The words were like punches coming out of Enid Tucker and Mary, the Mary that was never going to heaven, not anymore, the Mary that was here full of flesh and blood and fear, wished her friend would just shut up, just please shut up. Leaning carefully over the edge of the drop-off, Charlotte beside her, Mary could see Melanie’s twisted body on a small ledge a few feet above the torrent of the rising river. The girl’s eyes were wide and terrified, her lower body bent out of shape. “Melanie? Melanie? Can you hear me?” There was no animal in Charlotte’s voice anymore; she was all human, all pathetically human and full of realization. The small voice drifted up to them, jagged and wet. “I can’t move my legs! I can’t move my legs!” Turning round, Mary saw Ada Rose desperately searching the ground around them for something long enough to reach the ledge, which was a good ten feet 200 below them, and wanted to scream at her that it was useless. Ada knew as well as she did that there were no twigs or branches at their feet that were going to be able to go that far.
