A Promise Kept

*Inspired by true events*

My first conscious thought as I come to in the icy water is: Mollie. Where’s Mollie?

The fact that I’m even conscious at all after plummeting down a fifty-something-meter waterfall doesn’t seem to register for now.

The relentless roar of the cascading water above me is my only point of reference. The sound fills my ears, my head, my chest. There's no escaping it as I lie contorted against the rocks, like a discarded marionette. The cold that seeps in through my clothes numbs any pain.

At least, I hope that’s why I can’t feel pain.

“Mollie?”

The name scrapes out of my throat, thin and useless against the thunder of water. I hold my breath and strain my ears.

Nothing.

Not the clicking of paws on rock. Not the jingle of a collar.

Not even a whimper.

My vision is blurry, my glasses long gone after the fall.

I blink.

I squint. Scan my surroundings for a flash of black and white through the trees and jagged rocks.

Panic stirs.

The details are fuzzy. Had Mollie fallen in with me? Had she run? Is she still up there—waiting?

Each scenario makes my stomach twist.

I have to find her.

When I try to lift my head, the pain arrives without warning. Everywhere and all at once. I fight to stay awake, Mollie’s large brown eyes fixed in my mind.

Rock presses into my hip, unyielding, forceful. I notice it now—against my ribs, my shoulder blade, the back of my skull. The ground isn’t flat but jagged, a geometry of pain.

Something else brushes against my thigh. Something soft.

My breath catches as I watch a dark form drift past me with the current, slipping in and out of sight. And for one wild second, I see a flick of a tail.

“Mollie—” I let out a raspy scream, before it catches onto a rock and unravels into leaves and sodden moss.

Everything around me fades, and this time, I succumb to the darkness.

A low pulsing travels through the ground, pulling me back into awareness. My whole body vibrates with it.

The air shifts subtly, carrying a fine mist from the waterfall that spritzes my face with cool droplets.

Then I notice it. A distant thudding. Not the falling water, something else. Mechanical. Persistent.

It grows louder than the roar around me.

A shadow spills over, blocking out the sunlight.

When I lift my eyes skyward, there’s a helicopter hovering above.

And I should feel relief.

I don’t.

Mollie.

I’m not leaving here without her.

A figure moves into my line of sight.

“Hey! Hi, can you hear me?”

The face of a man comes into focus, his eyes wide.

“My name’s Mark,” he shouts, competing with the noise of the helicopter. “I’m with Search and Rescue. Can you tell me your name?”

My lips move without sound. I swallow and try again.

“…Jess.”

“You’re safe now, Jess.”

His voice is steady, grounding. I feel his hand, warm and calloused, close gently around mine.

“Can you squeeze for me?”

I surprise myself by squeezing back.

“Good, Jess, you’re doing great. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Mol…Mollie.”

“Someone else here with you?” His eyes dart to the rocks around us.

“My dog…”

“Don’t move, Jess. You must keep still, okay?” he says calmly, placing a hand firmly on my arm. “Tell me about Mollie, what colour is she?”

“Black…white.”

“Black and white, got it. Is she wearing a collar, a harness?”

“Collar…blue.”

He’s strapping me into a stretcher while the helicopter hovers over us, purring persistently.

“Right, Jess, you’re secured, we’re going to lift you out.”

“No.” I try to move, but the straps are tight around my chest.

“I’m sorry, Jess, I can’t see Mollie. We have to go now.”

“No…not without…her.” My lips tremble.

“Jess, look at me.” His eyes are unblinking, earnest. “I’ll come back for her. That’s a promise.”

Moments later, as the helicopter lifts us away, all I can picture is my Mollie alone in the wilderness.

I’m so sorry, Mollie. It’s all my fault.

It hurts to cry, but I let it happen.

***

A fine drizzle hangs over Arahura Valley. Not ideal for a search that already feels like a long shot. I curse under my breath as I squint through the helicopter window.

“Visibility’s poor.”

Good old Steve, stating the obvious.

“She’s out there somewhere,” I say. “We just need to keep looking.”

“It’s been a week, Mark, you really think she’s still alive?”

I don’t answer. Just keep my eyes on the landscape sliding beneath us. If it were only up to Steve, he’d have called it after day one.

But we should have found her by now.

Ever since we pulled Jess out of that gorge, I haven’t been able to let it go.

A promise is a promise.

“She could very well still be out there,” I say. “Border Collies are smart. Tough. Built for this kind of terrain.”

“I don’t get it,” Steve mutters in his gruff voice. “All this for a dog.”

I exhale slowly.

He shakes his head. “Well, if we don’t find her today, that’s it. No more funding.”

I hate that he’s right. We’ve been lucky to get this far thanks to donations and volunteers. The community really pulled together for Jess and Mollie.

Even Steve.

The rain is becoming more persistent.

“Take us back to the spot where Jess was found,” I say. “One more pass.”

Jess couldn’t remember if the dog fell with her.

If she’s alive, she’ll make her way back to where it happened.

That’s what I’m holding onto.

We circle back over the cascade. I lean toward the monitor, scanning the feed. My heart sinks when I take in the same jagged rocks and white froth.

“Alright,” Steve says, “I’m calling it.”

“Wait.” Something catches my eye on the screen.

I lean closer. “There—see that?”

A pale shape against the rock.

As Steve banks the helicopter lower, my heart slams against my ribcage.

The shape comes into focus—black, white—tucked between some rocks at the base of the falls.

“That’s her,” I say, already reaching for my raincoat. “That’s got to be her.”

As my boots hit the ground, I move towards her slowly.

She’s wedged between the jagged, moss-covered rocks, soaked through and trembling. When I get closer, she lifts her head but doesn’t try to escape.

“Hey…good girl, Mollie.”

I crouch carefully on the slippery stone and hold out a piece of sausage.

“That’s a girl.”

Edging forward, she sniffs the meat, then takes it in one quick, desperate bite. Her tail starts up behind her.

I keep my movements slow, letting her come to me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, a hand settling into her wet fur. “I’ve got you.”

She doesn’t resist when I lift her over my shoulder.

I take it slow on the way back, a lump forming in my throat as I whisper into her matted coat, “someone’s going to be glad to see you.”

Steve’s watching when I reach the helicopter. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are shining.

A promise is a promise.

This was inspired by the heartwarming true story of Jessica Johnston and her dog Molly. It touched my heart, and I only hope I did it justice.