Hold Your Breath (Search and Rescue) (26 page)

Their sides bumped something, and Lou realized they’d hit bottom. She wanted to wail and cry at the unfairness of it. She’d been so close to the surface, and now Brent had ruined her chance at survival. She inhaled, feeling the squeezing pinch of an almost-empty tank. She had nothing—no weapon, no air, no way of freeing herself from Brent’s hold.

Their faces were so close that she could see his expression. He looked smug. Brent thought he’d won, that she’d accepted the inevitability of her death, just as she’d come so close to resigning herself to marrying him. He was going to have her, even if that meant they both drowned.

Oh,
hell
no. He wasn’t going to win. Lou had a new life now, a good life, and she was going to keep it. Remembering the shock of cold after he’d hit her the first time, she grabbed his mask and pulled. He reared back as the water made contact with his face, stretching the band that had held the mask in place. Lou twisted in his grip, fighting to get free with everything inside her. The image of Callum filled her mind until there was no room for panic. She hammered at Brent’s chest, trying to break his hold, but he was already recovering from the cold-water shock—and he was furious.

He shoved her against the bottom, his hands wrapping around her throat in the same way he’d choked Cal. Still she fought, trying to hold on to her fury. Each of her breaths was getting tighter, harder to suck into her lungs. Her arms flailed to the side, hitting against the rocks scattered over the bottom with bruising force. That new pain brought her out of her frantic haze for a second, just long enough to close her fingers around a fist-sized stone. With the last of her strength, she brought her arm up in an arc. When the rock connected with his temple, she saw his moment of startled shock. His hands didn’t loosen, so she struck again, and then a third time. Finally,
finally
, his grip eased as his eyes rolled back, and she managed to shove free. Choking and coughing into her regulator, she scrambled away from him, knowing at any second he could lunge for her again. His body was completely still, though. As she stared, his regulator floated free of his mouth. No bubbles emerged from his mouth or nose, but she still watched him carefully as she pushed off the bottom and swam upward. She couldn’t resist turning her light toward Brent one last time, but the clouded water showed only the bare outline of his lifeless form.

She turned away. Kicking her fins, she moved toward the surface—and Callum.

Her gloved fingers worked at the weight belt, but her coordination was off. Odd sparkles appeared at the edges of her vision, and she increased her upward pace. There was nothing left in her tank, forcing her to spit out her regulator and break the cardinal rule of diving—she held her breath.

Finally the buckle gave on the weight belt, and it fell, leaving her more buoyant. Her upward velocity increased as she kicked harder, her lungs burning with the need to breathe. She almost hit the ice before she realized she was at the surface, and she flattened her hands against the hard crust to keep her skull from bouncing off it.

Her feet floated toward the surface, reminding her of her first dry-suit experience. It had been only a few weeks ago, but it felt so much longer. The light on her BCD reflected off the layer of ice above her, and she pushed herself back to get a wider view.

It didn’t matter. The ice stretched, unbroken, in all directions.

Her heart pounded in her aching lungs, reminding her that she had to get out. Without an opening, though, she was trapped, imprisoned by the thick slab above her. Her hands thumped against it in a futile attempt at what, she didn’t know—breaking it? Attracting someone’s attention?

Lou tried to think of a plan, but her brain could process only how much it needed air. She moved to the left, knowing it was futile. The hole was nowhere in sight. Despite all her attempts, she was going to die with Brent. He’d won after all.

The first glimmer she dismissed as a trick of her oxygen-starved mind, but then the glow brightened and steadied. She turned toward the muted light, that one break in the vast darkness that surrounded her. Forcing her legs to move the fins—up and down, up and down—she focused on the illumination that got brighter with each stroke of her feet. Her vision narrowed until she felt like she was swimming through a tunnel, focusing only on the beam of hope in front of her.

She was almost underneath it before she saw the hole. At first, she didn’t believe it was really there. It was a mirage, a taunting tease for a desperate, drowning woman. It didn’t fade, though. It didn’t move or shift or disappear, and a kernel of hope grew in her tight chest.

A diving light attached to a safety line dangled a few feet in the water, and she kicked her way toward it, giving a final surge of effort. Her head popped up into the frigid air, and she dragged in painful yet amazingly wonderful breaths—breaths that smelled like Smelly Jim.

Someone behind her grabbed her under the shoulder straps of her BCD and hauled her out of the water. She landed on her back on the ice and was dragged away from the hole. After the initial shocked moment, she started to struggle, twisting like a banked fish in the unknown person’s grip.

“Settle down, missy.” Smelly Jim leaned over her so she could see his face. “Just getting you out of that water.”

Lou was so happy to see his familiar—albeit dirty—face that she almost kissed him. It took only a fraction of a second for her relief to change to frantic worry.

“Callum,” she croaked, yanking off her mask and attempting to turn. Her oxygen tank kept her on her back like a turtle shell, and she fought to undo the fastenings on her BCD. When she finally managed to work herself free from the vest, Lou rolled over and pushed herself to her hands and knees. Her head spun, forcing her to pause before standing. Her fins got in the way, and she impatiently pulled them off. Once she was on her feet, she swayed. “We need to get him out!”

“Already did.” Jim nodded at a blanket-draped form several feet from them. “Barely. He’s a heavy bastard.”

A cry caught in the back of her throat as she ran to Cal on wobbly legs. He was on his side, his eyes closed. When Lou started to turn him to his back, Jim spoke again.

“Wouldn’t do that. He puked up a couple gallons of that reservoir water already. Not sure if he’s done with that.”

“Is he breathing? What if we need to do CPR?”

“Already did that, too.”

Cursing the gloves attached to her dry suit that made it impossible to take his pulse, Lou shoved the malodorous blanket aside and leaned down to put her ear against Callum’s chest. When it moved beneath her cheek, she started to cry.

“No time for that.” Smelly Jim pulled off the blanket and stretched it on the ice next to Cal. “He’s breathing, but he’s not walking yet.”

His words reminded her that they weren’t in the clear. Distant emergency lights pierced the gloom in the direction Lou assumed was the shore. With shaking hands—an entire shaking body, actually—Lou helped Jim roll Callum onto the blanket. Grabbing one corner, she waited for Jim to take the other, but it remained limp on the ice. When she looked at him in surprise, he’d already started backing away.

“I tried to stop him. Been following him, watching so he didn’t hurt you. He got away from me in the woods, though.” He gave her an apologetic grimace. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been watching him?” She didn’t think anything could surprise her anymore, but she was completely shocked by Jim’s admission.

He twitched his shoulder in an affirmative half shrug.

Lou wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you.”

Without responding to that, he took another backward step. “Wish I could help you more, Lou,” he said, giving the faint red-and-blue flashes a hunted look. “They’re waiting for me over there.”

“Just the good guys, Jim,” she pleaded. “He’s too heavy for me to drag on my own. Please?”

“Sorry.” Ducking his head, he backed away a couple of steps until she could barely make him out in the gloom. “And they’re not all good. They’ve infiltrated, so they can watch me.”

“Jim!” she called, but he was gone. Looking at Callum’s unconscious form, she firmed her shaky legs and her bottom lip. “Guess it’s just you and me, Cal.”

Gathering one side of the blanket, she gave a heave. Cal’s body didn’t move, and despair struck hard. Bracing her feet, she hauled on the fabric again. This time, she felt a shift that she desperately hoped was Cal moving and not just the blanket pulling out from underneath him, like a magician’s tablecloth.

The next pull slid the blanket across the ice with an immobile Cal still on board. The earlier wind had scoured the snow from the ice, so the surface was slick and mostly smooth. Once she started moving, it got easier, and Lou sped up to a shuffling backward jog. Every so often, she’d turn her head to find the flashing lights and readjust her direction. Each time she looked, they were a little bit closer to shore.

“We’re coming!” she yelled when the lights had gotten close enough that she figured she could be heard. Answering shouts made her want to dissolve into tears again, but she bit her cheek hard to stop them. She wasn’t there yet. The ice roughened as she approached the edge, making it harder to pull Cal. They were so close. Lou tightened her fists around the handfuls of blanket and yanked. The blanket caught on an uneven patch of ice, rumpling under Cal.

Swearing under her breath, she looped her arms under Callum’s and pulled. He moved with surprising ease, throwing her off balance with the unexpected lurch. Although she stumbled backward, she didn’t fall. She shuffled back, pulling his limp form with her.

Before she could make it to the shore, it felt like a hundred people surrounded them. Relief took all the remaining strength from her body, and she toppled backward, pulling Callum on top of her. Shouting voices and flashing lights overwhelmed Lou’s senses, and she clung to Callum as hands tried to separate them.

“Let go, Lou.” Ian’s face came into focus in front of her.

“Not until he’s about to be lifted into the ambulance,” she said between chattering teeth. “Or Callum will yell at me like he did when I let go of Phil in training.”

“That’s now. Let go.”

She allowed herself to be pulled away from Cal, and then he was gone.

“Anyone else down there?” Ian asked, helping her to a sitting position.

An image of Brent’s lifeless form flashed through her mind, and her shaking increased. “A body will need to be recovered.”

“Phil’s on his way,” Ian said, shooting a grim look at the reservoir. “It’ll take at least an hour before he gets here, though. We put a call in to the Mercer County Dive Team, but they’ll be even longer. Right now, they’re stuck in the snow in their fire station parking lot.”

“He’s dead.”

Ian gave a single shake of his head, still staring out over the ice as if he could pull the guy out of the water with pure strength of will. “There’s a possibility he could still be revived if we could get him out. There just aren’t any other trained divers here.”

“No, Ian.” She grabbed the sleeve of his coat, waiting until he looked at her. “He’s dead. I stabbed him. Then I watched him stop breathing.”

Although his eyes sharpened, he just stared at her for a long moment before giving her a short nod. “I’ll let Phil and Mercer County know to stand down.”

Her muscles relaxed at his easy acceptance. She didn’t think she could handle horrified accusations or demands for explanations, at least not until she’d had a chance to mentally process what had happened. “Thanks, Ian.”

He just nodded and helped her to her feet. “Med needs to check you out.”

“I’m okay,” she protested, but Ian shook his head. He urged her into the back of an ambulance, ignoring her protests. The young, dark-haired EMT, whom Lou was pretty sure had introduced herself as Amy, ignored Lou’s insistence that she was fine, as well.

“Really,” Lou said for the tenth time. “I’m okay. Go help with Callum.”

“He’s already on his way to Denver. He got the luxury ride,” Amy said with a smile, helping her free her arms from the dry suit. She’d first moved toward Lou with scissors, as if to cut the suit off of her, but Lou had put her foot down. She was conscious and fully able to remove the dry suit—there was no reason to ruin an expensive piece of equipment. “Flight picked him up.”

“Flight for Life? Of course.” Her brain seemed a little sluggish. She remembered the limpness of his body and swallowed. “Was he conscious when he left? Still breathing okay?”

Amy ducked her head, focusing too hard on the dry-suit sleeve she still held. “They grabbed him and went. I don’t know what his vitals were, but they’ll work on him in the helicopter.”

“Oh.” Desolation washed all the warmth from her body, and shivers overtook her, despite the thermal underlayer she still wore. “He was without air for so long. I should’ve been faster.”

“Don’t give up on him yet,” Ian said, sticking his head into the back of the ambulance. “Remember, there’s no such thing as a cold, dead person. There’s only a warm, dead person.”

“She doesn’t need to hear that!” Amy snapped.

He just rolled his eyes. “Save all that PC shit for the tourists. Lou gets it—she’s one of us. Cold water is the best water to drown in. They’ve revived people up to an hour later—much longer than Callum was in the water. Besides, he’d come back from the dead rather than let someone else manage his dive team.”

With a watery laugh, Lou said, “True.”

“Need a ride home?”

“I need to check her out first,” Amy protested.

“Well, go for it. I’ll be back in five.”

As he pulled his head back and started to close the door, Lou called, “Ian?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab my clothes from the dive van?”

“Of course.” He shut the door quietly behind him.

As Amy wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Lou’s upper arm, she rattled off the standard questions. Lou hoped she was giving the right answers, the ones that wouldn’t get her stuck overnight in a hospital—a different hospital than where Callum was headed. Amy seemed satisfied, though, so Lou must’ve passed. She was rushing to dress when a knock sounded on the ambulance’s rear door.