"CAN YOU START IT AGAIN?" someone shouts at Chief Sears. "No," he says in despair. The full pressure of the icy, rising water is now ripping at everyone on the bulldozer. Greenhill's light disappears as he wraps himself around the exhaust stack. Darkness falls over the group, except for the focused cone of light from Larson's headlamp. The boys are mostly silent. Every ounce of strength and willpower is needed to resist the deadly pull of the water.

Chief Sears is the first to let go. He is a small man, weakened by his injuries in Vietnam, and he is spent. "I can't hold on, I can't hold on," he screams. Then, "I'm going, I'm going," as he's washed off the back of the bulldozer. Larson turns his headlamp toward him. Everyone watches helplessly as Sears swirls in circles, trapped by an eddy created by the bulldozer. Then Sespe Creek swallows him. He is gone.

The water is rising quickly around the bulldozer. One of the boys asks if they are going to die. No one responds. In the midst of all the chaos, a child's voice suddenly calls out. One of the boys has made his way next to Sears's seat, in front of Eckersley. He has an arm around another boy, and he is calm. He wants to convey something important to the group. "I love you dearly," he announces.

The words stun Eckersley. He can't believe that a young boy, facing death, has the maturity and courage to voice such a simple and profound message. The words shock Larson, too, and he turns to see who spoke. His headlamp falls on the boy's face, spotlighting it in the dark. Two wide eyes stare steadily back.

One by one the boys are swept away into the raging current. Every time Larson's headlamp sweeps over the group, like a lighthouse beacon, another child seems to be missing. Samples is devastated. "We were safe in that cabin," he says, almost to himself. Soon after, a big bush smashes against him. He lets out a cry as he and the boy he's holding are ripped away.

Over the course of half an hour, the river methodically takes everyone except Larson and Eckersley. They are now two strangers facing death together. Eckersley desperately keeps looking for a way to cheat fate. He has looped his backpack strap over a hard point to help anchor himself, and he starts to strip off his coat, wristwatch, and shoes. Anything to help him survive the imminent swim. Larson does the same. Eckersley says he is going to pick his moment and jump, but he doesn't. He doesn't have the willpower.

Larson pulls his gun from its holster and fires two or three shots into the air, aiming upstream as if trying to wound the murderous river rushing at them. He says to Eckersley that there may be some rescuers within earshot. It's a futile gesture, and Eckersley briefly contemplates borrowing the gun to save himself the agony of drowning.

As the water rises to chin level, Eckersley, with the dispassion of a man who has started to surrender to fate, asks Larson whether he has ever thought about death. Larson simply replies, "The Lord has it all planned." Then he loses his grip and is washed into Eckersley. They are locked in a desperate embrace. Seconds later, there's a sudden snap as the backpack strap breaks. Together, Eckersley and Larson are hurled into the cataract. Sespe Creek has claimed its last two victims.