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Page 55
as they faced the elements together.
Her hand was cold and wet, and it was very small in his. It felt almost fragile. But Abby seemed anything but fragile as she managed to keep pace with him without complaint.
After perhaps half an hour, she stopped suddenly, and their joined hands halted him, too. Her dark brown eyes seemed to stare into the distance. They were as unfocused as when she had first regained consciousness.
Worried that she was suddenly going to go soft on him, Mike ordered, "Let's go, Abby."
Her hand was still in his, and instead of going slack, it gripped him with determined pressure. "Up!" she shouted. "Can't you hear it? Look!"
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. He listened but heard nothing other than rain and wind and her voice. He looked around but saw little but grayness and the water sheeting around them. Nevertheless, he allowed her to pull him along as she began to climb the slope.
Fortunately the incline here was more gradual than in other parts of the gorge. Still, his calves ached with the effort of climbing. How must she feel, in her rain-sopped, dragging dress and uncomfortable-looking boots? But despite her hampered progress, she did not stop.
And then Mike heard it, tooa roar. He looked down. Quite suddenly, the gorge below them in which they had been walking was a raging river. The water level increased relentlessly, until, with a speed swifter than a pouncing cat, it rose to within mere yards of the spot on which they stood.

 
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