Page 82 of Escape Velocity

She was conscious of Max guarding her back. She should be the one at the rear of the column, not him. She was the one who had suggested coming to this damn swamp.

They were tramping through dense vegetation. All at once one of the moons came out from behind a cloud, casting a silvery glow on a wide expanse of ground in front of them.

Before she could figure out what she was seeing, Rafe stopped short, and she bumped into him.

He made a strangled sound and started to tumble forward. Acting on instinct, she made a grab for his shirt, but he was taller and heavier than she, and the only effect was to send her falling onto his back. It seemed like a slow-motion disaster as the two of them fell down, down, down toward a gray surface that spread out like a lake in the middle of the greenery.

But it wasn’t water. It was thick muck. Rafe slapped into the sludge with a terrible thunk. Moments later, he began to sink, his arms and legs flailing as he tried to free himself. She was still on top of him, pushing him farther under the surface.

Someone was screaming, and she realized it was her. Letting go of Rafe’s shirt, she tried to roll off him. All she accomplished was to dump herself into the gunk where she quickly started going down, struggling to keep her head above the viscous surface. Just before she slipped under, something grabbed her foot, and began to pull.

When she tried to kick away, Max shouted, “Don’t fight me. Just let me get you out.”

She tried to cooperate as she struggled to keep her nose and mouth free of the sucking sand. Slowly, slowly she felt herself being dragged back. Centuries later, he hauled her onto solid ground where she sprawled, panting.

“Stay there.”

From where she lay on the firm surface, she saw Max rush back to the edge of the ooze.

Although she was still struggling to catch her breath, she pushed herself up and followed. Max was leaning over the edge, trying to reach Rafe who looked like a turtle that had flipped onto its back and was trying to right itself. At least his head was above the surface, but she could see that he was sinking as he flailed his arms.

“Don’t move,” she shouted. “Try to just float.”

His gaze shot to her as he tried to comply.

Desperate to help, she looked wildly around and saw vines hanging from a nearby tree. Pulling out her knife, she cut off a length and rushed back to Max.

“Can you use this?”

“Thanks.” He took it from her, tied a knot in the end, and threw it toward Rafe who made a grab for it and missed. In the process he pushed himself farther into the morass. Most of his body disappeared, and now all he could do was desperately try to keep his nose and mouth out of the muck.

With a curse, Max threw the vine again, and this time the knot landed in the middle of Rafe’s chest—if they’d been able to see his chest. He began to work his right arm up, trying to grasp the makeshift rope. The struggle to free the arm threatened to push his body down, but at last he was able to wrap his hand around the lifeline.

“Hold on,” Max called as he began to pull Rafe toward the edge of the morass. It was a slow race to see if he would go under before he reached the edge. By the time he reached the shore, he was sputtering and coughing as the stuff slopped into his mouth.

Max handed her the vine and lay down on his stomach, stretching out his arm and grasping Rafe’s wrist.

He pulled his friend closer, and when the drowning man was almost to the edge, she lay down beside Max, scrabbling to get a hold on Rafe’s shirt.

Together they heaved up the man’s limp body, which made a gigantic sucking sound as it came free of the muddy pit. To Amber’s horror, he looked like he’d stopped breathing.

When he was finally on dry ground, Max turned him over and pounded on his back.

At first nothing happened. Max cursed as he pounded harder. Finally, his friend began coughing. Max turned his head, and Rafe spit several gobs of mud from his mouth. When the hacking fit was over, he sat up, looking groggy as he swiped a hand through his hair. The gesture did nothing to sweep away the muck. It seemed to be glued to him, and when Amber looked down at her own clothing, she saw that she was in the same condition.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice urgent.

“Yeah, thanks to you two.”

“I just made it worse,” Amber murmured.

“Only when you fell on top of me.” He laughed, then sobered quickly. “Then you were doing everything you could to get me out. You’ve come a long way since the first time we met—when you tried to kill me.”

She felt heat rise in her face. “I didn’t know you then. I made the wrong assumption because I thought you had agreed to transport a slave.”

“It was logical—from your point of view.”

Max broke into the conversation. “And now I think we know none of us is going to get out of this alone.”

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