In the space between heartbeats, the bridge gave way beneath him. The rope snapped like a whip, and he had no time to grab hold of anything. One moment he was above the water, the next he found himself in it.
The current flowing from the river was unusually strong, and it tugged at him with relentless force, pulling him steadily toward the edge of the waterfall.
No matter how hard he kicked or fought against it, the surge was too powerful, making it nearly impossible to swim free from its grip.
That's when his survival instincts finally kicked in, snapping him out of panic. With the roar of the waterfall growing louder behind him, the only thought racing through his mind now was to scan the surrounding geography,
desperately trying to spot anything, anything he could use to his advantage to stop himself from being dragged over the edge.
He first tried to slow himself down by grabbing at the rocks jutting out of the river. They were slick with moss and water, and his grip slipped more than once, but they managed to reduce his momentum, if only slightly.
Still, the river's current was unforgiving, surging forward with a force that threatened to tear him loose at any moment.
If he wanted to survive this, he couldn't just think about stopping himself from being swept over the edge. He had to do more than that. He needed to change direction, redirect his path toward the opposite bank.
If he could just make it to the other side, he wouldn't have to risk crossing this brutal current ever again.
"Think, brain, think!" He desperately glanced around.
Then he spotted it, a branch jutting out from the far bank of the river, thick and weathered, just low enough to grab if he could reach it in time. It looked strong, sturdy enough to hold his weight and maybe even pull him out of the current.
But there was one problem, he wasn't close to it, not even nearly close.
He had to change his direction, and fast. If he didn't start angling toward it now, he'd be swept past, and that branch, his only chance, would be gone in seconds. And after that… there would be no second try.
"Uhhhh, I can try using the current to my advantage!" he voiced out, turning around.
Instead of fighting the current head-on, he made a split-second decision, one that felt almost counterintuitive.
He stopped resisting and began swimming with the current, letting it carry him forward.
But with each stroke, he angled his body ever so slightly toward the branch, using the river's force to his advantage.
Little by little, he inched closer, letting the current do the heavy lifting while he subtly steered himself toward that single chance at survival. It was risky, but it was working, barely.
The more the current surged forward, the closer he drifted to the branch, each passing second sharpening the line between survival and the fall.
He had no time left to plan, no time to hesitate. It was a two-second reaction, a final gamble with everything on the line.
As he came within reach, his instincts took over. He lunged, arms shooting forward, fingers stretching with all the desperation in his body.
They barely caught the tip of the branch, just enough to hold. His grip nearly slipped, slick with river water, but he clenched tighter, willing his arms not to fail.
Using what little strength he had left, he began to reel himself in, inch by inch, until his hands found the thicker, sturdier parts of the branch.
It groaned under his weight but held firm. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the pull of the river began to lose its grip.
"It worked!" he shouted, as this was his first ever win at survival.
Everything he carried was soaked through, heavy and useless now, some of it already lost to the current, swept away without a trace. But he didn't look back; he let it all go.
His focus was on survival.
Hand over hand, he pulled himself along the branch, then onto the muddy bank, every muscle trembling with effort. His knees hit the ground first, then his chest, and finally, his entire body gave out.
He collapsed on the cold, damp earth, gasping for air, chest heaving as the roar of the waterfall thundered behind him like a reminder of how close it had been.
"That was a really close one," he murmured, gasping for air between words.
He lifted his head slightly, eyes narrowing through the haze of water and exhaustion. Just ahead, tall reeds swayed in the breeze, dense and high enough to conceal a person, if they stayed low.
Slowly, he pushed himself up into a seated position, arms wrapped around his knees as he folded into himself.
His clothes clung to him, dripping and heavy, but he barely noticed. His gaze drifted back toward the river, to the violent pull that had almost taken him over the edge.
The thought hit him then, how close he had come. The drop… the speed… it would've been over in seconds.
The reality of it sat heavy on his chest, his mind still catching up to the danger he'd narrowly escaped.
He sat there in silence for a while, watching the river water cascade over the edge of the waterfall, disappearing into the chasm below. The sound was steady, almost hypnotic, like it was trying to lull him into staying still, into forgetting how close it had come to ending him.
He looked up, and that's when he noticed, the sun was dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows through the reeds.
Daylight was slipping fast, and the chill in the air was starting to settle in his clothes and bones.
With effort, he pulled himself to his feet, every movement sluggish but certain. The shed was still out there, hidden somewhere beyond the reeds, past whatever else this place had waiting. And he had no choice now but to keep going.
He picked up his now wet bag and slung it over his shoulder before he began moving toward the reeds, humming the lyrics of the jingle as he walked.