She just kept swimming.
The speedboat was rapidly approaching, and he
spun back around towards it and started to wildly wave his hands. It was making a wide turn to the left side of
his dad’s boat. Two boys were standing
behind the windshield, peering curiously at the abandoned ski boat, probably
thinking the occupants were having sex, hoping to glimpse a little skin.
“Hey!”
Kyle screamed, waving his arms, splashing. “Hey!
Watch out! There’s somebody out
there! Heyyyyyyy!”
They didn’t see or hear him. The boat seemed to streak across the water
like a low-flying jet fighter. He mentally predicted its trajectory and his
eyes widened—it appeared to be heading directly towards Briana.
“HEY!
HEY! HEYYYYYY!” he yelled at the boat. But it did no good. He turned back towards Briana, hoping she
might have heard his yelling or the sound of the propeller, but she was still
swimming steadily towards the cliffs, oblivious to any possible danger. Kyle started swimming frantically towards her
for a few seconds, then realized the futility of it. In that fleeting moment, he had never felt so
helpless in his life. He began to scream
again, this time at Briana. “BRIE! THERE’S A BOAT! THERE’S A BOAT COMING, THERE’S A BOAT!!! BRIEEEEEEEE!”
In the middle of his scream, she finally
stopped swimming. She turned her head
towards the oncoming boat. It was
bearing down on her so fast it would hit her—or at least come close to hitting
her—in a matter of two or three more seconds.
“DIVE!” Kyle screamed.
She either heard him or saw the boat coming,
or perhaps both. Her head disappeared
beneath the surface. Not more than a
half-second later, the speedboat whipped across the water in what looked like
exactly the same spot.
Kyle threw his hands over his face, uttering
an agonized wail, afraid he would hear a thump or the sound of the motor
wavering as the propeller made contact with...
But he heard nothing except the drone of the
speedboat as it moved away from him.
“Please, no!” he said, his hands still over
his face, treading water with only his legs.
His stomach seemed to turn inside out.
He slowly uncovered his eyes, afraid of what he would see.
There was the boat’s wake. But Kyle could see nothing else.
“BRIE!” he yelled again, his voice
cracking. He waited a few seconds,
hoping to see her head surface somewhere around the wake, but he saw only the
churned up water. He started swimming
madly towards the spot where she had been, swimming the most intense American
crawl he had ever swam in his life. When
he finally neared the place where he thought he had seen her disappear, the
sick feeling in his gut had turned into sheer horror—he was afraid he would
bump into one of her severed limbs or … worse.
He stopped swimming and looked around at the water, half-expecting to
see blood or clumps of her yellow-blonde hair floating on the surface. But there was just lake water. He swam to the direct center of the wake,
which was fading rapidly, and slowly swam around in a circle, looking for any
sign of her.
Nothing.
After a few more seconds, the water became
still and quiet as it had been a few moments earlier. Only there was no Briana.
Surely if she was hit, she would float to the
surface, Kyle thought, as he treaded water.
Wouldn’t she? And if she wasn’t
hit, where is she?
He looked over towards the cliffs, wondering
if she might be swimming in that direction, injured and disoriented. But there was nothing in sight save a few
gently rolling waves from the wake of the speedboat. His arms and legs felt rubbery. He accidentally inhaled some water and
started coughing. This isn’t happening,
he thought, coughing and choking. This
can’t be happening.
But it was definitely happening. And he knew that if he wasn’t careful, he
might drown. He had to get hold of
himself—he had to think rationally and decide what to do next.
He decided it was best to swim on his back to
help him remain calm and conserve energy.
He made a U-turn and started swimming in the direction of the ski
boat. Yes, that was the smart thing to
do now. He would return to the boat and
bring it back to look for her. If he
didn’t find her within a couple of minutes, he could go back to the marina and
call...
The key.
“No!” he croaked up at the sky. Panicking, he rolled over, and started
dog-paddling frantically, then checked himself and spun around onto his back
again.
Just
stay calm, Kyle. You
have to go back to the boat or you’ll drown.
Chapter 1.2
Ten long minutes later, Kyle dragged himself
up the ski ladder attached to the boat’s stern and collapsed on the carpeted
deck, trembling and queasy. He lay there
for a few seconds. The sky seemed to be
spinning and spinning. He jumped back up
and leaned over the starboard side of the boat.
His lunch—a Big Mac and one of his dad’s Bud Lights—gushed into the lake
water.
“Brie,” he uttered in a hoarse whisper,
fighting tears. He thought he might fall
apart right there in the middle of the lake.
Keep it together, Kyle. Keep moving.
You have to get the boat started so you can look for her.
“Get the boat started,” he repeated
aloud. His voice sounded hollow and far
away, like his ears were stuffed with cotton.
He turned and blankly looked at the ignition switch on the
dashboard. There were no tools on board
now. Being a college professor, his
father rarely found time to use the boat once school started and always took the
toolbox home for the winter. But Kyle
would have to make do.
He laid down on his back and wriggled around
in front of the driver’s seat until his head was positioned directly underneath
the dashboard. The back of the ignition
switch had three wires connected to it—red, black, and green. He wasn’t sure which was which, and he didn’t
have time to find out. He would just
yank all three of them free and try different combinations until the engine
turned over.
Just as he took hold of the red wire, there
was a thump from somewhere underneath the boat.
He froze.
It sounded like something had bumped against
the boat’s hull, not far from his head.
He stayed still for a few seconds, but heard nothing more. He started to yank the red wire loose, but
stopped again. He thought he heard
another thump.
Then another.
There was definitely something moving around
underneath the boat.
Probably just a fish...
He lay there for a few more seconds,
completely motionless, listening. He
heard the unmistakable sound of the ski ladder banging against the stern. Somebody was pulling down the ladder.
It had to be Briana.
He swallowed. Didn’t it?
He swallowed. Didn’t it?
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