Appalachian Galapagos Read Online Free PDF

all three were finally ready to meet the Widow.
    They were secured and attached by the rope, each with a length tied around their waist and fixed to the crossbars of the boat. If one went over, the weight of the other two would at least keep him near the boat. If they all went over, they would stay together in a foamy death.
    Lukas and Frank sat in the front, back to back with the metal seat in white-knuckled grips. They held their feet out to the sides in order to keep them away from rocks that would crumple the boat like a used beer can if given the chance. In the back sat Jimmy, smiling a big, sloppy smile.
    They had no paddles, but they did have the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick, which Jimmy held like a goofy Italian boat driver. It was now their rudder, the cooler bound to the end of the stick with duct tape.
    The front end of the boat dipping into the first seductive trough of the Widow's rapids was enough to make Frank wish he hadn't had so much beer. Bile rose halfway to his mouth and stayed there. His legs were poised ready to cushion the rocks and push them away. Never had he imagined himself in this position. He could be at a board meeting, trying to sell advertising for baby food or new tires.
    That's what he was good at.
    That's what he knew best.
    The first jagged rock, like the chipped front tooth of the Widow herself, loomed large on his side as the boat picked up speed. He imagined it snapping at his leg and him coming back with a bloody stump. The water threatened to propel them directly into it and he closed his eyes and prayed. The current, at the last second, spun them away and he let his legs take the pressure, his boots pushing off hard.
    Another rock, easily ten thousand pounds, waited for them on the right. The scrape of metal, as the boat slid along the side, was relieved by Lukas' girlish scream as he pushed off as well.
    A sound intruded on the angry rushing of the rapids. It took a few seconds for Frank to recognize the strange noise as Jimmy singing at the top of his lungs. It was a few more seconds before he recognized the song and couldn't help but smile. It was The Devil Went Down To Georgia , by the Charlie Daniels Band, and the Hiawasee did indeed continue into Georgia. If they made it out of the rapids, they would be three miles from the border. Frank cocked his head and tried to pick up Jimmy's strains from amidst the torrent of angry water while he and Jimmy thrust aside the deadly rocks. They twisted and dipped along the roaring white water funnel and what he heard made him grin and gave him new energy to fight the Widow.
    Frank took a second to glance back and saw Jimmy standing tall in the rear, the Bitch-Be-Quick Stick steady in his hand, looking like Jonah , steady in the face of the whale. Frank spun back around and shoved with his feet, almost losing them as the boat hit another boulder. The front was dented in a three-foot arc, right where his feet had been resting on the edge seconds before.
    It was funny how all three of them joined into the Chorus, getting the words just right. Frank's heart leapt with the imagined fiddle music, his blood singing a fearful accompaniment.
    The creek slowed for a moment and Frank and Lukas exchanged smiles. They would have high-fived , but their hands intellectually refused to let go of the seat they both sat on. They turned back to the rapids just as Jimmy screamed. And Frank's mind crumbled.
    Twenty yards ahead, a log was lodged broadside between two rocks.
    The same rocks they had to pass through. Their screams and curses were lost as the boat hit the log and all three were propelled, first high into the air, and then deep into the roiling water. Frank bobbed once, but sank as his head hit the next rock.
    Before he lost consciousness, he had enough mind to call the Widow a Bitch.

Chapter 3:
     
    The Flume Zoom...Dead Alive...Black Sabbath...A Fat Sweet Ass...Kansas Cry-Fest...Mortality Knocks...Conan The Destroyer...Who Wants To Be A