by Mark Young
Recently, every stranger that crossed his path earned a second glance as he struggled to put a name to these feelings. But nameless they remained, like nightmares one barely recalls when morning finally comes.
Jessie’s voice brought him back to the present. “Hey, professor, time to get wet. Move it along.” Jessie feathered her paddle, watching from midstream.
He eased into the kayak, hands gripping both sides of the cockpit for balance. The boat wobbled as he shoved off and he struggled to stay upright. For a moment, he thought he might lose his balance. Catching himself, Travis shifted his weight to stabilize the craft. He felt like a drunken sailor trying to walk a gangplank after shore leave.
This was a long way from the university — his classroom, his comfort zone. But like everything else he tackled, he’d attack it until he felt at one with the river. Just like he finally mastered these mountains after five years of plugging away, building his own cabin. Creating a safe haven to start all over, finally burying the past.
Until these premonitions returned. He must not lose his grip. Not this time.
He paddled a few strokes in the water, getting a feel for how the craft handled. As Jessie drew near, he remembered something he meant to ask earlier before they’d left the Three Rivers lodge. “Jessie, I overheard two guys this morning talking about a search party. No details. You know anything about it?”
Her face hardened, eyes narrowed. “My brother’s missing. Been gone for two days. Never showed up for work.” She looked away, masking whatever was going on inside.
“Oh, wow! You should’ve said something. Need to go back?”
She shook her head. “We’ve searched everywhere. He’s just vanished.” Her eyes glistened. “His car turned up near here about a mile away. Keys missing. We don’t know what happened.”
“Maybe he just wanted to take a hike by himself. Get away from everything.” He knew how that felt. “I’m sure he’ll show up soon.”
“Maybe. All we can do now is wait.”
“You want us to break off and help them search? We can do this kayaking any time. A few more days won’t matter one way or the other.”
“I’ve already searched everywhere I can think of and came up empty. Now, I’m just waiting to see what Dad and the others find out.” Jessie brushed a hand across her eyes, straightened her shoulders and turned toward him. “I just need to keep doing my normal stuff until he comes home.”
“Whatever you want, Jessie. It’s your call.”
Her face softened as she offered him a smile, eyebrows raised. “Losing your nerve, cowboy?”
“Losing my nerve? Never happen, Pocahontas. Show me your stuff.”
She rocked his kayak, dashing snow-chilled waves across his lap. “Watch yourself, paleface. This is Nez Perce country. You’re in my house now.”
In that brief moment, he felt they might be able to cast aside their problems and enjoy the river in all its beauty. Leave their troubles for another day. He began following Jessie downriver as she led them around the first bend. In the distance, he heard the roar of whitewater.
Chapter 2
Travis felt like his arms were going to fall off. He figured they’d only been on the river an hour and already he needed a break. Miles down the canyon, he spotted several vultures circling like aircraft stacked in a holding pattern. He yelled over at Jessie, trying to get her attention as he paddled toward shore.
Fingers of sunlight painted the river’s canvas with shades of green and sandy yellow until overhanging trees cast a foreboding net of darkness across the water. Like a dividing line between the seen and unseen worlds, sun-flecked waves became pools of mystic gloom beneath these leafy behemoths.
Jessie glanced back and began paddling toward him. She pulled alongside as they neared the shore. Pearl-white sand cushioned their craft as they eased onto a clam-shaped beach nestled among granite boulders. Brightness of the sand contrasted with shadows of the forest shadows further inland. Ferns and huckleberry bushes created a gray-green hedge between the beach and the woods, where towering pines and firs stood defiantly.
They dragged their crafts onto the shore before stretching out on the sand.
Travis peered over at Jessie, who seemed to be studying the river’s current. He leaned closer. “Do you mind me asking if your brother’s ever —”
“— been in trouble before?” Jessie looked irritated.
“No. I was just going to ask whether something like this ever —”
“— No.” Her eyes flashed. Then she looked away.
He drew back, leaned on one elbow and picked up a handful of warm sand, letting the granules slip through his fingers.
The forest seemed unusually quiet. No birds. No animals. Just silence. The river gave the only symphony of sound, always running, always moving, always giving and taking on its path to the Pacific Ocean.
Jessie’s voice cut through the stillness. “I didn’t mean to be rude, Travis. I’m just worried …” She turned toward him as if unable to finish.
He raised himself up and dusted off his hands. “No problem. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”
Jessie sat and crossed her legs. “Nothing like this ever happened before. He’s always been so dependable, the one I lean on.” She looked away before continuing. “He graduated from law school with high honors. Started his own practice. Our pride and joy. Local boy makes good.”
Her face relaxed for a moment. “One of the first clients he picked up was the Whitewater Casino. He loves working in all that glitter and excitement.”
“Must make your parents proud.”
She glanced at him, a faraway look in her eyes. “Mom passed when I was little. And Dad … he’s not thrilled about Tommy working at the casino. One of many things they fight over. ”
“Your father’s against gambling?”
Jessie seemed to ponder the question. “Says gambling takes the heart and soul out of our people.”
“You agree with him?”
“A few people get hooked, Indian and white. But our people need this economic boost. They’ve been struggling for generations trying to survive, trying to give our people a way to stand on their own in this changing world. People like my dad… well, they just look at it differently.” She lowered her voice, mimicking a man’s voice. “Says ‘a man’s work ought a have eternal perspectives.’”
“Part of your tribe’s beliefs?”
Jessie’s frown softened. “Not really. Dad took it from the Bible. Pounded that into us since childhood.”
“Sounds like white man’s religion.” He grimaced, wondering if his words might offend.
Jessie smiled. “Yeah, well, Dad claims God is color blind.”
A twig snapped.
Travis whirled just as a man emerged from the forest, a shotgun cradled in his arms.
He sprang to his feet.
The man jerked the gun up and pointed the barrel at Travis’ chest. “Whoa there partner. Don’t be so jumpy.”
“I get nervous when someone points a gun at me.” Travis estimated the man stood about ten yards away. Too far for him to get the jump.
The man seemed to read his mind. “Hey, stud, I don’t know who you are. You and your girlfriend here might be Bonnie and Clyde for all I know.” He glanced at Jessie as she slowly rose to her feet. “Hey beautiful, just stay next to your boyfriend and don’t get all hysterical on me.”
A car passed on the Highway 12 across the river. No one in the car could see them from the roadway. Overhanging trees on both sides of the river obscured any view.
The gunman appeared to be in his late thirties, heavyset, wearing a green-plaid woolen shirt, denim trousers, and a matching denim vest. His scalp — as much as Travis could see — carefully shaven to the skin. A baseball cap advertising ‘Hank’s Towing Service’ shielded the man’s eyes from the sun. Those eyes shifted toward Jessie.
Travis tried to ease himself between her and the gunman.
The man swung his attention
back. “Hey, Daniel Boone, I told you to stand still.”
Slowly, Travis raised his hands. “Look, Hank. We’ve got no weapons and we’re not looking for trouble. What say you lower that thing before someone gets hurt?”
“So you can jump me? No thanks. And my name’s not Hank.” The man seemed confused. He kept looking over at Jessie. Travis did not like the way the man stared at her. He edged closer, putting himself directly in front of Jessie.
“Name’s Travis,” he said, trying to draw the gunman’s attention. Start with the ABCs of hostage negotiations. Build a rapport with the suspect. Make him think of you as a person. “Mind giving me your name?”
The stranger hesitated. “Harold. Name’s Harold. Where’d you come up with Hank. They’re not even spelled the same way.”
Travis relaxed, starting to understand Harold. Not exactly an Einstein. “Okay … Harold. Tell me what’s going on here?”
“Whadda you mean?”
“I mean … why you holding a gun on us? We’re no threat to you.”
Harold lowered the weapon a few inches. “I came out here to shoot me a few rabbits. You guys surprised me.”
Travis chuckled.
Jessie glared at him a look like he’d lost his mind.
Travis turned toward the rabbit hunter. “Surprised you? Harold, you walked up on us. Remember?”
Harold’s eyes suddenly widened. “You guys think I’m trying to rob you or something? Man, you’re crazy.” He lowered the weapon, cradling it in his arms like a baby. “A man’s got to be careful out here. I heard all kinds of nuts might be running around.”
Travis looked at Jessie, trying not to laugh. “Harold, we’re perfectly sane. Or at least I am.” He winked at Jessie.
She threw him a look colder than the river.
He turned toward Harold. “Just taking a trip down the river. Stopped for a breather. No crazy stuff.”
Harold scratched his ear, still clutching the shotgun. “I can see that now, Travis. But you jumped up like a red ant might be taking chunks out of your behind. I wanna make sure you guys weren’t turning weird on me.”
“I understand, Harold. We’re not turning weird. And we’d like to shove off now, okay? Hope you find Peter Rabbit.”
“Thanks, Travis. You and the missus have a good day.” Harold gave him a brisk salute and stumbled back into the woods, shotgun resting on his shoulder. Travis heard the man trip stumble, cutting loose with a string of profanities. “I think all the rabbits are safe today.”
“Hey, he got a drop on you, Daniel Boone.” Jessie laughed and let out a long sigh. “I almost feel sorry for the guy. I hope his family isn’t counting on him bringing home dinner. They might starve.”
“The gut on Harold tells me he doesn’t lose out on too many meals.” Travis gestured toward the river. “Shall we take off?”
They shoved their kayaks off the beach, allowing them to float free in shallow water. Jessie faced him. “You trying to be my knight in shining armor?”
“Huh?”
“Before you knew Harold was only interested in rabbits.”
He eyed her for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hero thing,” she said, touching his shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Old habits die hard.” He reached down and drew his kayak closer. Hero. He fell off that pedestal a long time ago.
Jessie easily swung into the cockpit, moving out to mid-stream in a few strokes. Travis tried to the same move, almost falling in again before he balanced himself. He paddled out to join her.
“I think I got this down, Jessie.”
She shook her head, laughing. “Watching you trying to squeeze into that kayak reminds me of that movie with Mel Gibson. That one where he knows what women are thinking. He gets drunk and tries to cram himself into women’s nylons to better understand what they put up with. He winds up falling all over the place.”
“Well, I’m not drunk and I got in without falling into the water.”
Jessie smirked. “The day isn’t over yet, Willie. It is a good thing you’re wearing a wetsuit. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter 3
Two hours later — and still dry — Travis jubilantly felt he’d mastered the river until rounding the next bend. A cluster of boulders straight ahead lay in his path, each granite outcropping rose like teeth above white churning froth, waiting to grind his small craft to splinters. Doubt began to return.
Jessie tried to yell above the river’s thunder. “They call this the Grim Reaper. A class three plus rapid.”
“A class what?” he yelled back. “And why do they call it that?”
She grinned, ignoring his question. “Start to the right, then move to the middle to avoid that large boulder.” She pointed with her chin. “Once you’ve cleared that rock, scramble to your right unless you want to get slapped silly by that monster on the left,” pointing to a mass of sheer granite rising from the river like a giant carved in stone.
“And give me plenty of space,” she said, turning away. “You’re going to get wet.”
Travis saw Jessie position herself for a moment, watching as she dug deeply into the water, squaring up, paddling faster and faster to gain speed. He backstroked to give distance between them, listening to the roar. It reminded him of watery thunder he once heard at the base of Niagara Falls. It was all he could do to keep from being swept downstream, the current gradually sucking him toward the rapids
Jessie dipped and slid into white turbulence without any hesitation. Graceful. Effortless. A bird soaring over dangerous waters
It was now his turn to face the Grim Reaper.
He took a deep breath and lunged forward, already feeling his kayak shudder from powerful disturbances beneath the hull. Water flowed downward like smooth glass and then rose in a white, churning mass. A savage wave struck the side of his craft, thrusting him violently toward the boulder Jessie warned about. He clawed at the water with his paddle trying to avoid a collision.
Smack.
His stern struck a submerged rock, jamming the bow forward, burying him in a shallow grave of water. He fought to right himself, but the current corkscrewed him into its depths and he lost his balance. Roaring sheets of water buried him, pounding his head with icy fists. For what seemed like an eternity he remained trapped beneath the surface as near-freezing currents burned his skin.
Bubbles of white madness hurled around him as if he’d wandered into a major snow flurry, the storm’s white fury blinding him. A maddening roar of angry water hurled past. Deafening. A crescendo finally offering muffled quietness amidst a horrendous storm. He felt locked inside the eye of a hurricane and everything became a quiet roar. He locked his mouth closed, trapping the air inside until he reached the surface.
Bam.
His helmet smacked a submerged boulder hard enough to send shock waves through his ice-numbed brain. Dizziness crept in like a thief as he momentarily seemed to glide into a surreal world where gravity no longer mattered. Darkness in one direction. Sunlight in the other. Light became the only clue where he might reach the surface, where life itself held its breath waiting to see whether he might rise once again from this cold tomb.
He began to panic, thrusting and turning to free himself.
Frigid water became his savior, bringing clarity back to his jarred mind with a jolt.
He wrenched his body to the left, trying to use the thrust of this rushing torrent to heave himself upright. He struggled against the force as tons of pressurized water swept body and soul downstream. He fought against the river’s powerful violence, against its wrath, as he sought to claw himself toward the light.
Slowly, reluctantly, the river relented, releasing its hold on him.
Travis burst to the surface, gasping for air, his kayak breaching like a nuclear sub after a long dive. Disoriented, he weaved between several boulders, surfing on the remaining whitewater until he reached calmer waters. He looked with surprise at his hands, s
till clutching the paddle like some extension of his arms.
His heart seemed to be pounding harder than the force of the rapids he just survived. Slowly he gained control of his breathing, and his pulse slowed. He looked around with awe. Here, the river became as meek and gentle as a lamb, no longer a raging torrent trying to drag him under. He gratefully eased into a calm eddy where the river widened, its current slowing to a crawl.
Jessie waited twenty yards away. She smiled as he drew near. “You’re all wet, Willie. Grim Reaper got you?”
For a moment, he felt like lashing out until he spotted concern in her eyes. “Yeah, me and Mel Gibson have something in common. We both made fools of ourselves.”
“You want to call it quits? Can’t blame you. I should have prepared you better for that run.”
“Forget it. I survived,” he said, glancing downstream.” Beside, the worst is over. All downhill from here, right?”
She tilted her head to one side, pursing her lips before speaking. “You’ve got guts, professor. I’ve seen others throw in their paddles and walk away after less than what you just went through. Let me know when you’re ready to move on.”
Water seeped under his wetsuit and oozed into his rubber booties. His face still stung from his frigid baptism. He turned toward Jessie. “Ready when you are.”
They drifted for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet calm before continuing. Jessie straightened, lowered her paddle into the river. “Okay. Let’s move on.”
They angled downstream and began the journey once more. Travis spotted more vultures circling down the canyon, black dots circling on a blue-canvassed sky. He estimated they’d reach the birds in a half hour. More flesh eaters seemed to be circling.
Chapter 4
Roaring water alerted Travis of trouble, no longer tame like a lamb. For the last several minutes he observed the river became narrower and the water rushing faster. As he cleared the next bend, he saw where the river began to cascade down a steep decline.
