RIVER RAGE
By: Tagsit
“You’ve GOT to be fucking kidding me!” Brian spat in a barely hushed whisper to his smirking blond companion. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to wear some moldy old wetsuit that a hundred degenerate redneck breeders have worn before me! Did you hear me? There’s No Fucking Way!”
Justin, standing next to his fuming partner, could hardly control his laughter at the outraged look on his partner’s face. He wasn’t sure what was funnier - Brian’s indignity at having to wear non-designer anything, or his underlying uneasiness at having to put on previously worn clothing. He held up one of the sleek neoprene wetsuits that had been handed out to all the participants going on the rafting trip this afternoon, draping the slightly damp garment against Brian’s tall, lanky frame and pretending to gauge the style.
“I don’t know, Brian. I think it’s you. At least it’s black. And, it will definitely hug all those curves of yours,” Justin tried to cajole the scowling brunet into a better mood with some flattery and a bit of joking.
“Fuck you, Justin! I’m NOT wearing that. It smells bad, it’s fugly as hell and fuck knows who else has worn it before, let alone what they’ve done in it. I’ll probably get leprosy or some other horrible disfiguring disease from even touching it. I’m not stripping down to my skivvies and putting that . . . thing . . . on my body!”
“Well, I’d love to stand here all day and kid you some more, Brian, but we don’t have time,” Justin stated in a no-nonsense tone as he grabbed Brian’s elbow and forcibly turned him towards the ‘out-house’ style changing rooms at the edge of the deck. “You were the one who agreed to go on this idiotic rafting trip in order to impress your client. And, if we have to go down a fucking river in a flimsy inflated boat to win this account, then you’re going to have to wear the safety gear that the river guide company requires. So, grin and bear it, big guy! Now, get in there and get this shit on.”
Without bothering to argue more, Justin shoved a still incredulous Brian into the small wooden-sided cubicle and threw the ‘Farmer-John’ style wetsuit in with him. Then, Justin picked up the ‘Poly-Pro’ splash Jacket and booties from where they were waiting on the bench next to him and tossed those in as well. He smiled his most condescending fake smile at his angry partner as he pulled the door to the changing room closed behind him.
Justin hurried into his own changing room, intent on getting his own gear on as quickly as possible in case he had to further intervene again with his fully outraged label queen partner. The rest of their raft group was already dressed and waiting and he didn’t want to let Brian’s drama hold them up any longer than needed. Justin knew that Brian would comply eventually, after he’d thoroughly expressed his resentment. In spite of the atrocity of being asked to wear unstylish, used clothing, in the end Brian would act like the consummate professional he truly was and do what had to be done to clinch this account.
About five minutes later, a still grumbling Brian emerged from the changing room, looking sleek and handsome as always, even wearing the detested gear. In fact, Justin thought he looked very rugged and adventurous in the rafting suit. The wetsuit definitely showed off every one of his lover’s considerable assets - hugging and defining every curve on the well-toned body. When Brian bent over to pick up his discarded shorts and other personal items, Justin almost moaned aloud at the tempting sight of his ass molded into the very, very tight black garment. He could feel his dick plumping to life at the enticing view and fought to control his response since there was no way he’d be able to hide a hard on while wearing his own wetsuit.
Fortunately, Justin’s attention was diverted by the river guide beckoning them over to get fitted with the rest of their safety equipment. Grayson, their raft leader, was holding out two garishly bright red personal floatation devices, which he called ‘PFD’s’, and matching red helmets. Grayson, without any hesitation, manhandled Brian into his vest, snapped the chest straps into place and cinched up the side straps until the vest was so tight the man almost couldn’t breathe. The affront of being handled so brusquely by another didn’t do much to improve Brian’s mood, or to quell Justin’s sense of amusement at watching his usually dignified partner being knocked around like a child being dressed by an overprotective mother. When the guide had Brian’s jacket tight enough for his liking, he ‘helped’ the taller man put the hard head gear on and, again without bothering to ask permission of the man he was dressing, snapped the buckle closed then began tugging on the straps to tighten the fit.
Justin, who didn’t want to suffer the same fate, tried to put on his own gear as fast as he could, trying to ignore Brian who was glaring daggers at his partner, as if blaming Justin for every single indignity he was suffering. He managed to dress himself before Grayson was satisfied with Brian’s outfitting and only had to suffer a minimum of adjustments to his own straps by the guide. Brian seemed even more annoyed at Justin because the blond didn’t suffer the same undignified treatment he’d had to endure. Justin ignored the looks Brian was sending him and simply followed the guide towards the grassy area where the rest of their boat was waiting with impatience.
Once Brian noticed that they were nearing the rest of the group, which included his potential clients, he instantly quit his muttered griping and straightened up his shoulders, putting on his usual ‘alpha-male’ swagger and disdainful mask. If this group of backwoods breeders could handle this shit, well then so could Brian Kinney. It didn’t matter in the least that Brian had never been whitewater rafting before. It didn’t matter that he was uncomfortable and clad in a slightly moldy used rubber suit. It didn’t even matter that the man was completely out of his element here in the wastelands of central Washington State, somewhere along the banks of the White Salmon River, about to be tossed down said river on what looked like a very thin and insubstantial rubber raft. He would put on his Ad-man persona and nobody would ever know precisely how terrified he really was at the whole idea of this misadventure. Right?
It took Brian several moments of internal pep-talk to calm himself enough to concentrate on whatever it was the river guide was blabbing at them. When he finally did tune in, he was instantly alarmed that he’d just missed several minutes of the apparently important safety instructions. By the time he’d realized what was being discussed, the guide had already moved on to the next part of his lecture.
“Now, if you didn’t pay attention to anything I just said about how to actually stay in the raft,” the guide continued glibly, “you might find yourself taking a bit of a swim. If you do fall out of the raft, the first rule is don’t panic.”
‘Yeah, right,’ thought Brian, who was already contemplating a pre-emptive panic right now to get it out of the way, since he’d missed pretty much all of the first part of the safety instructions. He tried to concentrate on what the guide was saying about how to lay in the water with his feet together and pointed downstream to fend off rocks and other hazards, but there was just too much information for him to assimilate. The normally unflutterable brunet was definitely getting flustered.
“It’s okay, Brian,” soft lips brushed at his cheek as the calming words filtered into his brain. A strong yet smaller hand gripped his own at the same time. “Craig took me on one of these things when I was twelve - part of his manly-man training. It wasn’t that bad. You’ll be fine. You know they just have to say all this stuff for liability reasons. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’re going to be floating over the rapids on your ass.”
As usual, Justin’s presence alone was a calming influence. ‘Brave little fucker!’ he thought proudly as he squeezed the hand in his with gratitude for the whispered reassurance. The blond squeezed back and smiled his disarming smile up at the taller man. Brian didn’t even mind that this short interaction distracted him from listening to the remainder of the safety talk - he figured he was probably less likely to panic if he didn’t know what was coming.
Then, after answering a few random questions, the guide announced they were ready to head to the rafts. He gathered together his small group of adventurers and posed them near the top of the path down to the river for the traditional ‘before’ picture. Brian, being easily the tallest in their group, was positioned standing at the back of the group, his arm casually draped around the shoulders of Geneva Stalling, the formidable CFO of Columbia Go-Gear, the client he was currently courting. The somewhat stout, sixty-year-old woman was still holding her own helmet so that her short-cropped steel grey hair was visible as well as her mischievous grin. Geneva looked to be enjoying herself already. She was a rugged old bat, and Brian respected her not only for her adventurous spirit for also for her bold, take-no-prisoners business acumen.
Next to Geneva, was her handsome son and the company President, Nathan Stalling. Nathan was the epitome of the intrepid outdoorsman type. He was tallish, and strongly built with bulging biceps and well-piped calves exploding out of his ‘shortie’ wetsuit. His dark hair curled out from underneath the rafting helmet and slightly softened the square-cut jawline and strong high cheek bones on his classically rugged face. He looked like the type who, if asked on a questionnaire, would list his hobbies as hiking, bicycling, running and camping. In fact, both Nathan and his mother had posed as models for several of the company’s prior ad campaigns - both were great in front of a camera and personified the outdoor life that their company made gear for.
It had been Nathan’s idea to take the visiting east-coaster and his partner on this rafting trip. He claimed the idea was to show off some of the beautiful Northwest scenery to the man who was likely to be taking over the entire company’s marketing. Additionally, Columbia Go-Gear actually manufactured several of the items of clothing and safety gear that this rafting company used, so Brian was getting a first hand introduction to the products he would later be pushing. Brian suspected that Nathan’s real reason for suggesting the trip was to size up the city-boy poofters who were impudent enough to go after the impressive nationally marketed company. Sort of a more civilized, big boy version of the classic game of ‘chicken’. And Brian Kinney was determined that not even trepidity caused by this rash idea was going to cause him to back off. He’d show these outdoorsy adventure hounds that he could take whatever they dished out.
On the far side of Nathan, their guide, Grayson, was standing, looking all ‘river-guide-like’. He was dressed in a much more fashionable short wetsuit with regular swim shorts over the top and wearing a much more high-tech looking PFD and better fitting helmet. He was only average height and slimly built but you could see the long thin wiry muscles under his weather roughened suntanned skin. He was scruffy and unshaved with long dirty blond hair pulled into a ponytail snaking down the middle of his back. He looked like he was only in his twenties and this was probably only a summer job while he took time off from college or some other, more restrained, winter pastimes.
In front of this lineup, all kneeling in a row, were the rest of the boat group. Justin was stationed on the ground directly in front of Brian. He’d been tempted to join his partner on this business trip by the lure of a weekend in Portland, with new and potentially sketch-worthy scenery, complete with all the micro-brewed beer he could drink and a jacuzzi tub in the suite of rooms at the Hotel where they were staying. No one had said anything to him about having to endure three hours of sitting in freezing cold water, being thrown about over barely submerged rocks and having to rally along his more-than-nervous partner. However, Justin was slightly more experienced at the outdoors thing than Brian, having had to put up with years of forced camping and hiking trips with Craig back when his father still thought he could toughen up his pansy-assed son. When it came to this type of setting, Justin was more comfortable, by far, than his usually dominant partner. And he was happy to play the little wifey - at least for this one weekend - supporting his partner and doing what he could in the background to help win the account.
The rest of their boatload of people were posed kneeling beside Justin. The group included Geneva’s niece, Winnie, along with a couple of the in-house marketing team. The eight intrepid explorers were encouraged to smile by the photographer, who was also the receptionist for the rafting company, as they posed and pretended to be excited about the upcoming adventure.
As soon as the photo was snapped, the group was herded towards the pathway and led down the steep cliffside towards the edge of the river. They were directed into the raft waiting for them at the bottom of the path and told where to sit to balance out the weight of the boat. Somehow, Justin managed to talk the guide out of separating him from Brian. Justin, as one of the smaller rafters, was seated at the front right of the boat and Brian was then guided to sit on the edge of the raft behind him. The rest of the group was distributed accordingly until the boat was full.
They were directed on how to sit in the raft - perching on the outer edge of the raft with their feet either tucked under the inflated outer ring or into little pockets built into the bottom of the raft. Each was then handed a short handled t-grip style paddle and instructed on exactly how to paddle and what each command the guide would shout meant. They were told that no ‘lily-dipping’ would be tolerated - which meant that anyone just going through the motions of paddling would be tossed overboard. Everyone was expected to put their whole weight behind every stroke. The guide then pushed them away from shore into the backwater nearby and they quickly practiced the forward stroke, back stroke, hold and hold-and-down commands so that everyone was prepared for whatever the guide might direct.
When Grayson was satisfied that everyone was sort-of prepared, he directed the boat out into the current. The launch site was in an area of fairly placid water and the group used the first few minutes of their ride to practice paddling in unison. Justin and Winnie, since they were seated in the font of the raft, were in charge of setting the pace. They were supposed to watch each other and synchronize their own strokes, and everyone seated behind them were supposed to follow along. It was important that everyone paddle together, otherwise they would just flounder around going nowhere. And Grayson made a point of impressing them that, especially when they were lining up to go over a set of rapids, it was very important that they paddle exactly together and exactly as he directed.
The first set of rapids, called ‘The Undercut’ came up pretty fast after the launch. It was a small Class II rapid, barely a flutter on the current. Brian was on edge from the time they got in the boat and so tensed up that he was barely able to pay attention to the guide’s directions. As they neared the first set of rapids, Brian could see the line of white-crested stationary waves and finally understood why it was called ‘white water’ rafting. The water was actually white where it crested at the top of each wave, the sunlight glinting off each water droplet that rose above the surface in a perfectly sculpted curve. He felt his pulse pound and his breathing increase in speed as they neared the sight, adrenaline coursing through his body, the surge of energy reminiscent of some of the best sex he’d ever had.
And then, before he was even ready to meet the upcoming challenge, they were at the line of the waves and rocking over the submerged rocks, little sprays of water flipping up to spray their faces with a cooling mist. It was easy. It was even a little anti-climactic as far as Brian was concerned. The raft easily surfed over the underwater rocks, jiggling its occupants slightly and causing a riffling of giggles as they made it past the first test. Brian directed a rare uninhibited grin at his lover who looked back to make sure his lover was okay after this first trial.
They paddled along afterwards, the guide yelling out commands - ‘Three strokes forward’. . . ‘Okay, one backstroke’ . . . ‘Two forward’ - as they maneuvered through the next couple of sets of rapids. It started to seem much less stressful to Brian. He paddled along, following Justin’s pace, using his body to put strength behind each of his strokes. He started to relax just a tiny bit, maybe even willing to see the fun in this little odyssey. The guide pointed out pretty sights along the banks as they passed - a bubbling little spring, an interesting outcrop of rocks, a cave in the hillside that was said to contain ancient petroglyphs. It seemed like this wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d thought.
Then they came to the rapids known as ‘The Corkscrew’.
This was the first Class III rapid that they’d met on this trip. As they went over the large basalt boulders protruding up through the surface of the river, the raft was thrown first to the left and then to the right. The first drop brought a wall of water wafting over the front of the raft, inundating the first two rows of paddlers. Before anyone could catch their breath though, the raft was thrown again the other direction. The guide was yelling at the top of his range, “Forward!” Brian was trying to hold his breath and paddle at the same time, too distracted to even worry about holding on. All he knew was that he had to keep paddling in synch with the rest of the boat or they would all drown. It took only seconds to get through the series of four different turns that encompassed this section of the river, but the intense effort they had to put into the paddling and direction of the boat made it seem longer. However, everyone was too busy paddling to really worry about the rapids, which was probably good for everyone.
Nervous tittering accompanied the return to placid waters after they cleared the rapids. Everyone was so proud of themselves for getting through The Corkscrew. They were laughing and chatting and grinning - all meant to relieve the tension from the few minutes of relative terror. Justin was beaming his ‘Sunshine’ smile around to everyone nearby. Brian even laughed aloud when Geneva, who was sitting across from him, joked about how well he was handling his first rafting trip. Everything was going so well. This was . . . fun.
A couple more smaller rapids passed and the group was feeling cocky and confident. They were working better at paddling together and were less nervous so it felt smoother. The ‘Granny Snatcher’ and ‘The Cave’ were comparable Class III rapids. It was exciting and fun to go over the little drifts of rocks, with the waves curling over the front of the boat and, depending on the size of the drop, splashing even the second and third rows of passengers. Everyone was more than grateful for the wetsuits though - the water was fucking cold - and the guide explained that most of the springs that fed the river came right off the top of nearby Mt. Adams and were fed by glacial melt. The average temperature of the water, even at the height of summer, was only about five degrees centigrade.
In the backwater after The Cave, they pulled to the side and the guide pushed the boat through a spooky little side passage through the cliff beside the river. The river here had cut through the solid rock and, except for a few stalwart pillars of hardier basalt, formed a little cave that the raft could just barely drift through. It was musty and damp, with dark crevices about and everyone could easily feel the weight of the whole hillside of rocks looming above them. In one particular hollowed out crack in the ceiling, the guide pointed out a huddled group of sleeping mexican brown bats, clinging upside down to the rough rock above and shivering slightly at the felt intrusion of the humans. After an appropriate level of oohing and ahhing - even Brian caught himself oohing a little as he’d never seen a live bat before - the guide directed the boat back out of the cave and into the river current.
The next set of rapids, the guide warned them as they neared, was Class IV. The series of drops called ‘The Stairstep’ was a bit trickier than most. The guide warned the raft that they would need to listen to his directions carefully at this rapid, because between the various steps they would have to paddle hard to realign the boat for each successive rock barrier. It they didn’t hit the rapid at the right heading, they were sure to have a much rougher ride.
Nathan, who was seated behind Brian, was teasing his boatmate about the upcoming rapid. “This will show what you’re really made of, Kinney”, the Northwest native boasted, his tone full of self-assurance as he recounted his many, many prior experiences rafting all over the region. Brian was sorely tempted to let his paddle ‘accidentally’ fly back and pop the braggart in the face. The idiot most likely had dental insurance which would pay to replace any teeth that Brian might knock out by accident. But, reminding himself that he still needed to get this client to sign on the dotted line of the contract, he restrained himself and kept a firm hold on his paddle.
Justin felt the man’s tension and gently elbowed Brian’s midsection while looking over his shoulder with a small wink. Brian was momentarily distracted by the enticing sight and didn’t even register immediately when the guide began yelling at the group to paddle forward. As soon as he did realize what was happening, he dug in with his paddle as hard as he could, trying to help aim the small boat at the one opening along the ridge of upcoming rocks.
The first series of rocks rolled by under the boat, sending up a mild spray of water. As soon as they cleared that section, though, Grayson began yelling to back paddle hard. Everyone bent their backs into the work, trying to pull the raft out of the current enough to realign it with the next step of the falls. Everything seemed to happen so fast, that no one was prepared when they hit the next set of rapids. The guide managed to yell out, “Hold!” and they all fumbled to grab the handles strapped around the inner tubing of the raft. The tiny boat was rocked violently from side to side and then the starboard side of the raft dipped under water as the port side slid up the rear of a huge jutting boulder.
Brian and Justin were doing as told and holding on, their paddles lined up on the outside of the boat while they grabbed the guideline strung along the edge of the raft and their left hands tightly around the inner hand holds. Through the surging water, Brian watched in awe as first Winnie and then Geneva were hoisted up into the air as the boat roared over the rocks, both holding on to the hand grips with fear-motivated strength.
The boat, which no one was paddling at the moment in spite of the guide’s yelling, lurched back towards upright then continued over and over more until the side that had been underwater was coasting over the next boulder and raised up into the air. As it reached the top of the next step, Brian felt a blow from behind that pushed him sideways so that he fell into the well of the center of the raft. There was a ruckus behind him and everyone around him seemed to crowd towards him as he worked to right himself and regain his seat on the rim. By the time he was able to look around him, he noted that the boastful Nathan, was no longer seated behind him and was instead flailing along beside the boat trying desperately to grab at the line circling the edge of the raft. Brian handed off his paddle to Justin and then leaned out, grabbing the floating man by the straps at the top of his PFD and hauling him back into the raft, toppling over in the process, the whole mass of the two men ending up lying at the feet of Geneva who was trying to continue paddling along at the guide’s directions through the whole snafu.
Somehow, they made it out of The Stairstep, with everyone back in the boat and dripping wet but safe. It took a bit to gather themselves together and for everyone to get reseated. Grayson directed the raft over to a backwater area so they could all rest and regroup. They were once again laughing to alleviate the built-up tension. Nathan was being needled by his co-workers for falling out and the man was trying to laugh it off, but he did manage, nonetheless, to discretely thank Brian for pulling him back in. Brian took the time to check that Justin was okay, except for the momentary dunking, and affectionately rubbed the side of his partner’s neck - the only spot not covered by layers and layers of safety gear.
Brian began to think that he’d made it through the worst of what the river could offer. He’d rode a Class IV rapid and not fallen out of the boat. This was going to be no problem. He’d just follow the guide’s directions, hold on for dear life when told to and everything would be fine. Of course it would be. Brian Kinney could handle anything - whitewater rafting was no exception. Geneva Stalling looked over at him and smiled in approval as the whole group did a paddle ‘high five’, tapping their paddles together in the air above their heads.
When everyone seemed ready, Grayson directed the raft back into the main river channel. There was a bit of a lull at this part of the river, so again, the guide started giving the visitors a little insight into the cultural history of the area to pass the time. He pointed out the large irrigation pipes that were suspended over the river gorge and told them all about the huge pear orchards that lined the sides of the valley. Apparently, this was one of the largest pear orchards in the country and it boasted a unique climate that provided more days of sunshine a year than the rest of the Pacific Northwest, while at the same time providing higher rainfall due to its location being in the rain shadow of the Cascade Mountains. This diverting little talk led the party into the next set of rapids, a nice little Class III which was conveniently known as the ‘Orchard Drop’. The now seasoned pros in the little raft made short work of this minor squall while they admired their own rafting proficiency.
However, just on on the other side of this small rill, the guide started preparing the bunch for what was coming up near the end of the trip - Husum Falls. “You guys are lucky that the river is as high as it is right now. Usually, by this point in the summer, the water level is much lower and that makes the rapids more difficult. In fact, because of all the rain we’ve had lately, I’ve got really great news: Husum Falls has been cleared for passage!”
Grayson went on to explain that normally by mid-summer, rafts were required to portage around the 3 meter waterfall that went under the Husum Bridge. Only die-hard whitewater kayakers and mindless adventure sluts would try the falls after the middle of July. But, the extra rain they’d had over the past week had once again made the falls navigable, if only just. The guide carefully explained that this portion of the trip was strictly voluntary - no one was obligated to continue over the falls. Only those who wanted would be going over the falls - everyone else would get out of the boat at the top and walk around the cliff, getting back in the boat once those brave souls who dared rode the falls.
Nathan was, of course, entirely enthusiastic about taking on the falls. He was ‘Whoo-Hoo’ing’ with his fist pumping in the air as soon as Grayson made his announcement. Geneva and most of the rest of the Columbia Go-Gear team looked almost as pleased at the prospect of being hurtled over a ten foot waterfall. Justin and Brian simply looked at each other, saying nothing, the anxiety lines in Brian’s forehead peeking out from underneath the red helmet.
“So, what do you say, Kinney,” teased Nathan, pounding his fist down, not all that lightly, on the top of the padding on the shoulder of Brian’s PDF. “You east coast boys up for some Class V fun?”
“Don’t be a big jerk, Nathan,” interrupted his reproachful cousin, Winnie, from her perch in the front of the raft. “You sound like the bullies at school - always egging people on to do stuff they know they shouldn’t. You heard Grayson. The falls are ‘optional’. Nobody has to do them if they don’t want. Anyways, you’re way too old for the peer pressure thing, cuz! So just lay off.”
Justin smiled across at the pretty, young brunette who continued to argue with her cousin. He’d only just managed to suppress the groan her kindly-meant words had evoked. Now it was pretty well assured that he was going to have to go along over the waterfall with the rest. Brian might have ignored what that blowhard, Nathan, was saying - after all, Brian prided himself on never doing anything he didn’t want to do, especially if he felt he was being pushed into it. But once the brave little fourteen-year-old took it upon herself to stand up for him, there was no way Brian would allow himself to back down. Defying censure from bullies was a piece of cake for Brian. But being shown up by a schoolgirl, wasn’t EVER going to happen. When Justin chanced a peek back at Brian, he could already see the determination setting in. “Fuck!” Justin muttered under his breath as he turned back to his job setting the pace for the rest of the paddlers, resigned to support Brian, even if it meant going to a watery death with his foolhardy partner.
Following the directions from their guide, the group paddled forward until they were lined up for the next small rapid and then, once they were over that, they back paddled hard until they were pulled up against the bank of the river. There were many other rafts waiting there. One raft was balanced precariously on a rock in the middle of the river, it’s guide acting as the traffic controller for the upcoming falls and signalling which boats should go and when. At the river edge, a couple other guides were sorting out who was getting out and walking and who was going on in which boats - making sure that all the boats that were going over the falls were still properly balanced even if they lost a couple of passengers who wanted to portage around. Nearby, there were three kayakers who were also waiting their turn, passing the time loudly discussing buddies of theirs who had been seriously injured going over Husum Falls and even telling about their one friend who’d been trapped in an underwater eddy and died here. Winnie joked with Justin that she wished she hadn’t heard THAT particular story until after they’d got over the falls. Justin readily agreed with her while Brian looked away and pretended he hadn’t heard anything.
After about ten minutes, apparently everything was set up according to the guides’ wishes and everyone watched while the first of the rafts pulled back out into the current and angled itself towards the center of the falls. The roar of the water going over the falls drowned out the raft’s guide, but clearly he was giving directions as the paddlers were alternately paddling forward and then backwards, trying to align the boat for the perfect assault on the rocks. When the boat got close enough, the group all started paddling forward furiously, trying to pick up speed. Then, right before they reached the bubbling wall of spray, the onlookers watched as everyone in the boat pulled up their paddles, tucked themselves into the bottom of the boat and held on with both hands. The raft bobbed at the top for only a few brief seconds and then, from the perspective of those upriver, simply disappeared over the falls.
Everyone in the waiting boats held their breath until they heard the faint cheering coming from bystanders on the bridge above who had been watching from safety. Apparently the first boat had made it! Then joking and anxious giggling broke out in the waiting rafts and the tension started to ebb slightly as other guides jockeyed their boats into the queue to proceed.
A couple other rafts took their turns, apparently all getting over safely if you could judge by the people cheering from the bridge over the river. Then it was apparently their turn. Grayson yelled to the signal guide that he was ready and was given the thumbs up to proceed.
“Last chance!” Grayson said to the group in his raft. “If you want out, speak up now . . ." He waited a heartbeat or two to see if anyone would change their mind, but nobody said anything. Justin was watching Brian closely, but the aloof brunet refused to meet his eyes, apparently very intent on scanning the far river bank. Justin turned back - he would never push it. He didn’t really want to see the fear he suspected he’d find in those eyes - Brian needed his mask of indifference and Justin needed Brian to be his rock, like he’d always been, so they tacitly agreed to both keep on pretending that this was really no big deal.
“Okay. So, Let’s do this!” Grayson said when no one spoke up. “Forward paddle!” he ordered.
Grayson directed their paddling, forward and backward, for several minutes until he was happy with the way the boat was heading. Then, without any further warning, he yelled to “Paddle Forward, Hard!” The raft sprang forward with the current headed straight for the middle of the wall of water ahead of them.
Nobody really had a clear memory of exactly what happened after that. As soon as the raft reached the line of white water, Grayson yelled out, “Hold and Down!” Everyone grabbed onto the handholds in the center of the raft with one hand, flipped their paddles out of the way so they were lined against the outside rim of the boat and grappled for the outer line with their paddle hand. Then they slid their asses off the rim of the raft and huddled together in the well of the boat as the bright blue inflatable contraption tipped up on its end and plunged down the wall of water.
Spray bounding off the rocks beside them hit their faces as the boat went into freefall down the cliff. Justin held his breath and closed his eyes, not really sure he wanted to see anymore after that first glimpse over the front of boiling, splashing, convulsing white water. He felt the jolt when the front of the raft hit the water dead on and then he was swamped by the rushing water as the prow of the raft dove deeper and deeper into the pool under the falls.
Brian, sitting back a row, hadn’t closed his eyes like Justin, and instead watched in horror as the boat, rather than skimming over the top of the water like he’d expected, instead dove like a submarine into the depths. Brian saw Justin’s body swallowed up by the water as the boat sank but there wasn’t time to do anything except hold on as his own body went under as well. Then Brian felt himself jabbed in the back from behind and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled forward and the secure raft handle was being wrenched out of his grip.
Rolling over and over in somersault fashion, Brian could feel himself being pushed deeper and deeper into the caldera under the falls. The moment the cold river water had hit his face he’d instinctively gulped a huge breath and held it. He was still holding his breath now, and while he wasn’t really feeling short of oxygen yet, he was starting to wonder just how much deeper he was going to sink and then how much longer it would take him to resurface before he could reach air again. It seemed to take forever before he felt confident that he knew which direction was ‘up’ again and felt himself slowly rising from the depths.
As soon as his head popped up above the surface, Brian was inundated with noise - the noise of the waterfall behind him, yelling coming at him from all directions and the confusion of his own blundering thoughts. He briefly regretted the loss of the peacefulness he’d failed to note while he was underwater, but now felt the loss of. But there wasn’t time for any philosophical pondering. As soon as he’d flipped his head to get the worst of the water out of his eyes, he saw the blurry shape of a tan canvas bag flying through the air towards his face and heard someone shout, “Grab the rope!” He blindly reached out and felt for the bag, eventually grasping the rope that was uncoiling out of it on one side. Then the rope went taut under his grip and he relaxed as he felt himself being towed toward the shore.
Brian thought that the yelling would have stopped once he’d grabbed the rope and was being safely towed to shore, however it seemed to only be getting louder. Was he supposed to be doing something else other than just holding on? He really hadn’t been paying much attention earlier when they’d gone over safety instructions. Maybe he was supposed to be swimming or facing the other direction or something? Brian managed to bob up a bit so his head was higher above the water and look around to see if he could tell what everyone was yelling about.
Brian quickly noted that, except for the one guide on the rocky shore patiently pulling him into the bank, everyone else was ignoring him. The hullabaloo seemed to be directed at something behind him. Although it was difficult with the heavy PFD, he managed to twist his body around enough to look behind him, where everyone on the shore and the bridge above were pointing. From his low vantage point in the water, it wasn’t easy to see anything at first, but he thought that he could just see, about ten meters or so behind him, something large and red bobbing around in the eddying water close to the west end of the falls.
“Fuck!” Brian suddenly remembered the rest of his boat being driven under the water and watching as Justin’s body was swept under a wave.
He didn’t stop to think, he just rolled his body over, the rope still gripped loosely in his hand so that it could continue to play out, and started swimming against the current back towards the falls. It was very hard going. Not only was he going against the current, but the PFD was hampering his movements. He thought about stopping to remove the vest, but quickly decided it would take too long. He had to get to whoever it was that was still in the water - praying that it wasn’t Justin. Instead, Brian just pulled harder, swimming with all his strength, reaching deep within himself for the energy he needed to keep going as fast as he could.
As he neared the edge of the swirling waters, he felt the river start to grab ahold of him again. The eddy pulled at his legs and momentarily dunked him downward, until his head was halfway under again. He kicked as hard as he could and managed to get his head back above the surface again, but by then, Brian had been caught in the whirling water eddy. The whirlpool grabbed hold of him and swirled him backwards towards the base of the falls. He felt his side bump against a boulder hidden under the foaming water and cringed away from the sharp pain he felt as the eddy pulled him another direction. Brian was starting to get the idea that swimming back into the water of the falls had, maybe, not been a very good idea. He felt himself going under again as the water hugged at his dangling legs.
At the far edge of the vortex, the line from the canvas toss bag he’d been holding finally played out and he was grateful to feel the pull of the rope again. That small tug, along with another conveniently placed rock which he bumped into at an opportune angle, allowed him to right himself and get his head back above the surface once more. Brian also noted gratefully that the churning water had moved him closer to the floating body caught in the eddy. He made sure he had a good grip on the rope with his left hand, and then, with one more herculean effort, pulled himself the couple of strokes forward necessary to grab onto the bobbing red life vest.
As the guides on the riverbank towed Brian back out of the whirlpool, he managed to pull the inert body closer onto his chest and flip the unconscious man onto his back. Brian determined right away that, thankfully, it wasn’t Justin. He had no way of telling if the man was still breathing or not. All he could do for now was float on his back, keeping the other body as safe as possible clasped to his chest, hold onto the rope and let the rescue party on the rocks pull them both out of the numbingly cold water before the last of his strength gave out.
It seemed like no time before he was bumping gently up against the rocks near the shallow edge of the river and many hands were reaching out to grab away the man he’d rescued. Grayson and one other guide each grabbed one side of the limp man’s PFD and pulled him onto the shore where they laid him on his back and started immediately to remove the life vest. As soon as his burden was gone, Brian felt two more sets of strong arms pulling at the shoulder straps of his own gear, and hoisting him out of the water too. They hauled him onto a nearby rock and then left him seated there for a moment until another guide with a first aid kit in hand came bustling over.
All this time, Brian hadn’t really been listening to all the yelling and noise going on around him. He’d been focused on what he was doing - getting to the unconscious man and then getting back to the shore in one piece - pointedly ignoring all the ruckus around him. And, even now when he was safe on the shore, he hadn’t really managed to concentrate on anything other than catching his breath and trying to regather all the strength that the adrenaline rush and exertion seemed to have drained away from him. But it wasn’t long before one very adamant voice managed to pierce through the fog and finally get his attention.
“What the HELL do you think you’re doing? Swimming BACK into the FUCKING waterfall? You could have drowned, you asshole. Then what would I have done!” Brian could hear the not-so-mellow tones of his partner penetrating the other yelling voices and the sounds of thundering feet tramping across the boards of the bridge over his head.
He tried to look up at the bridge, but the sun blinded him and all he could see was an approaching mob of people, running across the bridge and apparently heading towards his side of the river.
“Brian? Brian!” Justin’s shrill voice overrode everything else around them. “If you’ve drowned, I’m going to fucking kill you! Damn it! Get OUT OF MY WAY!”
Justin came running and slipping down the steep gravel embankment leading from the road above and shoved aside the guides, other rafters and looky-loos who were all standing in his way. Brian, who was still resting on the big boulder at the river’s edge, smiled at the sight of his brave little blond pitbull, ordering everyone out of the way and intent on getting to Brian’s side. He was on such a tear that, when he finally neared Brian’s perch, he actually fell down the last couple of rocks, almost knocking Brian back into the water. Brian managed to catch the falling blond in his arms and pulled them both over onto a patch of sandy ground amid the rocks, kissing the first available ivory skin he could locate.
“Fuck, Brian! You scared the shit out of me,” Justin moaned as he returned Brian’s embrace and kissed him back ardently. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I thought it was you . . ." Brian whispered with an involuntary sob, causing Justin to go immediately still, their eyes finding each other and continuing the conversation without the need for words.
Their tender moment was interrupted by a very vocal cheer erupting nearby. They smiled at each other and then struggled to untangle themselves and get to their feet, the guide with the first aid kit helping them to crawl up the boulders towards more level ground. The applauding and cheering crowd that had broken up their reunion was circled around a cleared space behind the boulder strewn river edge. Brian, with Justin helping to guide the man who was still a little unsteady on his feet, moved towards the group to try to find out what has happening to the man he’d rescued.
The crowd parted for the two men, letting them through to the center, where Grayson was still kneeling next to a gasping and sputtering Nathan, who had just been revived. Geneva Stalling, who had been hovering and watching the CPR efforts, had tears streaming down her face now that she was sure that Nathan was going to be okay. As soon as the usually intrepid CEO saw Brian through the crowd, she rushed over and overwhelmed him with a fierce hug.
“Oh, Brian! Thank you! Thank you so much!” Geneva was saying over and over again. “No one else could have gotten to Nathan in time. You saved his life. Thank you. Thank you! I’ll never be able to thank you enough!”
**************
Brian set his briefcase on the hall table by the door and loosened his tie as he came into the house after another long but satisfying day at work. He and his staff had just put to bed the final parts of the Columbia Go-Gear fall campaign, which would be debuting in national television and magazine ads next month. He was proud of the work his team had done on this account and couldn’t wait to see what results they’d get.
From the den, Brian could hear peals of childish and not-so-childish laughter calling to him. He peeled off his suit jacket as he followed the sound. Rounding the corner, he found what he expected to see - Justin and Gus, plopped down on the couch in front of the big plasma screen television, watching the video of the rafting trip once again.
“Look at Daddy’s face! Look! Look!” Gus screeched, pointing to the screen where Justin had frozen the video just at the frame where the raft was tipping over Husum Falls and there was a perfect shot of Brian with his mouth wide, screaming as they hurtled over into the abyss. “He looks so funny!”
“You’d look funny too, Sonny Boy, if you thought you were about to drown,” Brian growled as he snatched the remote control out of Justin’s hands and pushed the ‘play’ button.
“Daddy! You’re home!” Gus gushed as he bounded off the couch cushion, over the back and straight into his father’s arms.
“You have a keen grasp of the obvious there, son!” Brian teased as he rumpled the boy’s hair, kissing him lightly on the peach fuzzy cheek and then depositing him back on the couch next to the beaming blond.
Brian leaned over the back of the couch and nuzzled against the cheek of the waiting blond, “You’re not watching that thing again, Sunshine?”
“Of course we are, Brian. Gus loves watching his father, the hero!” Justin smiled up at his embarrassed partner.
“See there!” Gus demanded proudly, redirecting their attention back to the screen. “That’s Daddy swimming back to save the drowneded man! You’re like the ‘Rescue Heros’ Daddy. You saved his life!”
“All in a day’s work, Sonny Boy,” Brian said, patting the boy on the head and turning to run from the praise. “All in a day’s work!”
Justin happily noted again the slight blush Brian would get every time Gus exclaimed at how brave his Daddy was. As if Gus hadn’t adored his father enough before, now that Brian was a bonafide hero, the boy simply idolized him. And, while Brian pretended it was nothing, Justin got a warm fuzzy feeling every time he heard Gus tell his father how proud he was of him. Brian more than deserved the adulation - it was good for the man’s soul to hear over and over again how much he was loved. Maybe, eventually, he’d even grow to believe it!
“Gus, I’m going to go help your Daddy get changed,” Justin said before Brian could retreat all the way, getting up at the same time and putting in one of Gus’ favorite movies which would, hopefully, keep the boy entertained for at least the next ninety minutes.
“I CAN dress myself, Sunshine,” Brian muttered reproachfully as soon as Justin skipped up to his side, but Justin noted that he hadn’t moved to leave yet, either.
“Of course you can, but you know how horny I get watching you go all ‘He-Man’ like that, Brian . . .” Justin whispered, pulling his t-shirt off as he trotted out the door, grinning back over his shoulder. “Why don’t you come upstairs and rescue me from my sad predicament and I’ll let you show me just how manly you really are!”
The End
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TAGSIT’s Day on the White Salmon River - River Rage - If you look closely at the first raft shown going over Husum Falls, (Guide has a yellow helmet) I’m the rafter in the front starboard spot who’s the first one to fall out of the boat! LMFAO!