Freefall by Jill Sorenson

powerful strokes. The slickies were only a hundred feet downriver.
    She was trying to lose him!
    Sam went into overdrive, paddling as hard as he’d ever done in Olympic competitions. His heart felt as if it might burst from anxiety. He pictured her getting caught in a deadly spin, held under by a powerful current.
    He pulled his kayak alongside hers and executed a tight turn, driving her into the riverbank. They crashed into the shore, hulls scraping over wet rocks. Hailstones the size of marbles perforated the surface of the water as lightning bisected the darkening sky.
    Hope scrambled out of her kayak and upended it, using the hard fiberglass as a shield. He did the same. After a few moments, the hail subsided, melting into slush. A hard, heavy rain continued to fall.
    She stared at the roiling river, her breath coming in short pants. He suspected that she was contemplating another reentry, but a strike of lightning—very close by—seemed to snap her out of the stubborn haze.
    “We have to find a better shelter,” he said.
    She nodded glumly. Any trail her sister and the suspect might have left was long gone.
    They left their kayaks on higher ground and pulled jackets from the dry sacks. “There’s a cave system near here,” she said, pointing west.
    They trudged for several miles to the mouth of a gaping cave. It was shrouded with hanging moss, and damp inside. He dropped his dry sack on the pebble-strewn ground, shoving down the hood of his jacket.
    The interior of the cavern was spacious, opening up to a network of smaller rooms and passageways. Sam knew better than to leave the relative safety of the entrance. This was bear country, and he didn’t want to walk into a den.
    “That was some fucking stunt,” he growled, facing Hope.
    She tossed her dry sack next to his, her jaw tense. Rain droplets clung to her skin. In the dim light, with mist creating a halo effect behind her, she appeared ethereal and luminous, like a wood nymph.
    “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
    She squinted at him in annoyance. “Is that what you were trying to do on Valhalla?”
    “No,” he said, insulted. “It’s not the same.”
    “Why, because you’re a man?”
    He scowled, raking a hand through his wet hair. If he’d subscribed to that sexist bullshit, he’d never have dated Melissa. “I know my limits.”
    “And I don’t know mine?”
    “Only an idiot would run a Class Five during a hailstorm.”
    “Don’t confuse me with yourself, Sam.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t take risks for cheap thrills,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’m worried about my sister!”
    He could have kicked himself for opening this can of worms. Especially when her face crumpled and she turned her back on him. She made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Like passion, and fear, and anger.
    And sympathy.
    He looked up at the ceiling of the cave, wishing it would fall down on him. “I’m not after cheap thrills, either,” he said softly.
    She wiped the tears from her cheeks, hazarding a glance over her shoulder. “Then why do you do it?”
    His condition wasn’t easy to put into words, and he’d never been a great communicator. But he felt compelled to explain this to her. He wanted to ease the sting of his rejection. “Since the accident, I don’t experience fear like I used to. I can still feel it. I meant what I said about corpses. And you...you terrify me.”
    “Me?” she asked, whirling around again.
    “I’m not afraid for myself,” he explained. “I’m numb, as far as personal safety and self-preservation go. But I feel fear for others. Too much fear. When you were climbing the wall, I was paralyzed.”
    A crease formed between her brows.
    “I can’t stand seeing you in danger, Hope. This is why I don’t partner-climb anymore. I’m convinced that everyone around me is going to die.”
    “Is that what happened in the freeway collapse?