No Quarter Given (SSE 667)

by Lindsay McKenna

“Riptide!” the lifeguard in the tower blared through his bullhorn. “Everyone out of the water! A riptide is coming in! Parents, get your children out of the water!”

  Griff started, his gaze pinned on Dana, still in the waist-deep water. A riptide! Anxiously he looked beyond her. With the sun glaring off the ocean, the reddish-colored riptide could barely be discerned. The lifeguard hadn’t seen it in time, and now the murky, crimson-colored water was snaking silently toward unsuspecting swimmers. Knowing that a riptide could jerk people right off their feet even in ankle-deep water, Griff sprinted toward the beach to help get the children out of its way. The cold currents of a riptide came out of the depths of the ocean, swept ashore at the speed of a freight train, then moved just as rapidly back out to sea. Victims caught in their grasp could be drowned by the terrific undertow. Those who survived the initial undertow had been known to be taken out to sea for ten or fifteen miles before the current dived back down where it had originated from.

  As Griff sprinted through the sucking, heavy sand toward the people scrambling to heed the warning, he glanced to his left and saw Dana turn, looking out to sea. She stood poised like a statue.

  Dana saw the ugly, reddish-colored riptide moving toward her with deadly speed. In water this deep, she could be killed. Instantly Dana lunged toward shore, striking out in sharp, quick strokes. Already she could feel the pull of the water at her legs and feet, trying to suck her back out to sea. Grimly, she fought the ocean’s ruthless strength. Finally, in knee-deep water, she stood, shaking her hair free of the brine and rubbing her eyes. Looking up, Dana’s mouth fell open.

  “Griff!” There, no more than a hundred feet from her, he was running into the surface, rescuing a six-year-old child playing on an inflated dragon. It had to be her imagination! What was he doing here? His arm was in a cast up to his elbow. So many thoughts collided in Dana’s head. Screams and shouts sounded all around her. People were running to rescue their children from the spreading red tide.

  Dana’s eyes widened. The blond girl she’d talked with earlier was swimming unconcernedly a hundred feet offshore. The reddish fingers of the riptide spread toward her, and Dana watched in horror as the child was yanked quickly back toward the waves and the open sea. The girl had a life jacket on, but that wouldn’t necessarily save her from the savage undertow.

  “Vickie! My God! Vickie!”

  A young blond woman raced by Dana, jumping awkwardly through the water. It had to be the girl’s mother. Dana sized up the situation immediately. The mother was overweight and in bulky clothes, while Vickie was already caught in the undertow, her small head bobbing between a series of breakers. Without thought for her own safety, Dana wheeled and leaped after the mother.

  “I’ll get her! You stay here,” Dana gasped, pulling the woman to a halt in the ankle-deep water.

  Sobbing, the woman pointed to her daughter. “But— Vickie! My God, she’ll be killed!”

  Dana released the woman’s arm. “I’ll get her for you,” she said calmly. “Stay here and tell the lifeguard to get us help.”

  Griff had just lifted a ten-year-old boy out of the riptide’s grasp when he saw Dana dive into the surf and begin swimming out to sea. He put the boy down on the beach.

  “Dana!” he roared. His voice carried, but she either didn’t hear him or ignored his cry. What the hell was she doing? Panic riffled through Griff as he took two steps into the water. Then he saw why she’d returned to the ocean: A child had been captured by the riptide, and was already a quarter mile out to sea.

  Griff’s throat closed with fear for Dana’s life. He knew she was a strong swimmer with a lifetime of knowledge about the ocean, but riptides didn’t respect experience. Standing helplessly, he watched as the red water pulled Dana beneath the surface.

  “No!” he shrieked, tears jamming into his eyes. He ran into the water, now up to his knees. “Dana! Dammit, Dana!” His screams reverberated across the breakers that spilled their foamy lives out on the sand. His heart aching in his throat, Griff nearly lost his balance in the swift-moving current.

  “Vickie!” the mother shrieked. She turned, running toward Griff who stood no more than fifty feet away. “Get help!” she cried. “My daughter, Vickie, is out there. The woman said to get help!”

  Chapter Seven

  The last thing Dana heard was Griff’s thundering voice riddled with panic, calling her by name. She had her own fear to contend with as the riptide violently twisted around her, jerking her downward. Luckily, Dana had taken a deep breath of air into her lungs seconds before the action occurred. She was being dragged against the sand at startling speed, going deeper and deeper. Her lungs began to hurt, a sign that the riptide had drawn her at least fifty feet beneath the surface. The need to strike back up toward the surface was imperative. Within a minute or so, Dana no longer would have the strength to break the tide’s hold.

  Her eyes tightly shut, her mouth thinned to retain what oxygen was left, Dana rolled onto her belly as she scraped the bottom of the ocean. Tucking her legs tightly against her chest, she used the sand as a springboard to lunge upward. It worked! She felt the current lessen slightly as she used powerful strokes to break the initial bond.

  There was no such thing as being free of a riptide. The cold water refused to completely release Dana, and every stroke was a superhuman effort. In her heart, she remembered Griff, and rallied. Another part of her remembered the girl, Vickie. Would the life vest prevent her from being sucked down as Dana had been? Dana prayed it would.

  Dana shot out of the water like a projectile, a huge gasp tearing from her. She flattened out to make herself less of a target for the current and dog-paddled in a circle, catching her breath.

  “Vickie!” she screamed. The waves were three-to-four feet high all around her. The sun was directly parallel to the horizon, sending a sheet of blazing, blinding light into her eyes.

  “Vickie, where are you?” Dana’s voice cracked. She had to divide her attention between avoiding the tricky current, still trying to pull her down, and keeping her head out of the water to suck in precious, life-giving air.

  “Here…”

  Dana craned her neck. There, a hundred yards away, Vickie bobbed on the surface, her thin blond hair plastered against her frightened face.

  “Hold on, I’m coming!” Dana called, swimming toward her. The child’s green eyes were huge with fear, and she clung tightly to Dana’s neck when Dana reached her.

  “It’s all right,” Dana whispered soothingly, treading water. “You’re safe now, Vickie, safe—” But they weren’t. Dana twisted her head toward the shore. It was rapidly disappearing from sight. The current held them tightly in its grip. The water around them remained murky red.

  With a sob, Vickie cried, “Mommy—I want Mommy!”

  “Hold on and I’ll take you back to her, honey.”

  “P-promise?”

  Dana forced a smile for the child’s benefit, gently prying Vickie’s fingers loose from around her neck. “Piece of cake, Vickie. Now, come on, relax. You aren’t going to drown. My name’s Dana, and I’ll get you back to the beach.” Reaching down with her free hand, Dana loosened the belt around her suit. Vickie cried out when Dana released her momentarily to slip the belt through the top of the child’s life jacket.

  “I’m going to tie you to me, honey,” Dana explained. Her legs were beginning to feel a bit tired. Shifting, she floated easily on her back, giving them a rest while she fashioned a sling around the left shoulder strap of her suit, buckling it back up.

  “I—I’m scared.” Vickie sobbed quietly, grasping for Dana’s shoulder and clinging tightly to her.

  “So am I. Now, listen to me, Vickie. We both have to be big girls about this. We’re going to make it to shore, but I need your help. Okay?”

  Sniffing, Vickie wiped her watering eyes. “O-okay, Dana.”

  Leaning over, Dana pulled her into her arms and kissed her salty temple. “That’s my girl. We have to be brave. No more tears,
because it wastes the water you have in your body. Understand?”

  With a nod, Vickie released her death grip on Dana’s shoulder. The belt became an umbilical cord and lifeline between them.

  “See, you can float right along beside me,” Dana pointed out, watching the fear slowly dissolve from Vickie’s eyes.

  “H-how soon can I go home? Mommy’ll be worried.”

  “Lots of people are worried about us, honey.” Dana knew there was no use fighting the riptide carrying them miles out to sea. The sun had set, making the horizon a layer cake of lavenders, blues and pale violets. Looking around, Dana realized Santa Rosa Island was one long, thin stretch of land lying horizontal to the coast of Florida. The riptide was carrying them out from it at a ninety-degree angle. From her own experience, she knew riptides could shoot ten or twenty miles out to open sea before dipping back down. Until then, she and Vickie were its unwilling passengers and prisoners. There was no way she could humanly fight to break free from the violent current. They’d simply have to ride along until the tide surrendered them.

  Blinking, Dana continued to float on her back, trying to conserve every ounce of her energy. The current was icy cold, chilling her, and she worried about losing precious body heat. Hypothermia could sap her energy to stay afloat, much less make it to shore. The more she analyzed their precarious situation, the more worried Dana became. Night was coming on, and Coast Guard rescue would be difficult in the dark.

  The one thing Dana clung to was the fact that Griff had seen her swept out to sea with Vickie. If his tone had been any indication of his concern for their lives, he’d do everything in his power to get them rescued. The trauma stripped away her anger toward Griff. As she floated beside Vickie, an overwhelming need to cry struck Dana. Choking back the reaction for the little girl’s sake, Dana closed her eyes, feeling the hot prick of tears behind her lids.

  Please, Griff, help us! I know you can.

  ***

  Griff stood in the air-conditioned office of Coast Guard Search and Rescue. Barely holding on to his disintegrating temper, he kept his voice low. “What do you mean, you can’t get out an SAR chopper to hunt for Ensign Coulter and the girl?”

  The chief behind the desk gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Turcotte, but there’s been an emergency fifty miles south of us. Our two choppers are on that rescue mission. Two yachts collided, with fifteen people on board.”

  Half an hour had passed since Dana had been swept out to sea. Griff had driven to the nearest CG station, thinking it would be easy to get an SAR under way immediately. Vickie Tandy’s mother, Veronica, stood beside him.

  “But can’t you do something to help me? My daughter’s only seven years old! My God, she could drown out there!” she cried.

  Griff placed his arm around the distraught mother. He glared at the chief. “How about calling in a chopper from another station, then?” he suggested tersely. Fear was knotting his stomach. Dana was at risk. What if she got cramps from the icy-cold current or what if sharks loitered around them? Portuguese men-of-war, the highly deadly jellyfish, plied these waters with great regularity. One sting, and Dana could die.

  “I’ve already tried, sir. Look this is a day for emergencies. You know how it is on Fridays: Everyone’s heading out to the beach for the weekend. Our SAR demands are more than we can handle. We’re operating on a shoestring.”

  Flashing him an irate look, Griff acknowledged that the chief was correct. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to send a helo out to look for Dana; recent budget cuts meant none were available. “All right, then help me figure out where they might drift on that current.”

  “We can’t do anything until a helo drops a data buoy in the water and gives us that information, Lieutenant.”

  Griff bridled. He led Veronica to a wooden chair and sat her down. “Look, Mrs. Tandy, I’m going to make a few calls. Stay here.”

  Sniffling, Veronica released his hand. “My baby’s out there. My God, how could this be happening? Why isn’t there a helicopter available?”

  Patting her shoulder awkwardly, Griff whispered, “I’ll find one somewhere.” He had to. He couldn’t lose Dana. Not now. Not ever. Moving back to the desk, Griff asked to use the phone. The chief nodded, pushing it over to him. Making a quick phone call to Pensacola, Griff got in touch with Commander Evans, an old squadron friend who had flown F-14s with him off the USS Enterprise several years ago. Griff knew Evans was in a key position at Pensacola, and told him the problem. The Navy kept several rescue helos, in case students crashed their trainers into the gulf. Keeping his fingers crossed, he asked Evans to authorize the release of an SAR team to begin looking for Dana and Vickie.

  ***

  Night came quickly. Dana could still feel the undertow tugging relentlessly at her legs, but it wasn’t as strong. Above her, the stars hung close and twinkled like precious, faceted diamonds. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. The temperature of the riptide was stealing the heat from her body. Dana said nothing, maintaining a floating or treading position to conserve as much of her physical strength as possible. Vickie’s teeth chattered, too. Dana brought the girl to her side, putting her arm around her and trying to warm her by keeping her close.

  Dana’s heart dwelled on Griff. Why had they fought so much? Something good and wonderful existed between them, but they’d never had a chance to explore it. She stared up at the night sky. Would her life end this way—never knowing what real love was like? She felt cheated, and it hurt. Closing her eyes, trying to remain relaxed, Dana allowed the entire airport scene to well up in her memory. She clung to the image of Griff’s concerned face, and remembered his gentle touch. Would making love with him be like that? Somehow Dana knew instinctively that Griff was capable of giving, not just taking.

  Disgusted with her rambling thoughts and feelings, Dana forced her eyes open. Remember, she told her heart sternly, he’s the one who called you weak, incapable of being successful. And just as quickly, her heart recalled those rare moments when Griff had proved hauntingly human, drawing her to him, man to woman. Dana sighed in frustration. She was too streetwise to hang on to those rare occurrences. Griff had been a bastard ninety percent of the time, and she knew her roommates would agree that those were bad odds.

  Right now, Dana realized, she had to rely solely on Griff for help. She’d expected an SAR helo to be up and looking for them. Lifting her hand out of the water, she checked the luminous dials on her Rolex watch: eight o’clock. Three hours had passed since they had been captured by the riptide. Rescue was looking dimmer by the moment. A frisson of panic struck Dana. She didn’t want to die! Not this way, and certainly not now! And Vickie was only seven. She had a whole lifetime in front of her.

  Abruptly, Dana felt the water temperature change, and the current eased, releasing them. The ocean rose and fell constantly around them. The wind had ceased at sunset, the sea calming to mere one-and two-foot wave patterns.

  “I think we’re free,” Dana told Vickie.

  “Free?” she queried in a tiny voice.

  Sitting up and treading water, Dana pulled Vickie into her arms, giving her a tight squeeze. “The riptide’s gone deep. We’re through being pulled out. Now I can start swimming us back toward land.”

  Vickie clung to her. “Land? Where?”

  Only dark ocean surrounded them. Dana looked up, finding Polaris, the North Star. She grinned, then realized Vickie couldn’t see her smile through the moonlight night. “Honey, I know which way to go. The stars will show us. You ready?”

  “I guess so…”

  Dana admired Vickie’s courage. Would Dana have been so trusting if it had happened to her at that age? With slow, measured strokes, she started heading toward a shore she couldn’t see. She had no idea how far away from land they were. She didn’t want to know. With Vickie attached to her suit’s shoulder strap, her ability to swim properly was hampered. Not only did Dana have to stay afloat, but she had to drag Vickie with her. What if Santa Ro
sa Island was too far away? What if the tide worked against them? The current could drain her physical stamina and sooner or later, Dana knew she would sink and drown.

  “Mommy said sharks live out here,” Vickie said in a small, quavering voice.

  “They do,” Dana replied, her own voice ragged as she gulped in air. And on a smooth, quiet ocean like tonight’s, they would definitely be drawn to the splashing sounds made by her swimming motion.

  “Do they eat at night?”

  “No,” Dana lied. “Just during the day. They sleep at night like we do.” They were night feeders, primarily, never really sleeping, always on the prowl for food. Dana changed the angle of how her hand hit the water, trying to minimize the slapping sound. The belt tugged at her, creating drag, taking a little bit more of her strength with each stroke. It couldn’t be helped.

  Vickie grew quiet, completely trusting the belt that strung them together. She lay on her back at Dana’s urging, her small arms crossed over her tummy, her long, slender legs floating out in a relaxed fashion. The darkness was consummate. Dana couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. Her senses switched to the warm ocean surrounding them. She’d always had acute sensitivity to all things, but tonight Dana shifted her entire focus to her senses of touch and hearing. Occasionally she felt a small jellyfish brush one of her legs. Inevitably, minutes later, Dana would feel the hot sting of the gelatinous sea animal. Jellyfish usually hung about three feet beneath the surface. If touched, they reacted instantly with many of their long tentacles. Luckily, she wasn’t allergic to jellyfish stings.

  Each time her hand sliced through the dark water, Dana felt for anything that might be floating in their way. She was sure Portuguese men-of-war were in the Florida area. The water was too warm for them not to be around. If she or Vickie blindly bumped into one, it could mean death. It would take a while, but gradually, if the sting was bad enough, Dana knew it would cripple her enough to stop her from swimming. And then, they’d drown.