When I heard the music, I thought it was inside my head. It had been so long since we’d heard any sounds that weren’t from nature: singing birds, whistling breeze, crackling underbrush, howling wolves, churning river. The last human-made noise we’d heard had been that plane—which never had come back looking for us. Hearing a melody and lyrics, a sure sign of people, was jarring—but the music was so faint, I knew it must only be a memory. Especially because I was hearing an oldie, that same “Electric Slide” song the DJ had played at the pool party. That scene drifted back in my head, and it was so real, I could almost smell the burgers and hot dogs on the grill. Hear the laughter of kids doing the water-balloon toss. It was bittersweet to be remembering that particular day, which should have been such a good one but ended up being kind of a bummer. Discordant is a good dictionary word for it. Slightly out of tune. A lot of the summer had been that way.
The memory was only getting stronger. The sounds of music and laughter grew louder, although the “Electric Slide” had ended and the melody of the next oldie was unfamiliar. Can you even remember a song you’ve never heard? I blinked up at the blue sky above the river. The music and smells didn’t stop when I opened my eyes. I’m definitely hallucinating.
The scent of food was killing me. I tried to focus on anything else that I could—the ice-cold water sloshing around my legs, Alex’s labored breathing, the sea-sickening wobbliness of the tube as it struggled to stay afloat—but the scent wouldn’t fade. It intensified. I didn’t think I could take smelling it—even in my imagination—for one second longer. Maybe this is what happens when people die of exposure. They go a little mad toward the end.
I raised my head from the sinking edge of the tube, to see if I could find something to distract myself from the imaginary food smell. Nothing but trees to my left. When I looked to my right, I saw it.
The party.
A gentle bend in the river lay ahead, and alongside it was a low-lying area cleared of trees. Some kind of park or a campground. There were a few rustic picnic tables near the water’s edge. A distance behind them, a barbecue grill.
I wasn’t imagining the scent of burgers and hot dogs (and hopefully veggie patties). I wasn’t imagining the oldies playing. I wasn’t imagining the laughter.
A dozen or so people milled around, holding sweating cans of soda and plates piled with picnic food. They were smiling and dancing and enjoying the late-summer afternoon along the river. They hadn’t noticed us yet, I didn’t think.
“Alex!” I croaked, shaking her awake. “People! There are people?” Unless I’m hallucinating them too.
“What?” She rubbed at her eyes and struggled to sit upright.
“Hey! Hey! Over here!” I called. But my voice was so weak, and the breeze was strong enough to carry it away. The music drowned any sound we made. Our half-inflated tube hugged the opposite side of the river from the party. I reached my arms in the water, trying to paddle that way.
“Help us! Please!” Alex tried to shout, but she could only cough it out. I kept paddling. What if we passed by this park and they never noticed us, never came out to help? Nobody was looking toward the water—they were all focused on their food.
“We have to swim for it,” I said to Alex. I grabbed the life vest and worked her arms into it, then snapped the buckle. She needed it more than I did. “Hold on to me.” I reached for her hand. Our palms squeezed tight, just like when we used to do the lake jump.
I rolled off the tube and into the river with a splash. The current was strong, but I fought it, kicking my legs harder than I ever thought I could. Alex fell in after me with a louder splash. The life vest barely buoyed her above the surface of the water. She grabbed the stretched-out strap of my suit and clung to it, as I furiously kicked and did my best to propel us toward the people. She took a deep breath. “Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice finally competing with the music.
A woman wearing a baseball cap suddenly looked up. Her burger dropped to the ground. She mouthed something like, What in the world? Then she pointed at us and turned to shout at the others, “Someone’s in the water!”
The guy next to her climbed up on a picnic table for a better view. His jaw dropped. “It’s those missing girls!”
Everyone else turned to gape at the river. Then it was like an official had started a race, and they all dashed toward the water, shouting instructions at one another. My legs were losing energy. I didn’t know how much longer I could kick or tread. Our heads bobbed above the surface, dropping below every few seconds. I sputtered out a mouthful of river water. I clung to Alex. I kept trying to move us closer to them, but the current was dragging us away.
The baseball-cap woman and the guy splashed into the river, still in their hiking clothes and shoes. They began swimming toward us. “Hang on, girls, we’re coming for you!”
I kept kicking, even though the water was pulling me down. Alex coughed and flapped her arms to tread. Her hand squeezed mine tight. I sank below the surface again. Underwater, everything was eerily quiet and murky. I wanted to kick myself back up. But I couldn’t figure out how.
Then I felt Alex pulling me up. Fighting for us. I broke above the surface, gasped in a breath, and my legs started kicking again. The effort to help me had been too much for Alex, whose grip on my hand was loosening. I hooked my arm around her, to make sure she wouldn’t go under now that I was up. Even with the life vest and with both of us treading furiously, we were barely hanging on.
But we were Team Alexelyn once again.
Then an arm appeared. It swooped around my chest, guiding me through the water with strong, confident strokes. A woman’s voice said, “You’re okay, girls. It’s all going to be okay.” I kept kicking; I couldn’t stop till we were safe. The guy was next to Alex, helping her swim. Once we had help, we moved quickly toward land.
When I felt the pebbly shore beneath my bare feet, I knew it was true. We’d made it out of the woods, and out of the river. We’d actually saved ourselves.
I took one triumphant step out of the water. And then I collapsed.