“Nope, I tried that,” Marna called back.
Abbie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hand over hand?”
“The water's pulling so hard, I’m afraid not to keep a two-handed grip.”
And so she said, “OK, so what do we do here?”
Sommer moved over to her pack that contained minimal gear for their primitive camping trip. She looked at and rejected most of the things in her pack.
“Hurry, please,” Marna called.
Then she held up her sleeping mat.
“Abbie, what do you think of this?”
“I’d have to hear your idea.”
“It’s long. That’s my only idea. If Marna doesn’t feel safe enough to go hand over hand—” Sommer snapped her fingers. “Marna, what if we found two solid sticks and we got one under each of your armpits? Would you be willing to move your hands from the trunk to the sticks? Abbie can hold one end, and I can hold the end of the other, and we can drag you in.”
“Something, now, please. I’m losing my body heat in this water.”
“Abbie, stay there. I’ll look.”
The woods were full of dead saplings; Sommer had to calm herself enough that her brain could find them.
Very quickly she was back by Abbie’s side, and they worked the sticks toward Marna.
Pushing with her foot, Marna grabbed one stick then the other, forcing them under her pits. Her hands did an odd little side-crab grab-release, grab-release as she inched her hands out in front of her. “Ready. Pull,” she called.
Standing away from the slick clay of the bank, Abbie and Sommer held tight as they walked backward, dragging Marna into the shallows. Then, they ran forward to reach for her.
Marna brushed her hand through the air. “I’m fine. Give me a minute.” She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands
“Should we—should we start a fire here?” Abbie asked through chattering teeth. She’d been in the water long enough that her flesh was bright pink with cold.
Sommer pulled out her map, and Marna rolled over to look.
“Thirty—maybe forty-five minutes?” Marna sat up and pulled off her shirt. “It would be easier just to dry off and change our clothes here and deal with this at the campsite.”
“You okay, Abbie?” Sommer asked as Abbie blew her nose on a bandana. Somehow she was as wet as Marna.
“Okay, but I swallowed a lot of water.”
“Same,” Marna said.
“Do you want to try to vomit it up?” Sommer asked.
“Would that work?” Abbie asked.
“I have no idea.”
“The water’s pretty clear, and it’s moving pretty fast,” Marna stooped over her pack, opening the dry bag.
Sommer stood and put her hands on her hips as she looked upstream. “What’s up from here?”
“A mountain top.” Marna patted the sides of her pack and opened the zippers.
“Not what I meant,” Sommer said, dryly. “There’s no cattle, no chemicals, right?”
