There wasn’t anything else to be said. They thanked Norman, Diaz slickly passed him some folded green for his time, and they went back to the plank bridge.
Milla felt confident enough not to hold on to Diaz’s belt on the return crossing, though he insisted. As long as she didn’t look down at the water, which gave her a mild sense of vertigo as it rushed past, she was fine.
They were almost halfway across when Diaz made a sharp sound of warning. The board tilted wildly beneath their feet; Milla released Diaz, both arms waving as she scrambled for balance. It happened so fast she didn’t even scream as they both plunged down into the swift, icy river.
19
The water was so cold it was numbing, and deeper than she’d expected. The current pushed her below the surface even as it tumbled her along, tossing her like a rag doll in a child’s careless grip. Instinctively she began kicking, trying to go with the current rather than fighting it, and as if rewarding her, it promptly shot her upward.
Her head broke the surface and she gasped in air. Her hair hung in her face, blinding her. She thought she heard a distant shout; then the current tumbled her under again. Rolling, she took a glancing blow to her left shoulder, but it scarcely stung; what it did do was tilt her back to the right, toward the middle of the river, and she fought for the surface once more. Somehow she got turned so she was going with the current again, swimming as hard as she could, and she popped up like a cork.
“Milla!”
The voice calling her name was rough from strain, but she knew it. She turned her head and saw Diaz behind her and to the right, swimming toward her with desperate, powerful strokes. “I’m all right!” she yelled, then felt the current tug at her again. She kicked harder, concentrating on keeping her head above water.
Diaz was a stronger swimmer, but he was heavier, and he couldn’t gain any ground on her. If she stopped swimming so hard, in order to let him catch up, the current would pull her under again. The banks rose steep and high on both sides of the river, and the water swept them along as if they were in a chute, with no way out even if they could fight their way to the side.
Ahead, the river curved to the left. A tree had fallen on the right bank, its limbs reaching almost to the water.
“Tree!” she heard Diaz roar behind her, and understood. She angled to the right, fighting to get within reaching distance of one of the limbs. Her head went under just as she gasped for air and she choked on a mouthful of water. She fought to the surface once more, but the effort and the cold were taking their toll. Her arm and leg muscles ached, and her lungs were burning. Maybe if she could catch one of the limbs, she could rest there for a minute; maybe they could even climb out that way.
It wasn’t by her efforts that she succeeded; the current obligingly pushed her to the right, where the bank was hollowed out by the water’s force. Desperately she reached up and caught a limb; the water jerked at her and the dead limb broke off in her hand, and she went under.
She was tiring rapidly, her kicks becoming less forceful, her arm motions jerky instead of smooth. Still she once more gained the surface and sucked in much-needed air, and just before the roil of water pulled her under again for what was probably the last time, a hard arm wrapped around her and held her up. The tree hadn’t stopped her, but it had slowed her enough for Diaz to catch up.
“Angle to the right!” he yelled. “That’s the side the truck is on!”
It was comforting to know that he thought they’d make it, at least, otherwise he wouldn’t have cared which side they got out on, just that they got out.
She had no idea how far the water had carried them, but the current was so swift they could already be half a mile downstream from Norman’s shack. Then, abruptly, the river widened and the current slowed.
It was still a fast current, so fast she couldn’t fight it, but at least the water smoothed out and stopped battering at her. The riverbanks were less steep, but choked with huge boulders. She could stay on top with less effort and give her burning muscles some rest, but the cold was going bone deep, and she knew they didn’t have much time left before they became too sluggish to swim.
“Catch the end of my belt and wrap it around your wrist,” Diaz said hoarsely, and a length of leather slapped the water in front of her.
She caught the belt, but said, “I’ll drag you under.”
“No you won’t. We can’t be separated. Do it!”
What he meant was, if they got separated, she was a dead woman. On the other hand, if she dragged him down, they’d both be dead.
“We don’t have much time!” he yelled. “We have to get out before we go over a waterfall!”
There was a waterfall on this river? Her blood chilled even colder. The force of the water would push them to the bottom and they’d drown, assuming they weren’t battered to death on rocks. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but she was game for anything. She clutched the belt and twisted her hand several times, wrapping the leather around her wrist.
“There’s a right bend!” He coughed, and spat out water. “Just ahead. The current is slower on the inside of a curve, so that’s our chance. Just hang on, and I’ll get us out.”
“I can kick,” she said, surprised at how guttural her tone was.
“Then kick like hell.”
She kicked like hell.
Her thigh muscles had gone beyond tired, beyond burning. Her legs were in agony, but she kicked. Diaz’s arms scissored like an automaton’s, dragging them on a diagonal through the water. Forward progress was swift, his diagonal progress was measured in inches, and the bend was coming up much too fast; they were going to get swept past it before they could make it to the slower current. She growled like an animal as a burst of adrenaline sent her surging forward, almost even with Diaz. Without the drag of her on his arm, he gained even more ground as the current swept them into the bend.