Chapter 31 Rain
Rain
The river wanted him.
Every surge, every pull of the current tried to rip the boy from my arms. His small body shook against me, his grip slipping with each wave. His sobs broke into coughing, his lips blue.
“No,” I gasped, tightening my hold, kicking hard against the current. My lungs screamed, muscles on fire. “I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.”
The flood hurled us against a half-submerged tree. Pain exploded through my shoulder, but I clung to the trunk, dragging the boy higher against my chest. His tiny hands clawed at my vest, desperate and terrified.
“Keep your eyes open!” I shouted over the roar. His lids fluttered, heavy, too heavy. I lightly slapped his cheek, forcing his gaze back to mine. “Stay with me, kid. Don’t you quit on me now.”
A branch cracked nearby—Boone’s voice bellowing something I couldn’t make out. Relief stabbed through me, but another surge of water pulled him under again. I couldn’t chase him. Not without losing the boy.
“Help!” the mother’s voice screamed from downstream, thin and panicked. She was being swept away, too.
God, this river was tearing us apart.
I shifted the boy higher, hooking his arms around my neck. One-handed, I hauled us along the trunk toward a thicker branch angled above the current. My legs kicked, fighting the pull, every inch forward a war.
At last, I slammed my forearm over the branch, dragging both of us half out of the water. The boy coughed hard, vomiting up river water before burying his face against my neck, sobbing weakly.
“You’re okay,” I whispered, my breath coming in short, gasping breaths. My throat burned, my chest heaved, but relief crashed through me so hard it almost broke me. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
The river kept raging below, uncaring. Boone was still missing. The mother was still fighting somewhere in the dark. Hopefully the man made it out of the water somewhere.
But the boy in my arms was alive.
And I’d die before I let him go.