Page 5 of Wild River

My body launches out of the folding chair, and icy cold water fills my boots and soaks into my jeans before I even realize I’m wading in. Instincts have taken over, along with all that Mountain Rescue training, and my core tenses as the river current tugs at me below the surface. It’s weaker here than further east, but it’s still enough that I stagger sideways. Just for one step, before I brace myself and stand firm.

My throat goes dry as the young woman drifts closer.

Is she…?

Is she dead?

The woman in white floats face up, her ghostly dress twisting and billowing in the water. Her eyes are closed, and there are cuts and scrapes visible all over her bare skin. Can’t tell if she’s breathing.

“Fuck,” I mutter, taking another two careful steps to put myself in her path. Dread has my shoulders bunched up around my neck.

And listen, I’ve seen plenty of bodies in my time. Working in Mountain Rescue, it’s unavoidable. Folks get caught out by rock slides, by storms, by walking off the path in the dark. By bears and snake bites and wildfires. Sometimes they simply get lost and wander into the wilderness, and we can’t always find them in time, especially if no one reports them missing.

That doesn’t make it any easier. Every single time, it’s a punch to the throat.

This girl, though…

She’s so out of place in these mountains. You don’t wear a dress like that to go hiking. And I know that looks have nothingto do with how tragic an accident is, but… even banged up and waterlogged, she’s so fucking beautiful.

My chest aches, and I reach out just as she’s swept into my arms.

“Mph,” I grunt.

There’s nothing to her, not really, but the extra weight of her smacking into my chest is enough to push me back a few steps. The current sucks hungrily at my legs, and my boots skid against the rocky riverbed.

Fear spikes, but I push it down. Not helpful.

“Come on.” The young woman is cold as I gather her up, her head lolling against my shoulder. Like she’s been in the river a fair while. That’s not good. “Let’s get out of here and get warm.”

Maybe she’s dead. Maybe I’m chatting to a corpse, holding a dead body against my chest bridal-style, but I can’t let my brain follow that thought. It’s too fucked up, too tragic, too eerie to think about. Instead I grit my teeth and wade back to the riverbank, the current tugging at my legs all the while. Her dress drags through the water, weighing us down.

The current is calmer by the bank. My muscles bunch and flex as I scoop the woman higher against my chest, holding her out of the water as I clamber carefully up the bank and out of the river. Her soaked dress dangles, sticking to my wet jeans.

“Okay.” It’s a relief to be out of the water, but as I lay the woman down on the grass, a new fear sets in. Now what? The nearest town is miles and miles from here. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s check if you’re breathing.”

Her head tips back easily under my hands, her lips parting so sweetly. My face is frozen in a grimace as I lean over her, straining to feel the puff of breath on my cheek.

Nothing.

Or—nothing I can feel, anyway.

“Shit,” I say. “Okay.”

My fingers knit together and I place the heel of my palm on her sternum. Can’t help but notice the goosebumps prickling over her bare skin now that we’re out on the grassy bank—were those there before? Can a dead body make new goosebumps?

Christ. I’m trained in this, and yet this young woman in white has thrown me fully off kilter. Every moment is jerky; every thought is like sludge in my skull.

Ah, ah, ah, ah.

Staying alive. Staying alive.

Ah, ah, ah, ah…

My hands pump her chest to the rhythm of that cheesy disco song, just like I was taught in my very first week of Mountain Rescue training. The pressure is enough to get her body going, but not enough to fracture ribs, and yet she still feels so small and delicate where she’s splayed beneath me on the grass. I’m like a hulking monster leaning over her, my face stuck in a perma-scowl. Cranking her rib cage like a set of bellows.

After chest compressions, I block her nose and breathe into her mouth, watching her lungs inflate out of the corner of my eye. Then another breath, then back to chest compressions. Every second that passes makes my heart sink even further.

Soaked to the skin, kneeling on the river bank in the breeze, the cold seeps through my veins and sinks into my marrow.

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