Karin Slaughter - Blindsighted

Jeb had been thrown about ten feet from the boat, away from the rock field. Sara knew the only way she would make it to the shore was to swim through the rocks. She could tread water for only so long before the cold enveloped her. The distance to the dock was too great. She would never make it. The safest route to the shore would take Sara past the overturned boat.

What she really wanted to do was stay where she was, but Sara knew the cold water was luring her into a sense of complacency. The lake's temperature wasn't down to freezing, but it was cold enough to bring on moderate hypothermia if she stayed in too long.

She swam a slow crawl to conserve body heat, her head just above the water as she made her way through the field. Her breath was a cloud in front of her, but she tried to think of something warm; sitting in front of a fire, roasting marshmallows. The hot tub at the YMCA. The steam room. The warm quilt on her bed.

Altering her course, she went around the far side of the boat, away from where Jeb had gone down. She had seen too many movies. She was terrified he would come from the deep, grabbing her leg, pulling her down. As she passed the boat, she could see a large hole in the front where the rock had torn through the bow. It was overturned, the belly up to the sky. Jeb was on the other side, holding on to the torn bow. His lips were dark blue, a stark contrast against his white face. He was shivering uncontrollably, his breath coming out in sharp puffs of white. He had been struggling, wasting his energy trying to keep his head above water. The cold was probably lowering his core temperature with every passing minute.

Sara kept swimming, moving more slowly. Jeb's breathing and her hands pushing through the water were the only sounds on the still lake.

"I c-c-can't swim," he said.

"That's too bad," Sara answered, her voice tight in her throat. She felt as if she was circling a wounded but dangerous animal.

"You can't leave me here," he managed around chattering teeth.

She started to sidestroke, turning in the water so as not to put her back to him. "Yes, I can."

"You're a doctor."

"Yes, I am," she said, continuing to move away from him.

"You'll never find Lena."

Sara felt a weight drop onto her. She treaded water, keeping her eyes on Jeb. "What about Lena?"

"I't-t-took her," he said. "She's somewhere safe."

"I don't believe you."

He gave what she assumed was a shrug.

"Where's somewhere safe?" Sara demanded. "What did you do to her?"

"I left her for you, Sara," he said, his voice catching as his body started shaking. From the recesses of her mind, Sara recalled that the second stage of hypothermia was marked by uncontrollable shaking and irrational thought.

He said, "I left her somewhere."

Sara moved slightly closer, not trusting him. "Where did you leave her?"

"You n-n-need to save her," he mumbled, closing his eyes. His face dipped down, his mouth dropping below the waterline. He snorted as water went up his nose, his grip on the boat tightening. There was a cracking sound as the boat moved against the rock.

Sara felt a sudden rush of heat through her body. "Where is she, Jeb?" When he didn't answer, she told him, "You can die out here. The water's cold enough. Your heart will slow down until it stops. I'd give you twenty minutes, tops," she said, knowing it would be more like a few hours. "I'll let you die," Sara warned, never more certain of anything in her life. "Tell me where she is."

"I'll tell you on th-th-the shore," he mumbled.

"Tell me now," she said. "I know you wouldn't leave her somewhere to die alone."

"I wouldn't," he said, a spark of understanding in his eyes. "I wouldn't leave her alone, Sara. I wouldn't let her die alone."

Sara moved her arms out to her side, trying to keep her body moving so that she would not freeze. "Where is she, Jeb?"

He shook so hard the boat shuddered in the water, sending small wakes toward Sara. He whispered, "You need to save her, Sara. You need to save her."

"Tell me or I'll let you die, Jeb, I swear to God, I'll let you drown out here."

His eyes seemed to cloud and a slight smile came to his blue lips. He whispered, " 'It is finished,' " as his head dropped again, but this time he didn't stop it. Sara watched as he let go of the boat, his head slipping under water.

"No," Sara screamed, lunging toward him. She grabbed the back of his shirt, trying to pull him up. Instinctively, he started to fight her, pulling her down instead of letting her pull him up. They struggled this way, Jeb grabbing her pants, her sweater, trying to use her as a ladder to climb back up for air. His fingernails raked across the cut in her arm, and Sara reflexively pulled away. Jeb was pushed back from her, the tips of his fingers brushing across the front of her sweater as he tried to find purchase.

Sara was pulled down as he climbed up. There was a solid thud as his head slammed against the boat. His mouth opened in surprise, then he slipped soundlessly back under the water. Behind him, a streak of bright red blood marked the bow of the boat. Sara tried to ignore the pressure in her lungs as she reached toward him, trying to pull him back up. There was just enough sunlight for her to see him sinking to the bottom. His mouth was open, his hands stretched out to her.

She surfaced, gasping for air, then ducked her head back underwater. She did this several times, searching for Jeb. When she finally found him, he was resting against a large boulder, his arms held out in front of him, eyes open as he stared at her. Sara put her hand to his wrist, checking to see if he was alive. She went up for air, treading water, her arms out to the side. Her teeth were chattering, but she counted out loud.

"One-one thousand," she said through clicking teeth. "Two-one thousand." Sara continued counting, furiously treading water. She was reminded of old games of Marco Polo, where either she or Tessa would tread water, their eyes closed, as they counted out the requisite number before searching each other out.

At fifty, she took a deep breath, then dove back down. Jeb was still there, his head back. She closed his eyes, then scooped him up under his arms. On the surface, she crooked her arm around his neck, using her other arm to swim. Holding him this way, she started toward the shore.

After what seemed like hours but was only a minute at most, Sara stopped, treading water so that she could catch her breath. The shore seemed farther away than it had before. Her legs felt disconnected from her body, even as she willed them to tread water. Jeb was literally deadweight, pulling her down. Her head dipped just below the surface, but she stopped herself, coughing out the lake, trying to clear her mind. It was so cold, and she felt so sleepy. She blinked her eyes, trying not to keep them closed too long. A small period of rest would be good. She would rest here, then drag him back to the shore.

Sara leaned her head back, trying to float on her back. Jeb made this impossible, and again she started to dip below the water. She would have to let Jeb go. Sara realized that. She just could not force herself to do it. Even as the weight of his body started to pull her down again, Sara could not let go.

A hand grabbed her, then an arm was around her waist. Sara was too weak to struggle, her brain too frozen to make sense of what was happening. For a split second she thought it was Jeb, but the force pulling her up to the surface was too strong. Her grip around Jeb loosened, and she opened her eyes, watching his body float back down to the bottom of the lake.

Her head broke the surface and her mouth opened wide as she gasped for air. Her lungs ached with each breath, her nose ran. Sara started to cough the kind of wracking coughs that could stop the heart. Water came out of her mouth, then bile, as she choked on the fresh air. She felt someone beating on her back, knocking the water out of her. Her head tilted down into the water again, but she was jerked back by her hair.