both of them.
But she knew they’d reached the oak tree: Through the downpour, she could make out the rope bridge, like the ragged mast of a ship finally sighted through a misty harbor. Her eyes swung from the ladder to the rope bridge, toward the central landing. . . . The waters of the creek were racing over it, debris collecting against it. Her gaze traveled from the rope bridge to the tree house platform, taking in the awkward angle of the dangling bridge. It hovered only a foot above the water because the platform had nearly been ripped off the tree house’s ancient structural support, clearly about to give way.
As if in a waking nightmare, she suddenly spotted Ben in the rushing creek, clinging to the rope bridge below the tree house platform. Only then did she allow herself to scream.
Clayton felt fear flood his veins as soon as he saw Ben grasping the fraying edge of the rope bridge. His mind raced frantically.
Too far to swim to the other side, and no time.
“Stay here!” he shouted to Beth as he raced toward the tree ladder. He scaled it and set off on the bridge at a run, desperate to reach Ben. He could see the tree house platform sinking. Once the force of the current touched it, it would tear away completely.
On his third step, the dry-rotted planks broke and Clayton felt himself smash through the platform, breaking his ribs on the way and free-falling toward the water. It was all he could do to grab the rope as he hit the raging water. He struggled to tighten his grip as he went under, his clothes dragging him down. He felt the current pulling at him, and the rope tightened. He held on, trying to get his head above water, kicking wildly.
He bobbed to the surface and gasped: His broken ribs exploded in pain, making everything go black for an instant. In a panic, he reached for the rope with the other hand, fighting against the current.
As he held on, ignoring the pain, branches rammed his body before spinning off wildly. The current crashed over his face, obscuring his vision, making it difficult to breathe, making it difficult to think of anything but survival. In his struggle, he didn’t notice the pilings beneath the central landing lurch under the strain of his weight, beginning to lean with the ferocious current.
Beth hobbled to her feet and tried to walk. She got three steps before falling again. She cupped her mouth and shouted across the creek.
“Move along the rope, Ben! Move away from the platform! You can do it!”
She wasn’t sure whether he heard her, but a moment later, she saw him start to inch out from beneath the platform, toward the harsher current in the center of the creek. Toward his father—
Keith was floundering, barely holding on. . . .
Everything seemed to speed up and slow down at exactly the same time when she suddenly saw movement in the distance, a little ways upstream. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Logan ripping off his boots and rain bottoms.
A moment later, he dove into the water, Zeus close behind him.
Clayton knew he couldn’t hold on much longer. The pain from his ribs was excruciating, and the current continued to beat him down. He could catch his breath only in snatches, and he flailed against the death he suddenly knew was coming.
The relentless current was moving Thibault two feet down the creek for every foot he was moving across. He knew he could backtrack on land once he reached the opposite bank, but he didn’t have that much time. Focusing his sights on Ben, he kicked with everything he had.
A large branch slammed into him, sending him under for a moment. When he surfaced again, disoriented, he saw Zeus behind him, paddling hard. He regained his bearings, then stroked and kicked with desperate effort. In despair, he saw that he hadn’t even reached the center of the creek.
Beth saw Ben inching farther along the fraying rope bridge, and she dragged herself closer to the water’s edge.
“Come on!” she shouted, sobbing now. “You can do it! Hold on, baby!”
In midstroke, Thibault collided with the submerged central landing of the bridge. He rolled in the water, spinning out of control; a moment later, he smashed into Clayton. Panicking, Clayton grabbed for his arm with his free hand, dragging Thibault under. Thibault flailed and felt for the rope, his grip tightening just