this safe?”
He finally glances at the growing puddle and curses. “Scoop out what you can.”
Of course. I brace my back against the side of the boat while attempting to splash the water over and out the side with my good hand. My glove seems to soak up more liquid than I’m able to get out of the boat. My second attempt isn’t much more successful.
“ Make a cup out of your hand,” he yells over the rushing.
As soon as I hold my hand in a cup shape, we hit a wave. I tumble forward, splashing in the puddle.
“Drat.” At least our problems now come from the weather and not warlocks.
Charles’s arms pump up and down as he continues fighting the river. “You all right?”
“Fine,” I yell back.
I stay in the puddle since the rocking isn’t getting any better and cup my hand again, keeping the injured one tucked close to me. I fill my good hand with water and dump it over the side. After repeating the process several times it seems better than before but still not enough. The river is pouring through the hole faster now.
I scoot over to it, gather the bottom of my skirts and shove them into the hole. Instantly, I’m soaked, but it seems to be keeping less from getting in. Or perhaps it’s just getting all over me instead of the boat. I stay pressed against it just in case. With my good hand, I continue cupping the water and flipping it back into the river.
The waves grow rockier. Liquid splats down from the skies as well as the river. I struggle to continue blocking the hole. Charles curses and yells, “Hold on.”
The row boat jostles and water pours over the side, right on to me. Charles frantically paddles, but it’s no use. We are tossed about with no control. I try to get back to the hole, but it takes several attempts while Charles violently attempts to steer us through the worsening conditions.
Finally, he throws the paddle in the bottom of the boat, and he dives for me, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I cling to him, the only solid thing left.
There’s a crash, the sound of the boat splitting as we’re thrown. Forward and apart. There’s not time to think about being separated.
I slam into the water. It surrounds me, then I’m thrust back to the surface. Waves crash over me. I thrash, trying to stay above the surface. Trying to find something to grab on to. Trying not to drown. I break against something. Pain jars through my back. The current starts to pull me from it. A large rock. I turn and attempt to hold on.
My fingers grip the slick rock, but the waves push and yank and drag. Banging me into the rock, trying to beat me into going downstream. Fingers slip. Grip loosens. Struggle to keep hold. Water crashes over and over. Tumbled about.
Cold.
Chapter Ten
I cough, choking up water. My eyes sting. The sand is gritty. Sand? I wipe the grime from my eyes and blink several times. Land. Somehow I made it ashore. I cough a few more times and collapse back on the sand. My body aches. My wrist is a mess of searing pain.
I clench my teeth and roll over, letting the sun warm my face. Sun. It’s nice to have sunshine instead of a ceiling made of rock. Once I’ve collected myself, I stand and look for Charles. The ache in my body focuses in on my chest. What if he didn’t make it?
Thinking like that is not allowed. He made it. I just need to find him. I try to call out his name, but a croak comes out instead. I survey the bank on both sides of the river as far as I can see. Nothing. Only sand, rocks, trees, and broken bits of rowboat. I knew that thing didn’t look safe.
Which way should I search? I’m so turned about, I don’t even know which way is the way we came and which way is closer to safety. The sharp ache concentrated on my wrist makes it even harder to think. I scan the banks again but still nothing.
“Charles?” I call again. This time it’s actually audible, though probably not loud enough to hear more than a few feet away. I follow the water's
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes