A Father Beyond Compare. Alison Roberts
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van had been swept far enough into the canyon to make access virtually impossible from the ground.
The tangle of debris that had caught the van’s chassis and halted its journey included some hefty logs but it was on the edge of a strong current. At any moment it could be caught and pulled clear to tumble and roll in the deadly river on its seaward path. The distance it had already travelled made the survival of its occupants debatable but the fact that it was still afloat enough to roll if it did swivel clear of the obstruction was uppermost in Tom’s mind as he surveyed the scene.
‘They’ve still got a fair bit of air in there. They could be alive.’
‘It’s only the side door that’s accessible. If they’ve got their safety belts on they’ll be long gone. The driver must be completely under water.’
‘Maybe not. We don’t know how long it’s been that far under.’
‘The witness said it was rolling in the water.’
‘He also said he thought he saw a woman and a child in the front.’ Tom was getting impatient. He leaned further out the side door, blinking as enough of a blast of icy air sneaked around the edge of his helmet visor to make his eyes water. He twisted his head to keep the target in view as the helicopter did another slow circle. ‘I’m going down to check.’
‘And what happens if you do find someone alive?’
‘I’ll get them out.’
‘No. You’d try and get them out and probably join them in the ride downstream. We can’t attach a winch line to keep that thing stable, Tom.’
‘I know that.’
‘And there’s no way of getting a line out from shore. The fire boys haven’t arrived yet. And we’ll need some boats and divers on scene.’
‘It’s going to be too late by then.’ Under normal circumstances Tom was inclined to err on the cautious side himself but the fact that there could be a woman and child involved here made it seem like a copout to be cautious. ‘I can at least go down for a look. If there’s no sign of life, it’ll take the urgency out of things a bit. What do you say, Terry?’
The pilot of the rescue chopper had worked with SERT for years now. A lot longer than Tom’s relatively new partner. Tom not only trusted the pilot’s opinion regarding any safety issues in the air, he knew he would get the encouragement he needed to go the extra mile to help someone in dire need. The middle-aged pilot had just become a grandfather. He was a soft touch.
‘Go for it,’ Terry said. ‘Winch conditions are good. Just don’t attach us to anything down there. I don’t fancy getting my feet wet.’
Neither did Tom but that was exactly what happened as he neared his descent target. His boots dragged in the surface of the river and filled with icy water.
‘Hey, I said minus two, not ten!’ he complained to Josh via the helmet radio. ‘I’ve got wet feet!’
‘Sorry, mate.’
‘Take me up a bit and then see how close we can get. I can’t see a thing yet.’
Except for the ominous speed that made the eddies around the pile of debris look like white-water rapids. And the deep grey-green that advertised the depth of the river channel that was running alongside the obstruction.
The big square white van had an incongruously cheerful rainbow stripe painted along its side. It was bobbing slowly but something underneath—the front axle, maybe—had caught firmly on a thick branch. That branch belonged to a large tree that the earlier storm must have uprooted.
‘Looks reasonably stable,’ Tom relayed. ‘I want to stand on the side door and see if I can get a view into the front compartment.’
From where he was hanging now, he could see the passenger’s side window and a portion of the wind-screen. The side window was shut tightly but light reflecting on the glass made it impossible to see through. The nose of the vehicle pointed down and another log was jammed against the front door. Even if there was someone trying to open that door from the inside, it would be a pointless struggle.
The roar of the helicopter drowned out the sound of rushing water as Tom drifted slowly sideways but he could feel the cold spray of wind-whipped water on his cheeks. His feet touched the side of the van and he bounced slightly as it bobbed. He shook his head to clear droplets of water from his visor, leaning forward, trying to see into the side window at least.
And then he saw it.
A hand. Pressed against the glass. Small fingers that seemed to try and then fail to find something to hold onto.
A child’s fingers.
A child who was still alive.
‘Contact,’ Tom said tersely. ‘We’ve got a live one here.’
‘Hell!’
Tom wasn’t sure if it was Josh or Terry who expressed the frustration they now all faced of trying to do anything more in the immediate stage of this rescue mission. What on earth could they do?
If the van had been stable, they could have winched the victims up to the helicopter, but when the van could be swept away at any moment, it was far too dangerous to have a line that could potentially pull the chopper down.
How long would it take the fire trucks to arrive? The land-based teams had been dispatched at the same time as the SERT paramedics but they had to travel a long way by road. The fire service appliances had the lines to secure an unstable vehicle but someone would have to abseil down the side of the gully to get near the water. The boat rescue team would also be needed. And the team of police divers in case it all went wrong.
It would all take far too long.
‘I’m unhooking,’ Tom informed his colleagues.
‘Tom! No!’
It was too late. Tom had snapped open his winch hook as he’d spoken and he now held the line out to one side, signalling for Josh to retract it. A muttered curse echoed in his helmet from above but the line snaked upwards out of harm’s way.
The smooth side of the van was now a skating rink. Sleek wet metal that tipped gently one way and then another. Tom dropped to his knees as he felt himself sliding, his gloved fingers sweeping in a rapid arc to catch the handle of the door to the back compartment.
And then he was lying flat on the side of the van, aware of the tense silence within his helmet and the sound of the helicopter outside it, hovering as its crew watched with trepidation. Were they already planning to follow Tom’s path downriver when he got swept away? Hoping he might get to shore at a point where they could winch him back to safety?
He wasn’t going to get swept away, dammit. Not before he’d checked out the owner of those small fingers anyway. With an immense effort he dug his fingers behind the handle and pulled, heaving the door outwards.
It opened. The door snapped back and Tom slid far enough to touch a wing mirror with his boot. The metal attachment was fortunately strong enough to take his weight and, using it as an anchor, Tom was able to pull himself back by gripping the top edge of the door. And then he could see inside the compartment.
The water level came at least halfway up and the surface was awash with debris. Clothing. Cooking utensils. Maps. And…a teddy bear.
Ignoring the mental alarms sounding stridently, Tom twisted his body, hooking his legs into the gap he had created in the side of the vehicle.
And then he slid inside the floating campervan. As his feet found a solid point well beneath the water level he pulled the door closed again behind him in the hope of preventing the swirl of disturbed water outside filling any more of the interior.
With a silent prayer to whatever forces might have the power to keep the van exactly where it was for the time being, Tom manoeuvred himself to face the front of the vehicle.
‘Hello,’