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"Couldn't have done it without my muse and partner." He pulls me into his arms and ravishes my mouth so thoroughly that I feel a touch lightheaded afterward. Only Errol could kiss me that way.
"Time to stop snogging," Munro declares in his grumpy tone. "Errol, get up here."
Errol climbs onto the front seat with Munro, who pauses in his paddling, which he's been doing for a while now at a relaxed pace. He leans over to have a hushed conversation with Errol. Munro's expression has turned rather serious, but he'd been grumpy when I first met him, so I have no reason to believe something has gone wrong. He might just have gotten tired and cranky again.
I want to ask what they're talking about, but I don't want to be the annoying newbie who questions everything. I can wait until they decide to tell me about whatever it is.
Errol swallows hard enough that I can see his Adam's apple jumping. Then he wipes a hand over his mouth and glances back at me.
Yeah, that's not concerning at all.
Munro thumps Errol's arm, then returns to paddling.
Errol turns halfway toward me, still seeming disconcertingly worried. "It's nothing to panic about, Ashley, but you need to prepare for what's coming."
Way to ease my anxiety, Errol. But I maintain a relaxed expression when I ask, "What's going on?"
"We're coming up on Hermit Rapid," Munro says. "Class eight, with the biggest, roughest waves anywhere in the canyon. Ashley, make sure you have your helmet and life jacket on tight."
"Donnae worry, love," Errol tells me. "Ahmno letting anything happen to you. But maybe you should crouch behind the seat and hold on to it with both arms."
"Okay. You be careful too, hey?"
He smirks. "You know me."
Does that mean he'll be extra careful? Or that he'll turn back into the lunatic who sets off land mines and possibly get himself killed? If Hermit Rapid is the worst one of all, rougher than the rapid that nearly knocked me out of the raft…Holy shit. But I trust Errol completely, which means I need to stop worrying about him and pay attention to my surroundings.
Errol and Munro start paddling harder than ever.
I'm about to test my newfound bravery.
"We will handle the raft," Errol says, glancing over his shoulder at me. "You just hang on and try not to fall out. If you should feel yourself about to go over the edge, scream."
Oh yeah, I can handle this. No problem. If I'm about to die, I'll just scream.
We head straight into the rapid.
The water reminds me of storms at sea, the way it roils and shifts directions. I hang on and brace myself for a wild ride.
The boys paddle even harder, gritting their teeth and fighting with the monster currents roiling around us. The deeper we go into the gauntlet, the more the raft bounces. A constant barrage of insanely big waves crash over the raft, swamping it again and again. A whirling dervish of colliding breakers slam into us as one, and the front of the raft lifts up and to one side—Errol's side. I scream his name, but through the swells I can make out the shapes of both men still inside the raft.
I cling to my seat, suddenly getting nauseous though none of the previous rapids had affected me this way. Munro did not exaggerate. Hermit Rapid is the scariest maelstrom yet, and every time I shriek, it's not from the joy of an awesome ride. My heart thuds whenever I lose sight of Munro and Errol, their figures lost in the muddy madness that sprays up and over us.
The gnarliest cluster of waves I've ever seen rushes toward our tiny raft. The front end is hoisted up, almost vertical, just as another monster wave collides with the side. The raft tips sideways high enough that I can't keep hold of my seat. I slide down toward the foaming, thrashing breakers beneath me, unable to stop myself from going down, down, down. I claw at the raft as my legs go over the edge, and I know any second I'll fall into the maelstrom and get sucked into hell.
I scream as loud as I can, my throat scorched by the ferocity of my cry.
"Ashley!" Errol hollers. "She's about to go under, Munro!"
"Get her! I'll take your paddle too."
I cling to the raft, but my fingers are starting to slip. The raft has settled down again, but the waves keep pounding against it, pounding against me.
Errol crawls toward me, rises to his knees, and grips my life jacket to haul me out of the thrashing waves. Then he hugs me so tightly that I can't breathe. After a couple of seconds, he loosens his grip just enough that I won't pass out from oxygen deprivation.
"Almost out," Munro shouts.
Errol drags me to the center of the raft and keeps his arms locked around me until we've exited the rapid.
