have to travel light from now on. She had discarded everything she didn’t absolutely need. “It’s buttoned into my shirt pocket.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He led the way into the churning water.
Kerry tried not to remember all the tales she had heard about the jungle river creatures. She ignored the slimy things that bumped into her feet and legs as she sought firm footing on the slippery mud of the river’s bottom. She crooned comforting words to Lisa, but the reassurances were meant for herself as well as for the crying child.
The rope, not too strong to begin with, was slippery now. It was difficult to hold on to. If it hadn’t meant the difference between living and drowning, she would have let go long before she reached the middle of the river. By then her palms were bleeding.
When she stepped onto nothingness and her feet were swept from beneath her, she was terrified of never breaking the surface. Finally she pulled herself up and made certain that Lisa’s head had cleared, too. Gallons of water had rushed up Kerry’s nose and into her eyes and mouth. She was blinded and gasping for air. But she forced herself to work her way along the rope, going hand over hand.
After what seemed like hours instead of minutes, she felt strong hands molding to her armpits and lifting her out of the water. With Lisa still on her back, she collapsed into the soft, warm, squishy mud of the riverbank and sucked in coveted air. Linc lifted Lisa off her back. Kerry’s muscles quivered with exertion, but she pulled herself to her hands and knees and eventually rolled to a sitting position.
Linc was holding Lisa in his arms. Her face was buried in his throat. Her tiny hands were clutching his soaked tank top. He was stroking her back, kissing her temple, rocking her gently back and forth, and murmuring words of encouragement and praise, even though she could understand only his inflection. Kerry envied the child. She wanted to be rocked. Held. Kissed. Reassured.
“You did fine,” he said.
It was hardly a lavish compliment, but Kerry had only enough energy to give him a wavering smile anyway. He pulled Lisa away and, after kissing her cheek, passed her to Kerry. Mary was sobbing quietly nearby. Kerry gathered the two girls and young Mike in her arms. They made a pitiful, soggy, sorry-looking group, but all were grateful to be alive.
“Keep this,” Linc said, dropping the machete, the only weapon they had, down onto the ground near Kerry’s feet. “You okay?” he asked Joe.
“Of course,” the boy said haughtily.
“Let’s go then.”
They waded back into the water. Kerry didn’t know where they found the strength. She could barely keep her head up. Linc and Joe made three more trips each, until all the children had been safely transported across the river. On the last trip, Joe helped one of the older girls along, while Linc carried two backpacks, crammed with their meager supplies.
Tears formed in Kerry’s eyes as she watched Linc sling his camera bags into the muddy waters of the rushing river. He had ripped the plastic lining out of one of the bags and wrapped his film cannisters in it, then strapped the makeshift package to his torso with his webbed belt.