After what seemed like an eternity, the Zodiac arrived back at the Golfinho. Sam and Remi watched as the anchor on the boat was raised. Someone leaned over the side, pointing an assault rifle. Sam and Remi dove from sight as the Zodiac was peppered with gunfire.
The Golfinho motored away. Sam reached out and grasped Remi’s hand.
“On the bright side,” she said, calling out over the roar of the wind and the roiling ocean, “we’re alive.”
“There is that.” What they didn’t need was the extra weight of their near-empty air tanks sapping their energy as they treaded water. They removed and dropped them. Sam turned, taking in their situation. They’d drifted quite a ways from their dive location, the island looming close, and the waves crashing against the treacherous rocks. The strong current continued its relentless pull, and they swam farther out, away from the danger.
Sam glanced up at the sky, the dark clouds threatening imminent rain. “Looks like we have two choices. Try to make it to the mainland or wait it out here.”
“In the water?”
“Or on the island,” he called out. “Sharks or pit vipers?”
She took in the island, her gaze sweeping across the rocky shoreline. “What if I don’t like either choice?”
“Sorry, Remi,” he said. “Unless you can think of Plan B?”
“Wait for Selma to send help?”
The whitecaps grew higher and the wind picked up as the storm neared. All too soon, the first few raindrops fell. Trying to swim to the mainland in this would be near impossible even for the best of swimmers. And that was assuming they didn’t get caught in a crosscurrent and get pulled out to deeper waters.
“The island,” he said. Better to stay put. Wait for help. And hope the snakes didn’t like the rain.
Remi nodded, undoubtedly realizing that was their safest course of action. They’d have to find a safe, rock-free place to get to shore—and together started swimming north parallel to the island, staying on the west side. Unfortunately, it was against the current, and after several minutes Sam realized they hadn’t gone far.
They needed to reassess.
Remi treaded water next to him. “Sam . . .”
“Give me a minute,” he said.
“Look!” She pointed south.
He turned, worried that the Golfinho was back, searching for them. “What?”
“There. Plan B.”
He saw nothing but gray, choppy water.
“About two o’clock. I think that might be the Zodiac.”
And there it was. A bit of red popping up over the swells, then dropping down again. If it wasn’t the Zodiac, it was something bright. At this point, they had nothing to lose. “Let’s go.”
The upside was that they were moving with the current and not against it—the downside was that so was the object they were swimming toward. Eventually they made headway.
Definitely the Zodiac, but partially submerged. As they neared, he realized the stern with the outboard motor was beneath the surface. The bow was all that was left holding it above water.
More a life preserver than a boat, it wasn’t going to get them home, but the bright red surface would certainly show up better than their black wetsuits if a search party happened to come for them.
Unfortunately, as they grabbed onto the front end, it didn’t look as though it was going to stay above the water. Too much weight and not enough air left, the transom and stern were completely submerged. “Stay here,” Sam said. “I’m going to check it out.”
Remi nodded, holding on to the bow. Sam adjusted his mask, took his flashlight from his belt, and dropped below the surface. It was extremely hard to sink an inflatable boat. Delgado’s men must have missed a few air tubes when they shot it up. A sickening feeling that young Nuno had met his fate in this boat swept through him as he loosened the motor’s clamps, detaching it from the transom and letting it drop.
That, he hoped, would buy them more time, and he rose to the surface and joined Remi. “Let’s hope it holds air long enough. Lot of bullet holes.”
She said nothing for several seconds, then, “He saved our lives.”
“Temporarily.”