Lunch ended quickly and soon the boys were racing down the river, with Sam and Matt leading the way. Soon the group came to a sign reading, Warning: White Water Rapids. Approach At Your Own Risk. This was met by another cheer from the troop as butterflies rose in each stomach.
Sam approached first, carefully aiming for every gap. As more boys dropped into the fast water, it became apparent that something wasn’t right. This wasn’t anything like the videos the troop had watched in preparation sessions. The water was too high and too fast. Gaps were difficult to see and the scrape of rock on the fiberglass bottoms of the kayaks could be heard over the roar of the river. Not thirty seconds into the rapids, there was a broken, gasping yell from Matt who was helplessly floating with the river, having lost his kayak. Jim watched as Matt would fall below the waterline, only to resurface several seconds later.
Jim paddled hard, trying to maneuver his way towards Matt, ignoring his own safety. As he came within feet of his flailing scout, there was an ear-splitting crack as Jim’s kayak hit a hidden boulder. Jim was thrown forward as his kayak came to an immediate stop. His powerless figure landed limply in the water, disappearing quickly under the surface.
Still ahead of the pack was Sam. Through his tear filled eyes, Sam caught a glimpse of the bottom of the treacherous rapids. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he paddled harder towards the next gap. His renewed determination propelled him hard and fast—too fast.
In his firm surge towards the gap, he had overshot it. Abandoning safety, he leaned towards the gap in a panicked attempt to fix his mistake. Without warning, his kayak tipped over, holding him in a death grip under the water. Frantically he flailed under the water, freeing his legs from the kayak. In a blind frenzy, his arms found the slippery surface of a fallen log in the water. Straining to keep his head above the water, Sam took a huge gulp of air, plunged his head under, summoned all of his strength, and pulled himself along the log towards the bank.
After a moment to catch his breath, he got up and scrambled up the bank to the top of the rapids. He searched hopefully for any sign of a scout, kayak, or leader, but found nothing. His mind racing, Sam ran down the shore to the bottom of the rapids. This time his hopeful search turned to a discovery of despair. Floating down the river was the lifeless body of every member of the group. Sam panicked and raced towards one of the bodies, caught on a rock near the shore.
Sam reached his friend and pulled him out of the water, turning over the body in his arms. It was Matt. Praying for a miracle, Sam checked for a pulse.
Nothing.
He held Matt’s face to his cheek, feeling for breathing. Still nothing. Sam dragged his friend up the shore and began performing CPR. Two emergency breaths. Fifteen compressions. Breath. Fifteen. Breath. Fifteen. Sam eyes burned with tears as he desperately tried to revive his best friend. Just when it seemed hopeless, Matt suddenly coughed and vomited several times. Despite his joy, Sam remembered that Matt could choke on or drown in his own vomit. Quickly, Sam turned him over and hit him on the back.
But he didn’t heave. No more coughing. It was over just as quickly as it had begun. Sam desperately felt for a pulse. Still nothing. No breathing. Springing into action, Sam began CPR again. But this time there was no vomit. No coughing. No hope.
Sam turned, beyond tears, beyond feeling, and walked aimlessly. Within minutes, he collapsed.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Down the River: A New Short Story
I wrote this for creative writing. It's too long to post the whole thing at once, so I'll post more later.
Sam Brinkhart yawned in the mid-80 degree weather Tuesday morning as he paddled his kayak towards the bank of the Snake River. The local scout troop was on a five-day river run in southern Idaho. Sam struggled out of his kayak on the shore and walked up the bank to wait for his turn in the small latrine. As he stretched out his somewhat cramped legs he chatted with his buddies.
“So Matt, I’m thinkin’ you’ll be the first one to eat it.” Sam joked.
“Yeah right. My money’s on you.” Matt responded. It was the extreme unlikelihood of either scenario, which made everyone in the group laugh. Matt and Sam were by far the most athletic boys in the troop, and both had picked up the skill of kayaking with abnormal ease.
“In fact, I’ll bet your tube gets caught on someone’s oar and you fall in.” Matt added. Matt was referring to Sam’s insulin pump. Sam had been diagnosed with diabetes when he was twelve. He was one of the shortest members of the group. He had dark brown hair and a deceptively scrawny build; everyone knew that Matt was the only boy in the troop who Sam couldn’t out-muscle. His genuine friendliness and easy-going nature made it easy to kid with him, as Matt enjoyed doing frequently.
Matt was a state champion wrestler in the 198 weight class and looked the part of tough guy. His high cheekbones, sunken eyes and cauliflower ear were enough to make any physical competitor curl into the fetal position in terror.
Soon the group was back on the water, led by Jim. He was an experienced outdoorsman who had played the part of scoutmaster in the neighborhood for over twenty years. He was especially excited for this group of 15-17 year old boys because of their excellent physical condition and fearless nature.
Bringing up the rear was 26-year-old Tim Treft. He loved being with the boys as it took him back to his days of scouthood. As assistant scoutmaster the responsibility of manning the equipment raft fell on him. All of the food, cooking equipment, tents, and backpacks were in the raft with him.
When the sun started to set, the boys set up camp and began cooking their tin-foil dinners in the campfire.
“What’ve you got in your dinner, Matt?” Sam said, trying to strike up some dinner conversation.
“Ground beef, cheesy potatoes, and some veggies. You?”
“Barbeque chicken, rice, beans—
“Beans!?” the whole troop moaned, “You’re gonna stink up the tent!”
~~~~
The next morning went similar to the day before; the boys joked and raced and soaked themselves to the bone. When the boys stopped for lunch, Sam piped up,
“So, when do we get to some white water Jim?”
“When your mom gets here to hold your hand.” Matt joked.
After examining the map, Jim said, “Looks like the first rapids are about a mile from where we are now.”
This was met with massive cheers from the boys.
“Hang on.” Jim said, “We’ve got to review the procedure of taking on ra—
“Ah come on, Jim! We’ve been over it a thousand times! Aim for gaps, take it slow, watch for obstacles, lean back, we know! Please can we go?”
“Alright, but everyone be careful, we don’t want an accident.” Jim warned.
“And no crying, Sam.” Matt added.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Sam joked back.
Sam Brinkhart yawned in the mid-80 degree weather Tuesday morning as he paddled his kayak towards the bank of the Snake River. The local scout troop was on a five-day river run in southern Idaho. Sam struggled out of his kayak on the shore and walked up the bank to wait for his turn in the small latrine. As he stretched out his somewhat cramped legs he chatted with his buddies.
“So Matt, I’m thinkin’ you’ll be the first one to eat it.” Sam joked.
“Yeah right. My money’s on you.” Matt responded. It was the extreme unlikelihood of either scenario, which made everyone in the group laugh. Matt and Sam were by far the most athletic boys in the troop, and both had picked up the skill of kayaking with abnormal ease.
“In fact, I’ll bet your tube gets caught on someone’s oar and you fall in.” Matt added. Matt was referring to Sam’s insulin pump. Sam had been diagnosed with diabetes when he was twelve. He was one of the shortest members of the group. He had dark brown hair and a deceptively scrawny build; everyone knew that Matt was the only boy in the troop who Sam couldn’t out-muscle. His genuine friendliness and easy-going nature made it easy to kid with him, as Matt enjoyed doing frequently.
Matt was a state champion wrestler in the 198 weight class and looked the part of tough guy. His high cheekbones, sunken eyes and cauliflower ear were enough to make any physical competitor curl into the fetal position in terror.
Soon the group was back on the water, led by Jim. He was an experienced outdoorsman who had played the part of scoutmaster in the neighborhood for over twenty years. He was especially excited for this group of 15-17 year old boys because of their excellent physical condition and fearless nature.
Bringing up the rear was 26-year-old Tim Treft. He loved being with the boys as it took him back to his days of scouthood. As assistant scoutmaster the responsibility of manning the equipment raft fell on him. All of the food, cooking equipment, tents, and backpacks were in the raft with him.
When the sun started to set, the boys set up camp and began cooking their tin-foil dinners in the campfire.
“What’ve you got in your dinner, Matt?” Sam said, trying to strike up some dinner conversation.
“Ground beef, cheesy potatoes, and some veggies. You?”
“Barbeque chicken, rice, beans—
“Beans!?” the whole troop moaned, “You’re gonna stink up the tent!”
~~~~
The next morning went similar to the day before; the boys joked and raced and soaked themselves to the bone. When the boys stopped for lunch, Sam piped up,
“So, when do we get to some white water Jim?”
“When your mom gets here to hold your hand.” Matt joked.
After examining the map, Jim said, “Looks like the first rapids are about a mile from where we are now.”
This was met with massive cheers from the boys.
“Hang on.” Jim said, “We’ve got to review the procedure of taking on ra—
“Ah come on, Jim! We’ve been over it a thousand times! Aim for gaps, take it slow, watch for obstacles, lean back, we know! Please can we go?”
“Alright, but everyone be careful, we don’t want an accident.” Jim warned.
“And no crying, Sam.” Matt added.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Sam joked back.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Why They Will Always Be The Little Brother...
Let's say your little brother hides in the back seat of your car and tags along on a date. You are extremely irritated when he pops out of back seat and drenches you with his fully loaded super soaker. You are forced to turn around and take him home and change your clothes and you miss the movie you were going to see. Why might he have done this?
1. He needs attention.
2. He thinks it'll make him cool.
3. He knows that you're too nice to beat the crap out of him for it.
4. He thinks he's funny
5. He just flat-out enjoys being a pain in the rear.
Let's say that a bunch of Utah fans deck themselves out in Utah apparel, show up to the BYU vs. Utah basketball game at the Marriot Center and decide to show up early and force their way into the BYU student section.
Why might they have done this?
1. They need attention.
2. They think it would make them cool.
3. They know BYU fans are too nice to beat the crap out of them.
4. They think they're funny.
5. They just flat-out enjoy being a pain in the butt.
The first story didn't happen. The second did. I'm actually not upset by it at all. I'm just pointing out that Utah fans can't get upset by being referred to as BYU's "little brother" and still pull stunts like that.
I know I'm a little late, but GO COUGS!
1. He needs attention.
2. He thinks it'll make him cool.
3. He knows that you're too nice to beat the crap out of him for it.
4. He thinks he's funny
5. He just flat-out enjoys being a pain in the rear.
Let's say that a bunch of Utah fans deck themselves out in Utah apparel, show up to the BYU vs. Utah basketball game at the Marriot Center and decide to show up early and force their way into the BYU student section.
Why might they have done this?
1. They need attention.
2. They think it would make them cool.
3. They know BYU fans are too nice to beat the crap out of them.
4. They think they're funny.
5. They just flat-out enjoy being a pain in the butt.
The first story didn't happen. The second did. I'm actually not upset by it at all. I'm just pointing out that Utah fans can't get upset by being referred to as BYU's "little brother" and still pull stunts like that.
I know I'm a little late, but GO COUGS!
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