Page 43 of The Unlikely Pair
At the water’s edge, I yank off the shoes I’ve just put on.
“It’ll be easier to swim without shoes.”
“But how are we going to carry them with us?”
I tug off my tie. “We can use this to attach our shoes to the survival kit. And perhaps our coats too.”
“All right. We need to hurry.”
There appears to be some law that states that the more urgently you attempt to do something, the more your fingers fumble. Eventually, Toby and I attach our shoes and coats to the survival kit, and we begin to wade into the water.
The shockingly cold water engulfs my legs. It’s deeper than expected, up to my thighs instantly, the powerful current pushing against me. My trousers are immediately sodden, a dead weight around my legs.
Bollocks.
Should we take off our clothes too? They are going to drag us down. But I’m reluctant to part with any articles of clothing.
Toby is beside me, his face grim, his shoulders hunching against the chill. “Well, it’s not exactly balmy, is it?” His voice is shaky.
“Swim for the middle,” I urge, teeth chattering. “Away from the banks.”
Toby nods. His face is already pale, the few freckles standing out on his skin.
We strike out into the faster currents in the center of the river. God. This is bloody frigid. My muscles are already seizing, my lungs constricting with each labored breath.
I glance back to where Toby is doggie-paddling, one arm still clutching the survival kit, which at least seems to be providing some buoyancy.
I’m not sure how long we can maintain this. The icy water saps my strength with every stroke, my soaked clothing pulling me down towards the bottom of the river.
The a dog’s bark carries across the water. My heart pounds, adrenaline surging through my veins.
Through the splashing of water around me, I can make out dark figures moving along the bank, their outlines sharp and menacing against the forest background.
Something pings in the water next to me.
What the hell was that?
But when there’s a whistling sound right next to my ear, I know exactly what it was.
Bullets. They’re shooting at us. I suppose that answers the question of whether they want us dead or alive.
Bullets continue to pepper the water around us.
“Swim,” I yell at Toby.
Luckily, the river appears to be on our side because the current sweeps us around a bend, taking us out of range of our pursuers’ guns.
But my relief is short-lived.
The current speeds up as the river narrows between the steep banks. The river's surface becomes a mosaic of ripples and waves, making it harder to keep our heads above water. The banks on either side seem to blur as we're swept along faster.
Over the noise of my splashing, I can hear the distant roar of falling water.
And my stomach drops. A waterfall.
Definitely not what we need at this particular moment.
“Swim for the far bank,” I yell at Toby, but I can’t tell if he’s heard me over the noise of the waterfall.
