“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”
He grabs onto the rope attached to my tube and holds on tight. “Feel better now?”
“Somewhat.”
We begin to float down the river and I eventually become comfortable enough that I lay my head back and close my eyes. It’s a hot day, but the cool river water helps keep me comfortable. I wasn’t keen on tubing, but this isn’t so bad. It’s actually rather relaxing.
Minutes pass, and I eventually open my eyes.
No one is around us.
“Xander?” I ask hesitantly.
“Hmm?” he hums. His head is tilted back and his sunglasses hide his eyes.
“Where is everyone?”
He sits up at that and looks around. “Shit.”
Panic rises inside me. “Are we lost?”
“Of course not,” he scoffs.
“We’re totally lost,” I cry. “We’re going to get eaten by alligators.”
“This is Colorado, not Florida, I think we’re safe from alligators.”
I look around and around, but everywhere I look, there’s only water and trees. The river is too wide and the current is moving too fast for us to get to the bank.
“We’re going to die,” I mumble. “They’re going to write: Here lies Xander and Thea, the idiots who got lost tubing and were never seen from again. We’ll become one of those ghost stories they tell kids around a campfire.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he says in a calm, sure tone. “We’ll be fine. This probably just brings us out in a different area. We’ll meet up with the others in no time. You’ll see.”
I strain, listening closely. “Do you hear that?”
He listens too. “What is that?”
I look behind me, but it’s hard to see. I squint my eyes, trying to piece together what I’m hearing. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Waterfall,” I say.
Xander’s eyes widen, and for the first time, I see him begin to panic. He lets go of my raft and grabs onto my hand. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
I want to argue that I might not have any choice in letting go, but I’d rather pretend everything is going to be okay.
The sound of rushing water grows louder the closer to the waterfall we get. I look again and see that it’s about six-foot drop, so thankfully not too steep, but it’s going to be a drop nonetheless.
We go over, and I scream as the tube falls out from under me. Xander’s hold on my hand tightens to the point of pain, but he still has me so I’m not going to complain. We go underwater and the cold water sears my skin with its iciness. I kick my legs, propelling myself up where much-needed air is. Xander’s hand is still in mine and he surfaces a few seconds before I do. Perks of being a giant, I guess.
We look around, but our tubes are long gone.
“Kick as hard as you can,” he says. “We’re swimming for that rock and then to the grass. Okay?”
I nod, my teeth chattering. It might be early July, but the water is frigid enough for January. Now I have a new worry to add to my previous ones. Hypothermia.
We swim over to the rock, kicking and using our arms as much as we can without losing our grip on the other. The current is fast and keeps dragging us in the opposite direction which makes it hard to get where we’re trying to go.