Courage Dares (7 page)

A few feet ahead of Mary the trail dead-ended at a river, one running wide, swift and deep. Blackberry bushes lined its steep banks. The long berry canes hung into the water, extending below the surface, ready to drown anyone foolish enough to enter.

Hadn't Connor seen the impassable conditions when he came for water last night? Maybe not, in the hard rain and the darkness.

To be stopped before they even got started! Mary felt sick. She swung toward Connor, and cried out against the futility.

Ramone and Ira strolled up behind them, taking their time in the bright sunshine. They knew Connor and Mary weren't going anywhere. Ramone hadn't even bothered to draw his gun.

“You can’t get away from me that easily, girl,” Ramone called. “Now lie down on the ground and put your hands behind the back of your necks.” He turned toward Ira as they drew closer. “Why don’t we get rid of him?”

“No!” Mary shouted, turning back toward the river. If only she were a strong swimmer, she might chance it.

Connor grabbed her coat by the back of the neck and her jeans by the waist and propelled her the last few feet toward the river. She realized his intentions a split second before he flung her out into the churning stream.

She hit the surface in a shallow dive. The icy water snatched her breath away and caused her heart to skip a beat. She flailed with her hands, trying to keep her head above the surface.

As she struggled, the current swept her toward the outermost blackberry canes.

Then Connor grabbed her coat and yanked her away. He swam beside her, and she turned to see his broad smile. It transformed his face, making him almost handsome. They were already out of sight of their kidnappers, who hadn’t followed them into the freezing water.

"We made it!" she shouted happily at him. The cold water slapped hungrily in her face and she had lost both shoes, but she’d take the river as an opponent any day. Nature was honest— lacking the evil intentions of men— and predictable enough that a person had a fighting chance.

"Sure we did. Watch out!" He tugged her sideways to help her clear a gigantic boulder that loomed eight feet out of the river.

"Right." The water pressure could pin her against it, or worse, force her under the boulder into a hole.

She and Connor were free, but not out of danger. Plenty of people drowned in western Washington rivers. This one wasn’t at flood stage, but it still ran too deep to stand up in. And too cold to stay in very long.

Hypothermia. The deadly danger of cold water. Their bodies would rapidly lose heat. Her coat would help her. Connor only had his heavy sweatshirt on, over a long sleeved shirt.

She pressed her arms close to her sides to conserve what heat she could while using her hands to keep her head up and her eyes focused downstream. She knew how to float a river, keeping her feet in front of her as it swept her along. She used them to fend off boulders that dotted the surface like teeth on a shark.

Her goose-down coat— zipped part of the way up— retained air and acted like a life preserver. She pulled the zipper up the rest of the way, hoping to trap some body heat inside.

They missed several other boulders, but couldn’t avoid a group of five closely-spaced flat ones.

"We're going through," Connor yelled. He gathered her closer to him, his outstretched feet fending off the boulders for them both. The current spun them sideways, sucked them swiftly down, in and through a narrow gap, and squirted them out the other side— but not before giving Connor a blow on the shoulder that Mary could feel.

"Are you all right?" she asked as they reached open water again.

"I think so. I'll have a good bruise." He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Your coat is keeping us both afloat. Wish I had mine.”

“We make a good team— your legs, my coat.”

The river carried them onward, between endless banks of blackberry bushes and low hanging trees. Brief gaps appeared where animals had come to drink, but no openings large enough to swim into.

Mary searched the banks anxiously. She could feel herself getting numb. Were they to die here? With the current pulling the heat from their bodies, their survival time might be cut to a half hour or less. They had been in at least five minutes now, with no opening in sight.

"We have to get out," she said, fighting back her fear.

“I know. It’s wide, so we should pick one side and get close—”

“Which side? You choose.”

“The right. We’re already closer to— ” He paused, then shouted, “Up ahead. A bridge."

As the river curved wide to the left, a concrete span came into view, its solid abutments forming a wall on each side of the river. Its center supports were festooned with driftwood. No blackberry canes grew where the water hit the bridge, although the current might be stronger.

"Let's try the left side," she called back. “The inside bank of the curve shouldn’t be as steep.”

She moved forward into a swimming position and swam across the channel. As they approached the bridge, she saw a wide boat-launching area beside it.

Dredging up the stubborn will she had inherited from her mother, Mary swam, making headway, but the river proved too strong. The bridge was almost upon them.

She wasn’t going to make it.
Help me, Lord. Don’t give up on me now.

"Hurry!" Connor pushed her forward.

"It's too far. Save yourself."

"Try!" He shoved her through the water. "Swim," he yelled, and she churned mightily across the current, using the momentum of his push to gain valuable feet. He swam close beside her and as she faltered, shoved her forward once more. And again.

"Keep going! You can do it."

The river pulled them under the bridge.

"Swim!"

"But we've missed—"

"Keep going. There may be a trail on the other side."

If there wasn't, they’d be swept into the debris skimming the surface just beyond the bridge. Mary had pulled bodies from similar deadfalls after rafting accidents.

Ignoring the danger, she forced her arms and legs to keep moving. She swam close to the gray concrete wall, seeing the graffiti sprayed on by boaters. Then she was swept past the bridge and out into the sunshine.

A trail appeared, widened by many feet. But she was still too far away. The current carried her toward the deadfall.

Suddenly she stopped as Connor held her steady, the water churning around him. He had stood up. Drawing her feet under her, she put them down, touched bottom and waded out beside him.

"We made it," he yelled, his voice filled with elation. "We did it, Mary!"

"You did it," she corrected, her eyes misting with tears. She grabbed hold of his hands. "You saved us both."

“We did it together.” He put his arms around her and hugged her and she hugged back, tears in her eyes.

He started to let her go, but she held on to his dripping form, tighter. “Just a moment. I seem to have the shakes.” Her knees were like gelatin.

“Reaction. Or cold.”

“Oh, Connor, those awful men! They killed my neighbor.” The shock of it all suddenly hit her, and Mary started to cry. Once started she couldn’t stop. The horror of the past night and day gripped her mind.

She cried for at least two minutes before regaining control. Then she sniffed several times and let go of Connor’s coat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“What now?”

“We find a phone. Come on."

The air felt colder than the water. They had to get dry. She started up the bank, but stumbled, her legs still shaky. From behind Connor put one hand on her rear and shoved.

“Alley-oop!”

His words made her smile. He had "carried" her the whole way. Mary shot him a look of admiration as they reached the pavement. Without him, she’d have died in the river—or never attempted to escape in the first place.

She waited as Connor glanced up and down the road, muttering to himself because it appeared the same in both directions. It was a feeder road, narrow but paved, its edges lined with alder, maples and fir.

"Which way?" he asked, spreading his hands wide.

"I don't know and I don’t care. Let’s just get out of here.”

“You sound ready for battle. Of course, being thrown into ice water would make anyone ready to fight.”

“It’s more a matter of surviving the odds. We’re lucky you’re a good swimmer. I would’ve drifted into the canes.”

“I didn’t think of that when I threw you in. I panicked when I saw you going into them. Thought I wouldn’t reach you in time.”

She laughed nervously. “Lucky you did.”

“I didn’t mean to take such a chance with your life. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I couldn’t have taken that group much longer. Especially Ramone. I’d rather be dead.”

“Now we’re free, we’ll notify the police. They can probably find Judd and Wes buying up the store. Maybe even find the ranch house before Ira and Ramone decide to hoof it.”

“I hope so.” She touched the tiny dragon, feeling happy that she hadn’t lost it in the river.

They walked alongside the pavement, water squishing loudly from Connor’s boots. Mary stumbled more and more, needing Connor to support her.

"I'm cold." Her weeping fit had taken her energy along with it. Also, the February sun didn’t offer much warmth. It was above freezing, but temperatures didn’t have to be low for hypothermia.

"There has to be a farm house nearby."

She gazed out over the fenced pastures on each side of the road. "We're probably in the Snohomish area. Or down by Maple Valley.”

“I’ve lived in Maple Valley. Nothing here looks quite like that, although all blackberry thickets look the same.”

“Maybe its the Skykomish River and we’re up by Monroe. If so, we should come upon the main highway pretty soon.”

"At least we don't need to worry about Ira and Ramone. They can't run fast enough to catch up."

“Unless Judd and Wes return with the van.”

“Your list should keep them in town all day. Good job."

She smiled at him, happy that she had been able to help. Making the list had enabled her to feel in control again. The task had proven therapeutic, driving away the past and giving her a firmer grip on reality.

Thank you, Lord, for helping us escape.

Now they just needed to survive.

She stopped so suddenly he almost fell over her. "Connor, our heads!"

"Huh?"

"We're losing all our body heat out our heads." It was one of the first things she took care of when rescuing a person.

"My head feels warm enough."

"That's because your body keeps your head warm at its own expense. We've got to cover them, somehow."

"I've still got your knife," he said, pulling it from his pocket.

"Good. We'll cut off some fabric—"

"The bottom of my shirt—"

"No. You need to keep warm around the waist. Head, middle, ankles. Those are the heat losers. Cut off your sleeves, just below the elbows. There's plenty of stretch in your sweatshirt."

He snapped the blade open and handed the knife to her. "You do it."

Her hands were shaking hard, as were his, and she dropped the knife trying to take it from him. Picking it up, she pulled his soggy shirt away from his arm and cut six inches off each sleeve. He wrung them out and handed one to Mary. They pulled them on like stocking caps, the cuffs at the top.

"It looks good on you," Connor said, an admiring glint in his eye. "You should wear my sleeve more often."

"You don't look too bad yourself."

In fact he looked downright handsome in a rugged sort of way. Mary's spirits lifted as she responded to his gentle humor.

She laughed at the bedraggled spectacle they made— both soaked to the skin, lips blue, herself barefoot. "Oh, Connor. We're free. We're alive. All we need to do now is stay that way." She felt like jumping for joy, but all she managed was a pathetic jiggle.

"No problem. Give me your hand," Connor said, holding his out, palm up.

The offer delighted Mary, who placed her cold hand in his slightly warmer one. His confidence renewed her strength of will— a strength she had used in her rescue work, but always for other people. She had never had to save herself.

“I’ve been to the river and I’ve been baptized,” she sang, trying to skip along.

“Oh, you have, have you?”

“Yep.”

“Well, I was baptized in the Persian Gulf.”

“Really?” She stopped skipping. “That’s different.”

“In a way. A wave swept over both me and the preacher. Knocked us flat.”

Hand in hand they marched up a small hill, over the top, and down the other side. The road wound through a stand of alders so thick they couldn’t see past them.

She stopped and Connor stopped also. “I wonder if we should’ve gone the other way. What if we’re walking away from civilization? There should’ve been a main road fairly close to the river, running parallel to it. No matter which river it is.”

“You think so?”

“That’s the pattern in this country.”

“The valley’s pretty wide. We’ll go a little further. I want to check this direction first.”

“Right. Oh, look.” She pointed upward. An eagle soared overhead, circling the fields as it searched for dinner, the square tipped wings and white head of the majestic bird making identification easy. Beautiful. They stood in silence and watched as the bird flew free.

"I hear a car. Over there." He pointed to the left.

"Yes, I hear it too." As she listened, the sound faded. "We must’ve just missed it." Her sprits fell.

"I hear another one. It’s coming closer."

They waited for a few seconds, as the sound neared, then retreated.

"It must be another road we're hearing,” he said, hugging her to him.

“Let’s go.”

They tried running, but found themselves unable to go quickly as they tripped and stumbled over their own feet. Help was just ahead, but they had to settle for a fast shuffle.

"The penguin walk," Mary remarked, over her chattering teeth.

“Definitely not an eagle’s strut.”

"We could invent a new dance step."

"No one’d do it as well as us."

They came to a stop sign and hurried to the edge of a wide road, complete with crowned pavement and center stripe. A main thoroughfare. It, too, was heavily lined with trees and bushes.