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Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

I point toward the shore and he nods.

He will dock at the next sandbar and get some much needed rest. I move my hand back and forth.

“Fishy,” he says with a smile.

I lean down and wrap my hands around him in a tight hug.

:14

July 6th

Sunrise 3:43 a.m.

I wake up wet.

Soaked and freezing.

I push myself up, then cover my face.

We hit a giant rapid, a wall of freezing water splashing over my body.

The boat jerks, nearly rolls.

I push myself up.

Opik is curled up in a ball, his eyes open wide in terror. Lassie is huddled next to him looking equally horrified.

“What is—”

I turn around just in time to see the next rapid. I sit down and cover my head. The water crashes over the three of us.

I grip the seat with white knuckles as the canoe makes its way down a narrow channel. The small boat is at the mercy of the rocks and white water. Even an expert guide would have few options other than to let the boat bang around and hope for the best.

But a guide would try and position themselves to take the path of least resistance. I glance back at Opik.

“Where’s the paddle?” I yell.

He shakes his head.

Gone.

I take a deep breath and turn around. Another set of rapids. Another burst of freezing water.

Five seconds later and the river returns to calm.

The river appears flat for the coming quarter mile, but it is dark and I don’t want to risk running the gauntlet on another set of rapids.

“Lassie, are you okay?” I ask, turning to survey my two fellow passengers.

He is soaked. Shivering. He looks like he weighs no more than two pounds.

“Are you still sick?”

He doesn’t answer.

Not a good sign.

Opik is crying. I have no idea how he lost the paddle, but I know he feels terrible.

“It’s okay, we got through it. We’re okay.”

I dig my arm over the side and begin trying to paddle toward shore. It is still narrow and if we can get the canoe fifteen feet in either direction, we can try to grab a branch or the tall grass and get the boat out of the water, which would give the three of us a chance to recover and make a game plan, and possibly find a stick or something else that could double as a paddle.

“Oh, shit.”

Up ahead, even in the darkness, the white froth of the churning rapids is visible.

There is no way we can make it to shore in time.

“Get up front,” I yell, waving at Opik.

He plops down on the front bench.

I figure my weight will be better served in the back and I crawl to the bench near Lassie. I grab him by the collar and yell, “Hold on!”