Devil's Fork

by Jesse Jacobson

  Jeannie’s story was definitely different from the story Mr. Jenkins had told me. Toe was right. Chase Jenkins manipulated the facts to make me wary of getting involved with his daughter.

  “I’m so sorry to make you relive that,” I told her. “I feel like a heel.”

  “No, don’t feel bad,” she said. “I like you. If my issues become a problem between you and me, I want to know about it now, rather than later.”

  “I’m seeing why your father doesn’t like me,” I said.

  “It’s not you, per se,” she replied.

  She’s wrong… it’s me.

  “He thinks it's too soon,” she continued, “and he’s being protective after what happened.”

  “Well, speaking of something happening, look ahead,” I said.

  Jeannie turned and looked downriver where we both saw the first of the Devil’s Fork rapids. Even at a distance its enormous rocks looked dark and ominous, angrily kicking up water and froth as a warning to those who dare to trespass.

  “That doesn’t look anything at all like the fun rapids we saw yesterday. Holy crap!” Jeannie yelled out.

  “Nothing holy about that rapid,” I responded.

  “No way, we’re going over that,” Jeannie said.

  “We are going over that,” I insisted. “We have to. We’ve not put enough distance between us and the shooter.”

  “We can’t do it, Jolly, I’m scared.”

  “Not much choice, now,” I explained. “We’ll make it—I promise. We have about five minutes before we reach it. I need you to listen carefully. Dig your feet into the seams between the raft tubes and get a good grip on the ropes. It is critical the rapids do not knock you overboard. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s get on our life vests and safety helmets,” I said.

  “Ever see the movie, Jaws?” Jeannie asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

  Chapter 13

  The K-Raft fell ten feet as we plunged over the beginning of the first rapid. The boat lurched, nose first, into the water, sending two-thirds of K-Raft under. Jeannie’s body jerked violently; she screamed when the cold water pounded her body. She hung on for dear life. The boat nearly fell into a forward somersault which would have been a disaster, but I leaned way back, using all my weight to keep it from upending.

  When the front of the raft resurfaced, we hit an enormous rock head on which spun it backwards. We backed into the next plunge, a shorter but steeper six-foot drop. The rear end submerged, taking Jeannie and I both under, and the water killed the K-Raft’s motor. We would be free falling for the rest of this rapid. When the boat resurfaced, it was just in time to be swept over another section of rapid, with another steep fall.

  We’re not going to make it, I thought.

  I thought about trying to navigate with oars. The K-Raft was equipped with manual oars, though when the size and weight of the boat and the strength of the current were considered, the oars might as well be popsicle sticks for all the good they’d do. I grabbed one anyway.

  The K-Raft jolted back and forth as we headed toward the bigger rocks. To her credit, Jeannie didn’t panic, though I could tell from her eyes she was frightened. She held on tight.

  I used the oar and tried to navigate the boat past an enormous rock but the current was too strong and we crashed into it head on. The force of the impact turned the boat sideways, and we dropped another eight feet over yet another section of the rapid. When we landed the raft lurched and spun as ten-foot high torrents of water crashed onto us from above. When the torrent crashed into me it hit so hard it took my breath away. It felt as though I had hit a brick wall. I barely hung onto the boat. There was so much water pounding onto the K-Raft I couldn’t tell if Jeannie had gone overboard or not. The force of the torrents took most of the boat under water briefly, and all I could think about was whether I had just gotten this beautiful woman killed.

  As the boat popped up out of the water again, I heard her screaming again.

  She’s alive and still in the boat. Thank god. How she hung on, I’ll never know.

  We hit two more sections of the rapid but the worst part of the fork was behind us.

  The K-Raft navigated the rest of the rapid easily and within three minutes the current had calmed to normal… well, normal for one of the toughest stretches of any river in the country.

  What the hell was I thinking, bringing anyone, much less Jeannie, down this river?

  “I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” Jeannie said, breathlessly. She wrapped her arms around me. I held her tight.

  “I understand,” I told her. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I damn near got us killed. This was a horrible idea.”

  “You had no choice,” she said. “All of our options were bad.”

  I sighed, letting out a loud breath, “I know, but this… this was really bad.”

  “Don’t worry, the worst is behind us. We’ll move ashore before we reach Devil’s Bitch,” I told her.

  “Good,” she replied. “I couldn’t do this again.”

  “We can use the tree cover to stay out of the shooter’s line of sight until help gets here.”

  Jeannie thought for a moment and nodded, “I defer to your judgment on the matter. I don’t mind telling you, I’ve never been that scared before… ever.”

  I knew that. The poor girl was frightened out of her mind and Devil’s Bitch would be so much worse if we took that route. The alternative was disturbing as well, however. Though I was trying to convince Jeannie we’d be able to avoid the shooter when he caught up to us, I didn’t believe it myself. This whole thing sucked. It was going to end badly—I felt it.

  “When do we go ashore?” she asked.

  “In about sixty minutes the current will get stronger leading to Devil’s Bitch. We’ll bank the raft right before then.”

  Jeannie smiled softly at me and turned her attention forward. I looked at this beautiful, vulnerable woman who had placed her trust in me to pull her through this. I couldn’t fail her.

  Chapter 14

  Jeannie and I both pulled off our helmets and life vests, preparing for a long hike once we banked the raft. With another forty minutes of calm water ahead of us, I urged her to relax while she could, but she was having none of it, and who could blame her?

  I got the K-Raft’s engine running—we were dangerously low on fuel. We had just been through an exhausting ordeal and the journey ahead would be long and arduous. The trip had taken its toll on me, too. I wondered how I’d hold up for such a long hike, myself. I knew Jeannie kept herself in good physical condition but she was also showing signs of fatigue.

  I looked at my watch and did some quick mental calculations. We were behind schedule. Unless the shooter had some unforeseen delay, his team would be on top of us well before help arrived. I briefly considered whether or not to risk tackling Devil’s Bitch. If we could somehow make it, it would put more distance between us and the shooter, perhaps enough for the rescue team to arrive. I dismissed the thought again.

  I sat at the rear of the K-Raft and leaned back, keeping my hand on the tiller but trying to relax as much as possible. Jeannie had stripped and dried herself as much as possible, slipping into jean shorts and a tank top. She sat next to me and pulled my left arm around her, curling her body into me and resting her head on my chest. She seemed more at ease. Meanwhile, my stomach was churning as I thought through our limited options.

  We could hide in the woods, perhaps, but I was certain the shooter had a covert operations background and so would his friends. The chances of them not finding us would be slim. However, the odds of us surviving Devil’s Bitch was close to nonexistent.

  Rock, meet hard place.

  We floated downstream in silence for several minutes. Jeannie slipped on her sunglasses and leaned back in the boat, allowing the sun to warm her face. With everything that had been going on, I didn�
�t notice until now what a beautiful day it was.

  “Did you ever see the movie, You Got Mail?” Jeannie asked, breaking the silence.

  “Again, with the movies?” I rejoined. “First, Jaws and now You Got Mail.”

  “Just answer the question. Have you ever seen it?” she repeated.

  “I think so,” I told her. “Did Mel Gibson play in it?”

  “No, Tom Hanks.

  “Then no,” I went on.

  “There was a scene where Tom Hanks gets stuck in an elevator with his girlfriend and a few people he didn’t know.”

  “Sounds scintillating,” I said.

  “Oh stop,” she said, smiling. It was nice to see her smile even if for only a second.

  “I didn’t see it,” I repeated, wondering what relevance it had to our situation.

  “In the scene, Tom Hanks and the others thought they might die,” she began.

  She paused looking at me for a reaction. I shrugged, “When all of a sudden…”

  “They each shared what they would do with their lives if they survived the ordeal. Each one of them wanted to undo a regret, right a wrong or spend their time differently. They were facing death, and the experience made them rethink their lives.”

  “Sounds like they were trying to make a bargain with their maker,” I said.

  “No, it wasn’t like that,” she explained. “One man said he would marry his girlfriend. Another woman said she would speak to her mother again—I guess they hadn’t talked in many years.”

  “Thanks for that,” I said.

  “So, Jolly, what are you going to do if we make it out of here?” she asked.

  “I’ll rent You Got Mail on DVD,” I told her. “It sounds like a hell of a movie.”

  “I’m serious,” she affirmed.

  “Ok, you go first.”

  “I’m changing jobs,” she announced.

  “Really? You don’t like working for your father?”

  “No,” she said. “I have my degree in Multi-Media Marketing but I only have this job I have because my father is the boss. The experience was great and I’m sure having it on my resume will help me a great deal, but I’m through with… uh…”

  “Serving at the pleasure of the king?” I interjected.

  She smiled, “Exactly. I’ve been thinking about it for two years now, and if we make it out of here, I’m doing it.”

  “Sounds good,” I told her.

  “Ok, now you.”

  I took in a deep breath and exhaled, “I’ll break up with Julie and then make personal lifestyle changes. No more…”

  “One-night stands?” she finished for me.

  “Exactly,” I agreed, “or as Toe puts it, ‘flavor of the month.’ I’m no longer going to pick up women at bars or just hit on any hot woman who bats her eyes at me in the Starbucks line. I’d like to find a real relationship. I want to be friends with a woman before we have sex.”

  “Now that sounds like a bold statement coming from you.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve always wondered how my relationship with a woman would change if I met her, went of a few dates and really got to know her before we had sex.”

  “That sounds incredible,” Jeannie said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a man say anything like that before.”

  “I like the idea of being a pioneer,” I stated.

  She smiled. “I think it’s a noble objective, Jolly. I’d like to help…”

  “Hold that thought, Jeannie,” I said. “It’s time to clock in. Look ahead.”

  We must have been traveling downstream faster than I thought.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Jeannie.

  “Holy shit, indeed,” I agreed. One kilometer ahead of us was Devil’s Bitch. The torrents of river water crashing over enormous jagged rocks seemed to form the shape of a grotesque jack-o-lantern flashing us an evil sneer.

  “What’ll we do?” she asked.

  “This is where we head to the bank,” I said, revving the K-Raft’s engine. Just as I turned the boat toward the bank, however, I saw a light from the corner of my eye.

  There was no mistaking it this time. The timing could not have been worse.

  “Change of plan,” I said.

  “What? What change of plan?”

  “Get down in the boat on your belly,” I told her. “Stay as low as you can.”

  “Why?”

  “The shooter is here,” I said.

  Chapter 15

  Jeannie hyperventilated; her face twisted into an expression of fear, “What do you mean the shooter is here?”

  “Just what I said,” I replied. “Do as I say. Get down now.”

  Jeannie got down on her belly as instructed. I slipped back as far as I could while still keeping my right hand on the tiller, wondering how I missed the approach.

  There were several plausible explanations. The approach of the helicopter could have been masked by the sounds during the first series of rapids, or the aggressors could have realized that they’d been heard the first time and took a wider approach to avoid detection.

  No matter the explanation, the shooter was now less than a hundred yards from our position. Since we ducked away, he was also now alerted to the fact we knew he was there.

  I heard the first muted puff of the rifle followed by the sound of metal on metal. The engine on the K-Raft stopped. The shooter shot out our engine. What little control I had over this boat disappeared and within the next five minutes the rapid’s current would lock onto us and pull us in. Whatever slim chance we had to avoid the rapid, was now gone. We were headed straight toward Devil’s Bitch. The boat would be sucked in. There was no stopping it. We could however, still swim to the bank.

  “Did he shoot out our motor?” Jeannie asked.

  “He did.”

  “What now?” she screamed.

  “We surrender,” I said.

  “We what? Are you crazy?”

  “We can swim to the bank if we go now—this instant. Otherwise the current will suck us in.”

  “No.”

  “It’s the only way to survive, Jeannie.”

  “No!” she exclaimed. “There has to be another way.”

  “Without the motor, we will hit Devil’s Bitch in a free fall,” I told her. “We’ll never survive. If we give up, he’ll take you alive.”

  “But he’ll kill you,” she said.

  “Better one of us than both of us,” I replied.

  “What if we swim to the opposite bank?” she asked.

  “He’ll have friends on both sides of the bank,” I told her. “Even if he didn’t, he could pick us off as soon as we got out of the water.”

  “No, I won’t go,” she screamed. “We stay together.”

  “A male voice coming from the bank interrupted my response. A megaphone amplified the voice.

  “Jeannie! Jeannie Jenkins,” the voice called out. “There’s no reason to die today.”

  “You’re right!” I screamed back at the shooter. “Go away.”

  “I can’t do that,” he responded. “You swim to the bank and let me have the woman. I have no quarrel with you. I’ll let you walk away.”

  The electronic amplification of the megaphone altered the voice, but I was certain I detected a Middle Eastern accent.

  “You cannot survive the Devil’s Bitch,” he continued. “I have destroyed your motor. The current is picking up. You have only a minute to save yourselves. Once you are pulled into the rapid, you will both die.”

  I looked at Jeannie. She was so beautiful, and she was also smart and mature. It wasn’t for me to decide her fate.

  “This is it, Jeannie,” I said. “What’s it going to be? I leave it to you.”

  “I’m staying with you,” she replied.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, whatever happens, we are in this together,” she said. “We either make it together or die together.”

  “Then grab a rope and hang on,” I said. “I’ll buy us some time.�
��

  The K-Raft was picking up speed. Devil’s Bitch had hold of us. There was no turning back, now. I opened the waterproof case that held my shotgun.

  “You’ve had a shotgun this whole time?” Jeannie said.

  “Yes, but I brought it in case a bear or a cougar came into our campsite,” I replied. “It has no range. Even if it did, I don’t see the shooter’s exact position. I couldn’t hit him.”

  “Then why use it?”

  “Because it makes a loud noise and will make the shooter duck. It should keep him from shooting more holes in our raft. It will give us a fighting chance when we head down the rapid.”

  “What’s it going to be, Cowboy?” the shooter barked out through the megaphone.

  I kept low and placed the shotgun over the edge of the K-Raft, took aim at my best guess as to the shooter’s position.

  “Here’s our answer, asshole!” I screamed as loudly as I could. I fired my shotgun. It sounded like a canon, it’s explosive bang echoing off the rocky hillside beyond the banks.

  The K-Raft sped up even more. The sound of water crashing against rock drowned out the shooter’s return fire but I felt the rubber tube on the edge puncture twice… no three times. The tubes began to deflate—one more obstacle to an already impossible situation. I heard Jeannie screaming.

  “Stay down!” I demanded, firing off three more shots. The shotgun didn’t intimidate him one bit. He was peppering our raft with bullets.

  Three more bullets hit the K-Raft ripping holes through the raft’s tubes. It was a miracle that neither Jeannie, nor I were…

  I felt an impact on my upper left shoulder, followed by a burning sensation. Dammit!

  I’d been shot.

  The force of the bullet sent me reeling backward. The shotgun fell into the river. I felt bones inside my shoulder explode and blood sprayed into the boat. Another impact and burning sensation. I’d taken a second bullet, this one to the side.