34
I try to explain my insane idea as quickly as possible—Parker’s insane idea, really.
We all keep rowing slowly while I talk. Nobody is willing to stop entirely, unless this idea pans out, and I don’t blame them.
I start with the dream I had that first night on the river. The one where I was alone in the raft, except for my dead husband and a bunch of life jackets and paddles.
The reactions on the other women’s faces morph from confusion to skepticism while I ramble on. Imani doesn’t even look up, her eyes squeezed shut and her face a mask of pain.
I finish with the words I hope will be a mic drop. “In the dream, I thought the paddle and life jackets were people at first glance.”
Deborah raises an eyebrow as she reaches forward with her paddle. “Okay …?”
Pam, however, suddenly looks like a light bulb has flickered to life behind her eyes. “Oh, oh my gosh, I think I get what you’re saying.” She looks around the raft in excitement and momentarily stops rowing.
I nod, relieved that my exhausted brain is making sense to someone. “Yes! I don’t think Leo actually cares whether we run Splinter Ridge, or face him at the portage. As long as he gets to watch us die, he wins, right?” I say, rubbing my aching arms.
“Maybe,” Allie says, drawing out the words and still rowing, “but how does any of that actually help us?”
“Because it’s getting dark,” I say. “And he’s not going to be able to tell whether we’re in this raft until the last minute,” I add with more confidence than I feel.
“If we prop up some of the crap in this gear raft, strap life jackets and paddles onto it … somehow shape it, maybe we can make it look like all of us are still in this raft, rowing toward Splinter Ridge. When he sees us coming, he’s going to want to watch us go over the falls.
You know he is. But if we can all get out of the raft right before the portage and swim toward the portage pull-out while our boat keeps going …
Then maybe we can somehow sneak past him on the trail, while he’s focused on watching the raft? ”
The last part comes out as a question, while I try to lock eyes with Macy. Because I’ve never actually seen this particular portage trail, and I have absolutely no idea whether it might be possible to sneak past Leo at all.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to tell me the idea is absolutely ludicrous.
“Yes,” Pam says, “Yes, I think that might work!” But everybody else is watching Macy.
When Macy finally meets my gaze, still pushing the oars through the water—marginally slower than before—I can’t read her expression at first. Her torn-up face seems angrier and more pained than ever.
And, even in the fading light, I can see that the swelling is worse.
The skin is discolored and puffy, pulling at her nose and cheek to create an expression that is impossible to decipher. Infection is definitely setting in.
One by one, Deborah, Pam, and Allie slow their rowing too, welcoming the momentary break as they look to Macy.
Imani still doesn’t open her eyes.
“That won’t work,” Macy says slowly, the last words slightly slurred.
But she doesn’t tell me to shut up and keep rowing hard.
Instead, her eyes move across the gear in the raft, at the dry bags and water bottles, the lumps of wet clothing we’ve given up trying to dry as the sun disappears, and the paddles each of us clutch with trembling hands.
My heart sinks. If Macy doesn’t think this will work, it definitely won’t. She’s the expert on this river, the portage point, and Splinter Ridge.
Then she heaves a shuddering sigh and adds, “There’s a ninety-nine percent chance it won’t work, anyway. Too many things could go wrong.”
From the center of the boat comes Imani’s voice. A whisper. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”
Despite myself, I laugh, tears springing to my eyes at the Dumb and Dumber quote. She’s been quiet for so long, I was starting to fear the worst. But she’s still with us.
“Oh my god, Imani. I love that stupid movie.”
Her eyes remain firmly clamped shut, but she manages a smile. “Obviously, I can’t swim, though,” she says, as if every word hurts.
“We’ll help you,” I reply firmly, trying to imagine how we’ll ever pull this off. “We won’t leave you. You know that.”
“I took state in swim team during high school,” Allie adds, reaching to gently touch Imani’s shoulder. “I can swim for both of us.”
Tears slip down my raw, sunburned cheeks. I blink hard, trying to see ahead downriver. “Macy, tell us everything about the portage. Where will he want to watch from? And is there any way we get past him on the trail?”
Macy finally stops rowing, letting the raft coast with the current.
Her voice is clear, but I can tell how much effort it takes to form the words.
“The portage trail at Splinter Ridge is a lot like the spot where we made camp at the Devil’s Stairs.
During early spring, when the river is crazy high, we have to portage there, too.
Did any of you walk down the portage trail on the first night? ”
Allie, Deborah, and Pam look back at her uncertainly, shaking their heads.
“Was that the beach where we did the cliff jumping?” Pam asks. “I was so busy swimming, I don’t think I saw any trail …”
“I remember it,” I interrupt, thinking back to the hidden path I’d followed away from camp, weaving through sparse trees all the way around the worst of the rapids.
But I’d also walked down a narrower trail—an offshoot—to an outcropping of rocks jutting out over the whitewater below.
That was where I stared down at the Devil’s Stairs, imagining myself sinking into the churn.
“It’s exactly like that spot,” Macy says, talking faster now.
“If Leo thinks we’re going to go over the falls, he’s going to want a good view of it.
And that’s the only location where he’ll be able to watch the river to see us coming and see the falls.
So that’s likely where he’ll be.” She takes a deep breath, like the extra exertion of talking is taking its toll.
“Okay, so we know he’ll be watching for us,” Allie says, her voice rising.
“But what happens when the raft goes past him on the lookout point? I’m sure we can fool him from a distance, but at some point he’s going to realize that we tricked him …
” She gestures to the odds and ends in the gear raft.
“It’s not like we have the right supplies to make this look that convincing. ”
Macy’s expression tightens, and she winces. “Yeah. The lookout spot isn’t very far from shore. If he realizes there are dummies in the raft, he’ll be able to get back down to the portage trail in less than a minute. And then …”
I shake my head, fighting back fear as I try to imagine it all unfolding. The offshoot trail that leads to the lookout spot, if it’s anything like the previous portage point, isn’t very long. He’ll be right behind us the second he realizes what we’ve done.
And then it will be us versus Leo at close range, on land instead of water. If anything, that idea is even more terrifying. We can’t outrun him—or whatever he might have stashed at that portage trailhead.
“What about his raft?” Pam asks tentatively. “Could we take it?”
Macy frowns, puckering the split skin at her cheek. “It won’t do us any good. Not if we’re trying to get past him quickly. The rafts are so heavy. We’d be moving super slowly … and once he realizes we aren’t inside the raft going over the falls, he’ll catch us on the trail.”
Again, she’s right. I remember the weight of the rafts as we carried them from the trailers to the shore at the start of this trip—and that was with five of us on either side of each, working hard to carry it barely fifteen feet.
We’d be slow as snails—if we could lift the raft at all in our condition.
I slump where I sit, mind searching for a way to make it work. There has to be a way.
“You’ve got this, babe.” Parker whispers, exactly like he did in the rafting dream. Only this time, the emphasis is on the first word of the sentence.
And I suddenly understand.
I’ve got this.