Allan Folsom - Day Of Confession

Suddenly the beam of the searchlight was full on them.

'GET OVER THE SIDE! NOW!'

Harry threw himself forward and sideways at the same time, felt his hand fill with material from Elena's habit, pulling her over the gunwale into the water in a hail of automatic-weapon fire.

Shoving her under the surface toward the passageway on the far side of the skiff, he looked back to see the skiff surrounded by the bright yellow-green of water roiling with gunfire. Bullets chewed up the cavern walls around him, whining shrilly off the heavy stern. It was only a matter of moments before they would cut through the thick aluminum and reach Danny.

Ducking under the water, Harry shoved the skiff hard from beneath, trying to turn it, get Danny out of the murderous line of fire.

Lungs bursting, using the underwater wall for leverage, he maneuvered the skiff around, fighting it backward and into the passage. Suddenly it caught against something, throwing Harry backward. He swam back, digging in against the underwater wall, trying to free it.

He couldn't. His chest was on fire. He had to have air. Pushing off, he came up. Broke the surface full in the beam of the searchlight. For an instant he saw the muzzle flashes. Thought he saw the face of the man behind them. Calm. Unemotional. Firing in short bursts.

Bullets tore past his head, shredding the thin aluminum bow. Half breath. No more. Harry dove again.

Once more he used the rock for purchase, this time driving against the hull with his shoulder. Still nothing happened. He tried again. Then again. Once more, then he had to have air. This time he felt something give. Lungs exploding, he hit it again. The skiff broke free and jumped forward. He went after it, kept it moving. Then he had to come up.

He felt himself break the surface. Suck in fresh air. At almost the same instant, the firing stopped and the light swung away. And the place where they were went black.

'Elena…' Harry's voice rasped through the dark.

'Elena!' His second call, harder, more urgent. He imagined her hit by the gunfire and lying on the bottom, her lungs filled with water.

'I have hold of the boat… I'm all right-' Her voice was close by and she was gasping, trying to get air.

'What about Danny-?'

'We're moving!' Elena's cry was sudden and frightened.

Harry felt the water become abruptly colder, the skiff start to move away from him. Somehow they'd entered an underground stream and were being swept along with it.

He went after the skiff in the dark, half swimming, half pushing off the rock walls. In a moment he caught up, grabbing hold as the boat picked up speed, the water taking them ever faster. Trapped, brutally pounded between the skiff and the passage's granite sides, he fought the rush of water past him, worked his way along the gunwales, hand over hand, toward the stern.

'Elena!' Harry shouted over the roar of the water and the banging of the skiff against the rocks.

No reply.

'Elena! – Where are you? – Elena!'

Thomas Kind's fingers tugged at his throat. Salvatore was much stronger than he looked. The scarf taken from his wife's hair was twisted in his hands. Looped in a garrote around the blond man's neck. Pulling harder, the Italian pushed his knee into the small of Thomas Kind's back.

'Bastardo,' he hissed. 'Bastardo. '

This was something Kind hadn't counted on, hadn't even considered from a man as insubstantial and spiritless as Salvatore Belsito. But he would not die because of it. Abruptly he let his body go limp and slumped forward, taking the Italian by surprise. Both men hit the deck at the same time. In a single motion, Thomas Kind pulled free, rolled to the side, and came up behind him. The razor flashed in his hand, and he grabbed the Italian by the hair, dragging his head back, fully exposing the length of his throat.

'That place – that cave where they were-' Thomas Kind took a breath and felt his pulse slow, come back to normal. 'Where does it go?'

Deliberately the Italian's eyes crept up to fix on the blond man standing over him. Oddly, he was not afraid. 'Nowhere…'

Abruptly the razor slid across the base of Salvatore's nose. He cried out at the sudden gush of red that poured down over his lip and into his mouth.

'Where does it go?'

The Italian choked, tried to spit out his own blood.

'Like others in… here… To an underground stream… and… then… back… to the lake.'

'Where? - North of here? South? Where?'

Slowly a smile crossed Salvatore Belsito's face, a great, grand smile that was, in truth, his soul.

'I will not… tell you…'

Harry held Elena between himself and the skiff as it drove stern first against them, pushing them down through a thundering wash of narrow sluice that was dropping at an ever-increasing angle. The pitch black. The force of the water. His hands were raw and bleeding from trying to slow their speed against the unseen granite walls. He could feel Elena pressing against him, fighting to keep her head above water. As he was. If Danny was still inside the skiff – his gurney shoved against the stern – there was no way to tell.

Then suddenly there was nothing under them. Just air. He heard Elena scream. And he felt the skiff crush against him. Then they hit. Deep water. Blacker than before. The force sent him down. Twisting, spiraling, in a mass of turbulence. Then he felt himself touch bottom and push up, trying to swim to the surface.

And then he was up and through it. Choking, gasping, sucking in air. He saw light from somewhere cutting a ribbon through the dark.

'Elena!' he heard himself yell. 'Elena!!'

'I'm here.'

Her voice came from behind him. Startling him, making him swing around. In the light he saw her swimming toward him.

Abruptly he felt his feet touch ground, and he staggered forward to sprawl on a rocky shelf, gasping, exhausted.

Outside he could see thick undergrowth and sunlight shimmering off the lake beyond it. Then he remembered Elena, and he saw her move up on the rock shelf beside him, but she was looking off, past him, toward the water where they had just been. Real time came back, and he followed her gaze. Then he saw what she was looking at, and he could feel the chill cut through him.

Danny was like a ghost. Pale, almost transparent. Gaunt as death. Bearded and nearly naked. Bandages all but washed away. Lying only feet away, staring at him.

'Harry,' he said. 'Jesus H. Christ.'

The sound of Danny's voice hung frozen in the close air of the water cave as the brothers stared at one another, half in sheer joy and half in disbelief that they were not only alive but together and face-to-face after so many years.

Finally Harry stood and quickly slid back down the rock to where Danny was. Bracing himself, he reached out.

'Take my hand,' he said.

Slowly Danny reached up, their hands met, and Harry started to pull him up onto the ledge, sliding partway back into the water at the last moment to take special care of Danny's broken legs that miraculously still had the blue casts attached.

'You okay?' Harry asked as he crawled up beside him.

'Yes…' Danny nodded weakly and tried to smile, and Harry could see the exhaustion beginning to overtake him. Then suddenly, and from behind them, came a loud unrestrained sob. Instantly both men looked up.

Elena sat on the rock ledge where Harry had left her. Her eyes were closed and her arms were pulled tight around her, while her entire body shuddered with sobs of enormous relief. Sobs she tried to hold back but could not.

Getting up quickly, his feet slipping on the damp rocks, Harry climbed up to where she was.

'It's all right,' he said kneeling. Then, gently putting his arms around her, he pulled her close and held her against him.