Then it had taken another thirty minutes, and the use of the rope Mark had in his pocket, to roll the log to where they needed it to go. They’d managed to get it up on its end and push it over the creek, which had worked surprisingly well. It wasn’t all that stable, but it wasn’t in the water and, on paper at least, they could cross it without getting their feet wet, which was the goal all along.
They’d both taken off their outer shirts as they’d worked, as they were warm in the sun and sweating. Zoey was in her tank top and long-sleeve shirt, and Mark was wearing only his green Henley.
She would’ve admired his bulging biceps if she hadn’t been so concerned about crossing the stupid stream. Looking at their makeshift bridge, this suddenly seemed like a bad idea. Especially considering they had no idea what was on the other side. They might cross this thing to find another wider stream a hundred yards farther down and around a bend.
“Maybe we should just turn around after all,” Zoey said as she and Mark stood looking at the log and the fast-moving water under it.
“We’ve got this,” Mark said in his familiar positive tone. “I’ll go first. Make sure it’s safe. I’ll anchor it with some rocks on the other side, prevent it from rolling. Then you can come across. Okay?”
Zoey wanted to say no. That she was too scared. But she tried to be positive by swallowing hard and nodding.
Mark put his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Hey, we got this.”
She tried to smile, but knew it fell flat.
“I’ll even let you wear my outer shirt. I know you’re gonna start shivering in a minute or two, and you’ll need the extra warmth.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. I’m good. I’m way more used to being cold than you are. Which is kinda funny, considering you’re the one who lives up here in Alaska. You’re the one who’s supposed to think this weather is warm enough to sunbathe in.”
Zoey shuddered. She couldn’t imagine lying around in a bathing suit. Even though the sun was shining, it probably wasn’t even sixty degrees. Besides, the clouds would most likely come out any second. That’s how it was in the early autumn months in Alaska. It could be beautiful and sunny one second and cloudy and foggy the next.
“A kiss for luck?” Mark asked.
Now that, Zoey could do. She immediately went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was short and sweet, but every time his lips touched hers, sparks shot down to her toes. It was a very effective way to get her mind off of where they were and what they were doing, and it went a long way toward warming her up to boot.
Mark pulled back and kissed her temple before turning toward the log. Around his waist, he tied the long rope he’d made by braiding vines, bark and dead plants, and Zoey took the other end in her hands. As far as a safety line went, it wasn’t much, but he’d assured her it was merely a precaution. That nothing was going to happen, and he’d be on the other bank before either of them could blink.
Zoey watched as he tested the stability of their makeshift bridge and winced when it wobbled as he lowered himself onto it. Instead of walking upright, which would’ve been suicide, he straddled it. His feet came up behind him, steadying him. He ever so slowly inched forward, stopping every few inches to balance himself as the log shifted under him.
Zoey couldn’t breathe. She tightened her grip on the thin rope, letting out slack as he moved across the fallen tree.
For a minute, she thought he was going to make it. He was moving at a pretty good clip and was halfway across when disaster struck.
He’d just shifted to move forward another inch when Zoey happened to look upstream. Her eyes widened and she yelled, “Watch out!”
But it was too late.
A large tree that had fallen somewhere upstream was rushing headlong toward Mark and their precarious bridge.
He braced himself, and even stuck out a hand to try to push the log away, but it was no use. The branches of the floating log rammed right into Mark, and the tree itself lodged under their bridge. The force of the water and the tree was too much, and one second Mark was perched on top of the log, the next, he’d disappeared into the rushing stream amongst a flurry of leaves and branches.
The rope in her hands immediately went taut, and Zoey fought with all her strength to keep hold of it. She didn’t feel the way the make-shift rope left burn marks on her palms; her only focus was Mark. She fell to her ass on the bank and grunted as the water tried to rip him away. For a wild moment, she thought it might be better to let go, to let him ride the rapids down to the lake, where it was calmer, but then she thought about how cold the water was. The water in the stream had to be coming from the mountains, where the snow and ice was constantly melting. There was a good chance he wouldn’t make it to the lake, and even if he did, it was possible he wouldn’t have the strength to get out because of the cold.
So Zoey frantically held on. She was dragged closer and closer toward the stream. Mark outweighed her by quite a bit, but she refused to let go.
She was pulled ever closer but as luck would have it, a large rock sat between her and the bank. She turned slightly and used her feet to brace herself against the boulder.
It worked. She stopped moving.
Wrapping the vines around her wrists, she vowed to do whatever it took to get Mark to shore. Every now and then, she saw his head pop out of the water in the rapids, and she knew he was fighting on the other end of the rope.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she watched him make progress toward the bank. After he disentangled himself from the rogue tree that had appeared at exactly the wrong time, he was able to move a bit faster. Within thirty seconds, Zoey felt the rope in her hands go slack.
He’d done it.
Unwrapping the vine from her hands, not even noticing the bruises already forming on her wrists, she ran toward where Mark was crawling on his hands and knees out of the stream.
“Mark! Are you all right?”
“Don’t touch me,” he ground out.
Zoey stopped in her tracks in shock. “What?”
“I’m soaking wet. I don’t want you to get near me. Give me a second.”
“What can I do?” Zoey asked. Even as she watched, Mark’s body began to tremble. Now that the adrenaline from his dunk in the water was wearing off, the cold was already settling in.
“Just step back, sweetheart. I’m okay. I promise.”
Hating that she was powerless to do anything to help, Zoey did as he asked. She hovered near him as he crawled even farther out of the stream. He got to a patch of grass and tried to stand but couldn’t, falling back on his ass.
“Mark!” Zoey exclaimed.
“I’m okay,” Mark said again. “J-Just c-cold.”
He looked up at her then, and Zoey could see that his lips were already turning blue.
Shit, shit, shit!
Mark began to fumble with the laces on his boots, but it looked like he was having a hard time.
“Fuck not touching you,” Zoey mumbled and went to her knees at his feet. She brushed his hands away and went to work on getting his boots undone. It was hard to get them off his feet, but after tugging for a bit, she was finally successful.
“The s-socks too,” Mark said.
Zoey knew he was right, but she hated this. And of course, when they needed it the most, the sunlight had disappeared behind rapidly growing clouds. She stripped off his socks, and when his hands went to the button of his pants, the fact that he was actually going to strip naked sank in.