thought to tie her paddle to the boat, but it was too late now, and she wasn’t about to shift her hands too much for fear of losing her oar to the lake.
The wind ripped the hood from her head and tore her hair free from the braid where she’d bound it, sending long strands of her dark locks flinging to her face, covering her eyes. She shook them free, only to have them flung at her again.
“I’m going to bail again,” Scott called, and Abby switched her paddling pattern, feeling the muscles in her shoulders tighten into knots with the quicker, shallow movements.
It seemed like an eternity later when he shouted to her again. “Okay, dig deep now. We’re getting closer. We’re really getting closer.”
And they were. Already Abby could see massive red stones hiding under the surface of the clear water, and had felt the thin underside of the boat bump against them more than once as the waves peeled back, revealing the menacing boulders lying in wait to tip them, or to smash their tiny boat to bits.
“Paddle harder. Paddle harder,” Scott called, as Abby’s strength sagged and fat tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain in her shoulders and hands. She had to paddle harder. She didn’t have a choice. They were still several hundred yards from shore.
The bumps came more frequently now. At any time, they could hit a rock hard enough to crack a massive hole in their boat. Abby kept praying, kept digging, and nearly screamed when she felt the numbing water slosh against her legs.
She looked back. The middle of the canoe held nearly a foot of water! “Don’t you want to bail?” she nearly screamed, as the wind ripped the words from her mouth and carried them away. The sky had grown more sinister, the tempest violent.
“Too late for that now. We’re almost there. Just dig!”
Abby dug, tears spilling unchecked down her cheeks, mixing with the sea spray and the waves. The water sloshed higher, clenching its frozen fingers around her legs, sending searing pain through her bones from the fierce cold. The boat was so low in the water. So low, and so cold.
The red domes of the boulders poked their moss-streaked heads from the water like vicious trolls intent on sinking them. As each wave pulled back, another menacingboulder would leer up at them before the next wave sent them sloshing over its skull, the flexible birch yielding to the pressure, nearly folding, threatening to snap.
Three hundred yards. Two hundred. Abby could see the trees, the red bluffs and the rocky shore, before the wind whipped her hair into her eyes, blocking her view, blinding her to anything but the ice-cold water and the fear.
She never saw the boulder that tipped them. All she knew was that one moment, her muscles were in tight knots of effort, and the next, her whole body was thrown into the frigid lake and the water closed over her head.
FOUR
I nstantly numb shock gripped her. It was all Abby could do to struggle upward, willing her frozen limbs to move against the churning waters, her face straining for the surface, seeking light, seeking air. She felt something move against her back and in her confusion, didn’t recognize Scott’s arms until he’d lifted her head and shoulders above the waves.
The brush of his hands felt foreign as he pulled the hair back from her face. Abby watched his mouth open and close. He was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear any words. The sky blurred, the world tilted, then her ears started to work again, and she heard him.
“Run! You’ve got to get moving or you’ll freeze to death. Run, Abby! Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”
She didn’t know how she made her legs move forward. She could hardly feel her feet as they slipped and slid across the submerged boulders, angry spears of pain the only reminder that she had feet at all. Scott’s arm held her steady, lifting her, pulling her, his voice constantly urging her on. “Move, Abby, you’ve got to keep moving.”
They
The wind ripped the hood from her head and tore her hair free from the braid where she’d bound it, sending long strands of her dark locks flinging to her face, covering her eyes. She shook them free, only to have them flung at her again.
“I’m going to bail again,” Scott called, and Abby switched her paddling pattern, feeling the muscles in her shoulders tighten into knots with the quicker, shallow movements.
It seemed like an eternity later when he shouted to her again. “Okay, dig deep now. We’re getting closer. We’re really getting closer.”
And they were. Already Abby could see massive red stones hiding under the surface of the clear water, and had felt the thin underside of the boat bump against them more than once as the waves peeled back, revealing the menacing boulders lying in wait to tip them, or to smash their tiny boat to bits.
“Paddle harder. Paddle harder,” Scott called, as Abby’s strength sagged and fat tears rolled down her cheeks from the pain in her shoulders and hands. She had to paddle harder. She didn’t have a choice. They were still several hundred yards from shore.
The bumps came more frequently now. At any time, they could hit a rock hard enough to crack a massive hole in their boat. Abby kept praying, kept digging, and nearly screamed when she felt the numbing water slosh against her legs.
She looked back. The middle of the canoe held nearly a foot of water! “Don’t you want to bail?” she nearly screamed, as the wind ripped the words from her mouth and carried them away. The sky had grown more sinister, the tempest violent.
“Too late for that now. We’re almost there. Just dig!”
Abby dug, tears spilling unchecked down her cheeks, mixing with the sea spray and the waves. The water sloshed higher, clenching its frozen fingers around her legs, sending searing pain through her bones from the fierce cold. The boat was so low in the water. So low, and so cold.
The red domes of the boulders poked their moss-streaked heads from the water like vicious trolls intent on sinking them. As each wave pulled back, another menacingboulder would leer up at them before the next wave sent them sloshing over its skull, the flexible birch yielding to the pressure, nearly folding, threatening to snap.
Three hundred yards. Two hundred. Abby could see the trees, the red bluffs and the rocky shore, before the wind whipped her hair into her eyes, blocking her view, blinding her to anything but the ice-cold water and the fear.
She never saw the boulder that tipped them. All she knew was that one moment, her muscles were in tight knots of effort, and the next, her whole body was thrown into the frigid lake and the water closed over her head.
FOUR
I nstantly numb shock gripped her. It was all Abby could do to struggle upward, willing her frozen limbs to move against the churning waters, her face straining for the surface, seeking light, seeking air. She felt something move against her back and in her confusion, didn’t recognize Scott’s arms until he’d lifted her head and shoulders above the waves.
The brush of his hands felt foreign as he pulled the hair back from her face. Abby watched his mouth open and close. He was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear any words. The sky blurred, the world tilted, then her ears started to work again, and she heard him.
“Run! You’ve got to get moving or you’ll freeze to death. Run, Abby! Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”
She didn’t know how she made her legs move forward. She could hardly feel her feet as they slipped and slid across the submerged boulders, angry spears of pain the only reminder that she had feet at all. Scott’s arm held her steady, lifting her, pulling her, his voice constantly urging her on. “Move, Abby, you’ve got to keep moving.”
They
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