Wild River (7 page)

I just hoped there was a good strong camper there. Somebody who could go for help in a hurry.

I paddled into shallow water, then slid off the mattress. I dragged it onto the shore, then ran for the campground.

I thought about yelling, but I didn’t see anybody. I saved my breath and headed straight for that green tent.

Going closer, I saw how small the campground was. Just a flat, open spot with two or three fire pits. I didn’t slow down, but I kept looking in all directions.

And saw nothing. The place was empty except for that green tent back in the trees.

About twenty feet away from it, I stopped and stared. The green tent wasn’t a tent at all. It was
just an old tarp. Somebody had draped it over logs to make a shelter, the sort of thing you’d get under in a rainstorm. It looked like it had been there for months. Maybe years.

Nobody there. Nobody at all.

I could almost hear the River Demon laughing.

I
looked around the empty campground and yelled. No words. Just noise. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I yelled and yelled.

It didn’t help much. I was still mad. At everything and everybody. Mostly at myself.

I’d left Tanner alone so that I could come here. All the way down the river, I’d been picturing some supercamper He’d go racing up the mountain for help while I lay in the sun.

I’d been playing my game, fighting the river all the way. And I’d made it. I thought I’d won. But there was nobody here. No supercamper. Nobody at all.

I should have known better.

I staggered over to a log and flopped down on it. The sun was warm on my face, but my wet jeans kept me shivering. I thought about taking them off but didn’t. Too much trouble.

I sat there for a few minutes. I thought about getting out a granola bar but didn’t.

Finally I pulled myself to my feet. It was time to get real. No supercampers here. The only person who could climb out of there was me. Tanner’s little brother. Tanner’s freezing, exhausted, mad little brother.

I headed past the fire pits, looking for the trail. My wet sneakers squished and squirted with each step.

I spotted one trail and started to follow it. But it split into two trails, and I could see another a few yards away.

I stopped and tried to think. Just below me was Grey Pine Creek. I could see where it flowed into the river. But the road we’d come in on that morning was on the other side of the river.

Was the trail over there? Or was the trail on this side, leading up to a different road?

Tanner had probably told me, when he was talking about guys hiking in to fish. But I hadn’t really listened. I had figured Tanner would take care of everything.

I moved into an open area and looked across the river at black cliffs. They seemed even higher than the ones upstream. I decided the trail had to be on this side.

I picked out the biggest trail and hurried along it. Other trails split off every fifty steps or so, but they all led down to the creek.

My trail got smaller and smaller. I was afraid it was just a trail for fishermen. I looked at my watch and decided to give it five more minutes.

A little farther on, the trail split. One fork headed uphill. I stopped and studied it. It
zigzagged back and forth, moving higher, until it disappeared into the trees. It seemed to be heading in the right direction. But it seemed too small to be the trail out of there.

I hated to start climbing unless I was sure.

I stood at the fork and tried to decide. Somewhere around there was a trail that led to a road. Maybe this was it. If I was lucky, maybe I could follow it and get help.

But, so far, my luck had been terrible. Why would it change now? I might follow that trail for hours and get nowhere. I pictured myself walking on and on while the sun was going down.

I couldn’t take a chance. There was only one sure way out: down the river. It might take a long time, but sooner or later I’d get to a bridge.

A bridge. Somewhere downstream. A mile? Ten miles? I had no idea. Just somewhere downstream. I hadn’t bothered to listen to Tanner, so that was all I knew.

But what else did I need to know?

I looked at my watch: three-thirty. Almost half an hour since I’d left the river. Too much time wasted already.

I turned and ran back toward the campground.

It probably sounds funny, but right then I felt better than I had since I left Tanner. Everything was decided now. I was going down the river. I didn’t know how long it would take, but it didn’t matter. There was no other choice.

Before I went into the water, I added some air to the mattress. It wasn’t easy, because I was already out of breath. The mattress took lots of air. I wondered if it had sprung a leak. But I didn’t worry about it for long. Leak or not, I was headed downstream.

The running had warmed me, so the first steps into the cold river were hard. I ended up yelling again. It didn’t help much.

I carried the mattress into knee-deep water, then flopped down on it. I paddled for a minute, then let the current take me away.

Next stop: the bridge. All I had to do was hang on and wait.

After Grey Pine Creek, the river seemed a little wider and a little deeper. The current was strong. I kept the mattress steady and watched out for rocks.

I hummed a little, but I didn’t feel like singing. I looked at my watch every two or three minutes. It was like one of the video games where you have to finish all the jobs before the time runs out. You have to hurry, but you try not to think about time. But you can’t help it.

I could almost hear the clock ticking away: Three-fifty. Three-fifty-two. What if I couldn’t make it to the bridge before dark? What if it was so dark that I couldn’t see the bridge? I might go right past it. The River Demon would love that.

That kind of worrying was dumb, and I knew it.

All I could do was stay in the current and keep moving. There was no way to speed up. Still, I couldn’t help thinking about floating along in the dark.

I heard noise up ahead. I looked up, expecting some kind of chute. But I could see the river far in front of me.

Closer, though, were boulders and rough water. I could see little waves rising in front of me. I paddled to the right to stay clear of a big black rock.

The waves rocked my mattress enough to make me grab on with both hands. I bounced through the water for a minute, spun sideways, then bounced a little more. A little action from the River Demon. But it couldn’t dump me off my boat.

If things had been different, it might have been fun. But right then nothing was fun.

After that, the river got wider and shallow. Not even a foot deep. And the current slowed. I had to look at the shore to be sure I was still moving. I felt like yelling again.

I was almost sorry I’d brought Tanner’s watch. In some ways, it made things worse. I ground my teeth when it showed four o’clock.

I took a deep breath and looked ahead. No bridge. But there was something black on the shore. At first, I thought it was a boulder. But then I realized that the black thing was moving.

A bear. That was all I needed. A bear.

The River Demon was
not playing fair
.

T
he bear was on my right. So I shoved my left hand into the water. The mattress turned that way, and I eased out of the current. I caught hold of a boulder and held the mattress in place. I lay there, without moving, and watched.

The bear was about fifty yards downstream from me. It was on the shore, a few feet from the river. It seemed to be eating something. I didn’t know what to do. I thought about
paddling over to the bank and waiting for it to leave. At least there would be the river between us.

Maybe I’d be safer onshore. I could run if the bear started across the river.

The bear kept its nose to the ground. What was it eating? What did bears eat, anyway?

I didn’t know much about bears. I’d read a book about them a long time back. Maybe third grade. I sort of remembered that they had bad eyesight but great noses. And they were fast runners. Much faster than you’d think.

That didn’t make me feel any better.

That spring, mountain lions had been seen close to our town. So we’d been told over and over how to scare them away: you were supposed to yell and hold your arms high to make yourself look bigger. I wondered if that would work with a bear.

I held on to the boulder and watched the bear eat. And took quick glances at my watch. Four-oh-five. Four-oh-eight. Four-ten.

The bear raised its head and walked a few
steps. “Keep going,” I whispered. “Keep going.” But then it lowered its head and started eating again. It seemed to be in no hurry at all.

But I was. Four-fifteen came and went. I kept thinking about Tanner. And wondering what time the sun went down.

At four-twenty, I couldn’t stand to wait any longer. The bear had its back to the river. And it was busy eating. I had to try slipping past.

I let go of the rock and eased the mattress back into the current.

The mattress started moving downstream. I couldn’t change my mind now. All I could do was keep floating. And watching the bear. It seemed to get bigger and bigger.

The bear raised its head again and started walking. Moving in the same direction I was. It had a kind of rolling walk. Its head swung back and forth with each step.

The current was moving faster than the bear. So I was getting closer and closer. I used one hand
to steer the mattress toward the other shore. I wanted to be as far away as possible. But I had to stay in the current.

Then I was even with the bear. Close enough to see leaves and bits of brown grass stuck in its fur.

For a minute, I forgot about everything but that fantastic animal. I was scared, I guess. But mostly I was amazed. A bear right there, moving along with me.

The bear stopped and raised its head high. Maybe it was wondering what that weird thing in the river was. I probably didn’t look good to eat. The bear kept smelling the air and turning its head from side to side.

I wonder what kind of smell the bear got from me and my dirty, wet clothes and the mattress. What did it think I was?

Finally the bear lowered its head and walked away from the water.

By that time, I was looking back over my shoulder. I glanced ahead for a second to check for
rocks. When I looked back again, the bear was gone.

I was still excited. My first thought was
Wait till I tell Tanner
. But that brought everything back. I bit down hard and tried to keep my teeth from chattering.

I started to sing again to keep from thinking. I was too tired and cold to make anything up, so I sang a song from last summer. I’d used it to tease my mother: