11.An Out-of-Element Experience
I KNOW THE WATERFALL FLOWSupward. I know that. And still I’m half convinced I’m about to plunge straight through the water to my death.
More than half convinced, really—the laws of gravity are really hard to unlearn.
But somehow, magically, Idon’tfall through the water. Instead, ice-cold water shoots hard against my spine and legs, pushing me up, up, up. Within seconds it’s flowing around me before crashing back down into my eyes, my nose, my mouth. I spit the water out, turning my head left and right in a frantic attempt not to drown in this mess of my own making even as I try to figure out how any of this is possible.
But the truth is, I don’t need to know how it’s possibleorwhy it’s happening. I just have to figure out how not to die—which I absolutely, positively am not going to do, becausethere isno wayI’m going to let myself drown when I’m so close to finally finishing this thing.
Still, close isn’t all the way there, especially when I’m bouncing and bobbing around like an apple in a barrel at a Halloween party.
I don’t like it, so I keep trying to sit up, but every time I finally manage to get my shoulders off the massive wall of churning water beneath me, another current comes along and slams me right back down. Because of course it does—nothing else about today has been easy. Why should this be?
After several more attempts that all end with the same result—me spread-eagled and close to drowning—I finally decide to try something else. This time, instead of sitting up, I force myself to relax.
Instead of fighting the current, I use its momentum to help me flip from my back to my stomach. And immediately face-plant into the water beneath me.
The moment I do, the water slams into my mouth, down my throat, and into my lungs. I turn my head, try to cough it up, but more water pours in. As I fight to recover—fight to breathe—I can’t help thinking that jumping into this waterfall just might kill me.
Somehow I manage to lift my head enough to spit the water back up. Once I do, I draw in a loud, strangled breath and try to look around as best I can. The water is still churning and everything around me looks frothy and white, but I’m still able to see more in this position than I could on my back. Mostly it’s just rocky cliffs on either side and aboveme, but as I lift my head up again, I catch a flash of gold to my left.
The coin!
There it is. Just to the left of me, almost within arm’s reach. It seems impossibly hard to fight the water enough to actually reach it. There has to be a way, though. There’s no chance the administration would make a coin that couldn’t be caught, would they?
Another tumble of water washes over me, but I’m learning. This time I squeeze my eyes shut, blow air out of my nose like I do when I’m in the swimming pool, and press my lips as tightly together as I can. Then I force myself to relax again and let the blast of water move me.
Thankfully, it moves me to the left, and when I open my eyes I realize I’m several inches closer to the coin. I lift an arm up—and by lift, I mean flail it around—hoping to grab the coin.
But nope. It’s still just a little too far away.
So I do the whole thing again. And again. And again.
The fourth time I reach up, my fingers brush against the coin. But I know its tricks, and this time I don’t hesitate. I push myself to reach even farther, feeling the stretch all the way from the tips of my fingers to the muscles of my rib cage.
And then I stretch even farther.
Just a little more…just a little more…just—
Got it!
My hand closes around the coin.
Relief sweeps through me, and for a few seconds all I can do is hold on to it so tightly that my nails make little groovesin my palms. Not that I’m paying attention to the little pricks of pain—I’m too busy trying to hang on to the coin to worry about anything else.
Except getting off this nightmare of a ride without killing myself—and doing it as soon as I possibly can.
I have no idea how many of the twenty-seven minutes have ticked away, but my gut tells me most of them. And I still have to find my way back to the amphitheater.
But before I can think of how to get out of this, the wind picks up, stirring the water all around me, making it churn faster.
A huge push of water slams into me from below, sending me up, up, up before pulling me back down again. I try to fight it, try to keep myself from being dragged down, but the combination of wind and water is too strong.
One frantic inhale later and I’m pulled into the depths of the water. Spun around and around until I don’t know which way is up…or down. I try to find the sun, the sky—try to center myself and swim—but the water is too strong and I’m spinning too fast.
It’s okay, I try to tell myself as my lungs start aching for air. Just give it a few more seconds. Just wait it out. Just—
Another rush of water slams into me, this one hard enough to knock from my lungs the air I’m trying so desperately to hang on to.
