It was obvious that the injured man would be the first one Shane would take back. Time was not their friend and the storm gave no indication that it was in the mood to calm down. His gut clenched and twisted at the thought of leaving Joel on the open sea until he could come back for him. If the rescue ’copters had remained airborne, they could’ve taken the boy who was hurt and Shane would’ve made sure he grabbed Joel.
At last he was able to grab onto the side of the boat right above the gaping hole that had been torn through it. Up close, it was much more terrifying—he couldn’t imagine how scared the boys must be. As he assessed their situation, he was relieved to discover that they all had put their life vests on. Shane glanced over his shoulder in case he thought the floatable could still be put in service—maybe he could still get all the boys at once.
It was hopeless. He had looked just in time to witness the misshapen mass of deflated rubber being plucked from the raging sea. He would have to hope that both his strength and all three boys could hold out. Shane couldn’t take his mask off, but he was able to gesture to Joel and his other friend to stay put. He made another gesture indicating for them to remain holding onto the wreckage of the boat. Reaching into one of the pouches on his suit, he pulled out a tracking device and attached one to Joel, repeating the action for his other friend. If they were to be swept away before Shane returned, they would have a better chance of locating them in the vast, dark ocean.
It was easy to see how petrified Joel was, but he was like his father in the way that he was attempting to be brave for both his friends. The one not hurt was weeping openly. Joel relinquished his hold on the young man he’d been clutching to him, and the boy cried out in obvious pain from his broken arm. Sadly, it made Shane’s job easier that the kid was injured. He wouldn’t panic, wouldn’t fight the rescue attempt.
One of the bright beacons from the ship shone down on him, guiding him back to the cutter. He made it without incident, but he was tired. There were still two more victims to rescue and no one else qualified enough for this type of rescue. It reminded him how important having the airmen was.
Once the first boy had been handed over, Shane swam with every ounce of energy he had to get back to Joel. It was going to be a tough call. His every instinct wanted to simply grab Joel first, guarantee his safety. But that wasn’t how it was done. Shane would have to quickly assess their situation and determine who would be rescued next based on that. Never, ever had he imagined he would be in such a position where he had to objectively choose between someone he had an attachment to versus a complete stranger.
It’d probably been less than ten minutes since he’d left, but they appeared even more terrified. The tease of having rescue so close but not available was something many victims found to be worse than not knowing whether they were going to be found or not. Shane pulled himself up next to them to get a closer look at their condition. He knew that hypothermia was an immediate concern for them both, but he searched for other signs that might indicate who was in more dire need.
After concluding that both young men were in a similar state, Shane reached for Joel. His friend launched himself at Shane, startling him and knocking Shane into the water. His snorkel was torn from his mouth and for a moment the world seemed to turn on end as he thrashed in the water, desperate to right himself and make sure that the boy was okay.
Shane coughed up some seawater that he’d inadvertently taken in and grabbed for the wreckage again to steady himself. Joel still clung to his father’s boat, but he was screaming and pointing. The friend that had knocked him over was being tossed about as if he were nothing more than a feather in the frigid waters. Shane had no choice but to go after him and leave his lover’s son once more, leave him completely alone this time.
He swam like the devil, aware that his muscles had already begun the process of fighting him, the lactic acid building in his body. He might not have enough reserves to make it back to Joel. Willing himself to do the near impossible, he slowed his movements down, forcing himself not to burn out too soon. Shane reached Joel’s friend who struggled against him. Without his snorkel, Shane was able to speak.
“Don’t fight me!” he yelled. “You’ll take us both down, hold still!”
The resistance ebbed and Shane thought that the kid’s lack of energy had probably contributed to him giving up the fight more than anything else.
Help waited for them as a wire basket was lowered and the second Shane had the boy hooked in, he pushed away. The team member operating the basket had been trying to communicate something to him, but he couldn’t wait—he had to get back to Joel. The lights that had been a glaring spotlight on the wreckage were split apart, dancing crazily across the water. A large piece of Kirk’s boat banged into the side of his head, the debris hitting his helmet hard enough to make his teeth clatter.
That was when he realized what they’d been trying to tell him. The remains of the boat had broken apart and Joel was floating around, lost somewhere in the ocean.
Chapter Four
Fuck!
Shane had never been in a situation before where he’d panicked during a rescue operation, but he was on the verge of a first time. He’d never be able to face Kirk again if he lost his son, wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Taking calming breaths, he visually followed the paths of the various lights.
There!
He saw Joel, one of the spots catching the orange of his vest. Shane swam frantically in the kid’s direction, no longer tempering his movements. He used the fins to propel himself so that he surged through the water. He ignored the relentless pounding of the waves, his entire being focused on one thing only—Kirk’s son.
Right as he was within reach, Shane thrust his hand forward. The ocean swirled, stealing Joel away, yanking him out of Shane’s grasp. He’d had enough of this shit. The cruelty of being so close but not able to get to the kid was seriously pissing him off. From somewhere deep inside that he’d had no idea existed, he drew upon every bit of will he’d ever possessed and flung himself in the direction of Joel. The vest taunted him, the orange a tease egging him on.
Gotcha!
He had the barest bit of nylon fabric clutched between his fingers but he wouldn’t let go, couldn’t let go—even as the raging sea fought him. Screaming in agony as his wrist snapped, he threw his other arm around Joel’s chest before his broken hand went completely numb and let his precious cargo free. There was an amazing calm to Joel. As soon as Shane had pulled the kid to his chest, he’d not only relaxed, but was using what Shane was certain were his last reserves to help them swim to safety.
The jolt of endorphins from his break had reenergized him, but he was on severely borrowed time. He was not only almost depleted from the entire experience, but the shock of his injury could hit at any time.
Where is that fucking cutter?
He’d been so intent upon getting to Joel, he’d lost track of his haven—a genuine boneheaded rookie mistake. Light blinded him and he closed his eyes against the intrusion. That had been a mistake because things suddenly got a little fuzzy around the edges and he was deeply aware of the pain that radiated out from his wrist as if he’d laid his arm in burning coals. He was floating, and he had the bizarre impression that his hand had grown to the size of a basketball. A giant, throbbing basketball.
Joel disappeared from his arms and he freaked, thrashing wildly, pain spiking through his body from his injury.
“Officer Harper, stop! We’re hooking you back up, gonna pull you in.”
“No, no. I lost him, dear Jesus, let me go back, I can get him—”
Robert, his fellow rescue swimmer grabbed his chin, forcing Shane to look at him. Robert was attached by his harness to another line and dangled just above Shane as he worked to hook Shane in. But the man had paused to demand Shane’s attention.
“He’s already on board. We took him from you already.”
Joel’s safe?
He thought he’d said it loud, but R
obert didn’t respond.
“He’s going to be okay?” Shane still had to yell.
Robert nodded. It appeared that his only concern for the moment was whether or not Shane was hooked up properly. Shane had a vague notion that Robert was perfect for the team and should work on advancing to a higher level swimmer. It was the last thought he had before everything went to black.
* * * *
Kirk had already vomited up everything he and Shane had eaten the night before. He had since progressed to the dry heaves. It had only been about eight hours since Shane had gone out to rescue his boy and Kirk was teetering on the precipice of worry-driven crazy. There had been very few times in his life where he’d been so emotionally overwrought—it wasn’t anything he indulged in on any kind of a regular basis.
The only other events where he could recall coming so unglued had been the night Cindy had gone into labor and when his dad had been struck by a heart attack. He tried to reassure himself that in both instances everything had turned out okay, that it was how things would turn out again for Joel and Shane. His stomach clenched up, but he fought it.
He’d spent the night in the cab of his pickup, parked in his usual spot at the museum whenever he waited for Shane to come ashore. It wasn’t even possible to wait with the mother of his child. The boyfriend was there with her and he hated Kirk. There was little doubt in Kirk’s mind that Barry was responsible for Joel’s attitude toward Shane. They’d gotten along great until he’d entered Cindy’s life. Kirk wondered how much homophobia might be involved, and what sort of influence it was having on his son.
Lights.
It was difficult to tell if it was the cutter for sure. Even with dawn close to breaking, the only slightly less violent storm still kept the skies dark. Kirk tracked the movement of the lit object as it gradually became larger and larger—until it was clear that it was the Coast Guard ship. He didn’t have any sort of comparison to draw from as to whether their return could be considered too soon or too late. Did it mean they’d given up? Or that they’d been successful? He could only continue to wait.
As the vessel prepared to dock, Kirk released the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel, then took a deep breath as he exited the truck. Typically he would patiently wait until the ship had completed docking, but he had no patience left. All he wanted was to verify that Joel and Shane were okay.
With a purposeful stride, he bowed his head against the sideways rain. He was on the dock that ran past the museum and gift shop, but a shrill sound that pierced through the noisy storm brought him up short and he turned around.
Emergency vehicles. Flashing lights.
His body went numb and he stood there gaping at the frantic scene, his hands stuffed in his pockets. There were two ambulances, a fire engine, fire and rescue and two sheriff’s cruisers. As the trembling in his body increased, a large SUV pulled up—Astoria law enforcement had joined the party.
Ambulances were good, right?
It meant there was hope. But who were they for? What seemed like hundreds of questions tumbled through his mind, and the crazy he’d fought off all night beckoned to him. He didn’t dare go that route. Staying strong for the men he loved was vital. They were okay. They had to be.
Kirk trotted alongside two tarp covered gurneys guided by the EMT’s. They appeared to take no notice of him, their expressions purposeful, impossible for Kirk to decipher. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to a Clatsop County sheriff.
“You need to stay back, sir. Let these men do their jobs.”
“My son…”
And my lover.
“I understand, sir, but you still need to stay back.”
No you don’t. You don’t understand at all.
The officer placed himself between Kirk and the group of men near the plank waiting for the mysterious patients who would appear at any moment. Dozens of coasties exited the ship, all of them sheathed in protective raingear, each man blending into the next, impossible for Kirk to distinguish.
Then he saw them. Figures prone on boards, covered to protect them from the elements and being carried by what appeared to be several recruits. There were three, but there were only two gurneys. He kept trying to swallow, his breath caught in his throat. The first two were transferred to the stretchers, while the other remained supported by the men holding it. He had no idea what was going on.
His fear, the worry—it morphed into a new, stronger emotion. Anger. He was done waiting to find out what the hell was happening with his family. The sheriff who had stopped him was distracted as he spoke into a mic attached to the shoulder of his uniform. The gurneys were almost upon them and Kirk bolted forward.
The first one had a young man with brown hair, similar to his son’s, but he knew it wasn’t him. He recognized Rory, a long-time friend of Joel’s. A large bandage encircled his head and he appeared either asleep or unconscious. Kirk couldn’t see the rest of him under the cover, but he was struck by how wan he looked.
Right as he tore his gaze away from his son’s buddy, the next stretcher rolled by and he cried out.
“Shane!”
Ignoring the yells of the officer behind him, he jogged beside his lover’s unconscious form. Shane was as ghostly pale as Rory, small scratches on his chin, his cheek. Kirk wondered what other injuries might be hidden from view. He was prevented from going any further by the same sheriff that he’d already pissed off.
Where’s Joel?
There was still another casualty who needed an ambulance. Triage would’ve been performed aboard the cutter, so the EMTs would’ve taken the most critical patients first. He swallowed past a lump in his throat at what that meant about Shane and Rory. He’d discovered in the first frenzied hour after Shane had been called back to sea that Joel had been with two friends, Rory and Dean. An awful realization hit him.
“Officer, please. My son was out there and I don’t know if…” He fought to keep his voice from cracking. “I don’t know if he was even rescued, or if he’s the one still waiting for transport.” Kirk indicated to the group of men waiting. “Please…”
The sheriff considered him, then nodded. “Stay here. I’ll find out what I can.”
The answer he’d sought all night was within his reach and he was terrified to finally get it. Once he knew the truth, the hope for a different outcome would have been snatched away. He would be left with the reality in whatever form it might take.
The officer headed toward him at a fast clip. Thankfully the rain had dwindled down to an insistent drizzle. Everyone and everything was soaking wet already, but at least it wasn’t lashing against his face any longer. The sheriff stopped in front of him and Kirk held his breath.
“Are you Kirk Jansen?”
Please…
“Yes.”
“Joel is fine.”
Kirk released the air in his lungs, light-headed in his relief. “Is that him?”
“Yes. The medic aboard ship suggested he stay at the hospital for a day so they can keep an eye on him. All three of those young men are apparently very lucky. The medic told me that if Petty Officer Harper hadn’t gotten them out of the drink when he did, they probably wouldn’t have made it much longer. Between the cold and the boat they were on getting completely destroyed, it would have been next to impossible for them to survive.”
Kirk filed the loss of his boat away for later—after he’d made sure that everyone was going to be okay. “What about the third kid? Where’s he?”
“He’s still on the ship staying warm. He was deemed well enough to go home, so they’re keeping him inside until his parents arrive to pick him up.”
Kirk held out his hand and the officer took it.
“Thank you. I think my heart might be back to beating normally now.”
Kirk was still anxious to see his son, if only to verify that it really was him and that he was all in one piece. He stood in the drizzle, waiting again. As soon as another ambulance arrived to transport Joel, he wo
uld follow him to the hospital less than a mile away from where they were. He would call Cindy to let her know that their son was safe.
Then he would go to Shane and get word on his condition. The love he had for him was all encompassing. Kirk knew without a doubt that his future would be wherever Shane was.
Chapter Five
Shane rotated his hand, working through the ache. Even though it had been two months since he’d broken his wrist, it would still get stiff and if he overdid it, it would swell up. He snorted.
Good thing it was my left hand.
He barely remembered much of what had happened after he’d been brought back aboard the cutter. His next clear memory was waking to see Kirk looking down at him as he stroked Shane’s hair back. The expression he’d seen in his eyes had made Shane want to cry. The emotion there had been overpowering. In one day and night, their lives—all that they were to one another—had forever been altered. It thrilled him.
“Ow, dammit.”
He sucked some drops of blood off the end of his finger. If it wasn’t his achy wrist, he was being stabbed by the spiky shell of the Dungeness crab he was cleaning. Kirk had gone out to meet with the insurance adjuster regarding the loss of his boat. It seemed as if the pay-out would finally be deposited into his account. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to start over—but not as a fisherman.
Shane heard the assured steps of his lover as he tromped up the stairs. He’d been rolling an idea around in his mind and wanted to approach Kirk about it. He had another month before he left on his next tour, and when he got back from that one, he wanted to really begin their new life together as a couple.
Safe Shores Page 4
