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“Ryan!” I shout, spi
“Over here,” Trent calls quietly.
I thrash to the left, spotting him a ways off in the shadows. He’s nothing but a head in the water but he’s floating and breathing so I’m happy.
“You okay?” I ask him, swimming toward him. My arm aches with the effort but it’s not as bad as it could be. I’m relieved it’s at least splinted again.
“Been better. I hit my head.”
“How hard?”
“Hard. Too hard. There are two of you.”
“Great,” I grumble, coming to a stop beside him. I reach up and touch the back of his head. My hand comes away wet, of course, but I can tell from the thickness and warmth of it that it’s blood. “Are you okay to swim?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Where’s your boy?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, panic welling up inside of me. “He was with me when we went in, but I can’t see him. Can you?”
Trent shakes his head, winces. “I can’t see much of anything besides stars.”
“Ryan!” I shout. “Ryan!”
“Wait, shut up.”
I scowl at Trent. “You shut up.”
“No, seriously, shut up. Do you hear that?”
All I hear is the sound of chaos all around us and blood in my ears as my heart races out of control. I’ve never been so scared in all my life and it’s all his fault. All because of Ryan. Because of caring.
“Hear what?” I ask impatiently.
“Thumping. From the boat hull.”
I dive toward the boat, pressing my hands and ear to the slimy surface. I can hear it. A frantic pounding from inside. I sink under the water, reaching for the lip of the hull so I can slip under and up inside. When I make it, I break the surface looking around and calling his name.
“Ryan?”
A hand grabs onto my injured arm, yanking it hard and pulling me under the water. I go to cry out in pain and surprise when water fills my mouth. My lungs. The hand doesn’t let go. It pulls me under and to the side. I force my eyes open in the water but all I see is darkness. Then there he is, the ghostly white outline of Ryan’s face. His eyes are bulging wide with terror and desperation. He’s drowning.
I can see his coat hooked on something on the hull. I grab onto it, tugging as hard as I can but I can’t get him free. He’s being held sideways against the hull, his booted foot the only thing out of the water. It’s what was banging on the boat.
He grips my hand harder. I open my mouth involuntarily, gurgling in pain. Then I get an idea. I jerk free of him, sending agony up into my shoulder, and I break the surface. Taking in a deep gulp of air, I dive under again until I’m level with him. Then I grab his face in both my hands, press my mouth to his and I breath into him. I give him everything I have in my lungs, every ounce of life I’m holding onto. Then I break for the surface again.
“Trent!” I scream. “Trent, help me!”
I take two steady breaths, make sure I’m calm and breathing even, then I take a large gulp and dive under again to give it all to Ryan. When I break the surface for more air, to buy more seconds of Ryan’s life, I see Trent come up inside the hull.
“You have to help me,” I say quickly, speaking faster than I’ve ever spoken in my life. “Ryan is trapped. I can’t get him loose and he’s going to die. I’m giving him air but he’s stuck.”
Trent nods quickly then dives under the water without a word. I take another large breath and dive under after him. While Trent works to free Ryan, I press my mouth to his again. I do this several more times, more times than I can count. Trent has to come to the surface twice for more air, but he keeps diving back down. He doesn’t quit. I’m starting to feel dizzy when I go down again and press my mouth to Ryan’s. I barely notice that he doesn’t grab onto me. But then it strikes me that he doesn’t respond at all and when I pull away, I watch in horror as bubbles of air escape his lips, passing over his closed eyes.
“Ryan!” I shout, knowing he can’t hear me and that I’m wasting my own air. But I can’t hold it in.
Finally Trent has him free and his body floats upward. We both grab onto him and yank him toward the surface, kicking as hard as we can as we pull his dead weight with us.
When we have our heads above water in the hull, Trent turns Ryan around in his arms. He puts Ryan’s back to his front and wraps his arms around him like he’s giving him a weird hug. Then they both sink slightly as Trent puts all his strength into squeezing hard and fast on Ryan’s stomach. Ryan lurches forward, his face falling in the water. I reach out to steady them, to try to help Trent keep him afloat.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, my voice shaking.
“I’m getting the water out of his lungs,” Trent grunts, then he jerks on Ryan again. Nothing. Trent’s calm face is pinched in concentration and anxiety. “Come on, come on.”
I hold onto Ryan’s face with both my hands as I tread water with my feet. I carefully brush his hair out of his closed eyes, willing them to open. To be brown and beautiful and alive.
“Come on,” I whisper, chanting with Trent. The sound of our low voices fills the hull of the boat, rebounding off the water and echoing around us. “Come on, Ryan. Please.”
Trent sinks again, jerks hard on Ryan and I get a face full of water when Ryan suddenly spurts and sputters. He chokes violently for several seconds then vomits into the darkness. I don’t even care. He’s fighting for breath, breathing in and out, no matter how raggedly, and I start crying my eyes out when his own eyes flutter open and he looks at me.
“Ryan,” I breathe, my voice coated in tears.
He coughs, more water spurting out of his mouth violently. He reaches out blindly to grab onto the hull and hold himself up but his hands slip off the smooth sides. Trent and I hold onto him tightly, both of us giving up our arms to keep him afloat as he tries to get his bearings.
He takes several ragged breaths before saying hoarsely, “I can’t swim.”
I laugh despite my tears, taking his face in my hands again and staring into his open eyes. At his mouth pulling in air and blowing it out forcefully. His pulse throbbing at his throat, beating with his heart, moving through my veins.
Chapter Eighteen
Ryan isn’t kidding. He seriously can’t swim.
That’s going to be a problem. It’s one we solve by finding a piece of floating debris, a task that is disturbingly easy with almost all of the Colony boats blown up and burning in the water. A couple are heading for the hills, back up the Sound as fast as their hobbled ships can carry them, but most of the boats are burned beyond salvage. It didn’t take long. The Vashons laid their armada to waste in no time. Almost like they had pla
As we swim/paddle toward the opposite shore, I wonder what this night means for the Vashons ‘uneasy treaty’ with the Colonists.
I also wonder what provoked the Colonists to attack.
When we make it to shore all three of us lay on the ground breathing heavily and shivering. The water was cold, but being out in the open while wet feels colder. We need to make camp somewhere nearby soon and start a fire or we’ll all get pneumonia and die.
“We need to get moving,” I groan, sitting up. I feel weighed down by exhaustion and wet clothes.
When I look over at the boys I find both of their eyes closed.
“Hey!” I shout, clapping my hands hard. They both startle, their eyes shooting open. “No sleeping, not here. Especially you, Trent. The last thing we need is you dying in your sleep.”
He sits up slowly. “I don’t have a concussion.”
“Good news. Unless you want hypothermia, it’s time to move.”
“It’s not cold enough for that,” Ryan protests. He’s still lying down.
I lean over him, my face near his and my hair hanging around him. “It’s cold enough to get sick. Get your ass up.”