Jason rushed the man, flinging the tablecloth over his head, pushing him backward into a neighboring table and knocking it over in a shower of china and glass. The people at the table screamed and tried to get away, but several were caught in the tangle of overturned chairs.
In the commotion, Jason grabbed Carol’s hand and yanked her through the doors to the porch. Having managed to break his panic-filled paralysis, Jason was now a torrent of directed action. He knew who the Hispanic-looking businessman had been: the killer Hayes claimed was on his trail. Jason had no doubt his next targets were Carol and himself.
He pulled Carol down the front steps, intending to run around the hotel to the parking lot. But then he realized they’d never make it. They had a better chance running for one of the boats at the dock.
“Jason!” Carol yelled as he changed direction and dragged him down the lawn. “What’s wrong with you?”
Behind them, Jason could hear the doors to the dining room crash open, and assumed they were being chased.
When they reached the dock, Carol tried to stop. “Come on, dammit,” Jason shouted through gritted teeth. Looking back at the inn, he could see a figure run to the porch railing, then start down the stairs.
Carol tried to jerk her hand free, but Jason tightened his clasp and yanked her forward. “He wants to kill us!” he shouted. Stumbling ahead, they raced to the end of the dock, ignoring the rowboats. Jason shouted to Carol to help untie three of the rubber boats and push them off. They were already drifting downstream by the time their pursuer hit the dock. Jason helped Carol into the fourth boat and scrambled after her, pushing them away from the dock with his foot. They too drifted downstream, slowly at first, then gathering speed. Jason forced Carol to lie down, then covered her body with his own.
An innocent-sounding pop was immediately followed by a dull thud somewhere in the boat. Almost simultaneously there was the sound of escaping air. Jason groaned. The man was shooting at them with a silenced pistol. Another pop was followed by a ringing sound as a bullet ricocheted off the outboard motor, and another made a slapping sound in the water.
To Jason’s relief, he realized the rubber boat was compartmentalized. Although a bullet had deflated one section, the boat wouldn’t sink. A few more shots fell short, then Jason heard a thump of wood against the dock. Jason lifted his head cautiously and looked back. The man had pulled one of the canoes from the rack and was pushing it into the water.
Jason was again gripped with fear — the man could paddle much faster than they were drifting. Their only chance was to start the motor — an old-fashioned outboard with a pull cord. Jason shifted the gear lever to “start” and tugged the cord. The engine didn’t even turn over. The killer had already boarded the canoe and was starting toward them. Jason pulled the cord again: nothing. Carol lifted her head and said nervously, “He’s getting closer.”
For the next fifteen seconds, Jason frantically jerked the starter cord over and over. He could see the silhouette of the oncoming canoe moving silently through the water. He checked to make sure the lever was at “start,” then tried again without success. His eyes drifted to the gas tank, which he prayed was full. Its black cap appeared to be loose, so he tightened it. Just to its side was a button he guessed was to increase pressure in the tank. He pushed it a half dozen times, noticing that it became increasingly harder to depress. Looking up again, he saw the canoe was almost to them.
Grasping the starter cord again, Jason pulled with all his strength. The motor roared to life. Then he reached for the lever and pushed it to “reverse,” as they were floating downstream backward. He jammed the throttle forward and threw himself back onto the bottom of the boat, pinning Carol beneath him. As expected, there were several more shots, two of which hit the rubber boat. When Jason dared to look out again, the gap had widened. In the darkness, he could barely see the canoe.
“Stay down,” he commanded to Carol, while he checked the extent of the damage. A section of the right side of the bow was soft, as was a portion of the left gunwale. Otherwise the boat was intact. Moving back to the outboard, Jason cut the throttle, put the motor into “forward,” then angled the tiller to head downstream, steering out to the center of the river. The last thing he wanted to do was hit rocks.
“Okay,” he called to Carol. “It’s safe to sit up.”
Carol rose gingerly from the bottom of the boat and ran her fingers through her hair. “I really don’t believe this,” she shouted over the noise of the outboard. “Just what the hell are we going to do?”
“We’ll head downriver until we see some lights. There’s got to be plenty of places along here.”
As they motored along, Jason wondered if it would be safe to stop at another dock. After all, their pursuer might get into his car and drive along the river. Maybe there’s a light on the opposite side, he thought.
From the silhouettes of the trees lining the lakelike expanse of the river, Jason could gauge their speed. It seemed to be about a fast walk. He also had the feeling the river was again gradually narrowing, especially when it appeared that their speed was increasing. After a half hour, there were still no lights. Just a dark forest bordering a star-strewn, moonless sky.
“I don’t see a thing,” yelled Carol.
“It’s okay,” reassured Jason.
After traveling another quarter hour, the bordering trees closed in rather suddenly, suggesting the lakelike expanse was coming to an end. When the trees were closer, Jason realized he had misjudged their speed; they were moving much faster than he’d thought. Reaching back he cut the throttle. The small outboard whined down. As soon as the sound of the outboard fell, Jason heard another more ominous noise. It was the deep growling roar of white water.
“Oh, God,” he said to himself, remembering the falls upriver from the Salmon Inn. He pushed the small outboard to the side and turned the boat around. Then he gave it full throttle. To his surprise and consternation, it slowed, but did not stop their rush downriver. Next he tried to angle the boat toward shore. Slowly, it moved laterally. But then all hell broke loose. The river narrowed to a rocky gorge, and Jason and Carol were unwittingly sucked into it.
Around the top edge of the rubber boat was a short rope secured at intervals by eyelets. Jason grabbed a hold on either side, spanning the craft with his outstretched arms. He yelled for Carol to do the same. She couldn’t hear over the roar of the water, but when she saw what he was doing, she attempted to do the same. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite reach. She held on to one side and hooked a leg under one of the wooden seats. At that moment, they hit the first real turbulence, and the boat was tossed into the air like a cork. Water came into the boat in a blinding, drenching sheet. Jason sputtered. The darkness and water in his eyes made it all but impossible to see. He felt Carol’s body hit up against his and he tried to anchor her with his leg. Then they thudded into a rock and the boat spun counterclockwise. Through all this violent activity, Jason kept seeing the image of the falls, knowing that at any second they could plummet to their death.
Jason and Carol clutched at the ropes in utter terror. They bounced from side to side and end to end, in rapid gyrations, completely at the mercy of the water. At every moment he thought they were going over. Water filled the cockpit. It was stingingly cold.