Devil's Fork

by Jesse Jacobson

  “You’d better go fast then.”

  “Do you think it was the shooter in our camp last night?” Toe asked.

  “I do,” I replied. “We foiled his initial plan. I think he planned to take Jeannie from her tent in the middle of the night.”

  “You might be right,” Toe said. “All this nonsense shooting at us in the river could have been Plan B when the kidnapping attempt failed.”

  “If we had called in rescue last night, we wouldn’t be in this position,” I said.

  “We had no idea, Jolly,” Toe contended. “I didn’t see anyone, neither did you. It could have just as easily been a cougar foraging for food.”

  I guess Toe was right, but I was not feeling good about my actions so far. If we were going to make it through this alive, I had to step up my game.

  Chapter 11

  I feared we were too late. An hour and fifteen minutes had passed. It had taken that long to repair the K-Rafts, inform the other passengers, convince them it was the best thing to do and get prepared to move out.

  The hike to the meander was easier than I expected. MEC equipped the K-Rafts with extendable wheels to help move them easier, though the rocky terrain presented obstacles.

  We made the bank at the beginning of the meander in twenty minutes. John and James created a makeshift gurney for Mr. Jenkins out of oars and a sleeping bag. Toe was able to walk with assistance. The shooter’s original position was not in line of sight. However, once we got into the water, we would become visible soon enough.

  “Are you ready for this?” I asked Jeannie as she was putting on her life jacket.

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  The entire group, except for myself and Jeannie loaded into Toe’s K-Raft. Our wounded passengers were both becoming weaker. Although John and James had done a tremendous job tending their wounds, there was only so much they could do without proper medical facilities. It had been an hour and a half since the gunner shot them. Toe was right. The shooter’s team could very well find us before SWAT arrived.

  I prayed this dumbass plan of mine somehow worked and we could get everyone to safety.

  Once everyone was on board, I gave Toe a big hug, “Are you strong enough to navigate this boat?” I asked.

  “Not really, but what choice do I have?” he replied.

  “You can let John or James do it?”

  “Neither of them has experience,” he said. “I’ll manage.”

  “I have experience manning boats with outboard motors,” James said. “No offense, Toe, but you’re too weak to do this.”

  “He’s right, Toe,” I agreed. “It’s best you plank out, keep your head low and let James do this.”

  Toe opened his mouth to object, thought about it, then just nodded.

  “When you get out in the open… gun it,” I told James, “and zigzag the boat. Don’t just turn left and right—make your turns random. Give him a moving, unpredictable target.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “I’ll move out once you are on the move. I want him to see both boats heading in different directions.”

  “How will the shooter know Jeannie is in your boat?” he asked.

  “He uses a long-range scope. Trust me, he’ll know.”

  “I don’t know about this,” John cautioned.

  “Me either,” James agreed. “It feels like we are feeding you and Jeannie to the wolves.”

  “I share your concerns,” I replied, “believe me, I do. We are going to be visible only briefly. Jeannie and I will disappear around the meander within two to three minutes. That will force him to make a decision: shoot at us, or shoot at you. He’ll be desperate to kill me and disable the boat. It’s the only way he gets Jeannie. His attention to us should allow you to get away. I’ve run every possible scenario through my head and none of them are great. This one gives us the best chance.”

  “This is a kamikaze mission for you,” Toe noted. “That shooter’s job becomes a lot easier if you’re dead.”

  “Of that, I am well aware. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my head down.”

  He grasped my hand, “Stay safe brother.”

  “You get to safety and make that call,” I told him.

  “I’ll send help, count on it.”

  “Guys, everyone is in place and hunkered down out of sight. We should probably go,” James said.

  I nodded in agreement, “Don’t forget. If Toe loses consciousness, the spare satcom is the storage shed about twenty-yards west of the campsite. Turn it on, wait for the signal meter to peg, then send a mayday.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Jolly, no matter what happens, thank you. I believe in my heart most of us would be dead right now if it weren’t for you. Your actions today were nothing short of incredible. I mean that.”

  I nodded, appreciating the sentiment, true or not.

  Toe fired up the motor. John and James pushed the boat onto the water and jumped in, hunkering down themselves. Toe gunned the engine and the K-Raft made its way down our original course, to the southwest.

  “Ok, Jeannie, we’re up,” I said. “Are you ready for this?”

  “As ready as I will ever be,” she replied. She put her hand on my arm, “Jolly, I’m scared.”

  I put my hand on hers, “You have every right to be, but I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m not going to let you die, Jeannie,” I promised, wondering how empty it would be.

  She got into the K-Raft and I pushed the boat into the water, jumping on board and firing up the engine. I gunned the motor as hard as it would go. The K-Raft sped its way through the meander and toward Devil’s Fork. The shooter had eyes on us this very second and was preparing to shoot.

  Jeannie stood up in the boat.

  “What the hell are you doing? Sit down,” I admonished.

  “I want the shooter to see me,” she fired back. “I want to make sure he follows us, not them.”

  “He’ll have a telescope sight. He’ll see you fine. Get down.”

  “He’s not going to shoot me,” she insisted.

  Jeannie stubbornly stood for another five seconds. I grabbed her by her belt and yanked her flat on her face. The boat was now gaining speed, and I steered into a zigzag pattern. I saw the water kick up. The shooter’s first shot was way off. He was having difficulty with our movement, something I’d counted on.

  Everyone knows snipers are great shots but what many don’t realize is that most sniper work is accomplished through patience and preparation as the shooter lines up his target and waits for that perfect shot. In this case we were moving at high speed and randomly zigzagging the boat, making it very difficult for him to zero in on us. Plus, he knew we’d be around the meander and out of sight soon, so he was rushing his shots.

  The water kicked up again, followed by two more suppressed shot noises. This time a bullet came dangerously close to hitting the rear of the boat. I made a hard right, trying to give the shooter as much of a moving target as possible. I quickly glanced at Toe’s boat which was still making double time and nearly out of sight. In a few seconds his boat would be out of danger.

  It looked as though the plan was working better than I imagined. The shooter had taken a position near the southeastern part of the fork figuring both boats would make a break for it on our original course.

  The water kicked up again three more times, this time the bullets landed over twenty feet behind the boat. We were slipping out of his range. Yes!

  There was a pause that meant only one thing. The shooter was, at this moment, adjusting his scope for one last shot at us. I jerked the boat left, and then right again. Jeannie screamed as the boat violently kicked up water.

  Just when I thought we were out of the woods a bullet pierced the K-Raft at the rear, and it happened just as I had made another hard right. Jeannie screamed, and I saw her body catapulting out of the boat into the river. The force of the bullet hitting the K-Raft coupled with
my hard turn sent her over the edge.

  “Jeannie!” I screamed at her.

  “Jolly! Help me!” she called out.

  I killed the engine, and the boat slowed, but the strong current continued to carry it forward. I saw the rear tube of the boat deflating. The engineers designed the entire boat using independent tubes, secured together with rope. The rear one deflating did not represent an immediate danger to the boat sinking.

  The surrounding water kicked up three more times. I was wrong about one thing, we were still in the shooter’s range, for how long, I didn’t know. I dove off the front side of the boat, holding onto a security handle, using the raft as a shield between myself and the shooter.

  “Jeannie, swim toward the boat,” I called out.

  “I can’t,” she cried. “The current’s too strong. I’m not strong enough to swim against it. Help me.”

  The force of the current was moving the boat downriver. Jeannie was twenty feet to the side. Swimming against a current this strong was exhausting, I knew.

  “You can do this, Jeannie,” I bellowed.

  “I’m trying.”

  I knew if I let go of the boat to swim to her, the current would continue to carry the boat downstream. Neither of us would make it back. Then it hit me. I would allow mother nature take its course. The current itself would carry us completely out of range. Three more splashes of water confirmed my theory. All three bullets hit the water several feet behind the boat.

  “Jeannie,” I screamed, “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ok, don’t fight the current. Allow it to move you down river. Try to stay alongside the boat. We are out of the range of the shooter now. I’ll get back into the boat and come get you.”

  “Hurry,” she said. “My legs and arms are so tired.”

  “I know. Try to relax. Your life jacket will keep you afloat. I’m coming. Hang in there.”

  I lifted myself out of the water and back onto the boat. I looked toward the position of the shooter and saw three puffs of smoke immediately, followed by water kicking up now thirty feet behind me. I looked at the position of the shooter, knowing he was looking at me. I gave him the finger.

  “Suck it, asshole!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, knowing there was a fair chance he could read my lips through the scope.

  I fired up the motor. The engine stalled and died. A wave of panic enveloped me. I turned the key again. Nothing. One more time. The engine cranked and coughed. It fired up began to run. I was so relieved. I moved the boat downstream and turned, circling back. The boat was down motoring upstream. I killed the engine as I pulled alongside Jeannie. I leaned over the boat and extended my hand.

  “Grab onto me as you pass,” I called out. Jeannie extended her arm and our hands interlocked. I felt the boat jerk as I slowed her momentum. I pulled her onto the boat.

  We both collapsed on our backs, allowing the current to pull us downstream.

  Jeannie and I were both gasping for air now that the crisis had past. Getting past that meander put us not only out of the range of the shooter but also out of sight. It was then I allowed myself to exhale and relax.

  “Where is he?” she asked between gulps of air.

  “Out of range, out of sight,” I said. “It worked.”

  “My mom and dad?” she asked. “And the others.”

  “Long gone, also out of range. I was right. He focused on trying to sink our boat and let them go.”

  “Thank god,” she replied. “It worked. The whole thing. It worked. You’re a genius.”

  “We got lucky.”

  “So, we’re home free?”

  “Anything but,” I said. “Devil’s Fork is outlawed for public use for a reason.”

  “Now that we are out of range, why don’t we park it on the bank and call it good? We’ll just wait for the rescue team to arrive.”

  “That’s not an option. We have to put as much distance between ourselves and the shooter as we can,” I told her.

  “Why?”

  “It’s our best bet. With any luck the others will phone in and have a rescue chopper for us before the shooter arrives.”

  I was very skeptical it would happen that way.

  “Can you really navigate these rapids?” she asked.

  “No choice—I have to. Trust me,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. Inside my stomach was churning thinking about it.

  “I do trust you,” she said, smiling for the first time since I kissed her in the moonlight by the riverbank the night before.

  I returned the smile.

  “What do we do right now?” she asked.

  “We wait,” I cautioned. “We still have about two hours before things get ugly on the water. Try to relax. You’re going to need all your strength when we get there.”

  I killed the motor, allowing the current to pull us downstream.

  “You said we had to go fast,” she remarked. “Why are you stopping the motor?”

  “We burned a lot of fuel pushing the engine so hard for so long,” I said. “We have to conserve gas. We’re low and we’ll need the motor when we reach the rapids. For now, the current is moving us along at a very good pace.”

  “Ok then,” she said. “Would you hand me a dry towel?”

  I reached into the watertight chest, opened it and removed two large, white towels. The boat was steady, so I wasn’t too concerned about her falling. She stood and peeled off her clothes. When she got down to her bra, she turned away, unhooked it, pulled it away and tossed it aside. She used the towel to dry herself from the waist up. She held the towel over her breasts and moved to her bag, unzipping it and retrieving a tank top and shorts.

  She dropped the towel and slid the tank top on over her head, turning toward me as she did so. It gave me a two second look at her magnificent body. She sported a thin, muscular stomach. Her breasts beautifully shaped. The rest of her was lean and toned.

  She busted me looking at her as she pulled the tank top down.

  “Turn your head,” she said.

  I complied but through the corner of my eye I saw her drop her pants and underwear so she could slip into her shorts. Her behind was nothing short of magnificent and I couldn’t help myself from turning my head toward her for a better look. This time she didn’t bust me looking at her. At least I don’t think she did.

  She turned toward me again, “Ok, you can look forward again.”

  I turned to her and smiled.

  “Did you peek?” she asked. She gave me a look that was both quizzical and accusatory.

  “Of course not,” I lied.

  “Are you lying?”

  “No,” I lied again. “My turn.”

  “Your turn for what.”

  “I’d like to towel off and put on some dry clothes, too.”

  She raised her eyebrows, “Oh… tit for tat? No pun intended.”

  I peeled off my shirt. It was now mid-day, and I was guessing the temperature was in the mid-eighties. I remained shirtless. I pulled a dry towel from the chest and a pair of short sweat pants. I turned away from Jeannie who did not at all seem shy about letting her eyes roam up and down my body. I peeled off my pants and underwear, flashing her a much fuller moon than we saw the night before.

  “Jesus, Jolly, you could crack walnuts between those butt cheeks,” she said.

  I slipped on my shorts and pulled them up, turning toward Jeannie as I did so. I timed my turn to hide even the tiniest glimpse of the goods below the waist. She seemed unembarrassed even as her eyes focused on the region below the belt line.

  “I have no walnuts to test your theory,” I said.

  “What did you call the tattoo on your chest?” she asked.

  “It’s the Jolly Roger,” I said.

  “I like it.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m getting hungry. How about you?”

  “Yep. Every single time I get shot at, fall off a boat or spiral toward certain death, I build up an appetite.”
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  I laughed out loud. I loved her humor.

  “Well, let’s eat something, shall we?”

  Chapter 12

  Even though my internal radar told me we were safe for the time being, years of training kept me on the lookout for problems. I kept using the binoculars to scan the tree lines of both banks.

  I looked at my watch. We had been almost ninety minutes rafting down Devil’s Fork. So far, there were no signs we were being followed. And I still believed there was a terrible man with a high-powered sniper rifle after us, and the next time we saw him, he’d have friends with him.

  “Relax, will you?” Jeannie said. “The shooter is on foot,” she continued. “There is no possible way he could catch up to us without a helicopter and you would have heard that.”

  I nodded at her but said nothing.

  I knew there was almost no chance the shooter’s chopper could have picked him up and made it out here this soon but I checked anyway. It was habit. I continued to scan the tree lines.

  “Hey Jolly Roger, you haven’t talked for twenty minutes,” she said. “And you haven’t looked at me. I’m getting a complex here. Do I need to flash my tits at you again?”

  I lowered my binoculars and smiled, “Well, if you’re offering…”

  “I wasn’t,” she said. “I want to have a conversation with you.”

  “What about?”

  “Anything. Tell me about this woman you’ve been dating.”

  “I’m breaking that off as soon as I get back,” I reminded her.

  “So you told me, but that’s not what I asked. Tell me about her.”

  I pulled a water bottle, unscrewed the top and took a long, deep swig. I offered her a drink; she waved it off.

  “Okay,” I said, replacing the bottle cap. “Her name is Julie—she’s a stunning black woman. She’s in her late twenties, tall, beautiful, and really smart.”

  “I hate her already,” Jeannie said.