Page 57 of Searching Blind

“Lucy!” he roared, spinning wildly on the spot.

“Sawyer!” Her shout was swallowed in the thunderous roar of rushing water. His heart slammed against his ribs as he lurched forward, cane probing the ground in front of him. Zelda whined at his side.

A gunshot cracked again, this time so close he could feel the air splitting apart near his head. A bullet whizzed past, punching a hole into a nearby tree with a soft thwack, sending splinters into his cheek.

Too close.

He had to find her and get out of here.

“Lucy!” he shouted again.

“I’m okay,” she called from somewhere below him. “Get back from the ledge! The ground is very unstable there. I’ll find a way back up to—Sawyer! Behind you!”

Even before her warning left her lips, he felt the other presence closing in behind him. He didn’t think. He threw himself over the edge after Lucy. His shoulder connected with something hard and unyielding, and a shout of pain tore from his lungs. He bounced and rolled for what seemed like an eternity, then plunged into freezing water. He gasped and choked, flailing to keep his head above the surface.

Zelda.

Shit.

She would’ve followed him. She was trained to stay by his side.

He had just enough time to take a lungful of air before the fast current pushed him under again. A heavy weight knocked into him from behind— Zelda. He could feel her wet fur against his skin and grabbed onto her harness, kicking toward what he thought was the surface. He broke through the surface, sucking in a desperate breath. Zelda was paddling furiously beside him, her doggie instincts taking over.

“Lucy!” he shouted again.

“Over here!” Her voice echoed back to him from somewhere downstream. “There’s a log jam. When you hit it, swim to your left, and you’ll reach the bank.”

He turned his body toward the sound, pulling Zelda along with him. “Keep talking!”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I have a lot to say. You’re a fucking idiot,” she snapped. “Jumping off a fucking cliff.”

“You jumped, too.”

“I fell. It wasn’t a choice. You know how many people I’ve peeled up from the bottom of a cliff? If you were just a little bit off, you wouldn’t have hit the river. Oh my God. I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or kill you when we get out of this.”

“I’m a fan of the first option,” he called back, smiling despite the pain radiating through his shoulder and the freezing cold water numbing his limbs.

She sounded close now. Just a little more, he told himself. Then he could grab Lucy and kiss her senseless, silencing that sharp tongue, reminding her that he may be an idiot, but he was her idiot.

The river was tossing him around like a rag doll, rocks and fallen logs looming out of nowhere. He could see most of them as they bobbed past him, and he did his best to avoid colliding into anything that could bruise or break bones. Suddenly, a wave crashed over his head, shoving him under, slamming him into a submerged boulder, and pain exploded in his ribs. He lost his grip on Zelda, lost all sense of direction as water filled his lungs. His chest burned. His body bucked against the frantic need to breathe, and he reached out for anything that could anchor him. But there was only the icy kiss of the river, the cruel lash of the current.

Air. He needed air.

He heard Lucy’s panicked shouts growing nearer even through the murky underwater chaos. “Sawyer! Keep your head up!”

He kicked toward what he hoped was the surface, but his boots felt like they were filled with lead. His hand caught on something that felt like tangled roots and slippery rocks. Using all his strength, he pulled himself toward it. The surface came crashing back as he broke through, choking and spitting out water. He sucked in lungfuls of air, harsh and raw.

“Zelda!” His voice came out as a croak. His heart pounded at the terrifying thought of losing her. His girl.

“Sawyer! Sawyer, she’s okay. I’ve got her,” Lucy yelled from somewhere on his left. “Move to your left. You’re almost there.”

Another wave hit him, and he was pushed under again. But this time, he kept his grip on the log, holding on even as the river tried to tear him away.

He couldn’t die here. Not like this. Not after everything he and Lucy had survived. Not after he’d finally broken through those tough walls of hers.

With all the strength he had left, Sawyer pulled himself along the log until his feet hit solid ground. Gritting his teeth against the cold, he clawed his way up the bank, slipping on the wet grass and mud. The world tilted sickeningly as he crawled onto flat ground, coughing and retching.

“Fuck…” He rolled onto his back, gasping for air, and realized he still somehow wore his backpack. He struggled out of it and laid back in the cold mud again. His whole body ached with an intensity that made him grimace.

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