"Jeeves?" a weak croak from further down the river snapped the valet back into reality, had he been hearing things? "Jeeves?" again the croak, this time it was weaker, Jeeves heard the hollow sound of wheeziness in his master's voice.
His master's voice..
Jeeves steadied himself and began to crawl along the bank, praying his mind was not just playing tricks on him.
He slipped.
The sticky ooze of mud between his fingers and the slow numbness brought about by the swirling black water that he was fast disappearing into stunned Jeeves into stillnes, he could no longer feel or see his legs, his thoughts had become halted and his instincts were bocked as a numb coldness, like that of the water, trickled into his brain.
It was almost as if he were already under water, drowning, he could not feel his limbs, he could not feel his brain, in fact, all he could feel were his lungs, as the cold and the dark swallowed him whole his lungs blazed bright, shining with pain and warmth as they laboured.
Jeeves looked at the bank, his brain was so slow now he was only just beginning to contemplate what to do, let alone begin the process of thought that would tell him he had taken too long, and that it was, now, too late.
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