Infested by Mark R Faulkner Read Free Book Online

She let out a small screech of surprise and even though I could hardly
see her, I felt the canoe lurch and wobble as she scrabbled about.
    “Calm down, it’s okay.” I was worried we’d both be toppled into the
river in the confusion, an incident which would more than likely result in one,
or both, of us drowning.
    “I don’t like it,” she whimpered.
    “I know,” I tried to console her. “See if you can climb back here to
me?”
    The canoe rocked violently again as she stood. “Steady.” I said and
after that I could see her outline becoming clearer as she inched her way along
the middle of the boat toward me. “Here,” I said when she got close, “jump on
here with me.” It was a little awkward and took a little time to get
comfortable but before long she was stretched out across my lap with her legs
hanging over the side of the boat, her feet dangling a few inches above the
water. I hugged her as best I could, while still keeping the canoe still with
the paddle, and after a while her teeth stopped chattering and she began to
snore lightly.
     
    While she was asleep, I pondered about how to tackle the problem of the
lock. Doing it in the dark was not an option, as I feared even to touch the
bank, which left the weir as the only option for descending. It was not one I
relished. The thought played on my mind, as I sat in the dark too scared to
sleep and slowly I filled with dread at the prospect. I could hear the weir,
somewhere close, a never ceasing roar of water. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? I
thought. I’d been down natural rapids on other rivers plenty of times and knew
how to handle the boat. Time after time I convinced myself it would be fine,
and then my mind would swing back the other way and I was terrified again.
    My legs had gone to sleep but I didn’t move for fear of waking
Lindsey. It was bad enough one of us having to endure the cold, endless
discomfort of the night. I didn’t know what was worse, the unrelenting chill
or the pain in my leg from where I’d been bitten. I prayed for morning to come
but the dark seemed to last a lifetime.
     

 
    Nine
     
    The night had been a feat of endurance and the longest of my life, but
eventually the sky began to brighten and a light mist collected on the river.
“Wake up,” I said quietly, giving Lindsey a little shake.
    “Oww,” she groaned before rubbing her eyes and slowly uncurling in my
lap. It was her only complaint and I looked at her, thinking her parents would
have been proud. She didn’t say anything else and shuffled back to her seat at
the front of the canoe while I braced my hands against the sides, keeping it
steady.
    I was stiff and aching all over from spending the night, to all intents
and purposes, immobile. A long drawn out yawn escaped me before I dipped the
paddle to move us back upstream in search of the channel for the weir. It
wasn’t far; a bank of reeds jutted out from where the river split, extending
upstream, gently swaying as water swirled around them.
    I pulled the boat alongside the wire rope which crossed the river,
blocking it from traffic, and held onto it to keep us still. Suspended a foot
or so above the water, I only needed to lift it a little for us to slide underneath.
“Watch your head,” I told Lindsey and she lay down almost flat and I, as best I
could, did the same. The wire rope was heavy but we passed beneath without
difficulty.
    On the other side, I began to get butterflies at the thought of
shooting the weir. It was like a different river; there were no motor cruisers
or neatly maintained banks, rather, it was wild and overgrown. Trees leaned
over, almost touching overhead and reeds choked the channel so we had to push
through them. All the time, the dull roar of rushing water was getting
louder. Everything told me I was about to do a stupid thing, but on this
occasion I could see no option.
     
    I approached slowly, with caution, all the time thinking about the best
way to descend the weir.