Devil's Fork

by Jesse Jacobson

  “You can’t do that,” he insisted.

  “When it comes to the safety of the guests, I have a wide berth of authority to do what I need to do,” Toe warned. “You stay on this course and I will send you back. That’s a promise.”

  I could see Jenkins’ face turn red; his body stiffened. He was ready to explode. When the man clenched his fists to his side Toe moved closer to him. When Jenkins saw his towering figure so close, he relaxed. He glared at me one last time and walked away without another sound.

  “Thanks Toe,” I said. “I apprecia…”

  “We’re switching,” he interrupted. “I’m taking your boat and your taking mine.”

  “There’s no need for that. I…”

  Toe thumped my chest with his index finger, “Listen, Romeo. You might not care but I need this job, and I’m not about to lose it because you can’t keep your pecker in your pants for five days. After the Devil’s Fork incident, neither one of us has the equity to burn, now do we?”

  I sighed, wondering if he’d bring up Devil’s Fork sooner or later. It was not my finest hour. Not only did we almost lose our jobs, we almost lost our lives, and it was all my fault.

  Devil’s Fork referred to a seven-mile stretch of bifurcation, or river fork, off the main riverway. The current on Devil’s Fork is exceptionally strong and two of the rapids are considered unpassable. The last of the dangerous rapids was the mother of all rapids, called Devil’s Bitch, and to my knowledge, no one has navigated it without being killed or seriously harmed.

  Devil’s Fork had always been dangerous but five years ago, there was a rock slide from nearby Buffalo Mountain. The mountain deposited a few hundred tons of rock into the river and made the already treacherous rapids unpassable. The remoteness of the area caused the State to make a decision. It would be too hard and too expensive to clear Devil’s Fork for travel, so they closed it off, making it unlawful for rafters to use it.

  Since the State’s decision, fourteen people I know of, broke the law and gave it their best shot. Six people died, all at Devil’s Bitch. Six more were injured before reaching it and had to turn back. Two people are still unaccounted for but presumed to be dead.

  Those numbers do not include the estimated one-hundred who started down Devil’s Fork and had a ‘Holy crap!’ moment and turned back before reaching the first rapid. As you may have guessed by now, ToeJam and I were among the ones who were injured.

  It happened almost two years ago now. We had a large group from a tech company cancel their trip at the last moment. MEC’s owner gave us the week off without pay.

  We had some time on our hands and I was never one to shy away from a challenge. To make a long story short, I convinced Toe to raft Devil’s Fork with me. To his credit, he was dead set against it and refused despite my pleas. He gave in when he realized I would do it with or without him. He decided that together we had a slim chance to pull it off together, but I had no chance to do it by myself.

  I was so pompous and arrogant. I thought Toe and I were invincible. The trip dealt my pride and my body heavy setbacks when we discovered we were no match for Devil’s Fork—and it wasn’t even close.

  Toe and I made it through the first class five rapid unscathed, but Devil’s Bitch destroyed our raft and left us badly injured. We saved the satellite radio, swallowed out pride, and called our boss, who hired a private helicopter to retrieve us. We got lucky to not be arrested. Bossman didn’t want the authorities to know employees who represented his company illegally rafted the Fork.

  When we got to the hospital, I lied and said we took our spill on a rough stretch of the mainstream river. If not for that, the MEC would have lost its Touring and Expedition licenses.

  ToeJam was in a coma for four days. It worried me sick. When we were SEALs, ToeJam and I had saved each other from many life-threatening situations and had never let each other down—until then, and now we were paying the price for my stupidity. I’ll never forgive myself for letting my best friend down.

  I broke into tears the day Toe came out of his coma. It was both a blessing and a curse, however: a blessing he was alive and a curse because he was none too happy with me. I almost lost my best friend and the only person on earth I considered family.

  I told the big boss Toe only went along with it to protect me—that I’d forced him into it. He fired me on the spot but when ToeJam was back on his feet, he threatened to quit if the boss didn’t hire me back.

  That’s the kind of man Toe was. We’ve already established the kind of guy I am.

  Bossman was in a tough spot. If he lost both ToeJam and I, he would have lost untold amounts of money as we were approaching our busiest season, so with his back against the wall, he agreed to hire me back. Since then our records have been spotless, but neither of us had any illusions that our continued employment was secure.

  The Bossman told us, one more screwup, and we’d be out on our ear, and I’m sure that meant any screw up… even pissing off one of the “special” passengers.

  I swore I’d never put ToeJam in that position again, and I meant it.

  “I’m sorry, Toe, you’re right,” was all I could say.

  “So, we won’t have a problem here, right?”

  “We will not,” I insisted, “But in my defense, you’re the one who told me Jenkins might be lying. That whole cheerleader story made me believe…”

  “I didn’t mean for you to taunt her dad, you lame-brain,” he interrupted. “I didn’t tell you to rub his nose in it. You don’t have a subtle bone in your body. I’ll repeat the question: we won’t have a problem here, right?”

  “Right, I promise,” I replied. And I was sincere. Toe lived hand to mouth. Losing this job would cripple him. Employers aren’t lined up to hire people with experience in covert underwater demolition.

  My reply caused him to relax a little, “Ok then. Let’s move out. We’re already an hour behind. I want to make it to the campsite, set up and get dinner started before dark.”

  Chapter 6

  A few of the passengers noticed the tension between Mr. Jenkins and me. The source of the issue must have been obvious to them. Jenkins just about did a back flip when Toe told him we were switching boats. He looked like the cat that ate the canary as their boat passed mine. He was grinning from ear to ear and gave me a tiny salute. I wanted to choke the smug bastard.

  The few passengers who were oblivious to my heated exchange with Jenkins asked me why we switched guides. My answer was underwhelming, “It’s something we do sometimes.”

  Brilliant, right? That’s the best I could do, it’s something we do… sometimes.

  Twenty minutes later we hit another class three rapid. The current was strong and the K-Raft bounced and shook. The front of the boat submerged sending a torrent of chilly river water over the passengers, who were squealing and laughing and hanging onto their ropes for dear life. They loved every minute.

  During calmer waters I noticed the redheaded wife of a passenger whispering in the ear of another woman, the wife or girlfriend of yet another passenger. Then they’d both sneak a look back at me and giggle while their men were chatting with each other. I remembered from the manifest that the red-head’s name was Rosie. Her husband was Brandon. The couple they were traveling with was Denton and Melissa. The four of them were from Syracuse.

  Rosie was lusting after me—I could see it in her eyes. It was the same look I’d seen many times from women in bars, bored housewives or even in the local malls and supermarkets.

  She was not a bad-looking woman, about forty, buxom and a little beefy, but definitely nice looking. She looked at me and smiled. Normally I’d smile back, but I was in no mood to be pleasant. Besides, my mind was fixed on Jeannie. I couldn’t get her out of my head.

  Not to mention the fact Rosie was married. I’d never slept with a married woman and wasn’t about to start.

  In a calm stretch of water Rosie stood and stretched, making her way to the back of the boat. Her husband gave a c
ursory glance but went back to talking to Denton and Melissa. Rosie took out a pocket camera and shot pictures of the river bank at random. I saw her leaning over the boat, exposing an ample amount of cleavage from her tiny swim top.

  She looked at me and smiled. I did not return the smile. Instead, I nodded and looked forward, hoping she’d take that as a sign of disinterest.

  No such luck.

  “So, how long have you been a guide for Mountaineer Expedition Company?” she asked, turning toward me and sitting on the edge of the raft.

  “I’ve been with MEC for three years now,” I replied, without looking at her.

  “Well, you seem to be fantastic at it,” she said. She leaned forward toward me, trying to get me to look at her. Her breasts were just about ready to pop out of her skimpy top; hard not to notice. I moved my eyes forward again.

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping my short, to-the-point answers would complement my lack of eye contact and deliver a message. Again, no luck.

  “Are you a good swimmer?” she asked.

  “Pretty good, I guess.”

  “I’m not so good,” she said.

  “Not to worry. That life-vest will keep you afloat,” I replied.

  “My husband is worse than I am,” she said. “When we get to the next swimming area, would you consider giving me a one-on-one swimming lesson?”

  “Sorry, no,” I said. “My duties keep me busy. When I’m not working, I still need to monitor the safety of all the passengers, ma’am.”

  “Rosie, please. Call me Rosie.”

  “Ok Rosie.”

  She nodded and stood checking to make sure her husband was face forward. He was.

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you into a little… one-on-one time?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.”

  Rosie cupped her large breasts and pushed them upward, “I guess I’ll just have to rely on these to keep me afloat.”

  She flashed me a faux bashful grin and batted her eyes as she held her boobs up high. I couldn’t help myself. I chuckled, causing her to beam at my reaction, “Hey, I made you laugh.”

  I nodded, returning her smile, “Yes, you did.”

  “Hey, I guess I’m not so bad.”

  “That depends on your definition of bad,” came my retort, “but it’s probably a good idea for you to join your husband before he gets jealous and comes back here to kick my ass.”

  “Kick your ass?” she repeated. “Are you serious? If you even looked at him in anger, he’d shit his pants.”

  I broke out in laughter, which made everyone turn around toward me. Rosie was laughing too.

  “You two are having a good time,” her husband called back. “Come on up front and join us. The view is amazing.”

  “I’ll be right there, dear,” Rosie said. She looked at me again and rolled her eyes, then gave me a wink. I managed a small smile. She made her way back to the front of the boat.

  Off in the distance I heard a whirring sound. A foreboding feeling rushed over me. Even though the sound was faint, it was the unmistakable whir of helicopter blades. In my time at MEC, I’d never heard a helicopter this far down river. It’s way off the beaten path. There is nothing down here and no place for a helicopter to land. My first thought was that Mr. Jenkins had acted up again and Toe was making good on his threat to call a helicopter to come and take him away. I checked on my passengers. They all seemed preoccupied taking in the breathtaking scenery or talking amongst themselves. There was enough noise from the motor and river current that they could not hear me speaking softly.

  I pulled my walkie-talkie and pressed the call button, “Hey Toe, do you hear what I hear?”

  “Chopper?” he said. “What the hell is a chopper doing way out here?”

  “I take it you didn’t call it?”

  “Nope.”

  “You think it’s a helicopter tour?” I asked.

  “Not out here, no,” he replied.

  “Law enforcement?”

  “Maybe. Doubtful.”

  “Do you see it?”

  “Nope, but the sound is coming from behind us.”

  The wind was carrying the sound of the chopper blades in from the north. It was far enough away that if the wind had been blowing any other direction, it’s doubtful we would have heard it at all.

  “Do you think we should phone this in?” I wondered.

  “And say what? That we heard a helicopter but saw nothing?” Toe replied.

  “This morning, I thought I saw a flash of light from the woods thirty feet from the bank?”

  “A flash of light?” Toe repeated. “You mean like…”

  “It reminded me of a rifle scope reflection,” I continued.

  “Jesus, why didn’t you say something?”

  “I used binoculars and saw nothing suspicious,” I replied. “I dismissed it as some random reflection from a shiny surface, but now I wonder...”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Toe interjected.

  I knew Toe was probably right, but my mind wandered to darker possibilities. If a sniper was scoping us out, he’d need a helicopter to move him around. When I saw the flash of light earlier, it could have been him looking for an ideal shot. If he didn’t find it, he could have called the chopper to move him down river.

  But why? I shook off the feeling. I was being paranoid.

  The rest of the day passed smoothly. We arrived at our campsite about ninety minutes before sundown. Everyone except Mr. Jenkins rolled their sleeves up and helped with their own bags and pitching their own tents. The spacious tents went up in minutes and for a while everyone disappeared into them.

  Toe and I recruited a few of the passengers and we collected enough wood to begin a giant fire in the stone fire pit that the company built at the campsite years earlier.

  Like moths to a flame, the passengers huddled around the fire near dusk. The sun disappeared below the horizon, taking twenty degrees of the day’s earlier heat with it. It was a pleasant evening, with just enough chill to make the fire welcome.

  Toe and I started dinner. He took the lead, grilling barbequed chicken breasts while I made a tossed green salad, corn on the cob and mixed vegetables.

  I saw several passengers pop open beers. MEC didn’t supply alcohol but allowed it to be part of each passenger’s twenty-five-pound limit, so it was common for passengers to bring along a six-pack. It made me think two things: one, after two more days, they’d all wish they had saved their beer ration, and two, I wish I had one.

  Mr. Jenkins had been avoiding eye contact with me but I knew he was watching me as Jeannie appeared from her tent. I don’t know what she brought along to wash and dry her hair but she looked ready to take a stroll down the red carpet. Her hair was long and wavy, brushed out over her left shoulder. She wore a form fitting black top and a colorful sheer wraparound skirt. Every male head in the place watched her approach, with the possible exception of John and James.

  She smiled at me and gave me a short courtesy wave, looking a little embarrassed that the men were all staring at her. I smiled and waved back and then turned toward Toe, who was poking at the chicken on the barbeque grill.

  “Jeez Louise, did you see what she was wearing?” Toe asked as I approached.

  “It would be hard not to,” I said.

  “Remember what we talked about now, you hear?” he admonished, pointing a spatula at me.

  “That’s why I walked away, Toe.”

  “Thanks,” he said, turning a chicken breast. “On a better note, everyone’s having a great time, even Jenkins. We had great weather today. The river was flowing.”

  “I can’t help thinking about that helicopter and then the flash I saw earlier,” I said. “It looked just like it came from a rifle scope.”

  “Not a chance,” Toe dismissed.

  “What else could it have been?”

  “A natural reflection. It was sunny today.”

  “A reflection from what?”
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br />   “I don’t know, but you’re paranoid, man,” he replied. “Normally, I’d trust your instincts, but…”

  “Don’t you think it was a little odd?”

  “Yeah, a little, but we aren’t in Afghanistan, Jolly, we’re in the U.S.A. Every time we see a light or hear a sound it doesn’t mean an attack.”

  I shrugged, “Then why is my internal radar going off?”

  “I think it’s Jeannie,” he said. “Beauty like hers is hypnotizing. It’s messing with your head, and I’m not talking about the one you put your hat on.”

  “Look, there’s one more factor I haven’t told you about,” I said.

  His ears perked, “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “Mr. Jenkins is the president of Zinger Technologies.”

  “The ammunitions company? Don’t they make non-lethal ammunition?”

  I nodded.

  He shrugged, “Well, that’s not a big deal is it? I mean, would some terrorist be coming after him for a supply of rubber bullets?”

  “No, but Jeannie said some ‘special project’ had stressed him out.”

  “What kind of special project?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “You think it’s related?”

  I shrugged, “No idea. Do you think we should question Mr. Jenkins?”

  “Hell no,” Toe insisted. “We have nothing, Jolly—nothing. I’m sure as hell not going to start a panic with a passenger without something solid.”

  “Ok then, you’re the boss.”

  ToeJam sighed, “Jolly, I’ve always trusted your radar, but this is a stretch. A flash of light, a distant helicopter but we’ve seen nothing concrete or dangerous. If I called that in, they’d take me and you both away to a funny farm.”

  He was right, “I know, I know.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fifth of Maker’s Mart.