Read Online Dead River by Cyn Balog - Free Book Online Page B

outdoors, it feels like there are walls closing in on me. Walls of water, bearing down on me, waiting to sweep me downriver. Justin is only an arm’s length behind me, and yet it seems like he’s a mile away. “I need to get out.”
    I can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s hoping I’m kidding, because I know there’s no way I can simply get out. Instinctively he moves forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “What? What’s wrong?”
    By now the voices are screaming in my head.
    I did everything you asked of me .
    “I can’t—” I swallow. “I can’t breathe.”
    He’s the one. Get him .
    Justin scuttles to my side, grabbing the paddle from me. “Calm down,” he says. “You’re okay.” But I’m not. My heartbeat is thudding in my head. My mind, my ears, my entire body is pulsating, filled with echoes. Echoes of the dead.
    The girl in the pink party dress, filth spurting from the open crevasse of her mouth, reaches for me first. I squeeze my eyes shut, but I see them all perfectly in the darkness. When I force my eyes open, everything is swirling. Masses of pine needles look like matted human hair, and branches like brittle brown bones, churning in white foam. And then suddenly, from the foam, I see the hands. Ghostly fingers reaching up, sliding along the edge of the raft. Reaching for me.
    “Oh my God,” I manage. Is this what my mother saw before she … Suddenly I’m screaming. Angela’s now lookingat me, launching into Florence Nightingale mode. I hear her voice among the others, distorted like a record being played at too slow a speed, What’s wrong? Ki, what’s wrong? But the only thing I can get out is “Justin” as I claw at him, grasping for him desperately.
    He’s like an image in a dream I keep running to, though every step closer brings me one step away. Though his arms are around me, they’re not keeping me safe. It’s almost like they’re pushing me toward the waves, too. I try to wrench myself free and move to the center of the raft, but everything is forcing me toward the water. Or maybe it’s just that the river is pulling me to it, wanting to hold me closer. Another wave kicks up and splashes us, jerking the raft to the side. We’re in another rapids, and suddenly I’m over the edge and Justin is holding me by the arms. My body is in the water, and, strangely, it’s not bitingly cold. It feels warm, almost inviting, but I still clutch for something to get me out. Michael reaches over the side, trying to pull me back, shouting, “Hold on! Hold on!” Someone calls, “What the hell is going on?” I can tell that nobody knows what’s happening. I feel the pressure on my legs, under the water. As strong as Justin and Michael are, they’re no match for the hands that are under the water, clutching me. Pulling me down.
    “Don’t let me go,” I whimper to Justin, and he strains to say “I won’t,” but I can tell he’s confused, unsure as to why he can’t hoist me back into the raft. I weigh half of what he does. He obviously can’t see what I can feel. The dozens ofhands on my legs and waist, pulling me down until I can’t fight anymore. Slowly I let go and take one last, strangled breath before sliding under the surface.
    It’s strange: once the water wraps around me, even the rush of it around me sounds like only one word, being whispered in my ear over and over again. Welcome .
    I’m drowning.
    In my head, I’m screaming. It feels as though I’ve been launched through a pinball machine. Like my body is careening at breakneck speed, being tossed every which way, and I have no control. I try to move my arms in another direction but I’m beaten into submission by a force much more powerful than me. Something jams against my cheek, pushing my head back so far that the bones of my neck grate against one another. I try to force it away, flailing my arms wildly, but then I hit against another hard thing. Everything is rocketing in only one direction, and