Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

“We’ll get you out of here, and then you and I will have one hell of a dinner,” Kay offered. “Your favorite meal, as many fries as we can eat, and ice cream too.” Her sobs had quieted a little, and Kay gestured at Mike to continue. “He’s just cutting some branches, that’s all. We can’t reach you otherwise.”

“Uh-huh,” she whimpered. “I’m afraid,” she added, barely audible over the sound of the chainsaw. When Mike finished sawing through the branch it fell against the strap, getting entangled in another one under it. Mike reached and grabbed it, then lifted it and threw it out of the way.

“I know you are, sweetie,” Kay replied. “Soon this will all be over, just a bad memory. We’ll call your parents—”

“No!” she shouted. “Promise me you won’t.”

“We won’t,” Kay said quickly. “If you don’t want to, we won’t. For now, let’s plan that dinner, you and I. Are you hungry?”

She didn’t reply. She just lay there, afraid to look up at Kay, afraid to make even the tiniest move. The sound of the chainsaw varied its pitch as branch after branch was removed. Kay listened intently for a while, hoping Kirsten would reply, but couldn’t hear anything. Not a whimper, not a word.

“Talk to me, sweetie,” Kay pleaded. “Tell me something, anything. You see, I’m a little afraid to be up here, you know.”

The girl stayed silent, but Kay could see her tears streaming down her face, glimmering in the powerful lights. “Promise me you won’t take me back home,” she eventually said. “You don’t know—”

“I promise,” Kay rushed to answer, knowing she needed to keep Kirsten focused on positive thoughts, on her will to survive.

“We’re ready,” Mike announced. He pressed a button and spoke into his radio. “Lower it slowly, one inch at a time.” The basket started to descend, incredibly slowly, touching some of the remaining branches on its way. Kirsten whimpered, each move threatening to throw her off balance.

Kay’s heart thumped in her chest, her blood rushing through her veins in an almost panic-like state as she watched Mike roll out two straps and secure them to the basket. Then he threw both of them over Kirsten’s body. After checking they were attached safely, he climbed over the basket’s railing, hanging on to it with one hand, while reaching for the loose ends of the straps with the other.

“I’ll run these under your body,” he said, sliding his hand with the end of one strap between Kirsten’s chest and the branch.

“No, no,” she shouted, her voice filled with unspeakable fear. “You’ll make me fall.”

“I won’t let you fall,” Mike said, slowly pulling the end of the strap under her body.

“No, please,” she whimpered. She was starting to move erratically, threatening to lose her balance.

A strong wind gust hit that moment, sending the basket slamming against the tree. Kirsten screamed.

Kay gasped, then quickly dropped to her knees in the basket. She removed the sling that immobilized her left arm and reached between the bars to Kirsten’s, grabbing it with both her hands and squeezing tightly. “I won’t let you fall either,” she said. “You hear me? I won’t let you fall.”

Mike slid the second strap between her thighs and the branch, then pulled it tight until it was secure around her body. “We’re good to go,” Mike said into his radio. “Wait for my signal.” Then he tugged at the straps again, checking to see if they were tight enough, and said, “You need to let go now, ma’am.”

Kirsten held on to the branch just the same, petrified. “No, I can’t… Please don’t make me.”

Another wind gust slammed the basket sideways into the wall, sending loose pebbles into the abyss below. Mike shot Kay a worried look, and she nodded.

“On three,” she mouthed, still clutching Kirsten’s arm tightly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder. “Kirsten, breathe with me,” she asked. “Take a deep breath, and hold it in a little.” She watched the girl’s chest swell, and signaled Mike.

“Now,” he spoke into his radio.

The basket started to lift, taking with it Kirsten’s body, hanging like a ragdoll by the two straps wrapped snugly around her. She screamed and writhed, clasping desperately at Kay’s arms as soon as she lost the grip on the cypress.

“You’re okay,” Kay said softly, even as she continued screaming. “I won’t let you go. You’re going to be okay.”

By the time the basket touched down by the fire truck, Kirsten had fainted.

58At the Bottom

Elliot’s mouth was a little crooked, his swollen cheek detracting from its symmetry. He smiled, nevertheless, and hadn’t stopped since they’d loaded Kirsten into an ambulance and the EMTs had said she was going to be okay. She was in shock, dehydrated, and exhausted, but her vitals were strong.

“We were lucky,” Elliot said, patting Kay on her good shoulder for the fifth time.

They had descended into the ravine, where the entire team took photos, collected evidence, and helped Doc Whitmore load the remains in body bags or plastic cases. The ground was moist and smelled of coyote urine and feces, and of decomposing flesh. Kay looked up toward the edge of the ravine, feeling almost claustrophobic at the bottom of the pit; it had to be at least 100 feet to the surface. The grassy edge was barely visible against the night sky, an almost half moon pulling duty with them, shedding some light over the glade. About a dozen LED projectors flooded the morbid scene with bright light.

“You know what else you were?” she asked, but Elliot waited, still smiling. “Diligent. Thorough, prepared, determined. You didn’t give up, went against a direct order from the sheriff, and that makes you an awesome cop, Elliot. You didn’t give up on this one girl, out of the thousands that disappear every year. That makes you amazing.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly a little uncomfortable with her compliment. “And