At the top of the cliff, Bryan’s friends stood laughing and pointing where Bryan entered the water. He had been the most daring of the group, the first to go in head first. They slapped each other on the back and dared one another to try it next. A minute passed. Then two. The laughter stopped, and their faces turned solemn as the boys looked to each other for what to do. In panicked voices, their words echoed what their eyes had been communicating. No one could jump in after Bryan for fear they would land on top of him. Finally, Robert, a boy on the ground who witnessed the whole incident, jumped into the water, his eyes scanning quickly for Bryan’s body. He spotted him a few feet away, floating in the water. Their eyes locked and Robert moved swiftly through the water, grabbing Bryan around the middle and pulling him upward.

Bryan’s head broke through the surface and he gasped for air, his lungs burning for sweet breath. Others who stood on the bank rushed to Robert’s aid as they came out of the water. Several of them grabbed onto Bryan and helped get his limp body to shore. All of his friends who had been at the top of the cliff came running into view. Bryan was surrounded by people, each shooting similar questions at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Can you move?”

Bryan wasn’t moving at all. Three of his friends rushed down the mountain path in search of his parents, while two of the EMTs from their trip followed closely behind them. The EMTs jogged the mile back to the riverside, grabbing one of the boards from out of a raft. They panted as they took turns carrying the solid wood back up the path and placed it under Bryan, to try and stabilize his neck. Bryan recognized the board as one he had cut himself just days before.

Back at camp, Becky and a couple of her friends heard about the group of guys who were jumping off the cliff. They wanted to check it out, so they were heading up the path when they ran into Bryan’s friends who were rushing down it. Even though she normally didn’t panic over her brother getting hurt, Becky felt a sense of dread as the boys spoke. She knew in her gut that this time was different. Becky began running the rest of the way to the water’s edge where Bryan lay in the sand. Seeing his pale face and limp body on a plank of wood made her eyes burn. She grabbed Bryan’s hand and sniffed the tears back in, knowing she had to be tough. It was weird seeing him like that. Her normally tall, muscular brother suddenly didn’t look so big anymore.

Carol Jean and Glenn came running up a few minutes after Becky. Glenn spoke with the EMTs while Carol Jean knelt in the sand next to her son. His face was pale and his body motionless, but his eyes locked on hers and he actually smiled.

“You should have seen it, Mom. That was my best dive ever!”

Carol Jean chuckled as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Bryan.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. She squeezed a little harder, but Bryan still did not respond. She panicked. “Bryan!”

“What, Mom?” He looked at her strangely.

“Can you feel this?” She squeezed his hand with all her might.

“Feel what?”

Carol Jean fell off her knees, into the sand. Her hand covered her mouth as she tried not to cry or scream.

Glenn turned around and came over to them. “We need to talk.” He tried to make his voice seem light, but the look in his eyes was deadly serious.

“I’m not leaving his side, Glenn.”

“Just tell me, Dad, do they think I’m going to die?”

Glenn sighed heavily. “They don’t know. They’re pretty sure your neck is broken, but we can’t know anything for certain until we get you to a hospital. That’s where the problem is. The only way to get to a phone is by finishing the river.”

“But there’s still seventeen miles left,” Bryan spoke up.

Glenn only nodded.

Carol Jean looked back down the path they had come which led to the water’s edge. “You mean..?”

“Yes. Duane and I are going to take several of the young men and row as fast as we can the rest of the way. Then we’ll have to hike to the top of the mountain where the nearest ranger’s station is and we’ll call for a helicopter from there.”

“A helicopter?” Carol Jean looked as white as her son.

Glenn glanced up at the surrounding mountains and high, sloping cliffs. “That’s the only way we’re going to get him out.” He looked straight into Bryan’s eyes. “You hang in there, you hear me? We’ll get help as fast as we can. I want you to stay hydrated, and I’ll see you in a couple hours, okay?”

Bryan nodded. Carol Jean stood to give Glenn a hug goodbye. “It will only take a couple hours?” she whispered in his ear.

“At least twelve,” Glenn spoke quietly.

Carol Jean could barely get her next words past the lump rising in her throat. “Will he…make it that long?”

Glenn looked down at Bryan’s still frame. He then looked directly into Carol Jean’s pleading green eyes. “If someone doesn’t come for you in eighteen hours, it means we couldn’t reach help.” Carol Jean looked as though she were about to crumple to the ground. Glenn put a firm hand on each shoulder, partly to be sure she heard him and partly to prevent her from falling over. “In eighteen hours, if no one has come, I want you to load Bryan onto a raft and finish out the river. I will be waiting for you at the end.”

Carol Jean nodded very slowly. They exchanged a worried look, both knowing Bryan would never survive seventeen miles in a raft in his condition. Glenn kissed her quickly before he turned and ran back down the path with Duane and six of the strongest boys in the group.

***

As the sun faded into the night sky, Bryan started shivering. Several of the girls gathered some sticks and other kindling, while two of the other leaders began building a fire near him on the beach. Becky and her friends hiked back to the campground and retrieved Bryan’s down sleeping bag from inside his tent. Everyone was eager to help. Standing around and waiting was agonizing.

Carol Jean had a small bottle of water by her side and occasionally dampened a clean sock with it. She’d then place the sock over Bryan’s mouth so he could keep his mouth moist and suck, without drinking too much. The EMTs were worried about him eating or drinking too much, since they didn’t know what would happen if he threw up. Their goal was to prevent him from vomiting. Bryan continued to suck slowly, though his body ached for moisture. He wanted nothing more than to guzzle an entire gallon of water. The group had to pack in their water for the entire trip, and since this was the last night, rations ran low. Carol Jean had to keep careful watch on how much he drank, to be certain he would have enough to get him through the next day.

Bryan was grateful he didn’t feel any pain as he continued to lay on the stiff, hard board. His limbs would occasionally tingle, which kept affirming in his mind that he was still alive. Waiting felt strange. He was completely surrounded by people, every one of them at his beck and call, yet no one was really talking to him. It was like the entire camp waited in limbo to learn his fate.

When dinner was ready, the leaders encouraged the youth to get some food and settle down for the night. No matter the outcome, they all had to continue on the river tomorrow. It took a lot of convincing and prodding from the leaders to get the kids to leave Bryan and go back to camp. Becky and Carol stayed by Bryan’s side, making sure he remained warm and continuing to keep his mouth moist with water. Bryan tried to joke, “I hope you didn’t get that sock from my foot.” This only reminded them that Bryan couldn’t feel his feet and he wouldn’t have known if they had.

A couple of Becky’s friends brought them some plates of food. The plates sat on the sand beside them, getting cold. Bryan encouraged them to eat, but the ladies kept the plates on the ground, their mouths shut tight. The smell of beans and hot dogs made Bryan’s stomach rumble with hunger, but they knew it might be dangerous to feed him, for fear he might choke or throw up. So they sat and listened to their rumbling tummies while the buns grew soggy from the beans and turned into a pile of mush on their plates.

The seconds ticked by slowly. The night air was still; the only sounds that could be heard were some chirping crickets and the slow, labored breaths coming from Bryan. Becky broke the silence by reminiscing their childhood.

“Remember that time we buried those Penny Savers in the gulley by our house?”

Bryan strained to smile. How could he ever forget? “Yeah, remember how much fun we thought it would be to deliver those papers to earn some cash?”

Becky nodded and made a gagging motion with her finger. “That was really stupid.”

“No, the stupid part was getting caught. If we had gotten away with it, it would have been pure genius. Bury the papers in the dirt, then still get paid for delivering them. It was supposed to be a fool-proof plan.”

“Until Grandpa Carroll caught us,” Becky said. “That part was not so fun. I still remember how much he yelled.”

“It wasn’t the yelling that got to me,” Bryan admitted. “I couldn’t handle his disappointment. I never want Grandpa Carroll to look at me that way again.” He shuddered at the thought.

Becky yawned, and stretched her stiff legs out into the sand in front of her. “What about that time you set the sandbox on fire?” she grinned.

“I didn’t set the whole sandbox on fire.” Bryan felt the need to clarify. “I built a sandcastle in the sandbox, then made the moat out of gasoline. Only the moat was on fire.”

They both laughed as they continued to share stories. Carol Jean knew some of the stories, but other instances of mischief, she did not. Bryan chuckled at the horrified expression on his mom’s face. “I’m so glad I didn’t know about this back then,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

Carol Jean finally encouraged a drowsy Becky to go to sleep.

“I can’t leave. What if help comes? What if he needs me?”

“I promise I will wake you up if anyone gets here or anything changes. Neither of us are going to be much use to Bryan tomorrow if we don’t rest.”

“I’m fine. Why don’t you go to sleep first?”

“Rebecca Carroll, go to your tent and sleep. I will see you in the morning.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Becky squeezed her brother’s cold, clammy fingers. “Good night,” she whispered. Holding her flashlight high, she walked down the winding path to her tent.

Bryan watched as his mom’s head began to bob and her eyelids tried to close. She was fighting sleep, but it kept threatening to come.

“Carol Jean?”

She jumped at the voice as it approached.

“Sorry,” the man whispered.

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want to try and get some sleep? I can sit with Bryan for a couple hours.”

“Thank you, but no. I’m his mom and I’m not leaving his side.”

The other chaperone put his hands up in surrender and walked toward her slowly.

“Carol Jean, you are going to have a very long day tomorrow, and probably several days after. Please get some rest. You won’t do Bryan any good tomorrow if you aren’t functional.”

Carol Jean looked back at her big, strong boy who was really a man now. The way he lay there, bundled in blankets and completely helpless, she was reminded of the same boy, significantly smaller. He was just a larger version of that perfect, little boy placed in her arms at the hospital eighteen years ago.

“How could this happen to my baby?” she whispered.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and helped Carol Jean to her feet. Her legs tingled and burned from sitting in the same position on the hard ground for so long. She stood, unmoving.

“Mom, get some sleep. Pete and I can talk shop about cars and before you know it, morning will be here.”

Carol Jean bent down and kissed Bryan’s forehead, her lips singed with his growing fever. As she hiked back to camp, she looked up at the beautiful stars shining brightly in the night sky and prayed for a miracle.

***

Glenn watched the same stars as he rowed with everything he had left. They all panted, finding it hard to catch their breath, yet still they paddled on. Their legs cramped from sitting for so long, and their arms were on fire. Their stiffened necks seared with pain. They finally reached a point where they took turns letting one boy sit out at a time. He would stretch his aching muscles and rest his shaking body for twenty minutes and then pass his break on to someone else. Glenn never took his turn.

“Come on, Glenn, you’ve got to rest or you’re going to pass out from exhaustion.” Duane spoke quietly.

“I’ll pass out after we’ve reached the phone. Right now, I’ve got enough adrenaline to keep going and I’m afraid if I stop, it will go away. I can’t stop. I won’t stop,” he mumbled.

The boys quit asking him and continued to break in silence, praying to God that they’d make it in time.

***

Becky lay awake in her tent, unable to sleep. How could her mom possibly think she would sleep? After tonight, she wondered if she would ever want to sleep again. Every mean thing she had ever said to her brother ran around her mind in circles. Every time she got him in trouble, every time she started a fight, every time she said something mean to his face or behind his back. Only a year apart, they were practically twins growing up. Why couldn’t she have been a better sister? A better friend? She couldn’t take it anymore and slipped out of her tent. She wandered around the trees for a little while before grabbing her sleeping bag and walking back to the beach. She didn’t care what her mom said. If she were going to be grounded, or if she were going to get yelled at, she didn’t care. She’d take it. Anything was better than lying in that dark tent, listening to the other girls breathe, and wondering how this could have happened. Bryan had always been so invincible.

As Becky stretched her sleeping bag out on the sand and laid down, Bryan didn’t say a word. She reached across the bag and grasped his hand. They stared across the fire in the moonlight, wondering what would happen next.

A twig snapped and Becky jumped at the sound. Three of Bryan's friends appeared in the firelight, sleeping bags under their arms. They laid them out in the sand side by side and started talking about motorcycles, as if nothing were wrong. Two more girls from Becky’s tent showed up. One had a book with her, and they took turns reading from it out loud to the group.

***

Glenn squinted his eyes in the moonlight for any sign that they were near the end of the river. Sweat dripped from every inch of his body. His arms were completely numb from overuse and he wondered if he’d ever regain feeling in them. His body seemed to be screaming in pain at him for the abuse he put it through all night. Duane sat on the edge of the raft, squinting in the moonlight toward the shoreline, trying to gauge where they were.

“This is it.” Duane broke the silence. The boys all moaned as they pulled their oars from the water. The river was about to run into Lake Powell and at this point, they needed a motor to get them the rest of the way. Duane hoisted the heavy plank up and reached underneath for his outboard motor. He carefully attached it to the end of their raft and yanked hard on the chord. The motor rumbled to life, cutting through the silence that surrounded them.

“If only I’d known, I would have packed enough gas to get us the entire way.”

Glenn placed a hand on Duane’s shoulder and shook his head. “No one could have planned for this.”

Carefully, Duane guided the raft through the murky water. Glenn almost couldn’t believe his eyes when they saw the spot to pull out coming up. They made it!

Glenn leaped from the raft, grabbing the line and pulling the large yellow craft to shore. It bumped and scraped along the sand until it was inland enough for the boys to all climb out. They wanted nothing more than to collapse on the sand and sleep. Unfortunately, they still had a three mile hike to the top of the mountain where the phone was located. Glenn offered to let them rest a few minutes. He was surprised when they shook their heads and said, “Let’s go. We’ll have all day for resting after we reach the phone.”

They began the steep climb, following the dark trail with the aid of a couple of flashlights. Out on the open water, the moon lit their way. But here, amidst the shade of the trees, it was harder to see. The boys lost their footing a couple of times. They kept close together, pushing and encouraging each other to press onward.

When the ranger’s station came into view, the boys whistled and cheered. Glenn’s team of troopers collapsed to the ground outside the station, finding different places around the building to lean against the walls. Glenn pushed the worn, wooden door open with his hand, his feet creaking on the floorboards as he entered. A large man dressed all in green sat behind a desk, his head resting against the mahogany desk. Glenn’s shoes creaked with each step, causing the soft snoring to abruptly halt. The ranger sat up carefully, straightening his hat.

“What can I do you for?” he asked, yawning wide.

“I need to use your phone, please. There’s been an emergency down at the river.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, our phones are out of order.”

Glenn’s face fell and he feared he might actually pass out. He steadied himself by reaching out for the nearest chair to regain his balance.

“No, I’m just joshin’ ya!” he joked. Upon seeing the seriousness of Glenn’s face, his own face immediately went grim. “Here you go,” he offered, sliding the black rotary across the desk and into Glenn’s hands. Glenn picked up the receiver and dialed 9-1-1 with shaking fingers.

“9-1-1, what’s the nature of your emergency?” The soothing voice had a calming effect on Glenn.

“We’re at Slickhorn Canyon in Southern Utah and my son was cliff diving.” Glenn choked up a little as he spoke. “I think his neck is broken.”

***

Carol Jean shouldn’t have been able to sleep with all the thoughts and worries churning around her mind, but the emotional overload completely drained her body. She fell asleep surprisingly quickly and slept soundly through the night. When she awoke the next morning, the events from the previous day came crashing back. She bolted out of her tent. As she drew near the beach, Carol Jean tripped over a sleeping bag left lying in the sand. She looked around and noticed the ground was completely covered in sleeping bags. Everywhere she looked, they lay in the hot sand, some filled with sleeping youth, others with kids sitting atop them. There had to be fifty kids sleeping and sitting around Bryan like a soft wall of protection. Carol Jean had to watch where she stepped to avoid fingers and feet as she made her way through the teenagers toward her son.

The sun was scorching now, with the temperature at 100 degrees and steadily climbing. Despite the heat, Bryan’s face grew paler by the hour. His tongue felt swollen and rough, like sandpaper rubbing against the roof of his mouth. It was harder and harder for him to stay awake. His mom remained steadily by his side, waking him each time he began to doze. His friends continued to try and make him smile and laugh, but he didn’t return the smile as easily. The waiting was pure agony. His body tingled occasionally, but it was becoming less and less frequent. He had been trying to get his foot, a finger, anything to move, but he was becoming increasingly tired and the concentration it required was exhausting. He had to stop thinking about his stationary limbs and focus his mind on staying awake.

Carol Jean looked at her watch for probably the millionth time. Glenn left seventeen hours earlier. She stared up at the bright blue sky, squinting into the sunlight, and straining her ears for any sign of hope. All she could hear were the voices of youth all around her and an occasional bird. She couldn’t see even a cloud in the sky and pretend the helicopter was hiding behind them.

One of the EMTs approached her cautiously. “Do you want us to start preparing a raft?”

“I just . . .” She looked to the sky again and found nothing. “No, but yes.”

The EMT nodded. “I’ll have my guys start moving supplies around to make room, just in case.”

Carol Jean waved him away and placed a hand on Bryan’s forehead. His pale, clammy skin had become beet red and cracked in a matter of hours. Her palm seared from his touch. She grabbed her bottle and dripped the last remaining drops onto the crusty sock. Bryan’s lips were cracked and stained with dried blood. He didn’t even react to the sock being placed on his mouth. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. They were out of time.