For a moment, I didn't move. Then, with painful slowness and care, I inserted myself into the pillbox's small opening. My jacket ripped. Rough stone against my hands and face, blood, and salt in my mouth.
The sea came up above my waist and then, as I moved forward, up to my neck. I didn't dare make any rough movement, for fear of splashing water into the tiny, pitiful mouth. I was terrified my bulk might make the level rise
With tiny steps, I shuffled towards Clarissa, one hand still holding the torch high, the other reaching out to touch her drowning body.
My fingers found her. The stretched stem of her neck and the seaweed tangle of hair.
"Clarissa, I've got you."
Her eyes stared at me. Her lips gasped at the remaining air. Water bubbled at her upturned chin.
"I'll get you out."
The torch needed to be discarded. I stared around the clammy space. Found a shallow nook. There, the stone crumbled. I crammed the torch into it, its light shining.
I could no longer see Clarissa.
I put my arms around her waist, under the water, and pulled. She rose an inch, heavy and unresponsive as a corpse, then jerked to a stop. I didn't know where they tied her.
"Wait."
My jacket opened as I sank beneath the surface of the water. I opened my eyes, but could see nothing except the brackish swirl of the sea. I groped with my hands and found her legs. They tied her ankles with something rough, thick, and strong. A rope. I tugged at it.
My lungs were aching now. I followed the rope to where it stopped, knotted to something heavy. I tore at the thick, not with my fingers, trying to wriggle it free, but I knew I couldn't untie it.
Without seeing it. Under water. In time. There was no time.
These people were trained killers. There was a method. A style to how this was done. Too late to save Alexis Fawx, but I wanted to save Clarissa Briggs.
I rose again, gasping and spluttering. Pulled off my bulky, sodden jacket, bundled it into a thick parcel, and plunged again. I blew air out of my lungs so I could stay submerged, while I put my hands round Clarissa's calves and pushed her until the rope went tight. I forced the folded jacket under her dangling, booted feet, pushing it into a shape that accommodated her weight, not tipping her if she shifted.
Now at least I'd gained a minute.
Once more, I surfaced. I reached for the torch and shone it into my face.
"Wait. Don't move. Stand tall. Breathe. I will return in a few seconds. I swear to you I'm going to save you."
Her eyes widened. Out of her mouth came a long, bubbling mew. Not a human sound.
I turned away from Clarissa and pulled myself out of the hole. I waded through the waves and the ripping wind. The waves were washing away the bodies.
I searched their black fatigues. They were cumbersome and limp.
My hands came away sticky with their blood, but I found a knife.
I launched myself back through the tide, towards Clarissa, both arms raised, the water parting in a trough before me. The light in the west was gone, and it was dark.
As I reached the small opening, the moon emerged from behind a cloud. It cast a faint, silvery light over the surging water.
The torch was dying. Its beam flickered. With the moon's light, I could see everything around me. The icy expanse of the sea. The high sky. Crumbling banks of mud and sand. A smudge, the ruined shelter breaking through the rising tide. It must be full by now.
The undertow sucked the sand and pebbles beneath my feet.
Harder to make my way.
My jeans clung to my legs. My shoes are dead weights. Laced up, with no time for me to undo them.
I pulled myself through the pillbox's entrance and floundered for a foothold. Water rose and engulfed me.
I was out of my depth.
Stood on tiptoe at the higher edge to breathe.
I held the torch above my head. Its wavering light shone around the deathly space.
Nothing.
Clarissa was gone.
A howl of desperation rose in my throat.
I pushed it away.
My torch gave a last few yellow flickers and fizzled out. I let it drop with a muted splash. The moon shone a light after me. Then, darkness. I put the knife between my teeth. One deep breath. I sank under the water, my free hand stretched out.
I found Clarissa's body. Her arms tied and bound behind her back.
Her waist under the sodden jacket, her thighs, her legs, her ankles.
I didn't want to dislodge her from my folded jacket.
I searched for the rope. Clutched it with my left hand. Now I faced downwards. A diver. My legs floating to the surface. With the knife, I started sawing through the rope. I needed to breathe. I couldn't stop.
The rope soaked. Thick. The knife was sharp but struggling. My lungs shrivelled. Scorched with pain. Soon to breathe. Draw in great gulps of salty water. A spasm jolted my body. I let go of the rope. Broke through the surface. Retching and gasping.
Knife back in mouth. I submerged again. The rope. My fingers found the grove where I'd been cutting. I started sawing again. Let the ache build up in my lungs again. Each cubic millimetre filled with solid pain.
I imagined the thread breaking. One by one. The gradual give in the rope. A few more cuts.
It took so long.
No time. No breath. My body. ready to explode with pain. Clarissa hung above me, swaying with the waves.
The rope gave a tremor and snapped. My body floated upwards, no longer anchored. I heaved against Clarissa as I rose to the surface. Pushed her head into the air. Grappling with her passive weight. She lolled against me. I couldn't hold her. I was now out of my depth.
Six-foot-two of me.
Her head tipped back in the water. I thrashed beside her, gulped in air. Placed my hands on either side of her head. Over her ears. I lay on my back. Towed her the short distance towards the entrance.
Once, I thought she twitched. A tiny shudder, a reflex. Otherwise, unresponsive. Her legs bumped against mine under the water.
At the doorway, I tried to haul myself backwards. One arm wrapped around her torso. I tugged at her slack, slippery heaviness upwards. Her upper body leaned back away from me. She wanted to return to the shelter.
I tried to get a proper grip on her clothes. Or clammy skin. Her fingers pieces of slimy driftwood. Her limbs twisted in impossible ways. Several times, I let her go. Back into the flooding darkness.
I clutched a handful of her hair. Keep her head above water.
The concrete scraped at my face. I sensed blood in a warm gush along my cheek and neck.
I tumbled over the immersed threshold. Back into the open sea. Feet sinking deep into the mud. I dragged her after me.
The moon shone on us. Its rippled trail widening over the water. The waves washed over my neck. Clarissa's body drifted behind me. A net of dead fish. I hooked my hands under her armpits. I saw the shape of her body. The ghostly blur of her face. Her eyes were closed now.
I towed her to the shore. Hauling her past the dead bodies. Dragged by her arms onto the dry sand. The rocks. We collapsed in a heap. Wrapped up together. I touched the clammy chill of her skin. I struggled to my knees.
In the moonlight, her face was grey, her lips the same colour. Her mouth gaped open. Slack. Her flesh chilly as the sand.
I gather her body to me. Pressing my face into her neck. Her head to my ear. To sense or hear her breath. Nothing but the steady rumbling wash of the sea behind me. The fretful moan of the wind.
I pinched her nostrils between my thumb and forefinger and put my mouth to hers. Blew once, twice. I pumped on her chest several times. Breathed air into her mouth again.
Repeated.
A tiny bubble of air and a gurgle came from her colourless lips. Followed by a helpless choking sound. I hauled her into a sitting position. Her arms tied behind her. A prisoner before execution.
Her head lolled forward. She vomited into my lap. I held her against me. Pressed my lips to her forehead. Her body pressed against mine. I wrapped my arms around her. Rubbed her back. Press my living warmth into her.
Clarissa's eyes opened. She looked at me. Then past me. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. Her eyes widened. Pain exploded. Great. Sudden. It wasn't just a sensation.