by Diana Orgain
“Do you know how to raft?” I asked over the roar of the river.
“Sure. I’ve been down the Gallatin a few times, always with a guide though,” Victoria said. “You?”
“One time down the Sacramento. I don’t think I remember anything and I’m sure Dad’s never been. He’s liable to topple the raft on us.”
Victoria snorted. “Well, if you hadn’t said that, I’d suggest an alliance.”
Right!
“I thought you already had one,” I answered.
Her eyebrows shot up and she feigned innocence. “Really, no. Who would we have an alliance with?”
“Cooper. You guys are always together—”
She lowered her eyes and I could see she was hiding something, calculating how much I might know. “He’s come onto me a few times, but I don’t think it’s wise to get all caught up in a romance here. Do you?”
I wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Who was I to give dating advice? The woman who found her love match on reality TV only to be subsequently dumped on the next show. Ridiculous!
“Cooper would make a great alliance, he’s tough competition. Whoever aligns with him will likely land in the final two.”
Victoria shook her head. “Todd’s not tough competition though. He’s the weak link.”
I shrugged. “Parker and Todd basically told me they were forming an alliance.”
“No!” Victoria said, protesting a bit too much. She gestured toward her brother down the way a bit. “Parker wants to get on board with you and your dad.”
“Really?” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “Is that why you ran us off the road?”
She laughed and put a hand over her heart. “Well, I didn’t run you off the road. The cabbie just sort of misunderstood me. Anyway, you did great on that monastery hike. I’m sorry. I kind of lost my mind up there. I had no idea you were so close to the edge.”
I didn’t mention that I didn’t believe a word of what she was dishing out. A confession like that might kill her forthrightness.
“So Parker wants to form an alliance with us, but what about you?” I probed.
She rolled her shoulders almost coquettishly, a gesture I figured she refined at many a late-night party. “I don’t know what to think. I want to win. I need the money. And honestly you seem like you have an inside advantage—you’ve been on a show before and you’re friends with the producer. But your heart doesn’t seem into the competition since your boyfriend killed that girl.”
EXT. RIVERBANK DAY
Parker is looking into the camera. He is unshaven with several days’ beard growth on his face. He wears yellow swim trunks and a life jacket. He is seated on a boulder with a rushing river behind him.
PARKER
(smiles) Hello! I’m Parker Wilson. One of the contestants on Expedition Improbable. I’m competing with my sister, Victoria. Truthfully, she can be a bit of a handful and I’m nervous she’s going to mess up this opportunity for us. Because winning right now would be amazing. I have a couple bills . . . well, let’s just say, I need to take care of those. And Vicky, she’s got her student loans hanging over her neck. But I’m not worried about winning. We’re making alliances with the right folks and keeping the other competition at bay. Our plan is to be in the final two, then we’ll have to knock out the other team. Right now, Cooper and Todd think we’re in an alliance with them. (shrugs) It’s unfortunate, but, you know, we’ll have to stab those guys in the back. Cooper’s gonna be too tough to beat. So, I’m thinking that maybe it’s better to make an alliance with Gordon and Georgia. They’ll be easy to beat in the end. Heck, I would have made an alliance with Double D, but Vicky wouldn’t let me. She says they’ll be out next, and they’d only bog us down, but—
(Shouts and screams are heard from off camera. The camera pans to reveal Georgia and Victoria in close proximity, screaming at each other.)
PARKER (O.S.)
Oh, no! Gotta go keep Vicky out of trouble!
• • •
“He didn’t kill that woman,” I roared, unable to hold myself back any longer. “In fact, I’m thinking maybe you did!”
Victoria recoiled as if I’d slapped her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t even know that woman. Why would I kill her?”
Parker turned in our direction when he heard the outburst. He scurried down the bank toward us, their cameraman in tow, now filming us, too.
“I know you have an ETA connection,” I said, jamming a finger in her face. “You studied here in Spain.”
“You don’t know anything!” Victoria screamed.
“I’m gonna prove it. I’m gonna get you! I swear, if it’s the last thing I do!” I threatened.
“You better watch your back,” Victoria sneered.
“What’s going on?” Parker demanded.
“Look!” Dad shouted from a distance. He pointed upstream, a yellow raft came into view, bobbing its way down the river.
Miguel and Dad rushed toward the bank, away from the wildflower area where they’d been filming Dad’s confessional. The raft approached. “Let’s make a daisy chain,” Dad yelled out.
We all quickly linked hands, Dad anchored himself by sitting on the rocks, Parker linked to Dad, Victoria to Parker, and I somehow got the tail end of the stick by having to run out into the icy mountain water.
Ordinarily, the frigid water would have bothered me, but I was so fired up from my confrontation with Victoria that I barely noticed.
I stretched to reach the yellow raft, gripping one of the black nylon straps that wrapped around the small craft. “I got it!”
Pulling on the raft against the swift current felt hopelessly futile. I yanked on it with all my strength, jarring the raft out of the water and hitting myself in the face. Obviously, the current had its own agenda.
Finally, it seemed Miguel couldn’t help himself and despite the rules against giving us advice yelled out, “Jump in Georgia, paddle over to the next eddy.” He gesticulated wildly toward the north bank. “We can all get in safely over there.”
I dove headfirst into the raft, water trailing me in. I grabbed an oar and padded madly toward the eddy. Dad, Parker, Victoria, and Miguel scurried over to meet me. Once on the calmer water of the eddy they were all able to climb aboard easily, even Miguel and the other cameraman with their heavy waterproof cameras.
Victoria screamed out as the icy water splashed her belly. She and Dad looked as miserable as I felt. Parker, on the other hand, looked completely in his element. He let out a loud war whoop that jolted Miguel.
“Everyone, grab your oars. I’m steering,” he called out. “When I call left, Vicky, you and Georgia row, when I call right, that’s you Gordon. When I say all, we all dig. Got it?”
We all agreed and within moments we were hurtling into the rougher waters of the Río Aragón. A large boulder loomed to our left.
“Rock on the left!” Victoria called out.
“Left row, row, dig, give it all you got!” Parker commanded.
The small raft swerved right, missing the boulder. Adrenaline shot through our crew as we all let out a whoop of delight. Parker expertly navigated us through three more rocks, when suddenly a fork in the river appeared around a bend.
“Oh, geez!” Parker screamed out. “Which way do we go?”
We were silent, an uninformed ignorant crew.
“Miguel! What do we do?” Parker yelled.
The sound of the water changed, intensifying somehow—like a loud roar that was ready to swallow us whole.
“Sounds like a freakin’ waterfall,” Parker said. “What the—what the heck is going on?”
“Whitewater up ahead,” Vicky screamed.
“Try the right side,” Miguel said.
We navigated toward the right fork of the river. The water became more choppy a
nd came over the front of the raft in waves.
“We’re taking in a lot of water,” Dad said.
Abruptly, the front of the raft dipped as a rapid hit us, knocking me out of the raft. The impact of the icy water against my chest took my breath away. I was suddenly bobbing up and down the river, a small spec in the current of life, an insignificant nothing against the mighty river’s force. A large granite boulder loomed ahead of me in my direct line of sight, and my life flashed before my eyes.
“Georgia!” Dad screamed.
“Put your feet toward downstream,” Parker yelled.
“Swim toward the bank,” Victoria said.
Right. As if I could swim. My hands and arms flung about wildly in an awful duck-flapping imitation, but I was able to swing my feet out in front of me.
“We’ll pick you up at the next eddy,” Parker shouted.
My feet crashed into the huge boulder with such force, I feared I broke my leg. Then a silly thought popped into my head: I’m out of the game now.
Followed by relief.
Out of the game.
I can find Scott and go home.
Suddenly, I was thrust under the murky water. Thank goodness for the life jacket. I floated to the surface, only to have more water pour over me, relentlessly rushing around me, roaring in my ears. It was as if I’d been thrown inside a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle. The river continued to toss me around back and forth.
Which way was up?
I was dizzy and disoriented.
I glimpsed something yellow. The raft! I flailed an arm toward it, reaching, straining, stretching.
Then a hand grabbed me, someone pulling on my life jacket, pushing me under the water, keeping me under. My lungs burned.
Dear God!
I was going to drown right here in the Río Aragón.
Fifteen
Light penetrated my eyelids and the hands that had held me under suddenly pulled me up only to dunk me back in the water. The action was repeated again, I realized it was Dad holding on to me. He was getting leverage to pull me into the raft. On the third time, he hoisted me up over the ridge and I flopped into the bottom of the raft, like a dead fish.
The crew navigated the raft over to an eddy where we lodged it against the sandbank and climbed out. My legs were shaking uncontrollably and I had to lean on Dad just to get to shore. Before I could collapse onto the beach, Dad embraced me.
“Georgia, are you all right?”
I hugged Dad while I caught my breath. “Got the wind knocked out of me. Thank goodness I had on the life vest.”
Miguel scratched his head. “I guess we should have gone left.”
Parker threw the oar he’d white-knuckled through the entire ordeal and broke it against a rock, spewing out a string of obscenities. “What the heck do you mean, I guess we should have gone left!”
Miguel jumped away from Parker.
A rush of compassion flooded me. Poor Miguel. How could he have known we’d get tossed out of the raft. He was just a hired cameraman. Then a horrible thought struck me. Miguel hadn’t intentionally told us to go in the wrong direction, had he?
Miguel’s face flushed red with anger and he let out his own string of obscenities, from what I gathered, but in Spanish. He finished with, “Next time, do not ask me anything!” and made a gesture with his hands as if zipping his lips.
Dad, the consummate peacemaker, clapped Miguel on the back. “It wasn’t your fault. We don’t know that the other path is any better. We could have done worse.”
Miguel looked momentarily pacified and said, “¡Sí! ¡Sí! That is true!” He flung his hand out toward Parker in a “take that” gesture.
Parker gave Miguel a dirty look but said nothing.
In the distance, we heard high-pitched screams. Floating down the river was another raft, this one carrying two beautiful girls, one with fire-red hair and the other with long blond hair. Both were wearing string bikinis sans life vests. They waved wildly when they saw us.
“Woo-hoo!” DeeCee screamed.
“Howdy!” Daisy yelled.
They looked like they were having the time of their lives, not a care in the world. DeeCee was reclining and had her feet up on the side of the raft.
Dad cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Get your life vests on!”
Their cameraman had the camera in one hand and an oar in the other, leisurely guiding the raft away from any boulders or whitewater. He seemed smitten with Double D, and I guess I didn’t blame him. I only regretted not waiting for them and joining them on their raft instead.
Victoria stomped around the bank. “Well, now we know, for sure. We’re last!”
“We’re probably going to miss lunch now, too, and I’m starving,” Parker whined.
“Oh, shut up about food, will you?” Victoria said. She picked up a rock and smashed it against another one. The rocks cracked in her hand and she abruptly turned toward me. “It’s all your fault! What? Do you want to lose?”
Dad held up a hand. “Now—”
But Victoria continued to scream. “I mean, it’s totally obvious that you want us to lose when you jump out of the boat!”
Dad tsked at her. “How can you say that? Those were real rapids! Georgia didn’t make those up!”
I lay back on the sand, shaded my eyes with my hand and tried to tune her out. My ankle throbbed from when I’d slammed into the rock. It was the same ankle that I’d twisted the day before. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up leaving the show on a stretcher.
As Dad was scolding Victoria, I heard Parker say, “Come on Vicky. I really don’t want to miss lunch.”
I sat up. Parker had pulled the raft to the edge of the eddy and suddenly he and Victoria jumped into the raft. Their cameraman struggled to climb onboard.
“Hey! Wait,” Dad screamed, lunging for the raft.
Victoria and Parker pushed away from the bank. Dad jumped into the river after them.
“Wait! What are you doing?” I yelled.
Victoria flashed me a dirty look, one that told me exactly what she thought of me and where I could go straight to.
“Hey!” Miguel shouted, as he realized what was going on. “Get back here!”
Dad and Miguel raced out into the icy water after them, but it was too late. With one bold stroke of their oars, the raft zipped into the current and was whisked away. Victoria laughed a shrill “in your face” laugh.
Dad and Miguel were too angry to stop running.
“Let them go, guys! We can’t afford to challenge the current without a raft.”
Dad and Miguel stopped short of the section where the river would carry them out. We watched the raft bob up and down with the current as Parker and Victoria sped away.
A feeling of desperation overwhelmed me. I only wanted to lie on the beach and feel the sun warm me, but instead I was tortured by my fractured thoughts. What was Victoria so angry about? This was only a game. Why did she have such animosity toward me? The image of her smashing the rocks in her hands swirled around in my brain. Could that have been how she’d killed Annalise? By bashing her on the head with a large rock?
Dad returned to the shore, his face flushed with anger. “What nerve! I can’t believe they left us stranded!”
Miguel let out a string of rapid-fire Spanish. I know Dad didn’t understand the words, but he heartily agreed with the sentiment of frustration.
I stood and limped toward them. “What do we do now? Do you think Cheryl and Becca will send us another raft? Or what? Are we out of the competition?”
“We’re not out!” Dad said. “Anything can happen. They can take a wrong fork, get completely lost.” He held up a finger as if inspiration had suddenly struck him. “Remember! Expect the unexpected!”
I sat back down on the beach and propped my swollen an
kle up on a nearby rock. “In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the sun. How’s your hangover, Dad?”
Dad ignored me. “Do you have a phone on you, Miguel?”
He sighed. “Yes, but the cell service is bad in the mountains.” He trudged out of the water and over to a mound of grass. He put the camera down and pulled a mobile from an interior pocket under his life vest.
He double-checked the display and grunted.
“Is that waterproof?” Dad asked, looking over Miguel’s shoulder.
“The case is waterproof, yes,” he said, “but look, no coverage.” He handed the phone to Dad, who handed it directly back.
“How do we get out of here? Is there a trail we can hike?” Dad asked. He looked over at me, a concerned expression on his face.
“There is a back-roads trail.” Miguel sighed. “It’s very long though.”
“Can we make it to the finish?” Dad asked. “I mean, do we have a chance of staying in this thing? Or is it over?”
“I’m sure it’s over,” I said. I clapped Dad on the back. “Don’t worry, it’s okay.”
He hugged me. “I’m sorry, Peaches.”
“Oh, Dad, it’s not your fault.”
He pressed his hands against my shoulders and gently pushed me away from him, so he could study my face. “Maybe there’s still a chance.”
I shrugged. “We did our best. I . . .”
“There is a trail ahead,” Miguel said, indicating a break in the foliage off to the right. “But there is also a road down this way . . .” He pointed to the left in the direction we’d come on the raft. “What if we find a ride?”
Dad and I glanced at each other. “Is there a rule that we have to arrive at the finish line by raft?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
We rushed toward Miguel, who was hoisting the camera on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
• • •
The trail to the road was covered with blackberry bushes and poison oak. It was a good thing that Dad was a walking Farmer’s Almanac, because he identified every single plant along the way, guiding us away from all the dangers.
As we hiked along with Miguel, horrible thoughts about him plagued me. How smart was it to hike out into the wilderness with him? He couldn’t have been sweeter to Dad or me, but what did we really know about him? He was likely a Basque separatist.
