Uncertain Justice

Chapter 31

He couldn't have said afterward how long he traveled that way. Twice more he crouched low, hiding under the blanket while the chopper passed nearby but neither time did it come as close as it had earlier.

The creek emptied into a larger stream and he found himself wading through water that was occasionally chest-deep. He wasn't aware of choosing to go downstream again; it was on an instinctive level that he realized he couldn't walk against the rush of water.

It was all he could do to keep moving. He had no energy left over to wonder where he was going. It didn't even concern him that he might step off into deeper water at any moment. With the return of bone-deep fatigue, there were no resources left over for extraneous thoughts. The only drive he had left was a desire to keep moving ... to put more distance between himself and the hunters. Still dragging his backpack, expecting to hear the helicopter returning at any moment, he staggered along the rocky strewn, uneven riverbed.

A half-mile after leaving the tributary for the larger stream, a dark mass loomed in front of him. Miles stopped lifting his boots clear of the muck and sliding them forward a few inches over the bottom of the river. He stood passively, leaning back into the current with his chin on his chest for long moments.

Finally, perceiving something was moving toward him, he stirred and tried to get his hunting knife out again. His fingers fumbled with the snap on the sheath but it was beyond him. He had no strength left.

He stood quietly and waited for whatever was going to happen. When nothing bit, hit, or pushed him, he listlessly raised his head again. Moonlight showed through the gathering clouds to illuminate a huge tree trunk in the water. He could see a mass of intertwined roots, twigs, and branches that projected from the shore.

The giant tree had been toppled a decade ago during spring floods that undermined the riverbank and loosened the grip of the roots. Temporarily deep enough to float the big tree, the river had carried it downstream ... rolling and tumbling until it smashed sideways against an unmovable boulder the size of an eighteen-wheeler.

The trunk snapped and continued down the river in two parts, the root section leading the branches through whitewater rapids and over precipitous falls. As the flood abated, the roots caught in the river bottom. The other end of the root section slewed around until it jammed solid against the bank.

Propelled by the current, the top of the tree with most of its limbs and branches still attached washed partially over the tree's roots and lodged only a few yards downstream. With one end penned firmly against the bank, both logs were frozen in a wide 'V' shape with the point over the water.

There they stayed, permanently wedged in place by their own weight. As the water level dropped, their position solidified.

For years, loose branches, saplings, and grasses floated down from sources high in the mountains to lodge against the partial dam made by the two giant logs. Twigs and leaves that slipped between the upstream roots were slowed enough by the contact to catch among the dead limbs on the downstream side. In time, the original broken tree trunks were completely hidden by later arriving material.

Branches, twigs, roots, and lighter logs gradually weaved themselves into a loose canopy over the water between the tree trunks to form a tight roof over an open space between the logs. Walls of grass, weeds, tree trunks, and branches built up and extended themselves well below the water's surface.

The walls thickened with each new spring's flood. The thicker walls made the open space between the two logs contract a little through the years but the opening never disappeared.

Miles knew none of this. All he knew was that something blocked his path.

Miles looked at the barrier for a minute, trying to find a way around without venturing too far into midstream, but there was no alternative. Slogging into the deeper water, he still passed too close and a corner of the camouflaged emergency blanket he still wore over his shoulders was caught. He pulled listlessly but the branch refused to release its captive.

Stepping closer to where the blanket was held, his right foot dropped into a hole in the riverbed. He stumbled forward, trying to keep his balance but lost the battle almost immediately and plunged head first beneath the obstacle. Choking as the water closed over his head, he struggled desperately to find a foothold. Behind him, the survival blanket floated off the limb that had speared it and the swift water sent it flying downstream.

Panicked, Miles fought to get to the surface while the current tried to pull the backpack away from him. He held on, his fingers wrapped tightly around the straps. If he lost the pack's contents he would die shortly no matter what the river did to him. After a few seconds that terror made endless, his left foot found a purchase on the slick rocks and he pushed upward with all his strength.

He came up thrashing wildly with his free hand, coughing and spitting, in complete darkness. He could do nothing but gasp for air for several minutes. He coughed cold river water from his lungs and fought to stay above the surface.

Gradually, he recovered and found a place between the rocks in the riverbed for his right foot. With both feet firmly planted, he leaned against the current and tried to figure out what had happened to him.

The water was deeper. It had been at his waist and lower ribs; suddenly it was just under his ears. Worst of all, he couldn't see anything. Fear surged. He fought to smother it and push it away. He couldn't afford to be incapacitated by panic but he was slowly loosing the ability to resist. His core temperature--the deep internal temperature his body had to maintain to stay alive--was falling to a critical point. His brain was failing as cold and exhaustion overwhelmed the higher processes.