The man wasn’t human. She was panicking—trying not to—but she couldn’t figure out what to do next. Clearly climbing to the top was not feasible, even with the rope and equipment and Arnaud’s excellent climbing abilities. Every foot- and toehold he found disintegrated beneath him. Mini avalanches trickled dirt continually and if he moved, more fell along with rocks. The root he had clipped his carabiner to slowly inched outward, as if that too would fall, and with it the small tree leaning over the embankment. The SUV must have grazed the tree as it tumbled over, and now that too was precarious.

Even as she thought it, with a horrible roaring sound, the tree tipped over in what looked like slow motion. Dirt and debris pounded down on her. She covered her head, grateful for the helmet, trying to stay as close to the bank as possible and make herself small. The sounds above her were horrible, grating and cracking, the tree groaning and then a terrible, ominous whoosh as the tree began to fall over the side. For a moment it teetered, and then the weight pulled the roots from the bank.

Bijou instinctively grabbed her flashlight and turned it on, sticking it in her mouth to leave her hands free as she turned from facing the bank, still crouching low and covering her head as more stones and dirt poured down. There was no time for Arnaud to get himself free of the root system. The tree dragged him over the edge and into the murky waters of the bayou. She held firmly to the rope, hoping to feel him come up.

When he didn’t and there was tension on the rope, she knew he was trapped and she didn’t have much time. She jumped in after him. The water was cold, the odor disgusting, but when her feet didn’t hit bottom, she took her flashlight out of her mouth, drew a deep breath and followed the tree down. She strained to see more than a few inches in front of her. Debris floated all around her, sometimes brushing up against her. Using the rope, she rapidly dragged it toward her, looping it over her arm as she followed it down toward the tree, the tangle of branches and Arnaud.

Her heart pounded so hard in her chest, she feared it might explode. Going underwater with such poor vision was terrifying. Alligators lurked, and only God knew what else was in that awful cesspool of bacteria. Something solid touched her foot and she whirled around, afraid she might faint from sheer terror. The knobby broken trunk of a cypress tree rose from the floor, one of the branches reaching out with greedy fingers for her.