I saw it first as a path of light. Shone past the pair of us onto the black water. There was a second moon.
I stopped and turned my head. Over the horizon, a yellow beam fanned out. As they approached the hill, they were narrowed again. Another set of headlights followed, then a third.
Blue lights flashed. Distant wail of a siren dissected the sound of the wind in the marshes.
I put my chin on top of Clarissa's head. Rocked her back and forth. I cleared her matted hair off her face and tucked behind her ears. Picked up her icy hands and rubbed between my own. The lights were on around us now. The siren a shriek that stopped.
I heard brakes. Doors opening. Voices shouting orders. Silent space filled up with noise and bustle. I wiped away a thick smear of mud from her cheek.
"Clarissa," I said. "They're here."
They came over the hill. An army. Silhouetted figures behind the torches. Shone on us. Pinning us in a dazzling brightness. I put a hand over Clarissa's eyes to protect them. She remained unmoving on my lap.
I looked out onto the landscape of our blind struggle. Under the crumbling cliffs. Stunted trees leaned out in the air. The waters receding. Sucking at the thick, bubbling mud. Lapping at driftwood, rubbish, and sharp stones.
The ruined pillbox stood, with its gaping mouth. Eddies of waves around its entrance. Tomorrow, the winter light returns us to a landscape familiar to me.
The placid blue-green sea. The shingle and the sand. Wading birds lift their long legs in the shallows. I stared at the sea. Saw nothing but its heaving, glistening surface.
I thought of the Russian's face.
The waves washing over it.
There was no sign of him.
The tide took him.
Then they were with us. Between us. Lights shining. Stretchers lowered. Blankets unrolled. Voices talking into radios. A sense of controlled speed. Managed urgency. Voices in my ear. Warm hands on my freezing limbs. Something soft wrapped around me.
My eyes were burning. My arms were empty. I called out for Clarissa.
"Just relax now," someone said.
I saw a face looming towards me.
"Don't talk."
I was on a stretcher. The blanket scratched my chin. I was being carried over the rough ground. I lay on my back. Feeling as if I was detritus tugged by the tide. Couldn't close my eyes. The lids peeled back in my aching face. I stared up at the white moon.
"It's me, Sergeant Fitzgerald. Now listen, everything's…"
"Out there!" I said, raising my voice against the throb of pain in my knee, leg and head. "In the water!"
In the clamour of pain. I was hanging onto the last shreds of humanity.
"Who is?"
"Russian. Out there. Drowning."
I realised orders were being passed on. People running. I saw more lights over the horizon. Shafts of light and long shadows slid over me.
Amidst the frenetic action, Clarissa's still figure was slid on the stretcher through the open doors of the ambulance. Her white, peaceful face. She looked so small and vulnerable. Someone pushed me back onto my stretcher.
"I need to see her," I said.
"You'll see her," said the voice. "We need to check you. You'll be with her. But if you keep shifting around, we'll drop you."
I lay back and saw the stars. The Plough. The Great Bear. And the other one. The little one. The Little Bear. I was feeling woozy. Drifting off to sleep.
I heard shouts.
"Shut the door!"
"Watch out!"
The sky disappeared.
Bright lights dazzled my eyes.
It became warmer.
Green uniforms moved around me.
They lay the stretcher on the ground. A young woman appeared near me.
"How are you feeling?" she said.
"How's Clarissa Briggs?"
"She's here," said the woman. "We have looked after her. We're going to check you over, alright?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Just need to see my friend…" I broke off and howled. The woman ran her hands along my leg. There were different voices shouting. It was difficult to penetrate the fog of fear and pain surrounding me.
"We've got to move now."
"Is everybody on board?"
"Can we come?"
"They're being treated."
"It's urgent."
"Don't get in the way."
Doors slammed. A jolt and pain shot through me. I realised I was in the ambulance. We were driving away.
"Where is Clarissa?"
A woman's face came near mine. A friendly face, short, dyed-red hair, green overalls.
"I'm Susie," she said. Talking to me. The loud voice is used for young, ancient or hurt people. "We need to check you out, alright?"
"Where's Clarissa? I need to talk to her."
I made myself twist. Two other figures in green overalls bent over the stretcher across from me.
"Is she dead?"
"We need to check on you first," said Susie. She laid a hand on my shoulder, but I jerked away from her in anger.
"Not until you tell me how my friend is."
"Listen." She came closer to me so that I could see her liquid brown eyes. "Your friend has got freezing. Her core temperature has fallen to dangerous levels. We're doing everything we can."
The sympathy in her eyes struck terror into me. "Get Sergeant Fitzgerald," I said. "At once."
There were shouts from around Clarissa's bedding. "I can't get a BP reading."
The interior of the ambulance was taking shape, coming into focus. I could see Constable Smee by the rear doors, swaying with the movements of the ambulance. She looked anxious, helpless. I couldn't make out Clarissa. An oxygen mask covered her face. The medics obscured her body.
"What's happening? For fuck's sake, somebody please tell me!"
The figures did nothing. One turned towards me. A young man, with long jet-black hair, glasses, and pale skin. "Your friend is hypothermic," he lisped. "We're warming her up her body temperature."
"She was moving around," I said with desperation. "She saves my life. You've got to save her."
"We're doing everything we can."
"Can't you inject something?"
"Drugs are ineffective when she's this ill, even dangerous. We've got heat packs. She just needs to get warm."
I struggled to get off the stretcher. "Let me help."
But he held me, and I collapsed back, gasping.