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Andrew Roller Presents
GIRL PATROL
Chapter Eighteen
We watched the prairie go up in flames as we struggled to stay
afloat in the river.
ÒIÕm fweezing!Ó Betsy cried. She was trying to dog paddle with her
hands and hug herself at the same time. It wasnÕt working. Her head went
under the fast flowing water. I yelled out and moved closer to where she
was, or, rather, where she had been. I ducked under the water and saw her
white figure sinking fast. I reached and managed to grab some of her
lingerie. I yanked her up. She came up spluttering. When she had cleared
the water out of her nose and mouth she gasped,
ÒTankoo!Ó But the struggle to stay afloat and warm began all over
again, immediately. Kim was hardly better off, though being two years
older she bore up with somewhat less comical urgency. There is
something about watching an eight-year-old girl swim. No matter how
she tries to do it, she always looks like a silly little kid. Becky looked
that way now, and I felt amused by her struggle even as it terrified me.
Suddenly she turned and began dog paddling for shore.
ÒBecky! Come back!Ó I cried. I could feel the heat of the fire from
her, like some great oven trying to reach out to me. If she swam in toward
shore, I might not be able to reach her in time when she went under again.
The river was like some big wet beast, utterly ink black now that the
moon had set, and even if I swam fast I might not be able to find her down
in its murky depths.
Kim was worried about the little girl incinerating herself.
ÒYouÕll burn up!Ó Kim warned Becky. But the child was resolute. She
came ashore along the small sandy bank running along the edge of the
water. She stood up, sloshing ankle deep in the river, grabbing herself
against the cold while at the same time cringing at the feel of the flames.
Her teeth chattered, even from here I could get the sense that her skin
was a mass of cold-induced prickles. And then the fire lunged at her.
Becky screamed. I cried out; I was sure she was going to die.
ÒBecky!Ó Kim shrieked. Then she turned to me and yelled ÒDo
something!Ó but what could I do? If the girl was burning, there was no
way I could get to her before she got third-degree burns, if not worse.
Nonetheless I went toward shore, bracing myself against the flames, Kim
swimming as best she could beside me.
Suddenly Betsy leapt into the air. I expected her to fall right back
down again but instead, flailing wildly, she managed to stay aloft! I was
stunned. Then I remembered that the girls could float in the air, and Kim,
seeing Betsy struggling against the flames like some moth caught to close
to a campfire, cheered.
ÒSheÕs flying!Ó Kim screamed to me.
ÒYes!Ó I cried, and little Becky cried out then, terrified and delighted
at the same time. A moment later, managing to evade the flames and just
coughing a little at the smoke, she turned to us and yelled,
ÒIÕm warm! IÕm warm!Ó And she was. She was in a tropical
heatstorm, or so it seemed, wiggling in mid-air above the flames, learning
second by second how to use them to heat her small body without being
consumed by them. Kim swam toward shore. I called for the older girl to
come back, but only half-heartedly. The river was truly impossible, an
icebox. If the girl could save herself by floating over the flames, so be it.
My only regret was that I hadnÕt made a lingerie costume for myself.
30
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