She had both arms wrapped around the quivering STOP sign. He could see she was tiring. He watched the water and knew she was in a place where the current was particularly strong. There was no time to wait. He braced himself against the tree trunk and launched himself into the rapids. This time, with the flow propelling him, he moved at startling speed, and he was practically on top of Olivia before he had time to react. He careened toward the sign, and he was afraid he would swoop past it. He kicked to his right and stretched his arm as far as it would go. The damp metal pole slapped his hand, and he clawed at it with his fingers, curling three fingers around it. His body kept traveling, and as he swept downstream, he felt his grip loosening, but then Olivia grabbed his shirt, and his body spun. He cocked an elbow around the pole, and he shoved two fingers into one of Olivia’s belt loops and pulled her into his chest. She let go of the sign and hung on to him.
‘Nice day for a swim,’ he murmured into her ear. He didn’t want her to be scared.
His daughter laughed and clung to his neck. Her wet hair pushed against his face.
He had no idea what to do next, other than to hang on for both of their lives, but then he heard Hannah shouting and saw her in the first-floor window of the house, no more than fifty feet away. The river was immediately below the sash; she had to be up to her knees in water inside the house. She had a coil of heavy white twine from a clothes line in her hand. She flung the coil toward him through the window, hanging on to one end, but it didn’t travel nearly far enough. The rope fell in the water and washed away downriver. Quickly, she wound it back up before debris took hold of it and ripped it out of her hands.
‘Are you in a lot of pain?’ he asked Olivia.
‘It feels like an elephant’s standing on my left ankle.’
‘Can you put any weight on it?’
‘No way, Dad, sorry.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘I’m so stupid. I knew it was Lenny. I thought I could talk him down.’
‘He’s too far gone. How’s Johan?’
‘Not good, Dad.’
Chris saw Hannah in the window again. This time, she’d tied one end of the rope around the handle of a heavy white coffee mug. Inside the house, she wound up and threw the mug toward Chris. He reached for it, and almost grabbed it, but it fell six inches short in the water, and Hannah had to reel it in again, pulling the mug out of the water.
The metal signpost wobbled. It wouldn’t last much longer under the assault of water and debris.
Hannah threw again. She threw like a World Series pitcher. She threw like a Super Bowl quarterback. The mug flew out of the window, hard and strong, unwinding the rope like fishing line. It overshot Chris by six feet, landing in the water and carrying the rope into his hands. He wound it around the pole and knotted it tightly. On the other end, Hannah secured the rope inside the house. She pulled as much tension into the line as she could, but it sagged and sat atop the water.
‘Time to go,’ he told Olivia. ‘Can you pull yourself across with just your arms?’
‘I think so.’
‘I’ll make sure the knot holds. Go as fast as you can.’
Olivia draped her left arm over the line and used her other hand to drag herself forward. Her legs fluttered invisibly under the water. He held onto her as long as he could, and then she was on her own, creeping closer to the window. She moved an inch at a time. He watched her hold her breath, and her body floated up like a cork. Floating, she moved faster. She was halfway home.
His daughter looked back over her shoulder. She gave him an encouraging smile.
Then she screamed, and her scream cut off into a gurgle as she was sucked under the water.
‘Olivia!’ he and Hannah shouted simultaneously.
She clung to the rope with one hand, her face trapped below the surface. Something was dragging her, trying to cart her downstream. He saw a thick tree bough breach the water, straining like a whale with the current, and a torn white bed sheet flailed behind it, wound around the wood and twisted into a knotted tail. When Olivia’s leg kicked out of the river, he saw the other end of the sheet coiled around her broken ankle, trapping her in a tug of war. She thrust her face above the surface, gasped for breath, and cried in agony, and then she sank out of sight again, with only three fingers clinging to the lifeline. He saw blood as the rope ate through her skin.
Chris threw himself onto the line and scrambled hand over hand to pull himself toward his daughter. Behind him, the STOP sign squealed as the metal weakened and bent. Twenty feet along the rope, he reached her and dragged her head out of the water by the neck of her shirt. She spat water and croaked as she sucked air into her lungs. Her mouth made a huge ‘O,’ and her eyes went wide with terror and relief. Her brown hair draped in tangles across her face. He only had one hand to hold her; the other was locked around the rope, keeping them from being dragged down into the river.
He couldn’t go forward. He couldn’t go back. He simply held on.
‘
Chris wrenched his head around as someone called him. They weren’t alone any more in the wreckage of the town, stuck in the flooded river. Instead, he saw Lenny Watson hanging on to the STOP sign. The water was up to the boy’s neck.
‘Mr. Hawk, tell me what to do.’
‘Olivia’s ankle is caught,’ Chris said immediately. ‘You need to free it.’
Lenny nodded. ‘Okay.’
Kirk’s brother abandoned the signpost and inched onto the rope stretched loosely like a snake on the water. Behind him, the knot held, but it looked fragile. Lenny half-swam, half-dragged himself to the middle of the rope. When he reached the two of them, he met Olivia’s eyes, and Chris knew he was right. She couldn’t hide that she hated him. Right now, it didn’t matter. Her life was in his hands.
‘Can you hold us both?’ Lenny asked.
Chris nodded. ‘Make it fast.’
Lenny clung to Olivia’s clothes and floated down the length of her body. He grabbed hold of her legs as the water tried to whisk him away, and Chris saw Olivia’s face contort in pain as her ankle twisted. Lenny braced himself with an arm around her knee, and with his other hand, he bent her left leg so that her foot was above the water. The sheet was wrapped several times around her ankle. He tried to unwind the cloth at her foot, but the tension of the ten-foot tree branch straining with the speed of the river made the wet, knotted sheet as taut as a high wire.
He scraped at it. He bit into the sopping fabric with his teeth. He couldn’t tear it. Chris felt his arms going numb as he tried to hold onto both teenagers against the strength of the current.
Lenny reached into his back pocket, fumbling to remove something without losing it. It was a switchblade. He punched the button, and a sharp, fierce blade shot from the handle. With one awkward hand, he sawed at the cloth. Olivia’s mouth clenched, and her eyes squeezed shut as every slash of the knife wrenched her ankle bone. Lenny bit his lip as he worked the blade, severing wet threads. When the damp sheet resisted, he stabbed at it with the point of the knife. The cloth frayed, stretched, and finally snapped apart. Olivia’s ankle came free.
‘
The tree bough, as if fired by a gun, shot downstream. Chris dragged his daughter toward him, and she wrapped her arms around the rope and breathed heavily. Her eyes were closed. Lenny clutched Olivia’s jeans pocket, and then her wet shirt, to pull himself back to the rope. He closed the knife and tossed it into the water. Chris used his free hand to squeeze the boy’s shoulder in thanks.
‘Go,’ he told his daughter. ‘Hurry, get inside.’
Chris watched Olivia swim her way along the rope toward the window. Hannah waited inside for her. The water had climbed nearly over the bottom of the sash. As Olivia reached the house, Hannah squeezed outside and grabbed their daughter under the arms and pulled her through the frame. He felt himself start breathing again, seeing her safely out of the river.
‘Come on, Lenny,’ Chris said.
He headed for the house, but when he looked back, he saw that Lenny hadn’t moved. The boy still clung to the middle of the rope, with the peaks and troughs of whitewater surging around him. He looked small, and in the midst of the flooded streets, he might as well have been the only person alive.
‘We have to go,’ Chris called.
