After descending the slope toward the river, Michael assessed the cats chances of survival. The steady flow of the water, squeezed between steep cliffs, radiated calm. The rhythmic lapping of waves against the stony bank sounded like a whispered warning: Half an hour half an hour till they open the sluice gates Michael knew that signal well.
A kilometre upstream stood the local power stations dam. The spring floods had overfilled the reservoir, and notices had been sent the day before to all farms downstreamtheyd soon release extra water, raising the rivers level. No flooding was expectedthe banks were steepbut the lower meadows would be briefly submerged. Michael figured it wouldnt hurt to check the pumping station one last time, just in case any fittings had loosened.
Limping slightly, the faint creak of his prosthetic leg accompanying each step, he gave the area a thorough once-over. Everything was in order. Hed already reinforced the pipes and fence the day before, but a second look never hurt. He tugged off his flat cap, ran a hand through his short, greying hair, spread a small rug over a rock, and sat, massaging his stump. His leg achedit always did when the weather was about to change. Lighting a cigarette, he settled in to wait. He loved watching the sluice gates open. First, a distant rumble, then a frothy white wall of water, and suddenly, a torrent would come crashing down, sweeping away branches, rubbish, last years leaves. The river seemed to wake up, shedding the old.
He removed his prosthetic, set it beside him, and squinted as a fallen tree drifted lazily downstreamwould it sink or not? Halfway, it snagged on a sandbar. Stuck, Michael muttered. In ten minutes, when the surge came, itd be swept away. But then he spotted something odda tiny creature struggling in the branches. Leaning closer, he recognised it: a cat. Grey, drenched, shivering, desperately clinging to the highest branch, about twenty metres from shore.
Poor thing, Michael thought. Ten minutes till they open the gatesit wont survive. Quickly reattaching his prosthetic, he gauged the distance to the tree. The odds of a rescue were slim, but he couldnt walk away. That lookterrified yet hopefulhad stared back at him once before.
Nearly thirty years ago, Michael had been a contract soldier posted to a hot spot. A sergeant then, hed been patrolling with a young private, David. Theyd been climbing a narrow mountain path when David rushed aheadonly to be hit by a snipers bullet, shattering his knee. Hed collapsed, howling in agony. Michael remembered those eyessilent pleading, the dawning horror that any rescue might get them both killed.
Without thinking, hed fired toward the suspected snipers position as a distraction, then sprinted for David. Bullets whistled past, one grazing his helmet. But hed made itdragging Davey behind a boulder as their squad laid down smoke cover. Later that night, Michael himself stepped on a mine Since then, theyd both lived missing a leghis left, Davids right.
Now, Michael shrugged off his duffel coat, snatched up the rug, and plunged into the icy water. The cold burned his skin, his breath seizing, but it was too late to turn back. Teeth clenched against chattering, he waded toward the tree. The water was already at his waist when the distant roar grew louderthe gates were opening.
Come on, kitty, dont be scared! he grunted, reaching out.
The cat, as if understanding, leapt onto his shoulder, claws digging in. Pain lanced through him, but he gritted, Hang on. Turning, he fought the current, legs sluggish, the prosthetic dragging. The waters roar swelledthe surge was right behind them. His toes scraped the riverbed. One more stepthen darkness. The last thing he saw was the cat leaping to safety.
He woke by a fire. A kettle hissed cheerfully nearby, and the catnow drysat primly by the flames.
Leave you alone for five minutes, and youre off on another adventure, grumbled a familiar voice. Davidthe same old Davey, just with greying templesstood over him. Barely fished you out by your collar.
Michael sipped the scalding tea, warming under his coat. The cat rubbed silently against his knee.
Quit nagging, Davey, he chuckled. Knew you wouldnt leave me. Like back then. He stroked the cats back. Now theres three of ustwo cripples and a four-legged freeloader.
Aye, David nodded. That ones yours for life now. Saved it, so its stuck to you. Like me.
They both laughed. Then, risingone limping on his left leg, the other on his rightthey started back toward the pumping station. Between them, paws barely touching the damp earth, the cat trotted along, keeping close to its rescuer.
