"Do you think JT would kill me if I took just one teeny tiny chunk of this lava rock home with me?" Susan whispered to Amy as they climbed up the hillside.

Lena peered down the steep drop-off "It doesn't look that big," she said.

"Shouldn't Amy buckle the bottom buckle on her life jacket?" Evelyn asked Abo.

JT stood at the edge of an outcrop, tight-chested from the intense heat that radiated off the black rocks. In the five minutes it took to get up here, his shirt had already dried. Down on the river, one of the kayakers headed for the drop.

"Too far left," JT said. But he was wrong; the kayaker bulleted through the rapid, spinning in triumph at the bottom.

"Anyone else having trouble with the eggs from this morning?" Abo inquired.

"Because-I don't know, I'd just feel more comfortable, riding with the boys," Jill said to Mark.

"I totally understand," he replied.

"Oh golly," breathed Mitch.e.l.l, gazing down at a tiny raft in the maelstrom of waves. "Yikes."

"No wonder it's a ten," said Evelyn.

"Holy f.u.c.k," Mitch.e.l.l said.

38.

Day Eleven Lava Mile 179 A my tried to keep up with the group as they hiked up the short trail to the scouting point, but with her feet so swollen, every step made her wince. She felt like she was walking on cacti. The rocks were black and hot, and the trail was overgrown with p.r.i.c.kly bushes that clawed at her legs. When she reached a small lookout, she stopped. Lena was right; Lava didn't seem all that big. From the way Mitch.e.l.l was talking the night before, Amy expected something along the order of Niagara Falls. This looked like any other rapid, only wider. my tried to keep up with the group as they hiked up the short trail to the scouting point, but with her feet so swollen, every step made her wince. She felt like she was walking on cacti. The rocks were black and hot, and the trail was overgrown with p.r.i.c.kly bushes that clawed at her legs. When she reached a small lookout, she stopped. Lena was right; Lava didn't seem all that big. From the way Mitch.e.l.l was talking the night before, Amy expected something along the order of Niagara Falls. This looked like any other rapid, only wider.

Then she watched a fat white pontoon boat slide down into the mess and plow through a standing wall of water, and she calculated that the wall was as high as the boat was long.

Oh.

Peter, who had been up with the rest of the group, now came slapping back down the trail to join her.

"Go up and see it from there," he urged her. "You get a much better view. Hey. You okay?"

Amy didn't want to tell him about her feet. She didn't want to draw attention to them. She crossed her arms. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hurt, and she felt off balance. "So where's that stupid ledgie thing?"

Peter pointed to a long irregular interface near the top of the rapid, where the dark, smooth-flowing river exploded into white chaos.

"The dark part's the Ledge," Peter said. "And all that white stuff below, that's the Hole."

"And the Hole is where we don't want to go?"

"Where we definitely don't want to go," he said. "Even if you can swim. Like I can. If you remember, I learned to swim on this trip. But I don't want to swim in that hole."

"I just want to get it over with," said Amy. "Its so hot here."

"How many shots do you have left in your camera?"

Amy took the waterproof camera out of her f.a.n.n.y pack. It was school bus yellow, sheathed in hard plastic, with a blue rubber wrist strap. She squinted at the dial. "Seven."

"Well, listen. This thing is bigger than I thought. There won't be much time. Twenty seconds, JT says. If you get a shot of Mitch.e.l.l, great. If not, no big deal. We've got a lot of other good pictures of him."

"I definitely want a picture of him in Lava," said Amy. "He's been talking about it the whole trip. If there's going to be one picture of him that sums it all up, it'll be Mitch.e.l.l at the helm in Lava Falls."

"You are such such a b.i.t.c.h," Peter said proudly. a b.i.t.c.h," Peter said proudly.

"Thank you," said Amy.

Back at the boats, JT gathered everybody together and waited for their full attention. A hush fell over the group.

"Okay now," he said, looking around. "From the looks of it, things seem pretty normal. There's a lot of hype here at Lava. And for good reason. This is big stuff. But I want everyone to stay calm. Keep your wits about you. Listen to your paddle captain. Listen to Dixie. Listen to me."

"Where's Blender going to ride?" Sam asked. He stood hopping from one leg to the other. The dog had ridden in the paddle boat that morning, much to Sam's delight.

"My boat," said JT.

"Who's in your boat?" asked Sam.

"I've got Ruth and Lloyd, plus Amy and Mitch.e.l.l."

Sam stopped dancing. "So who will hold on to the dog?"

"Well," said JT, "well, I guess Mitch.e.l.l will."

"Moi?" said Mitch.e.l.l. said Mitch.e.l.l.

"That's right," JT told Mitch.e.l.l. "You're going to be riding up front, so you're in charge of the dog."

(Way to make things as hard as possible, he thought.) But Mitch.e.l.l shook his head somberly. "Well then, this hombray will rise to the occasion."

Once again, JT reminded them to check their life jackets. Solemnly they all boarded their respective boats as the guides stood knee-deep in the water and coiled up their bow lines. There was a kind of informal queue among the parked boats, and their group was next.

When Amy, Mitch.e.l.l, Ruth, and Lloyd were in their seats, JT pushed off.

"Here's the deal," he said, rocking the boat as he climbed up and settled himself on his seat. "Main thing is to just stay low and hang on tight." He reached back and tightened the retainer strap on his sungla.s.ses. "And listen closely! We're going in on the right and in two seconds I'm going to shout 'V-wave!' 'V-wave!'"

"What's a V-wave?" asked Amy.

"It's just a huge backward wave. Anyway-when I yell 'V-wave,' 'V-wave,' I want you to duck-and then I want you to I want you to duck-and then I want you to immediately immediately start bailing. I mean start bailing. I mean immediately! immediately! And with the buckets-don't bother with the bailing pump; there isn't time. Just bail like h.e.l.l. Then there'll be another huge wave, and then we're through. Whole thing takes twenty seconds. Pretty simple. Not a lot to remember." He snapped the latch on the ammo box at his feet. "So, Amy ... What is it you're going to do?" And with the buckets-don't bother with the bailing pump; there isn't time. Just bail like h.e.l.l. Then there'll be another huge wave, and then we're through. Whole thing takes twenty seconds. Pretty simple. Not a lot to remember." He snapped the latch on the ammo box at his feet. "So, Amy ... What is it you're going to do?"

"Hold on? Duck when you say 'V-wave,' and bail?"

"That's what I like," said JT. "A pa.s.senger who listens."

"What do I do with the dog?" Mitch.e.l.l asked. "Should I hold on to his bandanna? Put him on a leash? What should I do?"

All this time the dog had been sitting patiently at JT's feet.

"You're going to squeeze him between your legs, as close to your crotch as possible," JT said. He gave the dog a nudge. "Go see Mitch.e.l.l."

"Come here, doggie," said Mitch.e.l.l. "Don't bite me again. I'm a nice guy" Gingerly he stretched his arm over the stack of dry bags. JT gave the dog another nudge. JT knew he was pushing things here, but he didn't have any alternative. Ruth and Lloyd were out of the question, and Amy-well, he recalled Amy sliding around in the boat during Crystal. Amy had to hold on with both hands, good and tight.

"No time to hold a grudge," JT said to the dog. "Go on now." Blender slunk toward Mitch.e.l.l. He sniffed the man's fingers, thumped his tail, then settled at Mitch.e.l.l's feet in the front of the boat.

"Wrap your legs around him, Mitch.e.l.l," said JT. "Squeeze him like you're a woman."

Mitch.e.l.l laughed nervously but corralled the dog between his thighs. "So-where's this V-wave?" he asked, craning his neck.

"You can't see it from here." JT took up his oars and pounded down the safety pins for good measure. "Only when you're right down in the middle of things."

"Want me to be on the lookout for you? Act like an extra set of eyes?"

"No, Mitch.e.l.l," said JT. "I want you to stay low and hang on, just like everyone else. Keep the dog between your legs. Ruth? Lloyd?" He wrenched around in his seat. "You set on instructions?"

"I am happy to report that I moved my bowels today," said Lloyd, tightening the strap on his hat.

Ruth looked at JT and shrugged.

"So are we ready?" JT called over to the other boats.

"Ready," said Dixie.

"I'm ready," said Abo.

"Then let's rumble," said JT.

In the front of the boat, Amy crouched down, squatting against her heels. She was glad to get off the hot black rocks, to be out on the water again; the perpetual puddle in the bilge felt cool against her swollen ankles.

She wasn't scared. JT knew what he was doing. He had, after all, run this rapid 124 times.

"Everybody got a good grip?" JT asked them. "Got the bail buckets handy?"

Amy slipped her right hand through the wrist strap of the camera, then took hold of the chickenline, shielding the camera from JT's view with the bulk of her arm and shoulder. With her left hand, she worked her fingers under the tight web of straps.

Mitch.e.l.l was watching her closely. "These straps are tight as guitar strings, aren't they!" he exclaimed. "Sheesh! Wow! Here we go! Look out Lava!"

Amy could tell that Mitch.e.l.l felt uncomfortable with her, and she suspected it had to do with her being so fat and him not approving but trying to hide it with jovial chatter.

"Now wouldja look at that kid?" Mitch.e.l.l said.

"Who?"

"Sam!"

Amy glanced at the paddle boat, where Sam had taken up the middle post, right behind Peter. Sam was sitting up straight, alert as a soldier. His shirt cuffs were b.u.t.toned, and his chin strap looked tight enough to choke his skinny adolescent neck.

"A far cry from the boy who lost his sandal the first day, don't you think?" Mitch.e.l.l asked. "I'm actually glad he got to paddle today. He'll remember this run for the rest of his life. And boy, will he have earned bragging rights back home."

Amy was tempted, for one second, to take a picture of Sam and Peter. But she didn't want JT to know that she had her camera out. And she didn't want Mitch.e.l.l to know, either, lest he request that she take his picture. She couldn't say why, but she felt that an authorized photo would lack meaning and value. It had to be taken on the sly.

She mentally planned out the composition of the picture. She wanted to catch Mitch.e.l.l at his most alert, maybe a silhouette of his head, with all that foamy water in the background. She felt the silhouette angle would capture his pomp. Man at the Prow. Captain Mitch.e.l.l. Maybe they could photoshop a different hat on his head. What would John Wesley Powell have worn?

The oarlocks creaked as JT rowed away from sh.o.r.e. Abo's boat was up ahead, Dixie's behind. Far above, on the hot rocks, another set of scouters gazed down. Now Abo's boat began to pick up speed, and suddenly Abo gave a shout. Six torsos shot forward. Paddles flashed. The boat dipped down, nosed up, then rocked dangerously to one side before disappearing into the ocean of froth below. Amy couldn't tell if they were safe or not. And she couldn't hear anything because the roar of the water was increasing exponentially. She wondered how JT would know if Abo had had a safe run or not, before it was their own turn.

Which it was, now. Amy crouched lower. She could see nothing but silky dark water, yet the roaring was just below, and it grew more deafening with each pa.s.sing second. The fact that there was no turning back, that they could only go forward-that they were now committed to the run, like it or not-suddenly seemed profound to Amy, and she felt as though the river was sharing some ancient, simple secret with her, one that only those who'd slid down the tongue into this particular rapid could comprehend.

Next to her, the dog panted a happy dog grin from between Mitch.e.l.l's clenched knees. Amy glanced up at Mitch.e.l.l. She should take the picture now, she realized, before they dropped. And it was a perfect shot: Mitch.e.l.l's small head topping a vastly distorted orange life jacket.

They were picking up speed, and Amy knew she had only seconds to take the picture. With a flick of her wrist, she caught the camera in her hand and scooched down further. She squinted through the viewfinder.

It was, indeed, going to be a perfect shot.

Later, JT would ask himself if he'd left something out of his safety instructions. Did he not tell them all to hold on? With both hands? Tight?

And wouldn't a normal, reasonable person put it together that unless you had three hands, you couldn't simultaneously hold on with both hands and take a picture?

Did he have to spell everything out?

It happened to Ruth every time in Lava: that primal, gargly scream coming from the bottom of her belly as the V-wave came crashing down upon her. It was cold and powerful and right on target, a free-standing waterfall in the middle of the river. She just screamed and screamed and screamed, and then remembered to pick up the bucket and bail.

Mitch.e.l.l was squeezing the dog between his knees so hard that he thought he was going to crush the poor animal. Still, with that first big downward lurch, he was unable to keep the dog from skidding out of his grip when he shifted his feet to keep his balance.

He never even saw the dog go over.

39.

Day Eleven Lava Susan was so thrilled to be a member of the paddle team for Lava that she forgot to give Amy the customary hug before they boarded their separate boats. By the time she remembered, the lip of the rapid was fast approaching, and she scolded herself for being superst.i.tious. A mother's hug wasn't going to keep Amy safe at this point. Amy was going to keep herself safe.

Beyond the lip, the water dropped off into a mad, boiling sea. Sitting in the front left, Susan wedged her foot into the footcup and watched Peter, who was sitting across, for the slightest twitch-for although in theory she expected to hear Abo's commands herself, she trusted her eyes more than her ears.

Nevertheless she heard Abo's first command loud and clear.

"Forward!" he shouted, and in one smooth motion Susan dug her paddle deep into the last bit of sinuous black water. They hit the first wall of backwash, which left them jabbing blindly with their paddles. Okay, Susan thought. We can manage this.

And then the boat plummeted straight down into the deluge of the V-wave.

In all the other big rapids, they'd been able to plow straight through the waves. But Lava's V-wave captured them in its curl. Oceans of water poured down upon them. Susan screamed as the force seemed to erode her flesh. They didn't go forward or backward; nothing moved, and everything moved. She felt utterly useless; the one time she probed with her paddle, the force yanked it back, so rather than risk losing her paddle or getting her arm torn from its socket, she clutched the shaft and hunkered down and didn't even bother to try.