Lost When Survival Becomes Psychological

It Was an Accident. The Kayak Hit a Boulder as He Was Battling the Rips of the Whitewater.

The strength of the current was overwhelming, and he couldn’t regain control once he’d started to veer sideways. Before he knew what he’d hit, Kevin was already being pulled under the waves, and his kayak was in nearly two pieces. Kicking to the surface was like trying to push a brick wall, and he couldn’t catch his breath enough to focus.

His pack, which had been securely strapped into the kayak, was now nowhere in sight. Ironically, Kevin had tripled the knot to make sure it wasn’t lost in case he hit a couple rough waves, but nothing could have prepared him for this incident, except for his will to make it through.

Kevin was in the Army reserve, and in his free time, he loved nothing more than to get out on the water. Whether he was signing up for a deep sea fishing excursion with his brother, or heading into the northern rapids, water was just his thing.

Currently, however, he was battling an enemy, a liquid body with greater force than a tank. Kevin finally broke free from the water’s grasp as he made one last desperate attempt to throw himself onto the rocks that framed the river. He climbed up as best he could, and with his calves still submerged, he let out a sigh that cracked into a tiny groan as the last bit of conscious breath left his body.

He awoke to the sound of crickets. In the midst of his fuzzy reality, Kevin reached for his alarm clock to silence them, but he was not in his bed. He was still on the rock, and it was dark now. The sun had long set. The trees were black, and the rocks shone in the moonlight like reflectors, guiding his vision down the river into – more darkness.