Chapter Seven

As Colby's attacker and the spotter were making quick retreats from their respective positions, Oscar and Everett, had reached the general area of where they believed they had last seen Colby. Although they had yet to rule out a shark attack, neither man had seen any evidence of one or the tell-tale fins. Still, with no signs of Colby, both men knew they needed to enter the water and search below the surface. A decision made in an instance, founded in their character, both men rolled off their respective boards and dove under water.

Spreading outward in a makeshift search pattern, each man had repeated their dive underneath, search and resurface for more air, several times without success. Without having to check their watches, both men were aware of the time that had passed since they had last seen Colby before he disappeared beneath the frothy water. By their respective training and unfortunate past experiences, both men knew if they didn't find the young man from Idaho within the next couple of dives, they would be conducting a search and recovery mission, as opposed to one of search and rescue.

With a silent plea for help...to whomever might listening or in charge of such things…Oscar tried to slow his breathing enough in order to intake the sufficient amount of oxygen necessary for another search of the water below. Although the several minutes Colby had now been underwater were potentially fatal to any chance of survival, it was not nearly enough time for the 911 or off-duty lifeguard unit responders to arrive, organize and aid in the efforts. This was something Oscar was clearly aware of. The next couple of minutes were critical.

Approximately 40 metres away, Everett was also taking a few quick breaths before diving again underwater in his ongoing, bordering now on desperate, attempt to find the FBI agent and surfer he had come to respect. Everett was having no luck and a feeling of dread, tinged with disbelief and sadness, was becoming more pronounced. About to make what he figured were now hopeless dives, he would still continue his attempts until the lifeguards and 911 responders entered the water and deemed it to be a matter of recovery. While Everett was continuing his valiant, but fruitless efforts, Oscar was at first elated, and then immediately horrified, to find Colby's slowly sinking body and trail of blood in approximately 15 feet of water.

Wrapping an arm underneath Colby's shoulders and across his chest, Oscar made haste for the surface. Reaching fresh air, Oscar quickly called out to Everett, who was by now several meters away. Aware that Colby wasn't breathing, Oscar made the painful but necessary decision to attempt rescue breathing before trying to swim to shore. Simply put, Colby didn't have the luxury of time for breathing to be re-established if he was going to survive. If the body and brain were deprived of oxygen for too long, it wouldn't matter how quickly he was returned to dry land.

Everett, a strong swimmer, was able to bridge the distance quickly. Together, the two men briefly considered and discarded the idea of somehow getting Colby onto a board and paddling him in. Instead, Everett, who was the stronger of the two, would swim Colby into the shore, with Oscar attempting perform rescue breathing at regular intervals in an effort to maintain the flow of oxygen. The source of the obvious blood loss would have to wait as the would-be rescuers lacked the time and resources to address it. In the meantime, with no idea of what exactly had happened to Colby or the exact nature of his injuries, the men did what they could to protect and stabilize the neck in case of a spinal injury.

With the few of the remaining surfers on the beach, having been alerted to the distress in the water, a couple had swum out to aid Oscar and Everett in carrying their young friend to the relative safety of the beach. The one or two who remained on shore were coordinating with 911 to direct the incoming ambulance crew to their exact location on the beach. Laying Colby down in the hard sand, just past the water's edge, Everett quickly assessed the situation. Initially unsure of the source of Colby's blood loss, Everett soon found the neck wound.

The water temperatures in southern California were, to the surprise of most tourists, not particularly warm, especially at that time of year. Colby, having lived in Los Angeles for the past several years, and an avid surfer, was well aware of just exactly how cold the water could be. As a result, on that particular morning, he was wearing a wetsuit vest underneath his full body neoprene suit. Both the full body wetsuit and the vest underneath fortunately came up high around the neck and only slightly below the chin. The double layering of neoprene was a fateful decision that had otherwise prevented the knife from slicing deeper into his neck or nicking the jugular vein. Additionally, the natural tightness of the wetsuit served as a helpful pressure bandage which slowed an otherwise rapid blood loss and quick death.

Not sure of what to do and feeling quite helpless, one of the fellow surfers who helped carry Colby to the beach had swum out the short distance to retrieve the stray yellow Hagen which was being carried into to shore on the tide. With a flash of inspiration, he cut the leash dangled from one end of the board, grabbed a towel and brought both to Everett.

In the meantime, Everett had quickly assessed the neck wound and found it to be not as deep as he feared. More importantly, it was potentially non-life threatening, provided that help arrived soon. Fashioning a tourniquet out of the towel and leash, Everett did what he could to stop the bleeding and move on to the more pressing problem, the continued inability to find a pulse and the absence of any breath sounds.

With Oscar already kneeling at Colby's side, Everett gave quick instructions to begin compressions, while he would administer mouth to mouth resuscitation. Oscar motioned towards the blue-ish tinge of Colby's lips and fingernails, fully aware that both were indicative of cyanosis and a serious shortage of oxygen to the blood. Everett, already aware of the signs, could do nothing but grimly nod his acknowledgement and start the count for the chest compressions. The desperation each man felt with every compression and attempts to breathe for Colby that went without response was alleviated somewhat at hearing the sirens of the approaching ambulance. Even Everett, himself a paramedic, was relieved. Although both men believed their relief was in the knowledge that ambulance crew had more means at its disposal to save Colby's life, there was a very small part of them that was relieved to think now they wouldn't have to be present at the moment when it became clear that no amount of effort would bring Colby back.

The ambulance crew arrived at the shoreline where Colby lay motionless and was given a brief rundown of the necessary particulars by Everett. Given their best guess, it was anywhere from 5 to 8 minutes that Colby had been either underwater, deprived of oxygen and now without a pulse. As the ambulance crew was about to do a "scoop and run", Colby sputtered out a mixture of blood and water. Although he did not regain consciousness, at least his breathing, for however weak, had been re-established. Assisted by Everett, Oscar and the few remaining surfers had been on the beach when the horrific events unfolded, Colby was strapped to a backboard, carried up the beach and placed in the back of the ambulance for the quick ride to the nearby hospital. Oscar volunteered to drive, which would allow the two members of the ambulance crew to work on Colby. Everett remained at the beach. He had a call to make. A call that he was dreading.

Don Eppes was used to his cell phone ringing at all times of the day or night. What he had learned both on the job and in his personal life, was that any phone call received between the hours of 2am and 7am, was not one you wanted to receive. At 6:45am, this was one of those calls.

Having met Colby at a few crime scenes recently, Everett was fortunately able to remember the name of the lead agent who had been in charge and was Colby's boss. Obtaining the number of the FBI Building in Los Angeles from Directory Assistance, Everett was put through to the switchboard. Impressing upon the operator that the matter was urgent, Everett's call was eventually forwarded to Don Eppes' cell phone.

Don picked up the phone on the third ring, with a curt but obviously groggy "Eppes".

"Don, this is Everett Anderson. I'm a paramedic with the LAFD. We met a couple of months ago on the Matheson Murder".

Don recalled the case and the crime scene, but couldn't exactly put a face to the name of the man on the other end of the phone. Stalling, Don grunted something sounding close enough to a "yeah".

"Don, I don't really know how to tell you this, but something's happened".

Those were words, more or less, that Don was used to having to say to distraught family members. He had hoped he would never have to hear them himself.

What? Is it my father? My brother? Tell me exactly what happened and where you are", Don demanded.

"No, Don. It's Colby...and I wish I could tell you I knew what happened. We happen to surf at the same beach. This morning...uh....God, somehow Colby got dragged...or forced...or damn it, I don't know what, but Don, we found him unconscious in about 15 feet of water, with his neck cut open and no pulse". He's on route to the hospital right now, but I got to tell you that it doesn't look good".

Running his free hand across his forehead, Don was already up and throwing on a pair of jeans as Everett relayed the hospital information. About to quickly hang up so he could contact David and the rest of the team, Don froze when he heard Everett's next words. "Don, I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but you might want to send a team out here to pick up Colby's board and do some poking around". Almost daring himself to ask, Don forced out one word..."why?"

Everett paused briefly and responded, "because that neck wound was sure as hell to damn clean to have come from something you'd expect to find in the water".

"Stay there if you can. I've got to get to the hospital, but I'm sending a team right over".

And with that, Don was left with the unenviable task of notifying the rest of his team, all of whom would shortly be descending on a Los Angeles area hospital where they would have to wait for any word on Colby's fate.

Author's Note: Thank you for all the lovely reviews and words of encouragement. I wish I could tell you that I'm happy with this recent Chapter, but all I can say is this fanfiction stuff is harder than I would have thought. Especially the dialogue. Its definitely given me a new respect for screenwriters.