Fuck! Where are you?
Ridley was dropping the sails, powering up the engine, and trying to turn, all while shouting things at me, but his commands fell uselessly at my feet.
No.
I caught a flash of her floating in the distance, unmoving, and that was all I needed to see. I tore open a compartment, plunged a hand inside, and fisted an orange life preserver. Then it was three steps to the edge before I dove off the side.
The water smacked my face, and the briny, acrid taste of the ocean invaded my sinuses, but it was the chill of the water that grabbed me the most. It prickled and stabbed, and once I was submerged, my sweater became a heavy opponent, fighting to pull me down. But I looped an arm through the preserver and began to swim for her.
“Goddamnit,” Ridley yelled after me, pissed that now he had two men overboard to contend with, but we could discuss this later once Sophia was safely back onboard.
As I swam, I pushed all thoughts from my mind except the singular goal of reaching her as quickly as possible. My pantlegs tangled and impeded as I kicked, but I pushed through, letting my strong body power me forward.
“Sophia,” I cried as I spotted her over the crest of a wave.
She was facedown.
True horror flooded every cell that composed my body. I launched forward, latching a hand on her arm, and dragged her toward me.
“No,” I said, turning her over and slinging back a lock of her hair out of her face. Her eyes were shut, and I leaned into her, trying to gauge if she was breathing . . .
But I heard nothing from her.
Only the sloshing of the water around us as we bobbed in the churning waves.
“Fucking, no,” I ordered her, as if she could listen and obey.
The water was frigid, my sopping clothes exhausting, and it felt like the entire fucking world was against me as I struggled to get the bright orange life vest around her. The motor of the boat growled as it approached and then cut off before reaching us, so there was no danger of being struck by the propeller.
As soon as I finished buckling the strap around her waist and cinched it tight, there came the hum of the hydraulics as the swim platform lowered. I coughed to clear the saltwater from my lungs, clenched a hand around the strap at the top of her life preserver, and swam for the back of the yacht with Sophia in tow.
Hilde knelt on the platform, opened the compartment that housed the ladder, and swung it out, the end of it splashing down into the water and the handrails popping up to lock in place. The boat was riding the waves, and seawater sloshed over the swim deck, soaking Hilde’s knees. I was now faced with the realization I was going to have to board the boat while it rocked and careened wildly. It’d be difficult under normal circumstances, but I was weighed down with drenched clothes and had an unconscious person to hold on to.
“I don’t think she’s breathing,” I said to Hilde, refusing to acknowledge the meaning of my words.
“Captain,” she shouted over her shoulder. We’d need all hands to help pull Sophia onboard.
Ridley hurried down the stairs, bracing one hand on the ladder handrail, and staggered his feet for stability as he reached down and grabbed the shoulder of the life vest. I pushed from beneath as best I could, and as he began to drag her from the water, Hilde was there to help him.
Sophia was hauled onto the deck and laid face-up, and as I latched a hand on the ladder and began to heave myself up, Hilde leaned over Sofia and put her ear to her mouth, while watching for signs that her chest was moving.
But it wasn’t.
My bare feet slapped onto the platform, and when my shadow fell across Sofia, her lips taking on an unnatural blueish hue, Hilde looked up at me stricken with fear.
The word was in my voice, but it was so absolute, I barely recognized it. “Move.”
Ridley bound up the stairs, hurrying to get to the helm and restart the engine while Hilde scurried out of my way and pulled up the ladder. I dropped hard to my knees at Sophia’s side, dripping on her as I jerked open the life vest blocking me from what needed to be done. I put the heel of my palm at the center of her chest, crossed my other hand on top, and locked my arms in preparation.
“Thirty compressions, two breaths,” I said, looking for confirmation.
Hilde nodded urgently. “Yes, sir.”
It’d been years since I’d had CPR training, and never seen it performed when it mattered, but I had a sharp mind and an excellent memory. I could do this, and it would work, because the alternative was incomprehensible.