Deluge

Chapter 4

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.

A/N: Many, many thanks. Here's 4...

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Don scrambled over the rocks, carefully feeding out hose as he went, making sure it had no kinks that would block Charlie's airflow. He had only made it halfway up the side of the culvert when his ears picked out two distinct noises over the roar of the water. One was the wail of a siren, and the other was the groan and creak of metal under stress. His head whipped around and he stared at the SUV, which was now partly submerged – was it moving? At the same moment, flashing red lights materialized above him on the road, followed by the sound of shouts and slamming vehicle doors. Heads appeared above the rim of rocks, silhouetted by the lights of the emergency vehicles. "Down here!" Don screamed. "He's under water – we need to move the vehicle!"

He took the time to lay down the hose, quickly but carefully, then lurched over the boulders back toward the side of the SUV, half-clambering, half-leaping over the tumble of rocks, heedless of barked shins. He was aware of movement above him, other rescuers starting down the bank, but he had eyes only for the SUV. It was moving – it was now in enough water that it was starting to float, and his heart thudded in his chest with the sudden knowledge that he had to get back down to Charlie, to pull him out and away from the vehicle – he must be free now. He had just come to that conclusion when there was a loud scraping sound; the grind of metal and glass on stone.

"It's going, watch out!" yelled one of the men behind him, and Don stopped short and stared in shock as the big vehicle pulled away and swung out in the current, and was rapidly caught up in the rush of water in the main channel. He began to scramble back down to the water's edge toward Charlie's position, only to see the hose slithering across the rocks. It was being pulled into the current, which meant only one thing – that Charlie was being sucked out into the stream also, along with the hose, and the SUV.

As he stumbled toward the edge of the water, he saw his brother's head break the surface, moving quickly behind the vehicle out into the stream, a darker blob against the murky water. It meant that Charlie was still breathing, still conscious enough to keep his head above water, but he was being pulled out rapidly into the current. The SUV, although it was slowly starting to sink, was also beginning to pick up speed now that it was in the center of the channel, and Don felt a sudden surge of panic as the dark head was swept out behind it. For a moment, the small darker object hung there; moving quickly in the current, then without warning, Charlie disappeared from view.

"Charlie!" Someone was screaming Charlie's name, and Don realized abruptly that it was him. He came out of his shocked state with a jolt and a sense of clarity that propelled him, leaping and slipping, up the boulders to the edge of the road, rasping at the two men who had started down the slope, "He was swept out in the current – we need to get downstream!"

He reached the top and impatiently unhooked the leash from the sign, leaving it around his waist. He hit the button to retract the excess cord, which went into the handle with a hiss, and without waiting for anyone else, sprinted down the road as fast as he could go. He could see the dim form of the SUV in the water as he gained ground; it was now half-submerged, and was hitting rocks on the way, which was impeding its progress. His stomach clenched in sickening fear – was Charlie being battered against those same rocks? As he pulled even with the van, he slowed to a jog, keeping pace with the vehicle, his eyes scanning the black water. The rain had slacked off just a bit, but it still was nearly impossible to tell what he was seeing; every dark swell, every bit of rock could be Charlie's head, or arm…

Three rescue workers had caught up to him, and Don glanced back over his shoulder at them for the first time. They were from a local fire department; he could see the emblem on their brimmed hats. "He got pulled out behind the SUV," Don said, breathlessly, and hitting the leash button again, yanked out some cord and shoved the free end at one of the men. "Hold onto this – if I see him, I'm going in after him. You'll need to pull us out."

The man started to shake his head, but he was cut off by a second man, who jabbed a finger at the swirling water. "There! There he is!"

Don snapped his head back around. Even with the man indicating where he should look, it was hard to make out what the man was pointing to – and then Don saw it. Charlie had been washed up on an outcropping of rocks in the middle of the stream. His dark suit jacket had been torn from his body, and Don could make out the white of his dress shirt. It was impossible to tell if he was holding onto the rocks consciously or not, and Don wasn't waiting to find out. He darted toward the canal. The bank was steeper here, and there was a section of guard rail along the road. Don swung his leg over it and began scrambling down the rocky bank, hitting the release button on the leash to play out more line. He felt the tension on it increase, and a quick glance backward showed that the men had wrapped the other end around the post for the guard rail and two of them were holding the free end, as a third man started over the guard rail, following Don. Ordinarily, Don knew, they would not have allowed him to go in – they would have taken over the rescue operation, but Don's status as an agent and the urgency of the situation – not to mention the fact that he had acted before they could argue, had overruled protocol. Of course, the fact that he was secured with the cord was a factor, too. The only question was the length and strength of the leash – would it be long enough to allow him to reach Charlie – and would it hold their weight?

As he got to the water's edge, Don assessed Charlie's position, at roughly two thirds of the way across the channel. His brother appeared to be half-lying on an outcropping of rocks, head down and arms outstretched, his lower body under water – either unconscious and pinned there by the current, or holding on desperately – Don couldn't tell which, in the darkness. Charlie was slightly downstream from him, but not far enough; Don knew that the minute he entered the water, the current would sweep him downward faster than he could swim out to the rocks, so he fought down his impatience and made his way farther up the bank, clambering over the rocks, playing out more line. When he got to where he hoped was far enough he looked downstream at Charlie one more time, gauging his location, and waded out into the roiling water.

The current immediately took him, and he didn't fight it, instead diving forward. The water was colder than he'd realized, even though he had been wading in it and was already soaking wet, and the sheer force of the current nearly took his breath away. He fought to keep his head up and swam as hard as he could for the opposite shore; the current would take care of moving him downstream. Now that he was in the water, he was starting to question his decision; if he could barely keep his own head up, how on earth would he be able to help Charlie?

The current moved him closer, but he was afraid he'd misjudged; it appeared that he would sweep right by Charlie's position. At the last minute, however, the water changed direction, and swung him hard toward the grouping of rocks. He ended up plastered against his brother's body, held in place by the current. "Charlie!" he yelled, over the noise of the water. No response. He shifted slightly so that he could see Charlie's face, which was turned sideways, and could see that he was unconscious – or worse. He didn't stop to entertain that last possibility, his mind instead frantically going over options to get them off of that rock.

He needed to secure Charlie to him, he realized; he'd never be able to keep a grip on him in that current. He didn't dare unhook the leash from his waist – if he lost the end of it, they'd both be done. He closed his eyes for a moment in frustration, willing his mind to stop spinning, and he could almost hear the calm, soothing voice of the boy he'd encountered on the bank. 'Unbuckle your belt…'

Of course. Don plunged one hand into the water, forcing it down through the current, and unhooked his belt and then ran it through the back of Charlie's belt. That was no easy task – the current had pushed them together with such force, he had a hard time maneuvering, but somehow he managed to thread his belt through Charlie's and hook it together again. Now they were joined together, in case he lost his grip – it was time to push off.

He craned his neck, trying to see the men on the bank in the darkness, hoping they were ready. He stuck one hand up in the air and waved, and then, looping one arm around Charlie's chest, pushed off from the rock with his legs, with all his might.

His feet did not leave the rock; the force of the water was too strong. For a moment, he hung there, straining in the powerful current. It threatened to collapse his bruised legs, to push them back against the rock; his knees shook with the effort. He leaned sideways just a bit more, and suddenly they were free, both tumbling downward together, sucked deep into the black water. It was fortunate that they were joined securely, because he immediately lost his grip on Charlie in the violence of the current, and instinct took over. His arms and legs thrashed as he fought to bring them back up to the surface, but the water was far too powerful, and Charlie was added weight around his middle. He could feel the leash tighten almost unbearably; it felt as though it would cut him in half, and he prayed that it would hold as the men on the other end tried to pull them up and in towards them. Finally, just as his lungs felt ready to burst, the undertow released them, and they popped to surface.

They had drifted sideways toward shore while they were underwater, and the current was not as strong there. Don immediately grabbed Charlie, pulling his face out of the water. He was too spent to do anything other than just hold him there, as the men reeled them toward shore. He had nothing left, he was limp as a rag, and the men had to drag them out together. More rescuers had arrived by then, and they released the belt buckle and took off the leash, and trundled them up the bank and over the guard rail. Don found himself - stupid with fatigue, cold and shock - lying on the pavement next to Charlie. Finally, both of them were on the safety of the higher ground next to the road. The road was wet but the rain had stopped, although Don still felt chilled from the cool water in the culvert. He turned his head to look at Charlie, and the sight made him struggle up on a shaking elbow. Half-upright, his ears began to roar and blackness started creeping in on the edges of his vision, but he ignored it; he had no eyes for anything other than the pale face at the center of his field of view. Charlie didn't appear to be breathing; he lay there motionless, lifeless…

...

End Chapter 4