D. MacHale - Raven Rise

“Alder?” I called. “Come on out.”

Alder had been waiting below the hatch. As soon as I called him, his head popped out. Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynde took a surprised step back and watched him move, as if he were an alien from another planet…which is exactly what he was. Alder was a big guy. A warrior. With clothes that were too small, he looked even bigger and more formidable. Hirsch tensed up. I don’t think he expected to see a guy looking like a defensive lineman rise out of that boat. He shot a quick glance back toward shore, as if he wanted to call for backup. He didn’t though. The situation was too fragile. Alder stepped off the boat and onto the dock, beside me.

“Listen,” I said to him. I didn’t care that everybody else could hear. It would make absolutely no difference if they knew what I was thinking or not. It was more important that my friends and I were all on the same page. “The police want to take us into custody to talk about the disappearance of my family. They’re the good guys. They don’t want to hurt us. But if we go with them, they’ll take us out of play.”

“Understood,” Alder said calmly.

I turned to Mark and Courtney. “Guys, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to handle this situation on your own.”

“Got it,” Mark said with confidence. “Not a problem,” Courtney added.

Hirsch took a step forward. His eyes darted between us nervously. “Let’s…let’s all be cool and head for shore, all right?”

I put my hand up. It stopped him. “Jim, I know you might not believe this, but we are not criminals.”

“I’m not saying you are-”

“I know. I get it. You don’t know what’s going on, and you’re going to want to talk all about it and solve all the mysteries. I’m sorry, but we don’t have time for that.”

Hirsch shook his head quickly, as if not believing what he was hearing. “Wha-you don’t have time? I’m sorry, son, but four people have been missing for a long time and-”

We didn’t give him time to finish the sentence. Alder and I dove off the dock into the cold waters of the river. I could only imagine the stunned looks on everyone’s faces. I hoped that would translate into a few frozen moments of inactivity before Hirsch triggered his cops into action. Alder and I both swam for the next dock over. When we hit it, we hung there to take a few seconds to form our plan.

“We’ll split up,” I gasped. “Swim underwater as much as you can. Hide under the docks. Take your time. Don’t splash. Make your way as far away from the lights as you can before hitting shore.” I pointed upriver and added, “On the far bank of the river, beyond the highway, is a rope swing. It’s not far beyond the road, on a steep hill. I’ll meet you there.”

Alder didn’t waste time with a response. He took a gulp of air and dove underwater with nothing more than a wink of reassurance. The guy was a pro. I had no doubt he’d make it. I wasn’t so certain about my own chances.

“Bobby!” Hirsch called out. “Don’t do this! You’re not in any trouble.”

“Yeah,” I thought to myself. “Not yet.”

I dove below the surface and dropped under the dock. It was dark. And cold. It was going to be harder than I thought. Visibility was next to zero. I’d been around docks like this all my life. They were each roughly six feet wide, with boats tied to cleats on either side. I knew there was airspace below. I surfaced to find myself looking up at the rows of wooden planks that ran the width of the structure. My hope was to zigzag from dock to dock, swimming underwater and resting underneath, slowly making my way toward shore. The docks were built like fingers, stretching out in all directions like a floating maze. I fought the urge to stay under the dock where I was and make my way toward shore beneath it-I was afraid that would be the first place they’d look. I needed to get to another dock to make the chase impossible. Alder had gone downriver, so I chose to go upriver. I took a few deep breaths, filled my lungs, and pushed myself down, headed for the next dock over. It was hard to see how far it was. I didn’t want to surface short. I’d be seen for sure. I kept one eye looking above, trying to see the shadow of the float. The floodlights helped. They cast the wooden docks into sharp relief. I made it to the next dock and surfaced beneath it with no problem.

“Spread out!” I heard Hirsch yell to his men. “Two on each dock.”

He knew exactly what we were doing. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure it out. But knowing what we were doing and actually finding us were two different things. As I wrote before, there were a lot of docks and many, many boats. I gulped air and dove below again. It was risky, because I had to maneuver between the keels of a few big sailboats. There were many places to hide, and just as many places to bash my head. I had to be fast, silent, and cautious. The shadow of a shallow-draft cabin cruiser loomed ahead of me. I swam beneath it and surfaced below the dock…

To hear footsteps directly above. The sound echoed through the airspace over my head. Did they know I was there? I looked toward shore to see the beams from flashlights shining down through the spaces between boards.

“Slow, slow!” a voice said. “Don’t miss him.”

“I can’t see anything,” another shouted back.

Yelling was good. So long as they were yelling at one another and clomping around on the wooden boards, they wouldn’t hear anything below, and I’d know where they were. I waited until they were nearly on top of me, then took a breath and dove straight down. I figured depth was good. No light could penetrate more than a few feet into that murky water. I forced myself to hover below without moving. Light would catch movement. I waited until my lungs felt as if they would burst, then drifted slowly back up. When my face broke the surface, I fought to keep myself from taking a huge gulp of air, for fear they would hear. Keeping my teeth from chattering was almost as hard. I was freezing. I sensed a flash of light behind me, and turned to see they had passed over me and were now farther out on the dock. I didn’t want to risk having them walk over me again, so I gulped air, dove down, and pushed off, to head for the next dock over.

It was getting harder to see, because I was getting beyond the throw of the floodlights. There was less chance of them spotting me out there, but there was also more chance of me finding the hull of a boat with my head. I lost all sense of direction. I didn’t know which way was up or down, let alone where the next dock was.

The only thing I could do was surface. I stopped swimming, and let the air in my lungs float me to the surface. When my head broke out of the water, I found myself between the hulls of two big sailboats, a few yards short of the dock. “There he is!” came a shout.

The voice seemed far away. I wasn’t sure if I should dive under the dock and swim for it, or climb out of the water and fight for it. I figured that if they had spread out over all the docks, odds were good that I’d only have to deal with one or two cops. My chattering teeth told me to go for the fight. At least that would keep me warm.

Before I officially made the choice, I heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. It wasn’t me they saw. It was Alder. I pushed off of one boat and swam out into the open to see that Alder was onshore about fifty yards from me. He wasn’t alone. The police were closing on him. I could see that cops were spread out all over the docks to search for us, which meant only a few were left onshore, which meant they didn’t stand a chance against Alder. It would take more than two policemen to take him down, unless they started shooting, which I didn’t think would happen.