Page 60 of Born to be Wilder

Clink. Clank. CRUNCH.

I spun backward, my gaze flying to the rosary chain caught in the rudder linkage behind the propeller cage, wrapped and tangled, the crucifix jammed into the mechanism.

The boat suddenly lurched to the right. My eyes widened as they met with Bayou Bill’s before his gaze dropped to his steering stick. His mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear him over the roar of the fan.

He killed the engine, and his voice broke over the sudden silence. “Hang on! Rudder’s locked up so I can’t steer, and we don’t have brakes!”

No brakes? I spun forward, gripping the seat as I looked left and right to my widows. Screams erupted from everyone as we flew toward a moss-covered bank like a fast projectile.

“We’re gonna crash!” Sylvie screamed.

“Help!” Doris cried out. “Jesus, help us!”

“I’m gonna kill you if I die out here, Marge!” Alice closed her eyes tight as we careened toward land, slowing down but still going too fast for safety.

“Hold on!” I cried out, letting go of my seat, my arms flying out like safety bars, locking into Alice’s and Doris’s chests. Sylvie was too far out for me to reach her.

We slid across the water with a sickening hiss, the boat banking hard, and we plowed through a wall of reeds and clipped a low-hanging branch that sent a shower of Spanish moss over us like someone throwing rice at a wedding.

THUD.

We crashed onto a muddy bank that sent rooster tails of mud through the air and us all flying forward. My arms pushed Alice and Doris back into their seats, but I went careening forward as mud splattered my face, crashing onto the floor of the airboat with a grunt.

The world went suddenly still, the only sound me gasping for breath and the panicked flight of a flock of birds exploding from the ground nearby.

“Is everyone alright?” Bayou Bill shouted, jumping down from his seat and rushing to us.

I coughed, air filling my lungs as I rolled to my knees, hands pressed to my thighs while I regained my senses. I was about to start cataloging my body for injuries, but I saw the widows sitting in their seats, stunned and sprayed with mud.

I ignored my own pains, ripping off my earmuffs, and was on them in an instant. “Report in! Any breaks, bruises, concussions!”

Alice pulled off her earmuffs and rubbed her head. “I think I’m okay.”

I rushed over, sticking a finger in front of her face. “Why are you rubbing your head? Did you hit it? Follow my finger.”

She did as she was told but shook her head. “No, I didn’t hit my head. I was fixing my hair.”

I grimaced. “Alice! I thought you had a concussion! Cripes!”

My racing heart started to slow down, but as I looked at her, it sped back up again when I couldn’t stop those dang intrusive thoughts from returning.

A concussion was the least of the threats to my friend right now.

I scowled as I looked at her, pushing down that rage again. Then I spun to the other widows. “Everyone else okay?”

Sylvie took off her earmuffs. “I’m okay.”

“WE CRASHED!” Doris, yelling at the top of her lungs because she was still wearing her earmuffs, remained stuck in her seat, knuckles white as she gripped the cushion. “I CAN’T BELIEVE WE CRASHED! WE’RE STUCK IN THE BAYOU! AND I CAN’T FIND MY ROSARY TO PRAY!”

“Take off your earmuffs!” I pointed at my ears.

“I CAN’T UNDERSTAND YOU!” she shouted back.

“YOUR EARMUFFS!” Alice pointed at her head. “TAKE THEM OFF!”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING!”

Bayou Bill chuckled, walked up behind her, and slipped them off her head. She jumped at the sudden contact, but then he came into view and smiled.