Around the point and farther on, the low coast turned into cliffs, way down where the island grew fuzzy. If we had to go that far, carrying someone back would be almost impossible. And if they’d gone as far as the cliffs, we’d never be able to get down to them and pull them out.
The sun now was a fireball climbing the sky. The ocean was quiet. I could hardly believe it had just tried to kill us.
“How far should we go?” I said. “A half hour?”
Louie squinted at the heat waves already rising off the rocks in the distance. “Whatever it takes. I’d walk around this island six times to find them.”
I flinched. I would, too. So why’d I say a half hour?
“Yeah,” I said, looking away. “But…but what if they’re not in the water? What if they got buried in the landslide? Or what if they’re trapped inside the…the crack? Way in the back?”
“We were there. We didn’t see them.”
“It was dark.”
Louie squatted, concentrating. “Okay…we go down the coast for thirty minutes. We don’t find anything, one of us goes back to check the crack.”
“Good. Let’s do it.”
The sun’s heat was growing stronger by the minute. But Louie kept on going, hopping from rock to rock. I’d walk around this island six times to find them. Why had that thought lived in Louie’s mind and not mine?
Mr. Bellows, Zach, Sam! Where are you!
I squeezed shut the eye behind the cracked lens and tried to keep up. It was hard; you need two eyes to get three dimensions. Using only one eye left my vision flat…which wasn’t good for jumping rocks. But it was better than adding the distortion of the cracked lens.
Ten minutes went by.
Down close to the ocean, the rocks had been smoothed by the sea and were easier on my feet.
Fifteen minutes.
Twenty.
“Dylan!” Louie pointed out to sea.
Something was out there, way out. Looked like two bodies hanging over an air mattress. “Yeah! Yeah!”
“Looks like Mr. Bellows…and Sam, maybe. I don’t think that’s Zach.”
We scrambled down to the water, black crabs scattering into the cracks as we approached.
I shaded my eyes. “Are they moving?”
“No.”
“We got to get out to them.”
“I can’t…I can’t swim that far.”
I tried to judge the distance. Looked like half a mile. Maybe more, and maybe I couldn’t swim that far, either. And what about sharks? If we’d seen one, there could be more…maybe lots more.
“Never been a good swimmer,” Louie said, bunching his lips. For the first time I noticed that his shark’s tooth and silver skull were missing.
I looked out to sea. It would be five times farther than I’d ever gone before, at least.
But there was no other choice. The cliffs were not that far away, and the current was taking them south. Another few miles of drifting would make it impossible for us to get to them. The cliffs were too high. There’d be no way to bring them up. This was our only chance.
I handed Louie my glasses and ripped off my T-shirt, then moved onto a rock that jutted out over a spot where the water was deep enough to jump. “Keep your eyes on us,” I said.
“I follow you on the rocks.”
The ocean was warm. It stung my cuts, but it felt good to swim, easier than crabbing over the boulders onshore.
“Haole!” Louie called. I turned back. “You can do it!”
I hoped he was right.
I started too fast. In minutes my heart was pounding. My arms were weakening. Slow down. Pace yourself.
I caught glimpses of the air mattress. It was blue…and so far away…too far.
Swim. Don’t think about it. Keep moving.
Closer, closer.
I stopped to rest, my legs dangling, drifting, moving just enough to keep my head up. Back on shore I could see Louie moving slowly down the coast to keep pace with the barely noticeable current. “Thank you for being so peaceful today,” I whispered to the ocean.
I swam on.
And on.
Glancing up, making sure I was still aiming for them.
Keep moving…. Keep—
When I saw it, I gasped and sank. I gagged on swallowed ocean, came back up coughing, wiping water from my eyes and frantic to be sure I’d seen what I thought I had…. There!
A fin.
Fear slammed into me. A lone shark was circling Sam and Mr. Bellows. How could I get to them now? Dread burst inside me. I sank again and came up gasping.
The fin turned and headed toward me. I squeaked out a cry of shock and turned wildly to swim back toward the island.
Too far.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my feet up into a ball. And sank. Kicked and rose again, breathing fear and salt water.
The fin came toward me.
I could see the ripples it made as it cut the water, coming closer and closer.
“Dad!”
I thought I saw Mr. Bellows look up.
The shark was almost on me.
Close, so close.
The same eerie stillness washed over me that I’d felt when I’d believed the rushing sea had killed me. Rest. No need to panic now. It’s over.
Let go.
I watched death approach.
But the fin slipped past, not five feet away, and I could see the dark, puckered hole. It circled me once. And vanished.
Poof!
Went under. Gone.
All that was left was a vast ocean and a blue air mattress. “Mr. Bellows!”
He peeked up, then sagged back down.
I swam as fast as I could, wanting to climb up on that air mattress with them, get out of the water.
“Mr. Bellows!”
Was he hurt? Had the shark attacked him? Where was it now? I swirled around, searching for it. Sank and opened my eyes to an underwater emptiness that glowed. Deep blue radiated up in rays, as if there were a light at the bottom, a thousand fathoms down.
I came up gasping and wiped the water from my face. Looking back, I could barely see Louie, now squatting on the rocks looking out at us.
I started swimming again.
Not far. Keep going, don’t stop now.
So tired.
Stay up, kick.
My arms slapped the water. Desperate strokes.
My hand hit something. I yanked it back and looked up. Blue.
Blue!
Mr. Bellows lifted his head. Blood streaked down his face.
“Mr. Bel—”
I sank, sputtering. My arms were weak, almost useless.
Mr. Bellows reached out and grabbed my hand. His arm was ripped with cuts. Semper Fidelis was all sliced up.
I clung to his hand, too tired to speak.
“Thank God,” Mr. Bellows croaked, his voice raspy.
“Me and…Louie…we…”
My arms trembled. I rested on the edge of the air mattress. The current slowly carried us south.
Suddenly I looked up. “Did you get bit…by a shark?”
“No…but it was here,” he said weakly.
“Can you kick, Mr. Bellows? We have to make it back.”
“I can try,” he whispered.
“Is Sam…”
“Weak…The heat…Casey…is—”
“He’s okay…. We moved higher up…. He has a cut knee.”
He closed his eyes and laid his head on his arm.
I was so tired I could hardly move. But I had to. The current was dragging us away. I gulped air, deeply. Searched for strength.
“Mr. Bellows, we have to move.”
We started kicking. Slowly moving toward an island that now seemed impossibly far away.
I gave it more.
The easy current carried us gently, luring us into the great emptiness of the Pacific Ocean, where there would be nothing but weeks or months of empty sea. No one would ever find us. We’d be nearly invisible specks.
Louie stood and followed along the shore as we slowly drifted south.
Kick!
It took hours. Or maybe it was only one. Mr. Bellows stopped kicking soon after we’d started. He seemed dazed.
But I kept going, whispering, “Kick…kick…kick.” Like a clock. My mind locked. Kick, kick.
I lifted my head at the sound of a voice. Faint, but clear. “Push it! Push! You almost here!”
I looked up and saw him waving from shore. “You can do it!” He jumped down into a cove. There was a small coral beach. I aimed for it.
Louie waded out as far as he could. The bottom fell away quickly. There were no shallows on the island, anywhere. It was an undersea mountaintop.
“Mr. Bellows,” I said. “We’re almost there.”
He raised his head. The sight of land seemed to revive him. He struggled to kick. We surged ahead, and when we got close to the coral beach, he let go and tried to swim. Louie grabbed him. Mr. Bellows looked back.
“Go,” I said. “I got Sam.”
Louie helped Mr. Bellows climb up to dry rock. Mr. Bellows wore only a white T-shirt and his boxer shorts. Sam was shirtless, in a pair of white skivvies.
Louie found a place for Mr. Bellows to sit, then dropped back down to pull me, Sam, and the air mattress in. “Here,” he said, handing me my glasses. I took them in my fist, my spent arms shaking. I put my head down on the air mattress. “I’m so tired.”
“Sleep later. Look.”
I peeked up.
Sam was stirring. He moaned. “Sammy,” Louie said, and Sam tried to raise his head. “You safe now…. We going help you out…. You ready?”
Sam nodded.
I was so relieved I dropped my head back onto the air mattress. Sam was doing better than he’d looked.
“Wake up,” Louie said, shaking my arm.
I found my footing on the sharp coral beach. Louie and I each took one of Sam’s arms and helped him out of the water. His eyes were rimmed red and swollen. Blood oozed in small tears from his cuts. The ocean hadn’t let them dry out. But there were no deep gashes, and no broken bones, as far as I could tell. We climbed up to dry rock and let him lie down.
I felt his skin. Hot, clammy.
Louie knelt and put his ear to Sam’s chest. “Fast heartbeat. We got to find some shade, cool him down.”
I looked up, searching. Shade wasn’t something we were going to find.
“We make it,” Louie said, reading my thoughts.
“Heatstroke?”
“Prob’ly…or close.”
We laid Sam down on the flattest rocks we could find. Louie pulled his T-shirt off and took it down to soak in the ocean. He wrung the water out, brought the shirt back, and folded it over Sam’s forehead. “Wet your shirt,” he said. “It’s over there.” I grabbed it, soaked it, and tossed it up to Louie.
Shade…anyplace out of the sun.
But there was no such place.
Mr. Bellows crawled over and sat next to Sam. “We got dragged out to sea in the second wave. We were—” He stopped suddenly and pointed. “Grab that air mattress. Don’t let it get away.”
I climbed down and waded out, the hungry sea already tugging it from the shore.
Mr. Bellows took it from me. “This saved our lives…and we can use it as a shelter.” He stood it on its side, blocking Sam from the blazing sun. Hot shade flooded over him. Scratches like spiderwebs crisscrossed his back and stomach, his arms, legs, and face. Sam had taken a beating. We all had.
“Thank you,” Mr. Bellows said. “Both of you…for finding us.”
“It was Louie. He’s the one.”
“You swam out,” Louie said. “I couldn’t.” He nodded toward the sea. “Took guts.”
I turned and saw the shark fin.
“Was following you.”
“I…I thought it was gone.”
Louie stood and squinted. “Same one we saw before…. Look…. See the bullet hole?”
“Masa was right,” I whispered.
Mr. Bellows looked toward the point, Halape just beyond. He was dazed, but he could still reason. “The rest of the boys…is anyone missing?”
“Only Zach,” Louie said. “Maybe Casey found him by now. He went looking for you.”
“Reverend Paia has a broken arm,” I added. “And Lenny has a broken arm and two broken legs…but we’re all still alive. It’s only Zach we don’t know about.”
“We have to find him,” Mr. Bellows said. Worry lines crowded his eyes. “I—”
“Hey,” Louie said gently. “We going do that. Right now we got to get you and Sam out of the sun.”
Mr. Bellows squinted up. He touched a cut on his forehead and winced. Blood was starting to cake around it.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” I said.
“Stings like the devil.”
“Salt,” Louie said.
Mr. Bellows pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled and reached out to steady himself, grabbing Louie’s shoulder.
I removed the wet T-shirts and helped Sam stand. I wasn’t sure he could walk.
Mr. Bellows let the air out of the mattress and folded it, then tucked it under his arm. “Let’s go back to camp, boys.”
What camp? I thought.
I climbed back down to the water and resoaked the shirts but didn’t squeeze them out. The wetter the better. I took them back and draped one over Sam’s head and the other around his neck.
I lifted my chin for Louie to grab Sam’s other arm. Together, we slowly headed back the way we’d come.
Sam could walk, but not very well. He wasn’t looking so good. I glanced at Louie.
He shook his head and scanned the rocks, searching for the next safe step. And the next one after that.
Ten minutes later we stopped to rest. Sam could barely put one foot in front of the other. We had to struggle to keep him upright. He started moaning, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“He needs to lie down,” Mr. Bellows said.
We eased Sam onto the smoothest section of lava we could find. He sat and blinked, his eyes glazed and half-open.
Mr. Bellows knelt next to him.
“Sam…can you hear me?”
He didn’t respond.
“Sam?”
Louie and I glanced at each other. “Make him some shade,” Louie said. “Use the shirts. I going get help.”
He headed out, leaping the rocks like a mountain goat. I’d never seen him move so fast.
“Bring water!” I yelled.
Sam mumbled, then groaned. I put the T-shirts neck to neck and tied the sleeves together to make a sun shield. I shifted so I stood between Sam and the sun, holding the shirts up to make shade. With only skivvies on, his skin was almost completely exposed. I could put one of the T-shirts on him, but that would reduce the amount of shade I could make. There wasn’t enough as it was.
“Mr. Bellows?”
He looked up. His eyes were starting to puff and swell.
“You feel up to holding this over Sam while I go look for some sticks to make a tent out of these shirts?”
Mr. Bellows struggled up. I gave him the shirts. “You feeling all right, Mr. Bellows?”
“Fine, Dylan, fine.”
I studied him a moment. He was anything but fine. I headed out to hunt for sticks, turning back once. I felt bad for Mr. Bellows. He was hurting.
Higher up I found four surf-rounded pieces of driftwood. I could use them as posts. Louie, now, wasn’t far from the point. I could still see him. It would be close to an hour before he got back.
I hurried back to Sam and Mr. Bellows.
Sam had fallen asleep, curled up at the edge of a crevice. Mr. Bellows sat with his head in his hands. The T-shirts were on the rocks, drying quickly in the sun. I looked into the crevice. There was water at the bottom, a pool maybe five inches deep. I climbed down and put my foot into it. Warm. But it was wet. Could I get Sam down here?
I looked up at Mr. Bellows and raked my brain,
trying to remember what the Scout handbook said about heatstroke. Rapid pulse…noisy breathing…yeah, that…and hot skin. But in this sun everything was hot.
I managed to ease Sam down into the crevice and sat him in the shallow pool of water. I put my ear to his back. His breathing sounded normal. Not fast, not scratchy. I leaned him back against the wall of the crevice.
I climbed out and secured the shirts to the four pieces of driftwood and jammed the sticks into cracks between the rocks above the crevice. They made a roof, shading Sam’s head and chest.
I scowled at my pitiful shelter. It barely made a dent in the relentless heat, the shade of a spindly weed in a desert.
I turned back to Mr. Bellows, still with his head down. “Mr. Bellows,” I said softly.
He looked up, then put his head back in his hands. The folded air mattress lay in the sun next to him.
The air mattress!
Where is my brain!
I jumped up and hopped inland, found more sticks and made a lean-to, propping up the limp air mattress by poking the sticks through the brass rope rings at the corners. “Crawl under this, Mr. Bellows.”
He moved slowly, mumbling.
I stood and looked back toward the point. Louie was around the bend now. Out of sight. The barren coast shimmered in the heat, the rocks wobbling in my vision like disturbed reflections in a pool of water. Hurry, Louie, hurry.
I swept my gaze over the landscape behind me, hoping to spot something else I could use to make shade. What else should I be doing? I should have taken my first-aid merit badge more seriously.
I spotted something…a piece of cardboard? “I’ll be right back, Mr. Bellows.”
My feet had stopped hurting. I had a few cuts, but the soles of my feet were tougher. Moving over the uneven rocks had gotten easier. Which was good, because my cracked glasses weren’t helping much. Busted up as I was, it felt good to move like that, feeling the motion, the freedom.
What I’d spotted wasn’t cardboard. It was a large warped piece of plywood, maybe four feet square.
I lifted it and carried it over my head, moving fast. “Mr. Bellows,” I called. “Look what I found!”
He didn’t move.
I searched for more depressions, crevices like Sam was in. Holes with water in them. I found one not too far from Sam’s. It was big enough. “Mr. Bellows…if you get down between these rocks I can put a better roof over you.”
Night of the Howling Dogs Page 10
