Part I: Maybe

Chapter One

It didn’t add up. The girl strutted by as if invisible, and yet Brad Stone followed in thought. She was alone, which was odd on a beach where people usually swam together, walked together or just lay out on blankets in a group. There was no obvious family near-by, no friend beside her in a skimpy-looking bathing suit or boyfriend in tow. There wasn’t even a towel near the tide line where she could retreat, listen to music or apply lotion while she waited for others.

Brad Stone saw it all in one look and sat up. He noticed the light brown skin, the ease of movement, the slow walk as she passed the shallows on his beach and into the ocean.

“Excuse me,” he said in a low voice. “Shouldn’t you be closer to the pier?” He pointed north but the girl wasn’t looking. “Most people don’t come this far south.”

He stopped and took a shallow breath. Brad was a lifeguard at the south end of Hope Inlet, Florida. The morning was quiet and the tide almost out. Surf came in swells that were high without wind.

That made the surface wrinkled and deceptive. His supervisor put him at the south end because few ever swam there, yet someone had to be around just in case. Why not put the new guy where there won’t be any trouble? Besides, no one in leadership had time for newbie lessons about the beach job and all the policies. It sounded like a non-issue.

The girl continued into the water. She looked his age, which was eighteen with tight muscles and brown hair that was straight. Brad continued to talk as if explaining it to himself.

“Nice tan.”

Surf dropped in front of her with a series that pulled white water across the beach and down. Brad eased to the front of his chair. He looked to the side as if for help or advice. The girl had on a fluorescent yellow bikini that stood out from the dull gray of the surface. And yet the foam trails from each wave hooked to the side in a tell-tale sign of rip current.

“Getting kind of rough,” Brad said as if to warn the girl. It was if he were trying to make sense of the conditions. “Why go out there alone?”

His eyes scanned the water and sifted details. It was like a computer assimilating facts in a scenario from training.

Look ahead, his lifesaving instructor always warned. Avoid problems. Don’t wait for a crisis.

Waves came in groups as the girl continued out. There was no let-up in the series as one swell broke after another. Brad got out of the chair and started across the sand.

Might need to wait, he thought with a look up the beach. But no one was there for back-up. He glanced out at the girl again. And she can’t hear me.

Brad continued out toward the water. “HEY YOU!“ he called to her. “Might want to wait on that swim. You’re heading into a rip current.”

The ebb tide was now pulling backwash to sea. And the girl was the only swimmer. She ducked her head as a wave broke. Her movement was deeper in the surf zone as she started a crawl stroke. Breakers spilled around her in a drum roll.

“Why alone?” he asked again. “You need to head in.”

He stopped in frustration. Surf noises drowned out his words. She couldn’t hear him.

Another wave kicked forward and swallowed the girl. White water buckled with a snap. Brad strained his eyes. The current had a foam pattern across the top that came together like a finger heading seaward. It was definitely a rip tide and she was in it.

Sure is moving fast, he told himself. He froze as if waiting for someone to step up and help. But there was no one around. Brad was the only lifeguard on that section of beach, and yet he felt immobile while one moment led to another as if the problem would fix itself. But the conditions worsened.

Another wave hit as the girl lifted her head to get a breath. Brad stood up on tip toes and waved an arm.

“You need to move out of that rip tide,” he shouted.

The girl began to flounder.

“Is this a drill?” he asked himself. Somewhere within he knew it wasn’t and yet time shrank into slow motion while his vision narrowed, and he waited for his training to kick in like the trigger on a gun.

Brad jerked his head up the beach in an effort to find his lifeguard captain. No one was there. The girl lifted an arm with fingers outstretched in his direction. There was a panic in her movements.

Brad blew his whistle three times and started running. His sunglasses fell and he forgot the torpedo buoy. It still hung on the lifeguard chair as his feet gained speed across the sand.

His eyes narrowed on the target while tripping in the shallows and sending water outward, cascading in spray. He pumped his arms as if to hurdle over the shallows and then pushed his feet through the wet sand with each step while sand oozed up through the gaps in his toes as the water slowed his moments. Waist-high shore breaks rolled through with his breath coming in gasps and his eyes still on the girl. The water pulled him back towards the beach like an invisible net that swept through with intersecting currents he couldn’t see.

Gotta get to her, he thought. Lives are on the line.

She was floundering past the breakers. He leaned forward, felt his feet leave the bottom and started a crawl stroke with his head up.

Faster, he told himself. Gotta pick up speed.

His lungs grew tight with breaths that started to burn. He could hear his own arms slapping against the water. Each push moved him closer. The water was cool in the deep as his feet fluttered against the temperature change. Cold, he imagined, just like death.

Another voice countered from within him. Pace yourself or you’ll need help also.

His arms flailed in front with legs behind in scissor kicks. But the force around him began to surge and double his efforts. It was the riptide in a sweep outward. He felt the push. The girl saw him with hands extended in a plea for help.

“Don’t know what happened,” she gasped. “Just cramped up.”

Her eyes were brown, hair pulled back.

“It’s okay,” he coughed. “Just take the…”

The torpedo buoy was missing behind him.

“Don’t know if I can make it,” she slurped.

She grabbed his outstretched arm where the torpedo buoy should have been. The girl then pulled in close as if to climb up his back. Brad pushed down the urge to panic and dive under like his teachers told him to when drowning victims struggle. “Hang on my shoulders,” Brad told her. “We’ll get there together.

“Hard to breathe.”

“Don’t give up.”

“Not usually this weak.”

“We’ll swim in together.”

She put her arms around his shoulders. They felt hesitant. Brad started up the beach in a breaststroke.

“You’re heading the wrong way,” the girl added.

“We’re in a rip tide. It forces you out.” His breath came in gasps. “The only way is cross-current.”

Brad heard the surf before it hit them. A wave set rushed toward them from the right and rose up before falling into foam. One swell lifted them up before breaking in sounds like drums getting louder. Brad felt the sudden lift, pull and swish of spray just behind his feet. If the wave had fingers they were pulling him in a slippery grab.

He continued up the beach as another wave tumbled into a roll and exploded in force that pushed the girl off his shoulders and under. Brad felt the sudden twist. His body rolled sideways as if spun in a washing machine. His eyes opened in gray shadows. There was nothing but gurgling sounds and bubbles. He struggled to the surface, broke free, gasped and went back. An arm passed his vision. He grabbed it and pulled up.

“You okay?”

The girl was limp, no response.

“Hey, I need some help,” he shouted.

He lifted his whistle from the chain around his neck and blew several times hard. But other lifeguards didn’t notice. Another wave approached. Brad held on and covered the girl’s mouth and nose. She felt lifeless in his arms. The wave hit them in a shove that tumbled both in a spin back down and into the sand. It scraped across his back in another flip. Brad stood quickly and gasped while pulling the girl into shallow water.

The sand gave way under each step in small waves that pulled them back towards the surf. Brad struggled to drag her out above the tide line and leaned her head back. His lungs ached. His breathing came fast. But he gave several breaths past her lips.

A lifeguard rushed towards them. It was Bill, the captain, a man in his early thirties with the same red lifeguard bathing suit and white t-shirt but with short hair and dark sunglasses. “What happened?” he shouted.

Brad continued to take short gasps and then fill her lungs. “Call an ambulance,” he said between breaths.

“Nic, can you hear me?” Bill took her other arm.

Brad put his mouth over the girl’s lips, but she coughed with water gushing out of her mouth and body jerking suddenly as if shocked. Water and foam continued to rush from her mouth in gags. Her lips were purple, but her limbs came to life with force.

Bill helped her sit up as she coughed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he snapped.

Brad could hear word parts as if he were an outsider. But he remained focused on the girl and put an arm around her waist as Bill lifted her up and started towards the high-water line. Two other staff members ran towards them.

“Call 911,” Brad told them. “She needs help.”

Brad saw the movement and heard the reaction. But it seemed remote and fading–as if in slow motion again. That always happens in a crisis. Time slows.

All thought was a struggle. All vision narrowed as if looking through a tunnel. But events changed around them. Bill pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket and made excited sounds while trying to describe the problem.

The lifeguard truck rushed toward them from the station up the beach. Another siren opened up in the distance. The sound carried as Brad took one breath after another.

So close, he said to himself. His heartbeat in thumping sensations. He took one deep breath after another. There must have been something I could have done to prevent this.”

That thought stayed with him as the truck stopped in front of them and other lifeguards took the girl. Brad turned back to his lifeguard chair. His legs felt weak.

I didn’t even get her name, he said to himself. That supervisor called her “Nic,” but what girl has a name like that?

There would be paperwork to fill out and questions to answer, he thought. But the girl’s expression stayed with him. Something just didn’t add up.