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I threw on some layers and my boots. My backpack with all my gear and emergency supplies was in the truck already, although I doubted I’d need it for such a quick trip.
Soon, I’d be back in my house in my pjs. Warm and cozy, and blissfully solo.
2
BEN
I stood behind my truck’s open tailgate, double-checking that I had all my gear and tightening the straps on my waders over my thick sweater. The wind picked up, rustling the leafless branches of the trees that overhung the creek, and I shivered in the chill. My boots sank an inch into the muddy bank as I worked.
It wasn’t winter, but it wasn’t spring yet, either. Except for a few evergreens, the forest around me felt lifeless, everything shaded in grays and browns. Other than the sounds of the wind and the creek, it was quiet. Not even any birds.
A little eerie, but I kind of liked it. The air was crisp and fresh. And fieldwork was always preferable to writing papers.
Another sharp, cold gust bit against my exposed skin, but I left my gloves off. They werea pain in the ass to have on when I was taking measurements. Everything was ready. There was nothing left to do before I waded in.
I sighed and picked up my phone, knowing I didn’t have coverage.Just in case. My heart thudded in my chest when I saw the text.
Tracy’s reply must have come through before my cell lost its signal. I looked at the time signature, then the clock. She’d be here in about thirty minutes. That gave me time to get my measurements and get out of the water before I finally met her in person.
I checked my reflection in the driver’s side window, adjusting my glasses and trying to smooth out my unruly red hair. No use. It was always a disaster.
Tracy and I had only talked on the phone, no video. I could admit to myself that I was a little obsessed with her voice. It was feminine and naturally husky. Sexy.
She was the absolute expert on these waterways, but she was also funny. Easy to talk to. Sometimes our conversations went long when we chatted, veering away from my research. Recently, it had started to feel like all of our calls ended too soon, leaving me wanting more.
But I had no idea what she looked like.
When I’d looked her up online, there was nothing. Some documentation she’d done about fish numbers,but that was it. No headshot on the park website. I assumed she was a private person.
Her text mentioned snow, and I glanced up at the darkening sky. Somehow, I’d missed the forecast. The other guys were already at the cabin… It was pretty well stocked, so I figured we’d be okay if the weather got bad. With Griffin’s outdoor skills and Michael’s cooking, more than okay.
Still, I was anxious to be done collecting my data. I grabbed my gear and headed to the water.
In addition to meeting Tracy, this weekend was a chance to spend quality time with my packmates. We were all hyper-focused on our jobs most of the time, and it was starting to take a toll. I loved my work, but I’d been neglecting my friends. And I was starting to realize both guys needed more from me.
The last two years had been tough.
A couple of snowflakes fell at my feet as I stepped into the creek. It was high this time of year, the water clear and icy cold from snowmelt. I was trying to do a lot at once and get it done fast, juggling different pieces of equipment for measuring temperature and flow and depth. The speed of the water caught me off guard. I stumbled.
My fingers stung from the cold wind, but I managed to hang onto everything, and I didn’t fall. That was good. Unfortunately, I tipped forward too far. I let out a shout as water overflowed my waders.
“Fuck me, that’s cold.”
The air temperature had to be at or below freezing. Even before wading out, I’d been shivering, but I’d ignored the chill since I knew I’d be in and out quickly. Now I was drenched, my clothes soaked to the skin, and frigid water filled my waders. The shock of the cold made it hard to take a full breath, and my body was wracked with shudders.
This is bad.
I tried to lift one of my feet, and it was like trying to pull it out of solid mud. Heavy. My legs were already going numb.
The bank was only about nine feet away, but it may as well have been a mile. Every minute that I struggled to move my legs, my body temperature was dropping lower. I knew hypothermia could make people confused. Soon, I wasn’t going to be lucid.
Somehow, I dragged my almost useless legs through the water, a few inches at a time. I didn’t fall, but I was slow. Too slow. My lungs burned and my chest heaved, but I kept moving.
The bank wasn’t far ahead now. I had to get out of the water. My eyes started to droop. So, so tired.
Then, finally, I was there. I could stop moving and rest. Close my eyes. I dropped to the solid ground, my breath sawing in and out, dimly aware that I was still clutching my equipment.
Take off the waders.
