We ran, Halley sprinting faster than I could, and she caught his arm just in time to yank him up as the water rushed back out to sea. Had she not, he would have gone right with it, at least far enough to be in over his head.
She hefted him into her arms as the next wave pushed against the back of her legs and I steadied them both, even as he fought against her hold, calling for his father over and over. The tide was coming in fast and a bigger wave hit us as we stumbled up higher, knocking her forward onto her knees from her unbalanced load.
"Shit!" I said, helping her up, wet to my mid-thighs. I scanned the water as best as I could in the dark but saw no one. We got the boy out of harm's way, settling momentarily on the threadbare blanket next to a hookless ocean fishing pole, tackle, and backpack.
"Papi," the boy said again, weeping but no longer trying to go to his father. He said something else in Spanish.
Halley answered him soothingly and then translated for me. "He says he was putting a fish back and a big wave knocked him down," she told him.
"Shit," I said again, my heart aching for him.
"I know." She wiped her face with her sleeve, keeping a hand on his arm to make sure he didn't change his mind. Her fear-filled eyes met mine and I belatedly remembered how water could trigger her.
"It's okay," I said automatically, calm replacing my own panic. "Call 911." I knew the best thing for her was to have something to do.
Two surfers in their late teens appeared suddenly, scaring the shit out of me. They paused, surveying the scene. "You guys cool?" the taller one asked, shifting his board. His dark hair was cut short and his wetsuit was unzipped to his waist.
"We think his dad got swept away," I said, pointing dumbly as Halley spoke urgently into the phone. "He was calling for him, we just got here so we don't know when it happened."
He looked doubtfully at his friend and they both shook their heads, but he put his board down and began to shrug back into the top of the suit. "We'll try, but don't expect much," he answered with a glance at the bawling boy. "We were leaving 'cause it was getting rough," he called over his shoulder as they moved quickly into the water.
"Wait!" Halley called, but they didn't stop. "They said not to try and find him," she told me. She was shivering, the front of her wet, and I pulled off my cable-knit sweater. The kid was colder though and she tugged off his wet shirt before wrapping him in my sweater. He was three or four and didn't protest her actions, his gaze locked on the waves, eyes dripping tears.
A woman and man in their sixties appeared farther up the beach, a portly pug snarfling along at their heels. "Excuse me," Halley said, waving to get their attention. "We just called 911 because we think a man was washed out to sea; could you possibly direct the emergency personnel to us if you see them please?"
I knew it wasn't the appropriate time to appreciate how formal she got when she was under stress, like that time she'd straightened out the asshole doctor at the hospital, but I did anyway.
The elderly couple got past their initial surprise and nodded agreement. "Is there anything else we can do?" the woman asked, taking off her orange beanie with a pom-pom on top to hear me better. The noisy-breathing dog stretched to the end of its yellow leash in an attempt to smell the kid.
"I don't think so, but thank you," Halley answered, kneeling to hug the distraught child to her.
"We'll make sure they know where to find you," the woman said, tugging the dog along as they hurried away.
I kept my vision on the surfers, their heads and shoulders bobbing in the choppy surf before one went under to search again, though we all knew it was probably hopeless. The waves just pulled people under and out; it was swift and deadly. We heard about someone drowning on these beaches at least once a month.
But then a shout arose, faint against the crashing and rumbling of the surf, and we gaped in astonishment as the boys dragged the black-clad body through the retreating waves toward us.
"Papi!" the boy screamed, rushing with us to the soaked trio.
"Espérate," Halley told him firmly, holding him back from throwing himself onto his father, who was not moving. She cast a nervous eye on the creeping waves, the latest of which was lapping at the man's heels. "Could you pull him up farther so we can do CPR?"
They did as she requested, bringing him up another ten feet as quickly as they could. She moved toward him but hesitated, looking at me. "Will you do it?"
My heart jumped into my throat. I had been recertified in the life-saving technique right before I met her, and her certification was seven years old. The instructions were fresh in my mind, but when a life depended on it, shit got real fast.
There was no time to be afraid though, and I fell to my knees next to the still body, determining the man was indeed unconscious. Halley was talking to his son in Spanish as I blocked out the noise around me, leaning close enough to listen for breathing. There was none, and his chest was clearly not rising. His pulse under my fingers on his wrist was nonexistent.
I felt where his sternum was and put my left hand over my right in that spot, straightening my arms and leaning over him to put more of my weight into the compressions as I counted to thirty.
It quickly became apparent I wasn't going to be able to keep it up for long; my back was aching after just one round. But it was time for part two and I swept my index finger inside his mouth, making sure he wasn't choking on seaweed or a crab leg or something. It felt clear. I tilted his head back to clear the airway, pinched his nose shut and took a deep breath before sealing my lips to his and blowing the air in as steadily as I could.
His mustache was prickly and the stubble under his bottom lip rough, details that were unimportant. I took my mouth away, filling my lungs again, and repeated the motion, only to be rewarded with regurgitated saltwater being coughed into my face.
But this of course meant he was alive, and a cheer went up as I turned away and spit several times. The man groaned and rolled onto his side to cough some more while the quieter guy patter his back.
Halley threw her arms around me and squeezed the rest of my breath out of my lungs. "You did it!" she said joyfully, holding my face between her hands and kissing my cheek and nose and lips. "You totally did it." She hugged me again, just as tightly.
The little boy was clinging to his father, chattering nonstop in excitement and relief. "I can't believe it," I said honestly, feeling dazed. "That you guys found him. That's crazy."
The man sat up, speaking to us all in general. "I was letting the fish go," he said, his words heavily accented. He eyed the ocean warily. "The wave was too strong." He coughed again, looking down at his son and embracing him, then back at me. "Thank you."
I gestured at the real heroes behind him. "They found you, they saved you," I demurred honestly, and he repeated his words to them.
"No biggie," the talkative one assured him, though they had risked their own lives to some degree certainly.
A ranger pulled up with EMTs aboard. After sharing all the information we had, they dismissed us with thanks and we retreated back to the quiet sanctuary of our little cottage.
The room was warm from the heater and we quickly stripped out of our wet clothes and into loungewear.
"Holy shit," Halley said when we were done, pulling me on top of her on the bed. The blue floral pattern of the quilt highlighted her eyes, and her elation was contagious as the shock of the whole situation began to abate. "You were amazing. You saved that man's life, dude. I couldn't do it, I froze. But you? Not a problem."
I scoffed. "You would have been fine if you had to do it." But it felt good, especially with the memory of that deadly-still wrist under my fingers.
"Amazing," she repeated, rolling us over, making her on top so her colder-than-usual hand could slide up under my tank top.
"Oh my God, you're freezing," I gasped of it, not that I stopped her. I'm not stupid.
She grinned mischievously, holding part of her weight off me with the other arm. "If you know any ways of warming up, I'm willing to try." She landed soft kisses across my collarbone and up my neck, distracting me from the chill, and traced my nipple with icy fingers.
I groaned, reaching to tug her hair tie loose so the golden waves fell around us. "We're getting sand on the bed," I teased her, drawing my breath in suddenly as her teeth gently caught my other nipple through the thin tank top.
She moved up to kiss me and I closed my eyes. "I love you, sandy feet and all," she whispered, brushing a stray hair off my forehead. "You're the best thing ever."
"No you," I answered, meaning it, and didn't argue when her response was more kissing.