Page 30 of A Summer to Save Us

Not so fast! I plead inwardly, but River seems to put the pedal to the metal without even turning on the lights.

The uneven path shakes me as if I was holding a jackhammer.

Instinctively, I grab the handle and stow the bag and the rest of the stuff in the footwell with my other hand.

River races deeper and deeper into the forest. Low-hanging branches whiz over our heads, one brushing my hair as if it wants to scalp me.

River! I scream silently, but he’s possessed.

I turn again. The lights of the other car appear around a bend.

They’re still following us. Maybe they’re rangers trying to make sure we’re not poachers. But what if they aren’t?

Who is searching for River so hard that they’d follow him to Idaho? And, more importantly, how did they find him? Did they track his cell phone?

Or did they follow me? Is it Chester? My dad?

I glance at River again. He growls something under his breath, but his words are swallowed up by the roar of the engine. This will not end well. Not this time. It’s dark, the dirt road is full of potholes, and the Porsche isn’t a Jeep.

At some point, River rounds a tight curve far too fast for the poor visibility.

A fir tree rises up in front of us. River curses, unable to brake in time, and swerves.

The car crashes through the bushes. Branches whip the windshield, scratching my face.

I am bounced around as the Porsche shoots forward.

Before I even understand what is happening, we are hurtling toward an abyss.

“Holy shit!” I hear River yell, and everything happens incredibly fast yet in slow motion.

The Porsche rushes down an embankment and tilts up at a sharp angle.

A loud “Hh!” escapes me, nothing more, as River hurls another wild curse into the night.

Pain throbs in my temples. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that we’re lucky in our misfortune.

The slope isn’t as steep as it looked, nor is it as high.

The Porsche sails through the air for a panicked breath, my stomach flip-flopping, before we hit the surface of the water with a loud splash.

For a moment, I feel like I’m sitting in a rubber dinghy. The impact wasn’t as catastrophic as I feared; not even the airbags deployed, and the car is floating.

As I sit there in complete shock, River jumps over the closed door.

“Damn, that’s fucking cold.” He doesn’t even mention the accident at all. He’s wading through the water that reaches up to his thighs. “Come on, we have to get out of here now! They’re close behind!” In the frightening seconds of falling, I completely forgot about our pursuers.

Suddenly, he stops. “Are you hurt?”

Confused, I shake my head. No, I’m fine.

I simply don’t understand what is happening to me and my life.

Who is River, and why do we have to run away?

Otherwise, I’m fine, everything’s fine! I climb over the car door, which wouldn’t open anyway because of the water pressure, while River works on the trunk.

As I stand in water almost up to my waist, my teeth chatter because the lake is so cold. I hate it when I make uncontrollable noises, but River doesn’t seem to notice. Besides, I was already drinking before him.

He shoulders the backpack. “Toss me the sleeping bag. Come on, hurry up!”

Stretched out over the door, I fish the stuff out of the footwell and throw him the sleeping bag.

“Luckily, we have the slackline equipment and some clothes. And even something to eat!” He grins, then turns and hurries toward the embankment, his back hunched.

I stow two of River’s long-sleeved shirts in the bag, as well as my bat blouse, before starting the trek to the shore.

One last time, I turn to the car, which is slowly rocking like a duck in a bathtub.

The S-shaped scratch is half submerged, suggesting the car will probably be swallowed up within a few minutes.

I think of Chester and allow a triumphant smile to slip out, then hurry after River, my flip-flops smacking on the narrow pebble shoreline.

I quickly fish his cell phone out of the bag. Who is following you? I type as I catch up to him.

“Not now!” he hisses, barely audible as he scans the words.

Always not now!

“Shh!”

I am quiet. I’m never loud.

“You think so?”

***

“Your silence is sometimes loud and sometimes quiet,” he mumbles.

Silence is the loudest scream , James once said in the beginning, when I stopped speaking at home.

The sound of an engine penetrates the thicket of trees down to the sparkling lake.

Only now do I discover the beauty of the place, with the reflection of the moon floating on the water like melted silver.

A few waves ripple on the surface, probably caused by our impact.

On the other side of the lake, tall conifers rise like an army’s ramparts.

River stops and listens. “They can’t go any further; the forest road ends here,” he whispers.

Doors slam, and voices can be heard talking over one another.

“Shit, Zozoo! You couldn’t have been quicker? I think we’ve lost them.”

“I was driving like a bat out of hell!”

“They must be here somewhere! Where else should they be? It doesn’t go any further here.”

“Where’s the car?”

“Shut up, damn it!”

Silence.

“Damn, I’ll kill that guy when I catch him!”

“Shh! Hey... here... look...”

“River?”

“Riv!”

His name rings out several times through the forest. All I can think is that his actual name is River. And that they’re the people River talked to on the phone, at least this Zozoo.

The voices are male and sound worried. Maybe friends?

But why is he running from them? I want to stop and find out more, but River pulls me along by my arm.

His deep blue eyes, which appear shadowy black in the light, study me as we walk along the embankment, both of us in soaking jeans.

Next to us is the head-high cliff we sledded down in the Porsche.

“Oh shit!” we hear behind us.

“Anyone inside?”

I assume they’ve spotted the Porsche.

“No one. He’s gone. The girl, too. Of course, he has the girl. I saw her.”

River puts a finger to his lips. “Move silently. Can you swim?”

I nod. I can swim, and I’d take the gold medal for being quiet and hiding.

“Okay, give me your shoes.” River stops.

I don’t understand at first until he takes off his boots and stuffs them almost silently into his backpack.

Finally, he stores my flip-flops. “Luckily, you don’t have a taste for over-the-knee boots,” he jokes in a subdued tone.

“We’ll try to outrun them on the shore, but if that doesn’t work, we’ll swim across. ” He pulls me along.

“Riv, you okay, man? Come out! We had an agreement. A few days to wind down, but no girl.” The voice grows increasingly angrier. “You’re sick.”

River continues forward unperturbed, wading through the water, shortening the serpentine lines of the shoreline. I hurry after him, feeling the cold wrapping around my legs like ivy. But it’s not only the cold.

You’re sick?!

He just looks at me, his confident lips pursed, and I realize he’s not going to comment. A stale taste forms in my mouth. Incurable diseases. That was part of some farewell letters from the Golden Gate jumpers. But he appears healthy. He smokes, he drinks, he does what he wants.

Maybe because nothing matters anymore, I think. Maybe he’ll die soon and wants to take his own life prematurely.

I stop abruptly, and my eyes involuntarily fill with tears. Tears as wet and real as the fear in my chest.

There are isolated calls again coming from different directions, but I don’t care. Because River always manages to outrun everyone. Because I have a terrible feeling right now.

Are you dying? I type with shaking hands and hold his phone in front of his face.

Now he’s smiling. “Not until the end of summer. Besides, we all die sometime.”