by Mike Befeler
“How are we going to swim with our hands tied?” I said.
The question was rhetorical, but Harrison said, “You’re not going far.”
“I’m not going in there.”
“Get in the water.”
We edged onto the rock shelf. Small waves lapped at our feet. My heart thumped double time. Harrison gave Meyer and me a shove, and we tumbled into the water.
I came up spluttering and Meyer cried out. Then Harrison jumped in, grabbed the rope, and unceremoniously pulled us along the rocky coastline. I tried to tread water and struggled to keep my head above the waves. Damn. If only I didn’t float like a rock.
He dragged Meyer and me toward an opening in a rocky abutment and pushed us inside. I found that we were in a long narrow cave. Now my stomach really tightened.
“All the way to the back,” Harrison said.
I barely kept my head above water and heard Meyer gasping. My feet finally hit bottom, and I staggered up a small sand beach at the back of the cave. Meyer and I collapsed in a heap. I tried to control my breathing, struggling to overcome the panic that seized my every muscle.
As we lay gasping, Harrison grabbed the length of rope between us and started hammering.
“There,” he said. “You’re securely attached.”
I tried to lean forward and found that I couldn’t. “What did you do?” I asked, unable to see in the dark cave.
“I’ve fastened you to the cave wall. Now you can slowly drown as the tide comes in. It gets you out of the way even better than how I took care of Tiegan.”
I felt drops on my forehead and didn’t know if it was ocean water or sweat. What could be done? Only one thing seemed to have any impact on Harrison Young.
“This isn’t a good idea, Harrison,” I said, shaking my head.
“And why is that?”
“Some kid, like Ali, is apt to swim in this cave tomorrow. Some innocent kid will find two old, fish-nibbled bodies. It’s liable to scar him for life. You wouldn’t want that to happen to your Ali.”
I heard a laugh. “No fear of that with him safely off in Miami. Nice try, but you’re fish food. I’ll check back on your dead bodies first thing in the morning, before I head to the mainland. Have a good end of your life, boys.”
He splashed into the water and swam out of the cave.
So much for an appeal to his sense of decency.
A few minutes later, I heard the sound of an engine starting and then the change of pitch as the boat moved away from the island.
“We’ve had it,” Meyer said.
I needed to get my mind around the situation. With an effort, I tried to push the rising panic away. “Don’t give up so fast. It wasn’t easy for Harrison to get my hands tied using only one end of the rope. There’s some slack in it. If we both move up the sand close to where he attached the rope, you can get your hands on the knot around my wrists.
We adjusted our positions.
“I have the rope,” Meyer said.
I flexed and relaxed my hands, trying to increase the slack in the rope.
“There’s a little loop I can feel,” Meyer said.
“Good. Try to pull it over my wrist.”
He grunted and tugged.
“It budged a little, Paul, but not enough to come free.”
“Keep trying.”
Sea water covered my feet. The light at the cave opening had disappeared with the setting sun. I shuffled to give Meyer a better grip. My neck ached, and my arms were sore.
Meyer tugged at the rope again. “It’s close, but I still can’t get if off. My fingers are cramping.”
“Rest for a minute.”
I heard some deep breaths.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Meyer.”
“What a way to go.” He sighed. “I always thought it would be cancer or a heart attack.”
“Maybe you can still wait for that. I don’t intend to let Harrison have the satisfaction of us dying here. I’m stretching the rope. Try again with the knot.”
I felt his fingers fumbling with the rope.
He tugged and the rope gave.
“One loop’s off!” he shouted.
There was more slack in the rope, and I flexed my wrists to open more space.
“I need to rest,” Meyer said.
The water lapped at my waist.
“Take a short break,” I said. “But we don’t have much time.”
After several minutes, Meyer tugged on the rope again. He pulled, and I stretched. I felt like a calf that had been hog-tied.
“I’ve got another loop off,” he announced.
I felt the rope giving way. I twisted my wrists as far as I could and one hand broke free.
I brought my arm around in front of me, pain shooting through my shoulder. Turning my body, I unwound the rope from my other hand. Then I shook both hands to get the circulation going and to loosen up my stiff arms.
“I’m too old for this crap. Meyer, you don’t mind if I swim out of here, do you?”
“What!”
“Just testing your sense of humor. Give me your hands so I can untie you.”
I worked at it in the dark. Harrison had tied Meyer’s wrists with no slack. I was able to slide my end of the rope through the u-shaped metal piece that Harrison had driven into the wall. Then I worked on getting a knot loosened and slid the whole length of rope through the knot.
As the water reached my chest, I undid another knot and pulled the rope free.
“We need to get out of here,” Meyer said.
Only a foot of space remained between the waterline and the top of the cave.
“I’m scared,” I said.
“So am I, but we can’t stay here. Keep your face close to the ceiling.” I felt him brush past as he moved toward the cave entrance. “Put your hand on my shoulder.”
We paddled toward the cave entrance. A wave surged in and banged my head against the top of the cave. I lost contact with Meyer’s shoulder and started thrashing. I went underwater. I clawed at the cave wall in panic. My lungs were ready to burst. Then I felt Meyer’s hand on my shirt.
I came up spluttering.
“Easy does it,” Meyer said.
I spit water out. My heart was pounding. All I could taste was salt.
“Hold on,” Meyer said. “We’re almost out of the cave.”
I struggled forward. I didn’t remember the cave being so long. Where was the ocean? How much farther?
My one-arm stroke and kicks propelled me forward, as I maintained a death grip with my other hand on Meyer’s shoulder. Breathe, dunk, stroke, kick. Breathe, dunk, stroke, kick.
My arms felt like they were going to fall off when I looked up and saw a partial moon. We were bobbing in the open ocean.
“Let’s get up on the island,” I said.
A wave hit Meyer, and he crashed into a rock. He screamed.
I grabbed the rock shelf and boosted myself part way up. Another wave struck and lifted me up on the land. Once I had a good grip, I grabbed Meyer’s hand and helped him get his footing.
We scooted out of the reach of the waves and sat there gasping for breath. It took several minutes before we could speak.
“I thought our number was up,” Meyer said.
“Me too. Thanks for helping me out of the cave.”
“Looks like we’re stuck on this island for the night,” Meyer said. “My shoulder really hurts.”
“We need to reach Detective Saito right away. Harrison will think we’re dead, so this is the time to apprehend him.”
“I have my cell phone,” Meyer said.
A spark of excitement went through my wet body, then reality set in. “But after all the time in the water. . . .”
“I sealed it in a Ziploc bag. Let’s see if it stayed dry. He reached for his pocket and winced in pain. “You’ll have to get it out. I can’t move my arm.”
I extracted the bag from his pocket, opened it, and turned on the phone. “Power’s on . .
. damn, out of cell range.”
“See if you can get any reception by moving.”
I limped around to see if I could get a better signal. All I succeeded in doing was almost tripping over a piece of coral.
“No friggin’ luck,” I said. “We need a way off this rock.”
Meyer shook his head. “My shoulder’s too injured to swim. I’ll wait for someone to find us. There’s bound to be some boats in the morning.”
“We can’t wait that long. Harrison’s coming back first thing tomorrow to verify that we’re dead.”
“What choice do we have?”
“I don’t know, but let’s look around.”
He followed me over the rocky terrain until we reached the pebbly beach that faced Lanikai. I saw something white in the dim moonlight. I bent down to find half of a foam boogie board. Looking across the water to the lights along the shoreline, I gauged the distance. Couldn’t be more than a mile. Might as well have been halfway to the moon.
Myer collapsed on the sand, groaning in pain.
I stared at him writhing there, holding his arm, and then I lifted my head again to squint at the pockets of light across the abyss of ocean. Part of my mind said: You need to get over there, you old fart. Some way. You’ve got to get help for Meyer and reach Saito.
Another part of my brain made my throat tighten and screamed: You can’t go in the ocean. It’s dark and full of creepy things that will grab you. You swim like a lead weight. Sit down and wait for someone to rescue your sorry ass.
Images replayed. A little boy thrashing in a swimming pool. An instructor fishing him out of the water. The other kids laughing and calling him “sinker” for months afterward.
What to do?
“How are you feeling, Meyer?”
“Not good. I’m in a lot of pain.”
“We have to get word to Saito.”
“I wish the cell phone worked. If only I could move my arm, I could swim to shore.”
“But you’re out of commission. That leaves me.”
“I know how you feel about the ocean, Paul. Lie down, and we’ll wait out the night.”
That would have been the easy path, the sensible thing. But even if we didn’t die, Harrison Young would get away.
In the dim light I could see Meyer grimace again. I had to do something.
Chapter 26
I took a deep breath. My heart pounded, and my stomach turned into a hard knot. “I’m going to have to paddle to shore,” I told Meyer.
“Are you nuts? You’re over eighty years old. And you hate swimming.”
“I know,” I said. “It scares the piss out of me.”
“And look how far it is.”
I narrowed my gaze at the lights across the water. He was right. It seemed much farther away than before.
“I have to try it. I’ve been using a paddleboard in the swimming pool. This shouldn’t be that different.”
Right. Brave words. I’d been using a flotation belt around my waist. Here I’d be out in the middle of the ocean with just a hunk of foam to hold onto.
Meyer stared at me with his mouth open.
“I’ll reseal the cell phone and call 9-1-1 when I get to the Lanikai Beach,” I said. “Someone will come get you.”
I put the phone in my pocket and discovered the tape recorder. It wasn’t running.
“Damn. I wonder if the tape captured everything Harrison said.” I placed it on the sand beside Meyer. “You keep this.”
Pacing back and forth, I weighed the foam board in my hands, assessing how solid it was. Would it support me enough to get to shore? Would I be able to paddle that far?
If only I were younger. If only I could swim well. If only I could shut off my brain in connection with what was in the ocean. The good news was that I wouldn’t remember any of this a few days from now. But I’d have to get through it first.
I kicked off my waterlogged shoes, tiptoed into the water, and grasped the hunk of foam board. It seemed solid. It didn’t submerge. It might be able to hold some weight.
But would I be able to get across the ocean at night?
I shivered. The trade wind felt like an artic blast.
I squinted again at the lights of Lanikai across the black expanse of ocean.
Crapola. I had to do something.
“I’m going to try this,” I said to Meyer.
He groaned. “You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I will. You take care of this island for me, and I’ll get someone to come back for you.”
Yeah. Right. Who was I kidding? I was scared shitless. No, I was too scared to even shit.
Wading in, I felt the water seize my legs like I was imprisoned by a liquid snake. My right foot scraped a rock and I almost fell. I righted myself and limped farther into the water.
A deep breath and I propelled myself forward. I felt the shock of being immersed again. I clutched the board. I was moving! Then my feet sank beneath me. I started kicking.
“Good luck, Paul,” a plaintive voice sounded from behind me.
I was grateful that Meyer didn’t say to watch out for sharks.
I shoved the foam board ahead and kept kicking. Don’t even think about sharks. Nice of my mind to dredge that up.
I needed to get the old legs in gear.
My feet started flapping faster than two broken windmills. I managed to get up a head of steam and surged forward. Or, at least, I thought I was moving.
Where was the moon? Damn. It must have set over the mountains. Or was it behind clouds? In the dark, who could tell if I was moving or not?
I hoped my thrashing wouldn’t attract sharks.
Hell. Thinking of sharks again. With my weird memory, I couldn’t remember last week, but I suddenly remembered reading about a boy killed by a shark in these very waters in 1957. He had been paddling along on a surf mat and a shark snagged him.
I kicked harder. Calm down, I told myself, and remember you’ve been doing this in the swimming pool. But I had a long way to go. I took a deep breath and focused on the twinkling lights of the Lanikai shoreline. Kick. Breathe. Kick. Breathe.
Small waves pushed me forward. As they passed, my view of the shore momentarily disappeared. When the next wave lifted me up, I could see the lights again.
My shoulder ached, my legs felt like jelly, and I gasped for breath. But I kept kicking. The sooner I reached the shore, the sooner the discomfort would end.
I needed to keep my mind off sharks.
I had to think of something pleasant. Like I did when I took walks. I tried to recount positive parts of my life. Meeting Rhonda. It had been right at the beginning of the war. I had just graduated from UCLA. Had a job with Lockheed. Went to a dance with two friends. Nothing much happened until I spotted this beautiful girl in a white frock. She was talking to two other women. My two friends and I walked over, and the rest was history. Rhonda and I were married. Then I enlisted. I spent two years in Washington, our extended honeymoon, and then England, where I handled supply logistics for Operation Overlord.
Now I was going to make my own landing. I looked over my shoulder. Couldn’t see the island in the darkness. Lights ahead still a long way off. Kick. Breathe. Kick. Breathe.
Good thing I’d been walking to stay in shape. As long as my old legs didn’t give out and the sharks didn’t sense my fear. . . .
Think positive. Like after the war. Started my own business in Los Angeles. Sold auto parts. Had twenty employees, treated my customers fairly, made a good living. Never rich, but Rhonda and I managed. Saved enough to put Denny through college. Was able to retire in Hawaii. Not bad for a geezer. But what was I doing out in the middle of the ocean at night? You’d think I’d have learned better by my age.
A wave surged and smacked me in the back of the head, and my face went under. I came up spluttering and spit water out of my mouth. Keep your yap closed. Kick. Breathe. Focus. Move ahead.
The waves seemed to push me forward, or that’s what I hoped was
happening.
Uh oh. Don’t even consider what’s in the water.
Hell. When I needed my memory to blank things out, it wouldn’t.
I shivered, even though the water was warm. The hairs on my arms prickled as the gentle evening breeze periodically blew past.
My stomach tightened. How was I going to get across this huge distance? I struggled to look back. Couldn’t see a damn thing. A feeling of panic gripped me. I was all alone in the middle of the ocean. What if the currents carried me out to sea?
I stuck my head up to see if the lights were getting closer. Couldn’t tell. At least they were still there.
Get control of yourself.
I kept kicking. Push. Kick. Breathe. Head toward the lights. Was I making any progress?
How much longer would I have to keep kicking? Would my old legs or arms give out, first? Would a shark get me before I had a heart attack?
Had to get my mind off the situation.
I remembered a day in the desert of Southern California with Rhonda. Hot and dry. Boy, I wanted water then. Now I had enough water to last three lifetimes.
What if the foam board became waterlogged? I’d last ten seconds. I clenched the board tighter.
What if I cramped up?
Keep kicking. Had to get to shore.
Another surge.
Lights were still there. What a relief.
Why did I do this? I could have stayed on the island and taken care of Meyer and his injured shoulder. Waited to be rescued in the morning.
No. Harrison would be back. I had to get to Saito and stop Harrison before he left the islands.
But was this just a stupid idea?
What if I didn’t get to shore? Then Harrison would find Meyer, kill him, and leave for the mainland anyway.
What was I doing out here?
I felt something swoop by.
I cringed.
Just a seagull. Probably thought I was dinner.
I had to piss. Just let it loose in your pants.
I let go. Ah. A sense of relief.
Uh oh. I wondered if sharks could smell human pee?
I had to get to shore. Kick. Breathe. Move those ancient legs, you old poop.
A wave lifted me up.
Uh. Oh. Where were the lights?
