Just him…him against a force so immense, so unimaginably powerful, he knew if he gave it one chance, made one mistake, one error in judgment, it could easily kill him. It tested a person, going up against the river. Tested his mental and physical strength and stamina, and yes, his courage, in ways nothing else he’d tried ever could. To go up against the river and all its might and unpredictability and
The river had never bested him-not yet. He’d fallen off a mountain, most likely due to his own carelessness or stupidity, but he’d never lost a battle with the river.
Him versus the river. One on one. And the river didn’t know or care whether his legs worked. There would be no special category for people like him, no different set of scoring rules, no allowances made for the fact that he was “disabled.” The river didn’t know mercy.
For the first time in five years, he felt whole.
As the first set of rapids churned and thundered around him, Matt lifted his paddle to the sky and let out a whoop of pure joy.
Matt’s shout went through Alex like an electric current, a bolt of emotion that was both exhilaration and pain. It made her smile-she couldn’t help it. And brought tears to her eyes-she couldn’t help that, either.
They’d made it through the first rapids. The first test, and he’d passed it with flying colors. The laughter that bubbled through her as they drifted into the quiet water below the rapids was partly relief, partly something she couldn’t even name. Gladness…joy…even a peculiar sort of pride?
Exasperation, she thought, would be more like it. She should have known he wouldn’t stay put in the bottom of the boat. Of course he wouldn’t. Obviously, somebody paralyzed from the waist down couldn’t sit on the tube, the way passengers normally would. Passengers had to sit sideways to the bow and use their leg muscles to steady them while they turned to face forward and paddle, while the guide sat up on the back of the boat and steered with two oars and called commands. Physically challenged clients sat in the bottom of the boat. But not Matt. Oh, no. The minute they’d hit the first rapids, he’d pulled himself to the edge with his chest against the tube, braced himself with his elbows and begun paddling.
And, dammit, she had to admit she’d needed him. Normally there would be a lot more people manning the paddles. With only Cory to respond to her commands, the big oar boat would have been a lot harder to control.
Now they sat in the quiet water with oars gently backpaddling, waiting for the kayak to make its run. It was standard procedure for the boats to go through rapids one at a time, so they could watch each other and be ready to assist in case of emergency. In this case the oar boat, carrying the emergency equipment, had been the first to go. Now they waited…and watched.
Alex glanced at Cory, who was tense as wire. Of course he’d be worried about his wife. She gave him a reassuring smile. That Sam was a tough one. She’d do just fine.
Sam hadn’t time for much more thought than that; she was much too busy trying to stay alive. At some point it occurred to her that she was in a real life-and-death fight-not the first time she’d found herself in that situation, but this was different, somehow. Here, she was up against an adversary not driven by human intelligence. One that would kill without discrimination, mercy or remorse.
Here were forces so powerful they could only be ridden, never mastered or controlled-something like riding a bucking bull, she imagined, only here getting bucked off was not an option!
It was oddly tempting to surrender to the forces, just give in and let them take her where they would. But she couldn’t give in, she knew that.
She had no time to marvel at the skill of the guide, Tahoe. No time to worry or think about Cory…or Matt. Just focus on hanging on to the paddle, following Tahoe’s lead, and staying upright.
Then, in an instant, they weren’t upright.
She was in the water, icy-cold water. She was in the monster’s grip. In its mouth. Being chewed up, eaten alive. Every limb was being pulled in a different direction. Twisted and turned, like a rag doll in a washing machine. She had no idea which way was up. She swallowed water and her chest screamed. Her brain exploded in panic.
Then-her head was free! She gasped in air, choked on it. She was bobbing like a bit of flotsam in the frothing, seething turbulence, and from somewhere a pinprick of reason broke through the chaotic darkness in her mind. Something Alex had told them during the safety briefings:
There. She was still alive. Reason was returning. She was alive, floating down the river in the wake of the kayak, which she could see from time to time as it was flung skyward like a broken branch in a flash flood.
But she didn’t see Tahoe.
They all saw it happen, Alex and Cory maybe a split second before Matt did, since they were sitting up higher than he was on the sides of the boat. And Alex didn’t waste her time blowing the emergency alarm whistle, since they were the only boat there. She did yell, “Paddle!” Which they were already doing anyway.
It was a drill he’d been through so many times before, sometimes in practice, often enough for the real thing- capsized boat, bodies in the river. It was gratifying, at least, how fast it all came back to him. Alex working like a demon to get the bag line ready, he and Cory digging at the water with all their strength. Trying not to think about or look for the people now at the mercy of the river’s hydraulics…just pulling, pulling to get the boat into position to snatch them out of the maelstrom before it carried them on by, out of reach.
He couldn’t imagine what Cory must be going through. Couldn’t let himself think about that.
Then he heard Alex yell, “There she is!” And felt the boat rock as she heaved the bag line across the current.
He gripped his paddle, held steady against the current and watched Sam shoot toward them, riding the water feet first, just as she’d been taught. Good girl, he thought, and his chest was bursting with adrenaline, exhilaration and relief.
“Grab the rope!” Cory had abandoned his paddle and was leaning over the side, calling instructions and encouragement to his wife.
Matt saw Sam nod and begin to paddle toward the line. Her head was wet and sleek as a seal’s, but her face was calm…intent. No panic there.
“Grab hold-hang on, Sammi June, darlin’-we’ve got you, babe!”
Then she got hold of the line, and Alex and Cory were hauling her in…pulling her into the boat.
Matt had seen a lot of people pulled out of the river, both customers and guides. The guides usually came in whooping and laughing-a little bit embarrassed, maybe. The customers-well, they’d be gasping, choking and on the verge of tears, if not outright hysterics. Not this lady.
Sam toppled into the boat like a landed marlin and instantly sat up, shook her hair out of her face and grinned at her husband. Matt figured his brother’s heart had to be about jumping out of his chest right now, and what he’d be wanting to do more than anything in this world was grab his woman and hold on to her and thank the Lord for giving her back to him. But all he did was grin back at her and murmur, “Show-off.”
All that took only a moment. Then Sam raked more water out of her eyes and gasped for breath, and managed some words. “Tahoe-I couldn’t see-is he-”
Alex didn’t answer. She was staring intently up-river, watching the foaming, swirling current. Watching the kayak come shooting out of the white water and sail toward them-empty. She threw Matt a look as she let the kayak drift past them. A look full of anger…helplessness…desperation…futility.
He knew how she felt. Because he knew what could happen when a boat overturned, how many different ways there were for a man to die. Even someone as experienced and strong as a Class V river guide. He gave Alex the same look and their eyes held for what seemed a long time. Held on until someone’s hoarse cry-Sam’s or Cory’s; it was hard to tell in that moment-galvanized them both.
Alex spun back to the rapids and a moment later echoed the cry. Matt heaved himself up and braced himself
