Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1) by Babette Jongh (inspiring books for teens txt) 📗

held each other up, we slogged through inch-deep water where before there had been none. Runoff poured from pipes set at intervals along the top of the channel, mini-waterfalls raising the water level in this death trap.

Damn. Would it never stop raining? With the ground so saturated, every drop poured right into this gigantic ditch. I was a good swimmer, but I didn’t want to brave the frigid waves that would soon be churning down this chute. Let alone try it with two young boys in tow.

“Man...” They were closer now, the sounds of their voices coming towards us. Ray saying “...Mom’s gonna kill me. These are new shoes.” Jake’s, “Yeah, my dad would have a cow if he—”

They stopped short at the sight of Ben and me coming toward them.

“Dad.” Jake’s voice cracked uncertainly. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. “What are y’all doing here?”

“Busted,” Ray moaned.

“Busted is right,” Ben said. “I hope you boys had fun, because it’s the last fun you’re going to have for a very long time.” Ben jerked the rifle out of Ray’s hands. He pointed it at the ground and cocked the bolt back several times. Cartridges splashed into the rushing stream at his feet. “Let’s get out of here before this ditch fills up.”

Ray stepped back and swallowed hard. The freckles on his pale skin stood out even more when he realized for the first time the danger we were in.

Jake’s gaze darted from one pouring drain pipe to another. “Shit,” he said without thinking, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

“Worse than that,” said Ben. “Ray, can you swim?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank God.” Ben took Jake’s hand and turned back the way we’d come. “Follow me. Stay close.”

I grabbed Ray’s hand, tugging him forward. The slick limestone floor we navigated was difficult at the best of times. Now, with water flowing ankle-deep in the shallowest places, it was treacherous. Ray slipped—his hand ripped from mine with surprising ease—and fell into one of the deep circular holes that pitted the canal bottom. He went under, sucked into the whirlpool for an instant before Ben hauled him up by the collar.

He took a moment to steady the boy, then took Jake’s hand and trudged forward again. We passed another gushing pipe, and the flood rose higher, swirling to my knees. In no time, it was thigh-deep.

Up ahead, two more pipes spewed water into the deepening flow. We slogged on, avoiding the deep trench in the center.

Ben held the rifle out to me and reached for Ray’s hand. “Casey,” he yelled above the increasing roar, “Take the rifle and get out of here while you can. The boys and I will follow behind. If the gun’s too much trouble to handle, ditch it. But it’s not loaded; you may be able to use it for leverage.”

“I’m a good swimmer,” I yelled back. “You might need my help.”

“No.” He handed the gun over. “You’re the smallest one of us. It would be too easy for you to get swept away.”

And just like that, my feet slid out from under me. The rifle was snatched from my hands by a churning current that swept me along.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“Casey!” Ben’s voice sounded far away. The wild torrent hurled me downstream, and I was helpless against a vicious tide, an evil, living thing determined to destroy me. I scrambled to stand. My feet skidded along the slippery bottom, then the water sucked me into a strong undertow.

The cold, dark water closed over my head. The current dragged me under and slammed me against the bottom. I fought to the surface, choking and sputtering, only to be sucked down again. I was a breath away from drowning.

I flailed up to the choppy surface, dragged in a breath, and tried to organize my panicked movements into something resembling true swimming.

Then I saw him.

Ian stood waist-deep just ahead of me, ignoring the punch of the waves that caught him in the chest. Ignoring the undulating curves of a water moccasin that popped its triangular head out of the water an arms-length away before submerging again.

I saw Ian, and knew I would be okay.

He stood in that churning, muddy water, his wet hair plastered to his head, jaw clenched with determination, waiting for the current to bring me close. He looked like some sort of warrior-god wearing a soaked T-shirt. I raised my head, gulped for air, and swallowed a mouthful of dirty water when a wave broadsided me.

“Swim to me,” he yelled. “Kick hard!” He held out an arm and leaned as far toward me as he could without sliding into the deeper current that held me in its clutches. I kicked desperately, but the surge hurtled down the chute toward the river, taking me with it.

Keeping my head above the waves took so much energy, and I didn’t have energy to spare. I held my breath and dove under, hoping to cut through the water toward Ian and safety.

I stretched my arms out, reaching blindly, and kicked for all I was worth. I hoped Ian could grab me before the tide carried me past.

Strong fingers gripped my wrist, pulling hard against a current that tried just as hard to suck me downstream. I grappled for his arm.

Finally, I closed my fingers around hard muscle.

He dragged me closer, grabbed me around the ribs and hauled me up against his chest. His heart pounded so hard I could feel it. “God, lass.” He hauled in a ragged breath. “Ye scared the shite outta me.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung like a barnacle on a rock while water swirled around us, sucking, seeking to drag us in.

“Ben has the boys?” Ian was still breathing hard, his ever-warm skin cold, peppered with goose bumps.

“Still behind me.”

“I’m too old for this.” He carried me toward the steep limestone steps. “If ye’ll swear to God never to do anythin’ this dangerous again, I’ll stay in this bloody town forever.”

I