Chapter Thirteen
Steve was immobilized for a moment by the frigid embrace of the water, the sudden absence of light and sound. He hadn't had a chance to prepare himself - to take a breath - so his lungs already ached, begging for oxygen. A sinewy arm wrapped around his neck, another pushed down on his shoulder, as if trying to force him further under. Lights swam behind his eyes. Was she really so desperate to kill him that she'd risk drowning herself? Now, that was dedication.
He scissored his legs, trying to make his way to the surface, to grab a lungful of air. His heavy hiking boots dragged on his calves, filling with water, as ponderous as concrete overshoes. He tried to work his arms, but they hung behind him, useless. The sound of rushing water sang in his ears.
The arm around his neck tightened, squeezing out what little air he had, and he kicked again, more violently, as much in instinctive struggle for survival as to get to the surface. To his astonishment, the water surrounding him lightened and his head broke free, gulping, fighting to fill his starved lungs.
The arms around his neck loosened, scrabbled at his shoulders as if trying to climb over him; somewhere near his ear erupted a high, thin scream, and then he was under again, light and air replaced with the murky darkness and the eerie shushing sound. He could feel his heart beating painfully in his ears.
The one arm returned to his neck, clinging with a death grip, the other clawed at his shirt, his hair, knees pushing at his abdomen, trying to scale him. There was something familiar about the struggles, something less deliberate than attack. It harkened back to those college summers he had made money lifeguarding and he kicked again, harder, as realization dawned.
She wasn't trying to kill him - she was terrified. Ms. TorturersRUs might be able to take down a grown man and cut him to ribbons without even blinking, she might be a martial arts expert and deadly with a gun. She might even be able to throw a man over the side of a boat and coolly watch him drown, but in the water herself she was out of her element. She couldn't swim.
He kicked his legs more slowly, simply trying now to keep from sinking further into the depths of the lake. He knew a lot of methods for subduing panicked drowning victims, but every single one of them required the use of his hands - or, at the very least, his voice. He had neither. His legs were tiring now, the terrible weight of his water-filled boots unbearable, drawing him downward. The lights flashing behind his eyes were darkening to a small, single tunnel, the rushing in his ears rising to a roar. His lungs tightened, threatening to explode.
The small hands were clinging to him, the arm around his neck pressing deep into his windpipe, long, slender legs wrapped tightly around him. His kicking slowed even more. He could feel himself drifting, sinking downward, spiraling gently. Broken bits of thought floated through his mind. It came to him with a sickening sense of horror that his father was watching him drown, right before his eyes. He would have given almost anything to have spared him that, but at least he had saved his life. At least he would be safe.
The darkness was deepening now, pressing in on him. He couldn't feel the body twined around his any more, couldn't feel the heavy drag of his boots, the grinding ache of his arms. He wished he'd had a chance to say good-bye, but surely his Dad would know…would understand…
Unconsciously, he released the breath he was holding, breathed in. Water rushed into his nose, choking him so that he opened his mouth and sucked more water into his lungs. It was very quiet now, even the rushing noise was gone.
Sorry, Dad, he thought dimly. Sorry, I - but Jesse…and Amanda…
The water seemed to wrap more tightly around him, easing him downward. Then the last, small tunnel of light behind his eyes closed and the darkness was everywhere.
*
Mark sat for a long moment, just staring at the spot where the boat had disappeared, overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness. Steve's talent in the water came from a combination of growing up on the shore and Katherine's genes - he had contributed little to it. Oh, he could swim well enough to splash around in the pool or the ocean, but he wasn't the kind of swimmer who could dive deep into a lake to perform a rescue.
Steve's head suddenly emerged from the water in front of them and he couldn't forestall an inarticulate cry at the sight. The other boat passenger was clinging to him though, pushing on him, and in another second he had once again vanished, swallowed up by the lake's waters.
Mark stared, his voice trapped somewhere in his throat. Then he shook himself. He couldn't just sit here and watch his son drown. He had to try.
He bent down to untie the laces of his boots and slip them off. He had just undone the knots on the first one when he felt a slight rocking of the boat and heard a muted splash, saw out of his peripheral vision a slender figure disappear over the side into the water.
He turned around more fully, trying to get a better look, saw only Jesse, still manning the oars and also staring at the growing ring of ripples at the side of the boat. A second later Amanda's head, slick and wet as a seal's, popped out of the water in front of the boat. She seemed to take a second to fix the spot where the other boat had disappeared, then swam toward it in strong, sure strokes.
Mark felt he should say something, but no words came out. By the time he had gathered himself to call a protest, she had found a spot she liked and disappeared again under the water in a smooth diving motion. Mark shook himself again. "Can you get the boat closer to her, Jesse?" he choked.
Wordlessly, Jesse carefully manipulated the oars, following Amanda's path. Mark stared at the water, hope and panic vying for his attention. Amanda's head broke the water again, further away this time, shaking her hair out of her eyes. Mark bit his lip. "Amanda - " But Amanda had disappeared under the water once again.
Mark rubbed unconsciously at the center of his chest. His heart felt squeezed into a terrible knot. The water sat quiet, undisturbed, and Mark was just thinking that he would have to dive in for Amanda this time when she reappeared, a little more to the left. He let out his breath in a rush. She was staying down too long. They would have another drowning victim in a minute, and he couldn't be responsible for that. "Amanda, let me - " At least if he died trying to reach his son it would make a kind of sense. He was an old man; he'd had a good life - and besides, the thought of going on without Steve wasn't one he was sure he could face. "I'll - "
She must not have heard him, because she tipped herself under the water once more and was gone. Mark turned desperately to Jesse. Jesse was a good swimmer. Maybe - "Jesse - please - "
Jesse was watching the water as intently as he was, but he tore his eyes away to toss Mark a quick, reassuring smile. "Give her a chance," he said quickly. "She's okay." The tension in his shoulders, in the way he held the oars poised to throw them aside and jump in himself, belied his calm words, but Mark nodded anyway. They both stared at the smooth surface of the water as the minutes ticked past. Nothing. No one.
Unable to bear it any longer, Jesse yanked off his flannel shirt and bent down to get rid of his own shoes. At that moment, Amanda's head broke the surface again, sputtering and gasping for air. Jesse gasped also in relief, almost in unison. Mark couldn't make a sound, because he could see what Amanda was grasping in her arms.
She took a moment to settle her burden, gently tilting Steve's head all the way back so that his chin pointed to the sky and his chest would keep him buoyant. On top of his chest, like a baby porpoise riding its mother, was a second figure, lying curled against him. It was one of the oddest sights that Mark had ever seen, but he couldn't muster the strength to laugh.
Seeing that she was interfering with his ability to float, Jesse reached for the figure on top of Steve, and Amanda held up a warning hand. "Be careful - she's caught on him somehow. Otherwise, I might have been tempted to leave her there." Mark looked at her quickly, expecting it to be a joke, but couldn't make out the smallest touch of humor in her expression.
Jesse studied the way the two figures melded together, resisting with difficulty the temptation to give Steve at least a cursory examination until they had things more settled. He found Steve's flannel shirt was caught in the woman's belt and worked it loose, then lifted her into the boat. He dropped his own flannel shirt over her and turned back to where Mark was reaching for Steve.
Unexpectedly, Amanda swam a little out of reach with him. Mark stared at her, opened his mouth.
Amanda shook her head. "Mark, there's no way that boat is going to hold all five of us! It will ride too low in the water, or even take in water. You're going to have to tow us in. Throw me the mooring rope, will you?"
Mark's stare grew blank, shifting from Amanda's face to Steve's still figure, bobbing lightly in the water. "Amanda, I - " How could Steve be so close and yet he still couldn't touch him - couldn't even make sure he was alive?
Amanda shook her head again, more kindly. "I'm sorry, Mark. But you know I'm right. We'll all go under unless we do it this way. Is there a life preserver in that boat?"
Mark turned away to check under the seats and to pull himself together. When he turned back with a life preserver in his hands, he was at least able to manage coherent speech. "Amanda, that water has to be freezing!"
"It is!" Amanda grinned through blue lips. "So let's not waste any time, okay? The rope?" She accepted the life preserver and arranged it around Steve's neck and under his chin so that his head would stay above water, then snatched at the mooring rope that Mark tossed her. "Jesse, how fast do you think you can move this thing?"
Jesse resettled himself in the center of the boat and picked up the oars, organizing his feet out of the way of their passenger. "Let's find out," he said determinedly, and began to row with deep strokes. Mark sat in the stern and never took his eyes off of the two figures trailing in the water in their wake.
