It began as an ordinary duck hunt on a cold December morning. Jakeb and his older brother Trevor were gliding across Howard County's Gilham Lake.
"We're goin' pretty good," Jakeb said. "I think [Trevor] might've had it full throttle, I know we were definitely scootin'."
But in a matter of seconds, it all crashed to a halt. To this day, they have no idea what they hit.
"And the next thing I know, I'm flying through the air," Jakeb said.
Both were ejected into the freezing cold water. But the nightmare was only beginning.
"We don't even have time to say anything. I just see [Trevor's] eyes get enormous," Jakeb said.
"I saw the boat coming around and headed right for us. I didn't have time to say a word," said Trevor.
"It was so fast that you don't really have time to panic," Jakeb continued. "And all I can see is that boat motor just chopping across coming right at me. And so I just ducked which is just natural instinct. And when I did that, I felt a jolt."
The propeller struck Jakeb's back, and ground to a stop.
"The next 10 seconds was to this day the worst 10 seconds of my life," Trevor said. "Because at that point, I thought that Jake was dead."
"I heard Trevor's voice yelling at me, 'Jake are you OK? Are you OK?' He said, 'well turn over a little bit.' So I turned over and showed him my back...and uh...apparently it was pretty gross."
The blades carved eight deep gashes into Jakeb's lower back. The brothers needed to act---fast. But Trevor couldn't call for help. His cell phone screen was blank after being damaged from it's plunge into the water.
"I probably hit send 15 times before I realized if something doesn't change, he may not make it," said Trevor.
Finally--one call goes through. Incredibly, their father on the other end.
"As soon as he said he needed an ambulance, the phone went dead," said their father, Steve.
The Durhams had no idea where on the lake to send an ambulance.
With their boat damaged, Jakeb and Trevor flagged down some fellow hunters who rushed them to shore.
"As we were going, I could feel my skin like flapping from where it had been cut," Jakeb said.
But only when paramedics called in the helicopter--did it finally hit.
"I'm thinking, 'I might be about to die. This seriously could be it."
As Jakeb flew 60 miles to Texarkana, his parents were still unsure whether their son was dead or alive.
"I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, all I could do is just pray to God. And that's all you have."
After an agonizing two and a half hour drive from Little Rock, the Durhams finally laid eyes on Jakeb.
"It was pretty tough to look upon your son, and be looking inside his body," Steve said. "Like we all did, we prayed."
Jakeb received over four hundred stitches. Doctors said the propeller came inches from his spleen, and rolled over his spine. Still, Jakeb's injuries did sever his career in college baseball. Looking back, a small sacrifice for a life spared.
"Up until this accident, I mean we had just had a normal, great life," Trevor said. "I mean we'd count our blessings, but after this, that saying has a new meaning to it."
Now an assistant with UALR baseball, Jakeb shares his hard-learned lesson.
"I keep telling them just love every minute of it, because when it's gone, there's nothing like it. Because you can never get it back again."