As a solution to vexing personal problems, death by
misadventure had a certain grim economy, Casey allowed. An
icy wave crashed over the side of the inflatable river raft
she rode, hurling a tree branch into her side. Its rough
bark scraped the skin from her ribs. She yelped in pain and
choked on the river water that poured down her throat.
Coughing violently, she snatched a gulp of air and scrabbled
to regain her hold on the half-submerged cargo ropes only
seconds before another wave shoved her under.
A few long, lung-convulsing seconds later, the raft broke
the surface like a breaching whale and began to spin, half
in the air and half on the water. It slammed into a boulder,
tipped, and jumped forward, bucking and kicking. The wild
tossing flipped Casey's legs this way and that, banging them
painfully against the metal food lockers, threatening to
wrench the ropes out of her hands. She gritted her teeth and
hugged the ropes closer to her chest, trying to wedge her
battered body between the raft bottom and the cargo hold.
After what felt like an eternity, the raft gave up speed and
slid behind the leading edge of the flash flood. Casey
lifted her head, praying for flat, empty water. She saw
instead, dead ahead, a mass of spiky basalt columns
thrusting up toward the sky, bisecting the river with
beautiful and deadly precision. To the right, the river cut
through a narrow channel, deep and fast. To the left, it
spilled into a wider course, slower but peppered with
tumbled-down boulders. She scarcely knew which to hope for.
The raft crashed against the rock columns and stuck. It
began to shimmy with the pounding rhythm of the river. Casey
stared with barely contained panic as the prow slowly lifted
and folded toward her. Pinned against the boulder, going
neither right nor left, pummeled by the relentless
waterโif the craft didn't shift, it would soon
capsize. She took a deep breath and scrabbled hand-over-hand
onto the mound of cargo lashed down in the middle of the
raft. Only acute awareness that doing nothing at all would
be fatal gave her the will to drop the ropes and dive for
the prow with every bit of punch she could muster.
It was enough. Her weight shifted the raft so it slid to the
left, away from the rocks. Like a pinball, it bounced from
boulder to boulder until it fetched up against a large one.
The river boiled under it, lifting one side. Casey regained
her grip on the ropes. The raft scooted toward the
riverbank, teetered on its edge for a second, and fell flat
with a loud slap.
In the sudden, eerie silence, Casey jerked her head up and
noisily sucked air into her lungs. The raft rocked in the
current, gently sloshing water back and forth over her legs.
The world seemed splitโan unnatural stillness inside
the boat overlaid by the growling roar of the river outside.
She waited for another onslaught, but seconds stretched into
minutes and nothing changed. She raised herself from her
belly to her knees and relinquished her death grip on the
cargo ropes to push dripping strands of hair out of her eyes.
The raft was grounded on a sandbar behind a spill of
enormous boulders that extended from the slopes of the
canyon into the river. Beyond the sandbar was a short
stretch of flat water, and then beautiful, lovely, wonderful
dry land.
Her hands were stiff, formed into claws by her grip on the
ropes. She slowly straightened her fingers. The rope burns
across her palms were hot but not bloody. Gloves. Next time,
she'd wear gloves.
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