Page 103 of Sexy as Sin
“It’s a run for it,” Dave said, opening his door. “Closest we can get.” Ahead of them, Tom and Crystal had spilled out of the van and were standing, hands shading their eyes, staring to the left, where the balloon was coming in. “There’s a track over there to the beach. We’ll have to ford a bit of water to get there. Can you run, mate?”
“Yeah,” Brett said. He did, following Dave, and Tom and Crystal came after them, then pulled ahead. Dave glanced back. “Don’t wait for me,” Brett said. “Go.”
Down a path between trees, with still water on either side. Some kind of lagoon. Splashing through water to his knees, because the tide was high, then back onto the path again. Soft sand that tried to catch his foot, to turn his leg, then up and over a hump and down again.
Brett was bringing up the rear when they made it onto the beach. Tom was shouting, “Amanda. Amanda. Oh, my God.” The balloon came in fast, skimming the narrow strip of high-tide sand from north to south, hit the sand hard with one edge, then jolted and tipped, and somebody stood up on the downward side. The seaward side. Somebody holding a camera. Another figure stood up fast—the pilot—and the balloon rose again, ten feet above the sand, then higher over the water. The basket tipped some more from the weight of the two people on one side being thrown against it, and the two figures just... slid, straight down into the sea.
A burst of white light, and the balloon was rising again fast, the nylon crumpling.
It was on fire.
Down the beach, a truck was accelerating straight up the sand, pulling a trailer.Boat,Brett thought, recognizing the red-and-yellow flags down there.Surf life savers.He could only spare a glance, though. Another two figures had left the basket, farther out to sea, one after the other. The sun glinted on blond hair, and didn’t glint on black. Amanda and Jamie. A long moment, and the fifth figure launched with purpose from more than forty feet up. Red sweater shining bold as courage, strong as love.
Willow.
Ahead of him, Tom and Crystal had stopped running. Tom had his hands over his face and was saying, “Amanda. Amanda. Oh, my God. What am I going to do?”
Brett didn’t care. His leg was on fire and threatening to buckle, but he was still running, and so was Dave. All the way down to meet the truck, nearly at the water’s edge, where a lone man was releasing a lever and dropping a small inflatable powerboat to the sand.
Dave was wading out into the water already, going for the two figures struggling to shore. Dressed in khaki and gray, and drowned-looking. The pilot, and the cameraman.
Brett didn’t stop. He got to the boat, then was helping a young guy with salt-blond curls pull it into the water and shove it out deeper. Knee height. Up to his thighs, then, as another wave came in. He said, “Give me a life vest. You’ve got three still out in the water,” launched his body up, dragged his good right leg into the boat, and pulled his left one up after it.
The kid was already in himself, had moved to the back and started the engine. He said, “Under your seat,” and Brett found it, pulled it over his head and fastened the straps, then yanked the lever to inflate it as he scanned the choppy waves.
“There,” he shouted, pointing. “To the left.” A head, then an arm. Somebody swimming.
The boat turned, circled, cut power, and pulled up alongside the swimmer. Streaming dark hair, blue eyes with terror in them. Brett got a hand down, Jamie took hold, and Brett pulled him in. The boat rocked, but it stayed afloat.
There wasn’t room for two more in here, and it didn’t matter. As soon as Jamie was aboard, kneeling at the bottom of the boat, gasping, his clothes streaming water, the kid driving the boat was heading out again. Slowly this time. Searching.
Brett tried to remember the direction the balloon had been moving. “Farther right,” he yelled, gesturing, and the kid adjusted.
They were so slow, and there was nothing out here, just the dip and rise of the swells. The engine roared, and Jamie’s teeth chattered. He was saying, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” over and over, and Brett thought,Yeah, buddy. Keep praying,and kept looking.
Something there, to the right. He pointed, and the kid got closer.
Not a head. A fin.
“Dolphin,” the kid yelled, and Brett breathed again. “Somebody over there, too.”
Another dark head, appearing for an instant, then disappearing under the waves. No waving hand. Somebody whose strength was nearly gone. The boat picked up speed, was circling again, and Brett reached his whole arm down this time, got a hand under her arm, then his other one. The kid had grabbed hold of his belt, and Brett was pulling up with everything he had.
Amanda. Her face bleached white, her eyes staring. Coughing and choking, collapsing into the bottom of the boat.
The kid took off again. He was holding a bright-yellow radio in one hand, talking urgently into it, but Brett wasn’t watching. His eyes were sweeping those endless swells of blue, the sun sparkling on their tips like all this was fun.
A glistening shape leaped into the air, its body describing a perfect arc. Behind it, another one did the same.
More dolphins. Brett said, “Head over there, where they are. The dolphins.”
“You see somebody?” the kid asked.
“No. But I think she’s there.”
Come on, baby,he thought.Come on. Swim.
The dolphins didn’t scatter as they approached. They were swimming in a huge circle, two of them nudging something between them. Or somebody. Somebody floating on her back, her body still.
