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Show RTVER the bend and away from the Arkansas shore. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was only a few hundred yards away, but now the current was carrying me away and I'd have to go with it across the river to the Mississippi shore. This involved a lot of swimming. I was already pretty worn out and the dead weight of my boots filled me with dread. A fear-crazed part of my mind kept screaming that I was going to die. I began to tread water and do a dead man's float to rest and regain my breath. I was drained and weak and cold. My boots sucked at my remaining strength. The river was so choppy that I could only manage about two breaths of air to every lungful of water. It began to look an awful lot like the end. Dread washed over me again and I experienced a sudden rush of images that brought my life into incredible focus. They filled me with an abysmal sense of failure. My life had been placed on a balance and come to meaningless ruination. Having done nothing in all my days even to justify displacing air, now it was all over and there never would be any such justification. I'd betrayed everyone I'd ever loved and accumulated a debt that could never be repaid. To die as I felt like I was dying was like hell itself. I remembered the awful stories about what the river did to those who died in its grasp. I'd not simply and honorably failed, I'd blown it completely. I thought about my mother. I figured I'd vanish just like Uncle Bill had vanished and leave behind not even a corpse but instead a constant uncertainty that was beyond terrible. I thought, "This is dying, and I hate it, and I never had any idea it would be like this." But I was not dead yet: a comforting thought came to me: all I had to do was stay alive as long as I could, fight with death until there was no more breath to fight with, resist it to the end of resistance, and then it would be easy. There was -208- |