Boo and Jumbo wade out, stopping every few yards along the rim of the net to flick the flashlights on and hold them down to the table of water that slips past their legs. Low whispers. Soon they are lost in the river mist, tracked only by the dull flashes of their lights as they check the net on their way to the other side. Simon and Ned stand in the water and lift their booted feet against the shallow scab of mud on the bottom. They watch as the top rope pulls tighter and holds for a few seconds and then sinks back into the current.

“Shit,” says Jumbo from across the river. The net pulls up again and holds.

“Not enough. Not enough,” he says and the net straightens a little more. Their voices sound close.

“Just cut it close. I can’t hold it here.”

Ned moves to the rope and Simon follows behind.

Boo yells out, “Ready now!” and the rope bows down in the current.

Ned and Simon bend to the rope, the nylon braid cold and slick in their hands. Ned wraps the rope around his hand and digs his feet into the river bottom. Simon’s hands are slippery and they slide along the wet line until his hands hit a knot.

“Pull,” gasps Ned, his teeth clenched tight, but the net sags out deeper into the river, doubling in the current, a wall of weeds, fish-heavy and cold. They hear Boo and Jumbo splashing across the river. Ned’s body angles away from the weight of the net, but for every pull of rope, his feet slide farther out into the current. Simon scrambles to take the slack rope behind Ned and hold it.

Ned’s feet find a rock buried in the mud and he halts his skid but his body begins tilting forward. He lets his arms out in front of him to check his balance but the net keeps drifting down and pulling him slowly into deeper water.

“Simon,” he says, low in his throat. Simon lets go and splashes out in front and grabs the net where the mesh meets the nylon rope just as Ned staggers, his legs chomping up and down like a workhorse. Simon grabs on and leans back, pulling his arms to his chest. His hands are numb with rope burn and iced into claws from the cold water. His back is curved and his shoulders ache. He is tipped at such an angle that the riverwater washes into his boots and they sump against his frozen feet. Behind him Ned catches his balance and finds the rope again where it dangles in the riverwater like the umbilical cord of some weedy fetus they are trying to yank feet first from the river.