Tim Parks - Rapids

Quick! He pushed the boat away. For a few moments he back — paddled furiously, but only to get his bearings. He knew he was beyond the point of no return. The capsized hull went over. Turning his head a split second before taking the plunge Vince saw another paddler approaching rapidly. It would be Clive. Then he was on the brink looking down into a chaos of spray and stone. There was no time to choose a line. Relax, a voice sang in his brain. Don’t fight the water.

He fought. What else can you do? For two or three seconds he held his own. He had come over at a good spot. He planted the paddle way out to the left to drag the kayak away from a rock, tried to force it into an eddy as the water crashed between two boulders, failed, then leaned right out again to brace as the boat was dragged down in a deep hole of foam. Suddenly upside down, he rolled up at once. He was careering backwards now. The sight of the flood of water rushing towards him shook what confidence he might still have had. He thrashed the paddle. He was over again. A rock slammed against his helmet.

It was all frenzy now. His knuckles and wrists are scraping on the bottom. A desperate swinging of arms and hips unexpectedly tossed him upright. The boat was thrown against a wall and he was down again, pinned, head under water, the river piling onto his deck. I’ve lost it. Blindly, his fingers felt for the tab. Mustn’t panic. The spraydeck popped but the sheer pressure of the water had him trapped in the boat. He panicked. Yaaaah! Vince screamed away his last breath and every last ounce of energy to force himself out of the boat. Air. I need air. In the flood his knee took a tremendous knock. Boulders and branches rushed by. There was the log they’d seen. He was falling, then abruptly trapped against another rock, arms and legs outspread, stomach crushed on stone. But he had his head above the water. He could think. He found a hand hold. Clinging and slithering and fighting, he pulled himself up onto the round, rugged top of a boulder.

Vince was in the very midst of the torrent. Had anything been broken? Chunks of flesh were gone from his knuckles. Every muscle was trembling. I’m alive, I’m alive. His wetsuit was in shreds at the knee, the leg completely numb. His teeth chattered. His boat was gone. There’s something wrong with my neck. Can I move it. Yes, yes. Just stiff. Then Clive appeared. His yellow kayak shot down the rush from above. The man’s big torso and hands were moving rapidly, the shoulders swaying, the paddle flashing left to right, back and forth. But it was perfectly deliberate, even graceful. Vince saw the bearded face beneath the helmet. Clive! he shouted. Clive! Their eyes met. But there was no acknowledgement from the canoeist. The face was in a trance of concentration and as he slewed the boat around the rock Vince was on, leaning hard on his paddle, Vince saw that a sort of grim smile was playing on Clive’s lips. He plunged down the rush and was gone. Only then did Vince remember the girl. Clive was going after Michela. She must be dead, he thought.

Vince crouched on all fours. It didn’t seem safe to sit. He would have to put his legs in the water. He was afraid it would snatch him away. He was afraid if he stood he might faint and fall. I must wait for the others. How cold it was! He felt sick. How long would they be? I might pass out. They would have to throw him a rope. How will I hold it? Try to stop your body shaking, he ordered himself. Relax. Breathe. Breathe deeply.

The water thundered above and below. Even the foam was brown with mud. What is taking them so long! Then Vince realised that he was happy. He was euphoric. Something has shifted. He smiled. He couldn’t worry about the Italian girl. In a strange flood of emotion, he felt grateful to her. He was weeping. Grateful to his wife too. Gloria gave you this, he whispered. She died and I took her place on this trip.

Still crouching, shaking, he looked at his hands. They were bluish — white. The cold had stopped the bleeding. All the skin on the knuckles of the left hand was gone. He could see a bone. It was uncanny. Vince took hold of the ring on his fourth finger. It hardly pained him now to pull it off. The pale gold lay on the dead white palm and in a gesture he couldn’t understand, he let it fall into the fast brown water.

Oy! Vince! Wake up. Hey, Vince! It turned out they had been shouting at him for ages. Adam was in the brushwood on the bank, about ten feet above the water. Max was beside him. They had secured a line to a tree and were tying themselves to it in case someone should get pulled in. At the third attempt they managed to land a throw — bag directly in Vince’s hands. But his fingers wouldn’t move. He couldn’t tie it. Yelling over the sound of the water, Adam repeated his instructions. Pass an arm through a loop. Now, hold on tight and jump. Vince hesitated. Wrists and knees and feet and neck were all so stiff and numb. Trust me, Adam shouted. Vince looked across at the man. Trust me, do it.

Vince jumped. His head plunged into the dark water, but already strong arms were dragging him across. His face came up. He felt a surge of energy and when his feet banged into the rocks at the edge he was able to use the rope to climb out and up. Michela? he asked. He went down on his knees. Adam was looking at him curiously. I called the ambulance, he said. On the mobile. Max was opening a space blanket. He draped it over the kneeling figure. Wrap it round you. Come on. And he laughed. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to use this. I thought I’d never get my money’s worth.

People had to eat and so they were in a restaurant ordering pizza. Nobody really knew Michela. Had anyone spoken to her, really spoken? Tom had made love to her the night before, but they hadn’t talked. He had talked all week to Amelia. Made love is the wrong expression. She had forced it on him. She had been brash and abrupt, acting a part that wasn’t hers. He knew he was too young to understand. You thought that was what you wanted, then it wasn’t. Now Amelia and Louise both seemed far too young for him. He was eager to confess, but didn’t know whom to speak to. He sat silent and shocked. He felt old.

On the other side of the table, it was hard for Mark not to shout his excitement with the day’s achievement. He has run a wild river. With his father present. He has overcome fear. In other circumstances there would have been a buzz of euphoria. Now high spirits were forbidden. She was definitely alive when they put her in the ambulance, Mandy insisted. The adults took refuge in the technicalities: that Clive had dragged her out of the boat so quickly was the crucial thing, even if it meant swimming the last part of the rapid himself. He had done everything possible. And her being unconscious would actually have helped, Keith thought. The buoyancy aid is designed to keep your mouth out of the water. The guys at the rafting centre had given her mouth — to — mouth as soon as they pulled her ashore. Impossible to know how long she had been without oxygen. But why did she do it? Amelia demanded guiltily. I hate you, she remembered screaming. She hadn’t acknowledged Michela’s apology. She’s so pretty, she protested. So intelligent. They all had the impression that the Italian girl was very intelligent. Never heard a foreigner that spoke English so well, Caroline gave her opinion. I thought she was a happy person, Amal muttered.

Then Adam and Vince arrived from the hospital. The Waterworld group were sitting round one long table in the Meierhof in Sand in Taufers. They had booked of course. The space was large and noisy. It was Saturday night. On the level beneath them, a burly boy with a ponytail was at work beside the pizza oven, while across the restaurant beneath tall pink curtains an improbably old musician, stiff in suit and tie, stood behind a keyboard cranking out the predictable favourites: ‘Santa Lucia’, ‘Lily Marlene’, ‘Spanish Eyes’. She’s in coma, Adam announced solemnly, but stable. Nobody understood whether this was good news or bad. Clive says we’d better leave tomorrow as planned, he added. Vince had his left hand bandaged. There was a dull pain in his hip. Get your orders in, folks, Keith told the new arrivals, or we’ll be here all night. It was ten already. Tomorrow they must drive eight hundred miles.