Dana Mentink - Race for the Gold

He ushered her in first, darting one more look at the serenely falling snow behind them. A movement caught his attention. Off near the tree line, under the shifting shadows. A person? He looked again. Nothing at first, making him think perhaps it was a raccoon or maybe a bird. As he started to turn away, a figure detached itself from the shadows and began moving toward the lake.

Probably someone out for a walk, not unusual, except that the person appeared to have come from the direction of the athlete housing. So what? he asked himself again. An athlete or trainer out for a stroll, nothing more, winding down just as they were. Nonetheless, prickles of unease danced along the back of Max’s neck as he noticed that the person had a small bundle under one arm.

“Be right back,” he called to Laney, and for some reason he could not explain he found himself following.

“Max?” Laney called from behind him. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer. Walking quickly, he closed the gap.

Whoever it was didn’t notice his approach until they were nearly to the wooden dock that served as an overlook and a cast-off point for fishermen trying their luck in the lake. The figure gave a surreptitious glance around, stealthy and unsettling.

“Hey,” Max said.

The form jerked.

Max saw he’d been right—the stranger held a bundle in his arms, which he now readied himself to throw into the water.

“What are you doing?” Max said again.

He heard the sound of running feet and Laney sprinted into view. Max knew suddenly what was in that dark bundle, and he also knew he would not let it go to the bottom of the lake. He reached out to stop the outstretched hands, trying to seize the wrists.

Something sliced through his forearm in a sizzle of pain. He heard Laney cry out as he pitched backward into the water, the weight of his body punching through the thin crust of ice at the lake’s edge.

* * *

Laney hadn’t realized she was screaming as she ran. No words, just an explosion of emotion. Events unfolded in rapid-fire, just as they did in every race. The shove. Max crashing into the water, chips of ice spiraling upward luminous in the moonlight. Movement, darkness, an endless moment of fear.

Then Max’s head popped up. The person who’d pushed him slipped, fell forward before getting up and running along the trail. She didn’t think, just moved, muscles overriding good sense as she closed the gap and hurtled onto the shoulders of the person who had just shoved Max into the pond.

“What are you, crazy?” she grunted.

He, it was a man, she concluded quickly, was sturdy and strong and her fingers lost their grip on the slippery fabric of his ski jacket. She fell to one knee and the man wriggled out of her grasp, grabbed the bundle from the ground and sprinted away. She could run him down, she knew, but she was not sure she could restrain him.

Scrambling to her feet she turned to the water. “Max,” she screamed as loud as she could.

Beth Morrison raced up, dressed in a warm jacket and jeans. “What...?” she started.

“In the pond,” Laney said by way of an answer, yanking off her shoes.

“You’re not jumping in there,” Beth said, clutching Laney’s arm.

Laney shrugged her off and made for the edge of the dock.

“No,” Max shouted from the pond. “Laney, do not jump into this water,” he hollered. “I’m okay.”

She knew it was not true. At her feet was the proof. Drops of blood dotted the snow, and she was pretty sure whom it belonged to. She pushed to the edge of the dock.

“No, Laney. He’s coming out,” Beth said, grabbing her again. “Look.”

Max was indeed making his way to the dock, swimming where he could until he reached the iced edge and then cracking his way through. “He needs help,” she said. “He’s got a bad hip.”

Jackie Brewster hurried up, her cheeks pink, breathing hard. “He’s perfectly fit, and you are not to go in that water, either one of you,” she commanded, unzipping her jacket. “I will if necessary.”

“He’s my trainer...” Laney began. Friend. Confidant. The one who knows me best, her heart filled in. She hesitated, body leaning toward Max, jaw clenched.

“Exactly why he does not want his world-class athlete diving into freezing water,” Jackie snapped.

They stared, riveted, tracking Max’s progress as he swam laboriously to within several feet of the dock.

Laney dropped to her stomach and stretched out her hands to him, her torso hanging over the wooden slats.

“You’re going to fall in,” Beth said, clutching Laney’s legs.

“And so are you,” Jackie added, grabbing Beth around the waist.

Laney snatched up Max’s wrist. She could see pain rippling across his face along with the determination.

“Don’t, Laney,” he said tightly. “Your shoulder. I’ll get out myself.”

He referred to the shoulder she’d dislocated while weight training six months before. “My shoulder is fine, and if you don’t take my hand I’ll jump in and shove you out.”

The muscles in his jaw worked overtime but he clasped her palm.

Together the three of them managed to haul Max out of the frigid water and up onto the dock where he sat, his knees shivering.

Laney put her hands on his shoulders. “Max?”

“Don’t get wet,” he said. “Either one of you. I don’t want anybody...”

“Catching pneumonia,” Laney finished. “I know, I know.” In spite of his commands, she took hold of his arm. “We’re getting you inside.”

He climbed to his feet and shook off the assistance. He gripped his forearm.

“Can you make it?” Laney asked, the darkness working against her as she tried to look him over.

“Of course,” he growled. She probably should have taken offense at his tone, but she knew she would have answered the same way. The mind overrides the body. Mental toughness. They’d steeped themselves in it. Terrible patients, both of them.

They made it back to the athlete dorms and hustled him inside to the dining room. Laney snapped on the lights and Beth began a violent sneezing fit that earned her a worried look from Jackie. Laney ran to fetch a blanket that she draped around Max’s shoulders.

“What happened?” she demanded. “I turned around and you were off chasing someone to the pond.”

Blue lipped, Max took a corner of the blanket and applied pressure to his arm.

Laney pushed closer. “Bad?”

He shook his head, sending icy droplets flying.

Jackie frowned. “Did the man have a knife?”

“No.” Max turned to Laney. “Do you have your phone? I need to call security.”

She fished it out of her pocket and handed him the phone. “What happened? You have to tell me. Was it the same man from the parking lot?”

“Didn’t see his face.”

“Why...?”

He held up a calming hand the same way he always did when she wanted to be skating hard and fast and he forced her to stop and recuperate. Think it through, Birdie, was his never-ending mantra.

She was thinking it through, and the mental energy was getting her nowhere except to a state of near panic.

He tried to dial the phone, but his fingers shook too much so she took it and punched in the numbers before handing it back to him.

“I need to report a problem,” he said before giving a cursory summary and hanging up. “They’re on the way.”

She was pacing now, short, frantic circles as she texted her father.

“Laney, sit down, please,” he said, moving another chair closer. “With me.”

She forced herself into the chair. “Why did you go after the guy in the first place? He was built like a brick wall.”

He jerked. “How do you know that?”

She sighed. “I tried to tackle him.”