The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,75

Henry had shouted until he was hoarse. Still he wouldn’t quit. Water was up to his chest now and licking at his chin like the cold, taunting tongue of a woman. He stifled his fear and turned it all into rage. With one last monumental surge, he let out a roar.

“Noooo!”

Water tugged at his legs, at his shirt, yanking and pulling with the force of the flow. An eddy of foam swirled into his line of vision and then up his nose. Startled by the sudden and uninvited intrusion, he gasped and then choked when a mouthful of water went down his throat.

“Sweet Jesus,” he moaned, wildly eyeing the rising flood. It was going to be too late after all.

And then he heard Parson shouting his name and he started to cry, his tears mingling with the rain as it fell.

“Here!” he shouted, laughing and spitting as water lapped at his cheeks. “I’m here!”

Moments later, Parson was above him, hacking at limbs with the hatchet he wore at his waist as he shouted Henry’s name.

“It’s me, Henry, it’s me! You hold on now, old friend, you hold on.”

Henry choked and spit and then did as Parson suggested. But it wasn’t faith that he was holding on to just then, it was life. Completely submerged now, he was holding his breath.

Parson was shaking with rage. He hadn’t come all this way to be too late. He chopped and hacked like a man gone mad, tossing away limbs, digging through the submerged dead fall and praying as he’d never prayed before. Just when as he thought it was all over, he felt buckskin beneath his fingers. With a mighty grip, he braced his feet against the limbs on which he was standing and pulled.

Henry’s body gave, but not enough to come free.

Parson groaned and then took a deep breath as he went under water, frantically shoving and pulling at the limbs still holding Henry down. When his lungs were full to bursting, he came up then, sputtering and gasping and fighting for air. His hair was in his face and his beard was wrapped around his neck as he took another deep breath and went back for more. This time when he grabbed hold of Henry, his grip was solid.

God help me.

Parson pulled and Henry popped free of the debris like a cork in a bottle, bobbing to the surface of the flood. Parson’s jubilation foundered at the sight of Henry’s pale and waxen face.

“No, no, no,” he moaned, and began thrashing through the water and limbs, dragging Henry’s rifle and inert body as he went.

When there was nothing but hard ground at their feet, Parson dropped the rifle, rolled Henry onto his belly and started pounding on his back. Over and over, harder and harder, he pushed and he pummeled while the rain continued to fall. A minute passed, and then another and Parson never knew when he started to cry.

“Wake up, Henry Wainright, wake up! You can’t go and leave me like this.”

Henry came to just as Parson’s fist hit the middle of his back. One minute he was spitting up water and the next he was gasping for air.

When Parson saw Henry kick and then vomit, he leaned back on his heels and smiled. There in the rain, on the banks of a flood, he gave thanks to the Lord on whom he’d called.

When Henry could breathe without fear of inhaling more water, he rolled over, relishing the feel of rain on his face. There wasn’t a place on his body that didn’t hurt, and he was pretty sure he’d busted some ribs. But he was breathing and for now it was enough. He looked over at Parson who was still in the throes of a prayer.

“Damn it all, Elmer, save that for when we ain’t got nothin’ better to do. I got water in my ear. I busted some ribs. And I’m so damn wet I might never have to take a bath again. Let’s find us a place to get dry.”

Parson stood then, his eyes aglow with a passion that Henry wished he could share.

“Can you stand, Henry?”

Henry groaned. “I ain’t for sure, but I’m ready to try.”

Parson held out his hand and Henry grabbed it. Moments later, he was on his feet and fighting a wave of nausea.

Parson put a sheltering arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Lean on me, old man. With God’s help, we’ll find a way.”

Henry leaned.

Within days, the episode had become a thing of