The most disappointing part of writing is having a great scene in your head and not having the talent to put it on paper. That said, I'll polish this scene, taking and adding, several times.
What I'm about to post is a very first rough draft.
Everett was out of breath as he peered over the side of the Seven Mile Bridge, looking for any way down. The water was too shallow to jump. Everett estimated it was a forty foot drop.
He whipped his head back around, ready to run another couple hundred yards before looking down again.
He saw Mirka doing the same, beyond her the storm, rain falling in slanted black lines. He ran. His stomach was cramping.
He knew it was pointless. They would have to jump into what looked like two feet of water. If they could belly flop it, they might live.
She looked at him. Fear in her eyes.
"We're going to jump." He watched her opening and closing her mouth, thinking of what to say. She looked terrified.
"Everett, we can't. There's not enough water. We can't. We'll break our legs."
"We belly flop. You've got better eyes than I do. When is that rain getting here?"
"It's almost here." She started shaking and looking from side to side.
Everett walked to the edge where Mirka was looking. There was enough water. Maybe.
"Come on. We're jumping."
"Yes. Get over here."
She was caving in on herself, becoming helpless. Her eyes were closed, head bowed.
Everett ran to her and grabbed an arm, dragging her to the edge.
She tried to fight away. "No, no. There's not enough water. Stop it..."
"Then belly flop or hope the sand is soft! I'm saving your life! The rain is..."
"...you're going to kill us. We can't survive..."
He threw her over the edge. She grabbed his forearms with both hands, her nails digging into him for grip. His chest slammed into the concrete side.
"No, Everett, no. No. Pull me up. Please. Please."
"Let go! I need to jump! The rain..."
"You're killing us. Please. Please, Everett."
He tried peeling her fingers off his arm, but when he would get one off she would grip in tighter once he moved to the next. Blood ran from his arm.
"Mirka, you're killing us. Let go. The rain is here."
He looked at her wrist. Hammer the wrist. Forming a fist with his free hand, he raised it above his head, ready to swing it. The impact with her wrist might break bones, but hey needed to get under the bridge to safety.
He couldn't hit her. He didn't know what to do. Mirka was still pleading with him but he couldn't hear it. He looked at the rain. Even with his poor eyesight he could tell they had less than a minute.
He needed to jump. He pulled his feet under him, then pushed up as quickly as possible. Her weight jerked his body down. His head hit the concrete as they tumbled through the air.
Everett knew he was going to hit head first. Mirka had let go. He hoped she wouldn't waste time dragging his dead body under the bridge. There was no time.
He curled into a ball. Cannon ball. His back would hit first now. Wait. He tried to spread himself out so he would hit flat on his back.
He hit the water. His backpack impacted the sand. Cans and water bottles jabbed into his back. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as he'd thought. He kicked against the sand, trying to stand.
When he broke surface. Mirka was reaching for him. She was groaning and crying at the same time. "Everett, give me your hand. You hit the bottom."
They waded in the three feet of water. Everett tried hopping through it but it was too high.
They were under, but they needed to get to a support. It was too far.
"Can you tell what way the rain is slanted?" Everett didn't stop moving long enough to squint at the oncoming front.
"To the left and, I don't know, maybe back." She had stopped moving to look. Now she scrambled to catch up.
But Everett had stopped and was walking toward the edge. "I think if we stand here we won't get rained on."
"No, further in, Everett. Let's get in the middle."
"Just a little to this side though." He waded toward her.
"Oh, no no no no no. Oh."
He turned. "Here goes."
The wall of rain passed them. Curled sheets of rain splashed on the ocean surface. Everett noticed if they had stood where he suggested they would be very close to the rain.
"Come on, baby. Let's go squeeze under that support."
"There's not room. We can sit on the crossbeam." She tried to catch up to him. "Slow down. And, hey, thanks for not hitting me."
"Well, it all worked out, but I think it would have been safer if I had and you could control your fall by yourself. Or just jumped in the first place."
"I was scared. And I'm sorry about your arm." She had to speak up for Everett to hear her. The downpour was getting stronger and louder. "And I did control my fall. I fell flat on my back. I can't believe you did a cannonball. You idiot, you almost..."
She didn't finish. As they waded on the water got deeper.
He turned to face her. "You know, I would have gone another 200 feet for another foot of water."
"I couldn't see it."
He stopped walking. "I love you. But don't you ever do that again."
"I was scared."
He kissed her. "Don't feel too bad. Feel exactly the right amount of bad." He smiled. "You think all of our chip bags are busted open."
"Probably, oh, I didn't think about your cans."
"Oh, I'm going to have bruises."
She tried to hold his hand underwater as they continued walking but quickly found it didn't work that well.
Once at the crossbeam, Everett boosted Mirka up and she helped him scrabble up onto the four foot wide concrete beam.
She unzipped her backpack and frowned. "Oh, man. Cool Ranch." She pushed the contents of the bag around. "Nah, the others are good." She pulled out the small bag of Doritos. "You want to eat some wet, salty Doritos."
Everett reached toward her. "I'll try a few."