I should have been confused by Mabel Jackson’s statement, but, oddly, I knew she was right and we were definitely here on this bluff about to save two poor people on a raft. Double awesome. I must have grown some new memories to replace the old or something.
But how were we going to save this Jim and this little guy? We had no tools, no equipment of any kind. At least I didn’t. I looked toward this nice lady and waited for the next flash of lightning.
And there it was. Flash! Ka-boom!
An image of her was burned into my eyes with hot redness. Her hair was plastered to her head. There was a strap across her shoulder and a large bag under her arm.
“What’s in your bag?” I asked, turning my attention back to the flickering boat lights below. I could just make out the square shape of the raft entering a circle of light.
“The usual,” she said, “ipad, knives, guns and for back up: paper and pencils.”
Did I hear right?
“Oh, and a flashlight, of course,” she added as she shined a narrow beam in my face. Then she fanned the light over my body and asked, “Where’s your bag? Didn’t you pick it up?”
My hesitation must have made her think I was somebody else, maybe, even though I had the right nametag.
“Are you Nick? Who are you?”
And then her flashlight glowed over the larger duffel bag behind me. Only a few scattered raindrops were splish-splashing on it now. “Oh, there it is. Open it, would you?”
The zipper stuck every couple of inches, but I managed to force it open. Inside was another flashlight. There was also a rope and a ton of rock climbing gear. Cool. I could rock climb. I went twenty feet up the rock wall at the indoor center. Higher than even Matt Jennings and it was his birthday party.
Oops, I had to hurry. The sound of the raft cracking up below was not the only reason I rushed to pull the supplies out. The growling close to my left ear was louder than any mean German Shepherd I’ve ever heard.