Downriver Read online

  • • •

  The van rumbled from Colorado into Utah, and we passed through the little towns of Monticello and Blanding. We were nearing the San Juan. It had taken days of work and preparation back in base camp—shopping from Al’s shopping lists, packing waterproof metal “rocket boxes” with a ten-day supply of food, stuffing all our personal gear into huge waterproof bags—and we were exhausted. We’d chattered for hours about Westwater and whatever else came up, but the long drive had finally worn us down, and most people had nodded off. Troy’s head was on my shoulder, and I wasn’t very comfortable, but I was happy. Only Freddy and I were awake. Freddy, as ever, was studying the countryside like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

  I looked around at the barren high desert of southeast Utah. I’d never been out this way with my dad. It didn’t look very interesting to me until we drove into Bluff, a tiny town with old buildings made out of blocks of red stone. The huge cottonwoods that lined the road wore their fall colors, and it was warm. We stopped at a gas station and convenience store. It would be our last stop. The put-in for the San Juan River was only three miles away.

  “Last chance for junk food,” Adam said with a crazed look, as he slapped himself into consciousness. “Let’s go in there and clean ’em out.”

  Pug took him seriously. “Ten days on the river is a long time. . . .”

  “It’s gonna get grim out there,” Adam added. “People are gonna kill for a little bag of chips.”

  Pug counted out his available funds. Freddy and Star wandered by him, looking around aimlessly. They never had any money. I’d tried loaning Star some, but there wasn’t much she wanted from the material world.

  Mildly irritated, Al raised his voice. “Keep in mind, we have three meals a day packed in the rocket boxes on the trailer. Nobody’s gonna starve.”

  “Tell you what,” Troy said suddenly. “Pick out whatever you want, everybody—I can cover it.”

  Pug’s mouth fell open. “You’re kiddin’.”

  We were all pretty astonished, including Al and the guy at the cash register.

  Troy shrugged. “I’m serious. That’s what money’s for, isn’t it? Anything in the store you want.” Then he flashed his golden smile, and said, “No big deal.”

  It was interesting to see how people reacted. As happy as a kid on Christmas morning, Pug had his arms so full he was dropping stuff. The clerk gave him a bag. Adam accompanied Pug around the store for the fun of it, encouraging him to take this and that. At the magazine rack, they picked out Soldier of Fortune for Pug, and Adam got a couple of ninja magazines for himself. He struck a few martial arts poses and went around the store grunting in mock Japanese. I had to laugh, remembering about his moonlit escapades on the rooftops, the roses on the pillows.

  Rita was on a shopping jag, too. I was just watching. “C’mon, Jessie,” Troy encouraged me. “It’s our last chance. You know, ten days in the wilderness and all that.”

  “Are you sure? It’s going to be a lot.” I nodded toward the big hitters.

  “No problem. My treat. Star, Heather, Freddy . . . if we’re going to have a good time on the river, we’re going to need some supplies.”

  I picked out a little junk food, but Star refrained. She was so conscious about what she ate, her body was practically translucent. Not that she was anorexic—Star would eat, as long as it was natural food and no red meat. She and I picked out some lotions and lip stuff, and I talked her into a pair of sunglasses with some colorful loops to hold them on.

  It was a windfall for the fellow at the counter. Troy never flinched, either. I’d never met anyone that generous before. Heather thanked him, and he said, “For my friends . . .” Freddy was kind of disappearing out the door when Troy said, “Freddy, isn’t there anything?”

  There was a tone in Troy’s voice, like his feelings were about to be hurt. I knew he was intrigued with Freddy—he’d never met anyone like him before. None of us really knew who Freddy was.

  Freddy glanced back at Troy, and he smiled his bright, shy smile. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.” He picked out a Hershey bar and a Coke, and that was it.

  It was dusk. Al drove us to the edge of town, and we stopped at an old stone garage with a half-inflated raft out front and a huge sign that said SCENIC SAN JUAN RIVER TRIPS.

  Al turned around and said, “This should only take a few minutes. They’re shut down for the season, but they’re going to do our shuttle for us—drive the van and trailer to the end of the line while we’re on the river.”

  It wasn’t a few minutes. Apparently Al was having trouble with his shuttle arrangements.

  We were having a good time in the van, munching on junk food and visiting. The talk turned to the San Juan. What was it going to be like? Pretty boring, was the consensus, after our wild adventures on the Colorado in Westwater Canyon.

  Adam’s voice turned lunatic. “Give me white water, I say. Give me white water!”

  “So we’re supposed to do ten days on a flat river,” Troy said. “And you know why?”

  “Yeah,” Rita blurted. “Because Al said that’s where he could get a permit.”

  “That’s right. That’s the only reason. But that’s pretty lame, if you think about it. Why should Hoods in the Woods need a permit?”

  Adam laughed. “That’s about like bank robbers applying for a loan.”

  “It’s Al who needs the permit, not us. We can go anywhere we want!”

  “Vegas,” Adam said, just that fast.

  Rita was shaking her head. “Gotta be L.A.”

  “Miami,” Pug insisted.

  “I’m serious,” Troy said. “The keys are in the ignition.”

  Our attention was immediately riveted to those keys and the sudden significance that Troy had given them. The van crackled with energy. With one stroke Troy had turned our imaginations up to white-hot. It was a priceless moment. Rita and Pug were going wild and Adam was slapping Troy on the back. I checked Freddy out; he was amused. Heather was awfully quiet, with a nervous little smile on her face. But if she’d said anything, Rita would have ripped her face off.

  Troy looked around the van, to each of us, and settled us down with the power of his eyes.

  “We can go anywhere we want,” I said softly, trying out the idea.

  I thought how my dad would feel. He’d find out it wasn’t going to be as tidy as he thought to ship me off to a “program,” where he could picture me in a certain box. He’d have to account for my feelings for a change.

  “Where to?” Rita said impatiently. “Hey, I could show you guys around New York.”

  Troy was shaking his head. “That’s what they’d expect us to do. And think about how fast they’d pick us up.”

  “We could steal a different car,” Pug offered.

  “Okay, everybody, now think about that trailer we’re pulling. It’s got two boats’ worth of gear and a ten-day supply of food. I’m thinking, if we could get off the roads and get onto a river—not this one—we could slip away and have ourselves a good time.”

  There was plenty of noisy agreement about that.

  “Hang in there,” Troy said, and we hushed up. “The question is, can we launch before they catch us? They’d never guess we’re on a river, let alone which one. And it’s October—there won’t hardly be anyone on the river but us, just like it was at Westwater.”

  “Rhaat onnnn!” Pug thundered.

  We all knew Troy was about to name the river, but nobody had the slightest idea what it might be. “Hurry,” Rita said, “Al could come out any minute!”

  “Easy,” Troy assured her. “Remember, everybody . . . remember how Al said Skull was a ‘Grand Canyon–class rapid’? You remember that?”

  “Sure, sure,” we answered.

  “Well, we did fine in Skull. Heather took a swim, but big deal. And it was a blast. So why don’t we run the Grand Canyon?”

  There followed several moments of total silence, a rare event for the eight of us. It w
as an awesome thought, outrageous and inspired. There was a beauty to the idea, grand, wild, and majestic, drawing power and mystery from the canyon itself. You’d have to be awfully nervy to think you could up and run the Grand Canyon, as inexperienced as we were. No adults, just us.

  The calm broke into a babble of excited voices.

  “We could do it!” Adam cheered.

  “Ten days of food,” Troy added, “and all the rafting gear’s packed on the trailer.”

  “Could we really do it?” I asked Troy. “Would we make it through?”

  “Like Adam said, we were awesome in Westwater. It sure would be fun trying.”

  A thrill of fear went through me. “Do we even know where to start?”

  “Sure. Lee’s Ferry, Arizona. Remember, Al mentioned that’s where all the Grand Canyon trips start.”

  “We should have Al with us,” Heather put in nervously. “Hasn’t he been down the Grand Canyon four times?”

  Rita put her face in Heather’s. “Are you out of your mind? No permit, get it? You can’t go legal. You think Al’s going to help us sneak it? Forget Al—we’ll have a lot more fun without him.”

  Heather was trying to catch her breath. “But isn’t it some kind of crime? What would they do to us?”

  Suddenly I could see myself in a cell, and just that fast I felt all queasy. I’d been in trouble before, but never in jail.

  Everybody was quiet, and looking to Troy.

  He shrugged. “Some kind of larceny, wouldn’t it be? I can’t expect we’d serve life in prison for moving Al’s van a coupla hundred miles and then taking his gear downstream. It’ll be obvious we didn’t intend to steal any of it.”

  Adam broke a long moment of tense silence as he shouted, “Hey, wait a minute! This is perfect. Troy’s last name is ‘Larsen,’ right? This will be a case of ‘Grand Larsen-y’!”

  Everybody groaned, and Pug pounded Adam on the shoulder, then a few more times for good measure.

  “Put him out of his misery,” jeered Rita.

  Adam was mugging only a bit sheepishly. “Get it, Rita? Are you sure you got it?”

  “Look,” Troy said, eyeing the door of the office next to the garage. “Al’s going to come out of there in a minute and then this will have been just another bull session.” He looked us over again, with blue eyes blazing, taking our measure, and when he got to Freddy, he stopped and stared at him.

  “Freddy,” Troy said finally. “What do you think, Freddy? We haven’t heard from you.”

  The way he said it, and especially considering the timing, I got the idea it all hinged on Freddy, somehow. It seemed improbable, but true.

  Freddy shrugged. “For me, it would be worth it. The Grand Canyon? Sure. You bet.”

  “Good deal,” Troy said.

  Freddy, who was in the very back seat, leaned forward. “We have to make it to the river first. Cops’ll be looking for us up ahead, after Al puts out the word. But I know some back roads through the reservation. . . .”

  Pug, who’d always seemed to dislike Freddy, roared his approval.

  Is this really happening? I thought. We aren’t just talking about it?

  Troy slid up to the driver’s seat and had Freddy trade out for Heather up front. He put his fingers on the keys and said, “It’s an adventure. Take us to Lee’s Ferry, Freddy.”

  Rita reached forward and grabbed Troy’s shoulder. “So what makes you think they won’t catch us there, smart guy?”

  Troy turned around and gave us a sly smile. “In the middle of the night?”

  // 6

  We drove out so slowly and quietly, Al never even came to the door of the shop. Within a few minutes we’d crossed the muddy San Juan and passed the sign that said we were entering the Navajo Nation. The mood inside the van was delirious—an intoxicating combination of excitement and fear. Troy had his foot down on the gas pedal, trying to get off the main road as quickly as we could. Up ahead dozens of gigantic red formations were catching the last of the sunset. “Check it out,” Rita crowed. “It’s like office buildings made of stone.”

  “Monument Valley,” Freddy said. “Here’s that side road. Turn at the trading post.”

  Pug’s face was practically propped on Troy’s shoulder. “Let’s get some booze and cigarettes,” he said. “I can pass for twenty-one.”

  Troy drove right on by the trading post and onto the gravel road. “If we stop, they’re going to pick up on us and we’ll have cops on our tail real quick.”

  “He’s right,” Freddy said. “Besides, they don’t even sell liquor on the reservation.”

  “Wise guy,” Pug said. “Anybody got any cigarettes?”

  Troy ran his hand through his hair. “Hey, Big Fella, we’re in great shape. We’re off the highway, it’s going to be dark soon, and both tanks are full of gas. But if we make any stops, we’re going to blow it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m cool if you are. Hey, Freddy, is that really your name?”

  “Federico.”

  I wondered why Pug seemed to dislike Freddy. The way Pug looked at him made me wonder if it was Freddy’s dark skin.

  “How come you don’t go by ‘Rico’ then?”

  Freddy’s eyes flashed. I had the feeling he wasn’t afraid of anybody, including Pug. “’Cause my name’s Freddy,” he said.

  Pug’s face returned to Troy’s shoulder once again. “Need a break driving, buddy?”

  “No thanks, Pug, I can drive all night. Driven cross-country lots of times.”

  Star was sitting next to me. She whispered, “Can we really run the Grand Canyon, Jessie?”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering,” I whispered back. “I sure hope so. I’m pretty scared, to tell you the truth. Are you scared?”

  “You shouldn’t even talk like that. It’s negative thinking. You can make something bad happen, if you image it.”

  “I don’t even know what it’ll be like, so how can I image it?”

  “We could ask the Tarot.”

  “How about right now?”

  “Oh no,” she said softly. “Too many influences on the cards. It wouldn’t be right in here.”

  “So you’re going to start down the Grand Canyon without knowing what it would say?”

  Her green eyes were calm—maybe too calm to be real, I thought.

  “I’m a water sign,” Star said. “A Pisces. A fish can always swim.”

  • • •

  A couple of hours passed as we rumbled down the back roads. Everyone in the back was nodding off, even Rita. I was exhausted, and slept in fits and starts. Once, I woke up, looked around, and saw only Freddy and Troy awake up front. They were talking quietly, actually communicating with each other. I thought that was a good sign. Our lives were going to depend on those two guys.

  I noticed Troy checking me out in the rearview mirror. The whites showed all around his eyes. Our driver was totally alert, as advertised. He gave me a thumbs-up.

  I felt good all down my spine. I felt alive. This was going to be an adventure, all right. I didn’t go back to sleep, I was too excited. I thought about my dad, how this was much more than he’d bargained for. It would be the ultimate way to show him. Al, too. They both deserved it.

  We rumbled on into the night, occasionally passing by sleeping Navajo hogans and deserted roadside jewelry stands, and the sense of the isolation into which we were plunging got me to imagining more and more what it might be like to actually be in the Grand Canyon, beyond any help and trying to make it through alive. I could picture only the vaguest of shapes; the place loomed impossibly huge, mythical, ominous. I remembered the thrashing Heather took in Skull rapid. Al said that Skull was an 8 on a 10-scale at the level we ran it. What must a 9 or a 10 look like? What would happen to us down there?

  Brooding more with every passing mile, I actually began to hope that we’d have a flat or that the van would break down. But it kept rumbling along. We passed a gas station in the middle of nowhere, closed down for the night, and I
realized I’d seen a phone booth. Panicky, I leaned forward and touched Troy on the shoulder. “Stop,” I said.

  He looked over his shoulder at me, confused and unwilling.

  “Stop!” I yelled. If anybody had been asleep, they were awake now.

  Troy brought the van to a stop on the side of the road. “What is it?”

  I was practically desperate. I didn’t care what anybody thought. “I have to make a phone call,” I said.

  “You’re kidding,” Pug said. He looked around. “She thought she’d make a phone call.”

  I was backing out the side door. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I just kept going, got outside, and started running back toward the gas station.

  Troy caught up with me as I ran. “What’re you doing?”

  “Making a phone call.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  “My father.”

  He looked sick. He didn’t say anything. He just kept jogging.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t say where we are or where we’re going. I just have to talk to him, okay?”

  When I got there, Troy stood only about fifteen feet away from the booth. I went inside, shut the door, and turned my back to him. I was breathing hard as I asked the operator to make the call collect. I was afraid Madeline would answer. I was so panicky, I didn’t know what I would do if she answered.

  My father answered. “Jessie, is that you? Where are you?”

  I felt so confused. Now what was I going to do? Why was I calling him?

  “That’s not important,” I said, still breathing hard, and my heart going wild.

  “Jessie, are you all right?”

  Troy, I realized, was standing right by the phone booth.

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t sound so good. Is anything wrong?”

  “No, nothing’s wrong. . . .”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  Somehow he knew I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. What was it I wanted to tell him?

  “Look, Dad . . . we’re going to do something, okay?”

  “Jessie, talk to me. You can talk to me. What is it you’re going to do?”