Casualty - Water Rings

Disclaimer:- As awesome as it would be, I don't own Casualty...


Beautiful, a picture perfect scene; meandering down thick blue waters of the Amazonian jungle, surrounded by bushes splashed with trickles of silver, speckled with a whole variety of berries and fruit; wildlife bathing in mornings glow. From above, feathered friends greeted each other with different melodies to the applaud of the scurrying of creatures down below. Ivy swings gently from scowling mothers gowned in emeralds for the evening's ball. Beautiful.

Below the thick canopies of leaves and moss, Cyd shrieked as Greg splashed a handful of water onto her back creating a small lake at the base of the canoe. "Could you not do that please," droned the heavily unshaven tour guide, who shook his head irritably and turned his attention back to steering the canoe. "Yes Greg!" giggled Cyd, who returned the gesture with a light slap in his direction, which earned her another splash of cold water in the face. "Could you not do that please!" She mimicked, emphasizing the last word as she leaned in to Greg. The tour guide shook his head disdainfully, muttering dark threats under his breath about "kids" and "too old for this."

The three of them were sat, not comfortably, but relaxed one behind each other in a long, narrow canoe which skimmed lightly through the water. In the front was Djavan, Greg and Cyd's tour guide, whom they had met for the first time earlier that day. Sat behind him, unfortunately, was Cyd, who had already decided she greatly disliked the Brazilian tour guide, not because of his thick accent or distaste for young, British couples, but because of the overwhelming scent of tobacco and spirits which dogged him heavily in the sweltering morning air. Greg, on the other hand, sat comfortably behind his girlfriend, enjoying the swift breeze which ruffled his long hair as he let his hand lightly skim the water's edge. Make Cyd's day the best of her life, he thought, as thumbed the ring nestling lightly in his pocket.

Up front, Djavan coughed heavily into his hand, maybe we was getting to old for this job, he wiped beads of sweat from his forehead and resumed propelling the canoe forwards. The gesture wasn't missed by Cyd, who turned away from Greg and asked nervously, "Are you alright, you're not looking too hot?"

"Too hot?"

"I mean, you're not- you're not looking to good."

"Excuse me miss," Djavan said pointedly, turning away from the water. "But ever since you got on this boat you've done nothing but insult me!"

"Hold on mate" Greg interrupted kindly, his voice rising gently over the growing crash of water, "she meant that cough doesn't sound too healthy."

"Oh!" Sounding abashed Djavan started muttering an apology in Cyd's direction, until he was forced to stop by another, deep cough.

"Listen mate, we're both paramedics and we may be able to –"

What Greg may have been able to do Djavan never found out; as they were talking the canoe has swept faster and faster down the river, through a narrow gap in the reeds towards a mist of white spray rising steadily above the crash of water. At that moment Djavan coughed again, louder and more heavily than before, drops of blood dripped out of his mouth and onto his hands, which were now clamped tightly around his mouth, not on the oars which were drifting precariously away.

The rapids came bar a second later, pulling the uncontrolled canoe faster and faster down a slope with no visible end. It wasn't until the first large crash that any of them realised something was wrong. Crash! Jagged rocks, black as midnight, struck out carving deep gashes in the canoe, throwing the inhabitants left and right! Thud! The canoe lurched dangerously. Greg dived forwards to cling onto Cyd. At that moment there was another loud crash, and Djavan was thrown unceremoniously out into the water, his head slammed into a thick black rock! It was then the canoe capsized, throwing Greg and Cid into the cold, murderous depths, on that bright Brazilian summer morning.