by Mariah Dietz
I stop arguing, realizing time is running out.
Lincoln’s gaze drifts across me, longing and protests going unspoken as he follows Lois to the cabin. I lift her hood as we get started, the wind turning icy as Lincoln carries us over the choppy waves like a hot knife sliding through butter.
We drive out into utter darkness, the water lapping at the boat as the horizon gets lost into the sea, making an endless backdrop of blackness.
I see the lights of their boat only seconds before I hear the distressed sounds coming from the pod of dolphins, their direction eerily close to the boat.
Lincoln slows as we near, taxiing at a painfully slow rate. I dig through the compartment under the nearest seat, searching for flashlights and headlamps so I can see what’s going on as my stomach sours at the distraught calls and whines from the dolphins.
Lois hears them as well, running out before the boat comes to a stop. “What’s going on?”
I shine a flashlight on the water in response, catching sight of two dolphins swimming in opposing directions.
“Something’s wrong.” I rake over the water, trying to see below the abyss, but it’s too dark for me to see anything.
“Derek!” I yell, waving an arm.
The music on their boat is too loud, and the laughing is even louder as I scramble for my phone, redialing his number as my heart bangs around wildly in my chest, working to understand the situation and threat.
“Raegan,” he says. “I thought I lost signal.”
“What’s going on? What have you guys done?”
“What?” he asks.
“The dolphins. What happened? Did you catch one of them?”
“How do you see the dolphins?” he asks. “What? Is that you?” His hand goes up like a visor, though it’s dark out. “I see you!”
“Derek. The dolphins.”
“Oh, yeah. I don’t know why they’re freaking out. We caught one in this giant fishing net they showed us to use, and the beast went abso-fucking-lutely nuts and broke half of it from the boat. It’s going to cost me a fucking fortune—”
“Is the dolphin still in it?”
“What?”
“Is he still in the net?”
“Yeah, we tried pulling it back in, ’cause you said they kill animals when they’re loose, but he fights us, and we can’t reel it in. It’s barely hanging on.”
“He’s going to drown.” My voice is frantic.
“Babe, he’s a dolphin. He lives in the water.”
“He’s a mammal, you moron! He needs to go to the surface to breathe.”
I hang up, dropping my phone to the seat as I unbuckle my life jacket, each clasp popping too slowly, my hands aching from the coldness.
I slip out of it, letting it fall to the boat, unzipping Lois’s coat.
“Raegan,” she says, her voice wary. “You can’t. It’s pitch black.”
“He’ll die,” I say, tears blurring my vision as I hand her back her coat.
“You might die,” she says.
I shake my head, reaching into the next seat where a safety belt lies in a heavy pile that I fasten around my waist, tracing over the knifes before grabbing goggles and a snorkel.
“Raegan,” Lois says, her voice as unsteady as my heart. “You can’t stay under the water. It’s too cold.”
I nod. “I know.”
She nods in response. “Reach for the net, cut it free from the boat. The dolphins will be able to help get him out and to the surface if you can make a hole wide enough.”
“I’ll swim to their boat and follow it. I need you to call them, make sure they don’t start the boat’s engine. See if they can turn on any more lights.”
Lois blows out a breath. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
“Raegan!” Paxton’s voice hits like a fist to my gut, his fear more contagious than any flu virus. “Don’t even think about it.”
The boat silences, and Poppy and Lincoln appear.
My heart squeezes, hearing Poppy’s questions and recognizing the same fear written across Lincoln’s features as I kick off my shoes and grip the railing, swinging my leg over.
“Rae,” he yells. “No. Stop!”
But I can’t, not now, because if he asks me to stay for him I will, and then it will be too late for Blue.
The water hits me like a million tiny needles, stinging my skin and making my ears burn.
This is a situation we’ve hypothesized about for over a year, but the conditions are all wrong. The other dolphins don’t come near us, their trust low, and as I surface, they begin swimming faster, their paths intentional and aggressive.
“Dammit!” I hear Lincoln’s voice even through the commotion, my heart beating painfully with the need to apologize and explain my motives.
I focus on the route to the boat Derek is aboard, on the warmth I’d felt while Lincoln explored my body, the desires to feel him again. I think of everything except for how cold and stiff my body feels, protesting each of my instructions as I swim across the inky surface, my lungs objecting with each stroke that brings me deeper into the abyss.
“Raegan!” Lincoln’s voice twines with Paxton’s, their pleas hoarse as I continue.
I debate putting my head underwater so I can swim faster, weighing the risk and reward, knowing I might get there faster, which might ultimately allow me to climb out of this hell faster, but I won’t be able to hold my breath as long, and the cold and darkness disorient me, which might make it take even longer.
I remain above water, kicking as hard as I can, focusing back on the aquarium. Of Snoopy, and the other animals, of my colleagues who have accepted me as their peer. I think of my time with Maggie this weekend and how complete I feel when she’s near.
Derek calls my name, bringing me back to the present, and with it, the realization I’m nearing his boat. “What are you doing? Are you insane?”
I reach the end, feeling for the net while simultaneously reaching for the largest fishing knife on my belt. I pull it free, following the net only mere inches before it sinks too deep for me to reach.
“You need to pull it up,” I instruct them. “I’ll cut the net, but I can’t reach it.”
“You need to get out of the goddamn water. What are you doing?”
“He’s going to die!” I yell. “Help me!”
Derek hesitates only a second before he yells for two other teammates to assist him. They follow his lead, pulling and tugging, allowing me access to place my blade against the strained threads keeping Blue contained.
“He’s just a fish,” Derek yells as they struggle to pull the water-logged weight in.
“Keep going!” I yell, forcing myself to tighten the grip on the knife. It feels like my fingers are being cut by the blade, though I know they’re not. It’s the stinging coldness, a warning that I need to get out of the water.
I slide my mask and snorkel into place, lowering my head in hopes I’ll be able to see something as I continue following the net, cutting and slicing my way along the top. It feels like hours and seconds, the pain receding and somehow intensifying all at the same time. Muffled voices echo above me, but I’m so close. I know I have to be.
My muscles protest as I slice through another chink of the net, the blade slipping because I’m not applying enough pressure. The metal connects with the inside of my wrist before falling from my grasp. I barely feel the pain, and the water’s so dark I can’t examine the cut as I inwardly swear at myself for losing my tool. I surface, reaching for the belt and the next largest knife, my fingers barely managing to bend and form a fist around the handle.
In the background, I hear Lincoln’s voice again, warming me, giving me strength because if there’s one thing I know for sure, he’s my air. My heart thumps in my chest, my breaths still coming out in short bursts, as I dip my face back into the water so I can reach the net, a renewed sense of energy as I cut link after link after link until I come face to face with Blue. I pause, taking in the scar runni
ng parallel to his eye, hoping he understands I’m here to help. I cut faster, yanking at the net in an attempt to show him the way out. I think of how the coldness only allows me an average of fifteen seconds without air, and how it has to impact him as well.
He moves, but then something beside me runs into my side, and water pelts me, and I lose the second knife as I lift my arms to cover my face. Water enters my snorkel, making me choke as I swim, losing sight of the surface as I feel the pull of a current nearby, sucking the net in. I work to swim, but the net is stuck, woven through several tools on my belt, tethering me several feet below the surface.
I pull and tug, kick, and twist as my thoughts flash to my mom and dad, to Paxton and Maggie, Poppy, and school. To Blue living, and then to Lincoln, where my thoughts slow, recalling the heat of his body, the weight of his hand. I kick at the net frantically, tears falling from my eyes as my vision grows darker and my thoughts muddled.
I close my eyes, hating this moment. I’ve rarely considered how I’d die, but the few times I have, it was decades in the future, after living life to its fullest, not when it’s only just begun. I consider the things I wish I had said to Lincoln. The chances I wish I’d taken. The little things I wish I’d done, the moments I wish I’d spent with my mom, and how I wish I could ensure Poppy would find peace and remind her she doesn’t need any guy to make her happy. Then my thoughts flip, happiness lulling me, so I don’t feel the burn in my lungs or the ache in my chest where my heart used to reside. Accomplishments and love opening their arms until I forget the fear and panic as I slowly stop fighting, realizing I’ve always preferred the darkness of the ocean.
As the end nears, I realize this is exactly where I belong.
To be continued…
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About the Author
Mariah Dietz is a USA Today Bestselling Author and self-proclaimed nerd. She lives with her husband and sons in North Carolina.
Mariah grew up in a tiny town outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent most of her time immersed in the pages of books that she both read and created.
She has a love for all things that include her family, good coffee, books, traveling, and dark chocolate. She's also been known to laugh at her own jokes.
www.mariahdietz.com
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