The River
I swim and paddle like a maniac in the dark waters. I’m afraid my panic is what really blinds me, not the dark. The eagerness to find Constance is compromising my inner thought. I shouldn’t be thinking anything yet. But why is it when you have to focus on the here and now, your mind reels with every dark possibility for the future?
I’m already imagining I will not find Constance. I’m imagining I will never see her again. I’m imagining that I will end up crying and cursing myself for letting her go. Just like I let the March go. Just like I let Jack go.
I could have made better choices with each of them, but I messed up.
Sinking deeper into the water, I realize I might have delved in too far. I might not have enough air in my lungs to swim back up.
But I don’t care.
Constance is worth it.
Me saving my loved ones is worth it.
And what’s that happening all around me all of a sudden? Small bubbles slice through the water on my left and right. As if they’re bullets.
Wait, are these bullets?
Who’s shooting at us? Are the Mushroomers safe up there?
My instinct drives me to keep swimming. Constance is a priority.
But I can’t find her. How am I supposed to find her in this black abyss?
The bullets are still slicing through, but I’m not even paying attention. I could get shot any moment now, but it’s Constance who I’m here for.
Suddenly something bumps into me. It freaks me out at first. A large fish? A police officer who’s swum down to get me?
I turn around and realize it’s none of those. It’s Constance. Not breathing. Just floating on her back with her hands sprawled sideways.
No, Constance. You can’t die.
What kind of terrible day is this?
I slap her on the face, but the slaps are a joke of flappy arms and bubbles of me trying to scream. I hold her tight and cry, but I’m unable to cry in the water.
Terrible.
When I come to my senses, I realize I have to pull her up.
I do, paddling as fast as I can with the faint air left in my lungs. If I die today, at least I have to bring her to surface.
My chest feels like it’s dropping to my feet. The muscles on my neck are tense. My back seems to want to pull me down. Everything’s against me, but I’m not giving up, though I’m not sure I can make it.
Another rush of bullets misses us as I’m swimming up.
This is when I realize that Constance has probably been shot. That whatever I do, it might be too late.