“Hold a branch across,” he shouted.
I knew what to do and had very little time to do it. I was racing down toward the tree.
I’d finally surpassed them in the race. Now, with a little bit of a lead, I’d have a moment to turn toward the water and hustle over to the tree and break off the best possible—
I was too late.
They went over the falls before I could even complete my yell. “Aaron!” I cried. The involuntary expulsion of your husband’s name.
I thought I could get to them in time but I didn’t anticipate just how much the current would accelerate near the drop. They simply disappeared over the edge. Followed by my useless shouts.
“Aaron!”
It was as if they had been yanked below a horizontal line of existence. I was so shocked by what I saw that I halted in my tracks, struggling to maintain any rational grasp on the situation.
Within a moment, I snapped back into awareness and resumed the chase to see where they had landed. I arrived at the edge on the left bank and searched the river below. It was as large a waterfall as I’d feared, with one factor in our favor: the plunge pool wasn’t rocky. There was enough clear depth down there to accommodate a full drop. Within several torturous seconds I saw them, two heads bobbing along. They’d survived.
In a wider section of the river, with only slow rapids, they were floating in a froth that lasted maybe five seconds before pushing its fresh contents downstream. I scurried down the wet crags and was soon keeping up with them along the gentle current. They were thankfully moving much slower now.
“She’s okay,” Aaron shouted to me.
I skidded on my butt down a rocky, dirty incline. He pulled himself onto the bank just as I arrived. Sierra was wide-eyed, frozen in fear. She wasn’t speaking.
He handed her to me so that he could finally collapse. I hugged them both, embracing their icy skin. He looked ready to pass out, but I didn’t feel good about him surrendering consciousness.
“Not here, babe,” I said.
He was ghostly pale from a loss of blood and from the water. The air was warm, but the water was cold. And he’d pushed himself through the entire ordeal running on fumes, on adrenaline.
“Let’s get over to those crags,” I said to him. “See? Down by that first boulder?”
He didn’t answer.
“Babe?” I said to him, waiting for him to find the strength to speak.
“Crags,” he finally replied, deflating.
I looked at Sierra. She still seemed shell-shocked, but physically unscathed. “You okay?” I asked her.
“Crags,” she agreed. My cooperative tag team.
I grabbed my husband by the hand and helped him up. We thus began the four-legged, three-person limp toward the boulders looming nearby. I’d also spotted some cavelike openings, amid the spill of giant rock fragments. We could hide in one of those. This would be important—to keep us out of the direct sun, away from animals, away from wind, and away from the cold of night, if we were still here then.
It’s important, when taking refuge, to make sure someone knows your chosen locale. We did have a signal flare in the emergency kit I had grabbed. It had a granola bar, a magnifying glass, a first aid kit, a canteen, and the flare. And I’d glimpsed what I thought was a small town in the distance while running along the river. It was far away, but I had to assume it would have a few residents who might be looking in our direction.
“I think we should send up the flare,” I said to him.
He could barely keep his eyes open.
“Or should we wait?” I asked.
He was too weary but found enough determination to give me a meek thumbs-up before fading again. I had no idea if that thumb meant yes, wait, or yes, send it.
“Uh,” I said. “Did…?”
So I sent it.
PFFFFFaaaaffff! The colorful firework popped in the sky about five hundred feet above us. Sierra was in awe. Aaron barely noticed. I hated to do this in broad daylight, but nightfall might be longer than we could wait.
Once inside the cave, my husband collapsed on the dirt. I’d intended to find a good spot for him, but gravity had made that decision for us and I didn’t have the heart to move him.
“This’ll work,” I said.
I started to lecture him about the importance of elevating the wound. He had a gash on his forehead, and its flow needed stanching. But after five sentences of lecturing, I realized he was out cold. Sierra was the real surprise. I’d assumed this catastrophic situation would render her a stuttering wreck, but she was calm, serene. It’s a trait I’d love to say she inherits from her mother, but Aaron is the eye of the hurricane in our lives.
“You’re my rock, babe,” I said to him. “You know that?”
Which brought me to a bleak conundrum. He needed help. It wasn’t just the blood loss or the bad leg, but the prospect of head trauma. His eyes were rolling back in his head. His blackouts were coming without warning. His speech was slurred. This man needed medical attention soon or he might die.
And the monstrously harsh reality was that to save him, I might have to leave him there.
It wasn’t even midmorning yet.
Chapter 5
Should I stay or go find help on my own, back to that damn rock face? I was in a foreign landscape, unsure how to navigate its terrain.
But what if Aaron’s skull was fractured?
I’m terrible when it comes to first aid. All I could reference in my head were flashes of random TV shows. Any instance of a chiseled ambulance driver pushing on the chest of an injured pedestrian. What did they do with the head? What did they say
