Mike Shevdon - The Road to Bedlam

"Shelley? Can you hear me?"

There was no response.

I knew she would not last long in the cold water. All the crap about her being the maiden of the deep, saving the town, had been just that – crap. Shelley was just a girl and she would drown like any other if I didn't find her soon. I needed some way of finding her in the water. I had all this power, I must be able to do something.

Then I knew what I needed to do. I moved to the bow of the boat, standing where she'd stood looking out over the water to the town. I reached within and opened myself to the well within me. I felt it dilate and an answering pulse that thrummed through my veins. I began drawing in power.

In using gallowfyre against Ted, I had stolen his energy, robbing him of that which made him vital and alive. I took that energy and drew more. The air around me chilled, the breeze whipping suddenly about the boat. I reached further, drawing power from the water on which we rode, gathering it into me, building a great well of energy. As I did so, the world began to fade, overlaid with another view. The boat appeared most solid, the metal of the hull standing stark against the fluid insubstantiality of the water. The sea beneath us was vast, but it was also flimsy, a gauzy veil that didn't appear strong enough to support the hard metal of the boat that perched upon the surface while the currents shifted and swirled beneath us. The men in the water were flotsam, threads of life, floundering in the water, and there, beyond the light, was another thread. Pale and weak, it lay in the water, pulling vainly towards the land in sporadic bursts of effort while the life within it cooled and faded. She had got surprisingly far, but now she was fading fast.

I ran back to the cabin, trying to reconcile the dual images of the boat and its mechanisms and the shadow world overlaid upon it. I found a panel of buttons and switches and started pressing all of them. The lights flashed off and then on again, screens flickered into green phosphorescent life, then I found what I sought. A low groan thrummed through the boat as the engine caught and rumbled into life.

There were shouts from the water as the men heard the engine spark. I heard the sudden fear in their voices as they realised that their only hope of rescue was leaving them behind. For a moment I felt their fear, my stomach sinking in response, but then I thought of Gillian, and of Trudy, and I pushed the throttle forward, slowly easing the boat into motion.

Using my shadow-sight, I steered the boat to where the pale figure in the water struggled. It took only a moment or two, but already I could see the life fading from her, her strokes weakening. Whether she heard the boat coming from behind or she simply found the strength for one last effort, I saw her kick out again, once, twice, then a pause, then another stroke.

Easing the throttle into idle, I ran to the bow. I grabbed a length of rope, tied the loose end to a metal ring, pulled the other end around my waist. My fingers felt numb as I fumbled to secure the knot. Then I climbed up to the rail and leaped into the water after Shelley.

The water took my breath with cold, salt filling my mouth and flooding my nose. I surfaced and spat seawater, a wave washing over me and making me splutter again. Shelley was yards away. I thrashed forward, vowing to myself that one day I would learn to swim properly. My ungainly half-crawl made achingly slow progress. As the gap closed I could see her fading, the strokes becoming languid and ineffectual, her body lying low in the water. Then she slipped under.

I flailed my arms, thrashing though the water, then gulped air and dived. My legs kicked out, my fingers stretching out to catch her as she sank beneath my grasp. I kicked again, propelling myself down. My outstretched hand brushed something, fingers grasping, floundering for contact. A flaccid touch of drifting frond, no, a handful of limp-loose sleeve. I wound my hand into it and turned for the surface, punching, reaching for air. I felt the anchor-tug of her weight beneath me as she hindered my rise, resisting the return to life. She weighed me down as I kicked and pulled myself upwards with the rope. My lungs burned for air, my heart pounded, my muscles screamed in protest. Suddenly there was air.

I heaved huge gulps of it down, not caring when salt washed into my mouth, making me cough and retch. With one arm I pulled in the rope and wound it around my arm, lifting Shelley up to me. She rose beside me, limp and inert in the water. I wrapped one arm around her chest and hauled myself in with the rope, towing her along, snatching each length of rope to draw us back to the boat. I reached the hull and we floated alongside until we came to the rope mesh hanging down.

Tangling my arm in the mesh I hung there suspended, pulling her cold body in beside me, supporting her, holding her face above the wash of the waves.

I needed to get us both out of the water.

I tugged the knot from my waist and wound the rope under her arms, two, three times, twisting and tying it with fumbling fingers. I leached what power I had left into my muscles and hauled myself up the mesh on to the rail. As I released my grip on the rope, she slipped away again, but then I had my hands free. Pulling the rope hand over hand, I dragged her back to me. Reaching down I caught hold of the rope around her chest and with a huge effort heaved her bodily from the waves, water streaming from her hair like a sodden ragdoll. I hauled her up to me, hugging her close, until she toppled over the rail on to the deck. Landing like a badly-netted catch, she sprawled across me.

I needed to lie there and breathe, but there was no time. Shelley lay across me, lifeless and limp. I pushed myself up and cradled her in my lap. In the harsh lights her face was ashen, her lips blue. I found myself suddenly wishing that I had done a first aid course or at least knew something medically useful. Wasn't there a position for recovery or a German manoeuvre I could do? Or was that choking? Surely the boat would have a medical kit, but looking down at her I couldn't help wondering if she was beyond that.

I rolled her on to her back and pulled apart her blouse, popping buttons with a bodice-ripping tug. I half-hoped she would open her eyes and slap my face for being so presumptuous, but she lay inert while I pressed my ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. Whatever faint pulse might be there, it was obscured by the rumble of diesel from the idling engines. I sat across her hips and pressed my hands, one on top of the other, on to her breast bone, gently at first, then harder. A gout of water spurted from her mouth. I quickly rolled her on to her side while she spasmed and coughed, retching. She subsided but did not stir, lying as flaccid and limp as she had before. I pressed my ear to her chest again, but could still hear nothing over the engine.

Leaving her momentarily I ran back to the cabin and switched off everything, plunging the boat into darkness and silence as the engine sputtered to a halt. I returned to Shelley and listened to her chest again. The heartbeat that sounded loudest was my own. I put my ear to her mouth, hoping for a breath, feeling only the water chilling on my skin.

I tried pumping her chest again, but nothing more came up. I desperately needed help. Even assuming I could pilot the boat back to shore, it would take too long when Shelley needed aid now. Would the men in the water know what to do? Would they help her if they could? Or would they be more interested in covering their tracks than saving their victim? They had brought three girls out here, trying to invoke a half-understood folktale. Two of the girls were already dead. I could not let that happen to the third.

At that moment, I suddenly saw the whole thing. I knew what they were trying to do. They had it all wrong, as I'd had it all wrong. My own failure to see what had been in front of me almost led me to under stand their actions – not to forgive – but at least to understand. Of course there were maidens of the deep, I had seen them.