Daria wasn’t able to see the plane until she reached the squat hill of sand marking the start of the beach. Even then, it had been hard to make out the plane’s shape or size. The sun was low in the sky behind her, reflecting off the water in sharp beams of blinding light.
Pete, already halfway to the water, turned to wave at them.
“It’s an air pig!” he shouted.
Good, Daria thought as she ran after him. If the pontoons weren’t damaged, they would keep the plane afloat. Otherwise, there was very little chance of recovering anyone alive.
People were gathering on the beach, most of them in street clothes, shivering as the evening air grew cooler. They pointed toward the plane, speaking to one another in excited voices. She and Andy pushed through the growing crowd.
“Did anyone call 9 II?” Daria called out.
Several people shouted that they had.
“I called from my cell phone,” a man standing near Daria said.
“How long ago?” she asked.
“Just a few minutes,” the man said.
“Right after the plane hit the water. It just dropped out of the sky. I thought” -Daria didn’t wait to hear more. She ran up to Pete, who was standing at the water’s edge, squinting against the reflected sunlight as he stared at the plane.
“Ocean Rescue should be here in a few minutes,” she said. Ocean Rescue would have a boat. Without a boat, there was little they could do.
“We can’t wait a few minutes,” Pete said as he stripped off his shirt.
“It looks like one of the pontoons is damaged.”
Daria looked again at the plane, and this time she could see it was listing to one side. Someone—she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman—was pounding against one of the side windows, trying to get out.
“You can’t go out there,” Daria said, although she was thinking of going herself. The plane was not out that far, and she and Pete were both good swimmers.
“What if there’s fuel in the water?”
“I’m not going to stand here and watch” — “Hey! We’ve got a boat!”
Daria turned to see two boys dragging a boat across the sand by a rope. The boat was little more than a dinghy, but it would have to do until something more substantial came along.
“Great!” Pete said. He ran up to the boys, grabbed the rope from their hands and began tugging the boat toward the water. The tattooed muscles in his arms did not even appear to strain with the effort.
Andy and Daria helped him drag the boat into the water, and Daria was about to climb in when she saw the look of longing in Andy’s eyes. He wanted to help; he wanted to save lives.
“Come with us,” she said.
“We can use an extra pair of hands out there.”
Andy climbed into the boat and picked up the oars.
“I’ll row,” he said, and he began pulling against the water. Although he was slender, he was strong, and the craft cut easily through the breakers, heading toward the plane.
Daria looked back toward the beach to see if any of the rescue vehicles had arrived, but she could see only the thickening crowd of people—and Shelly. Shelly stood out from everyone else because of her height, her distinctive blond hair and the assertive way she pushed through the throng toward the water. She was wearing her wraparound skirt, and Daria watched as she untied it and let it fall onto the sand, then walked into the water. She was going to swim out to them!
“Shelly!” Daria called to her.
“Don’t come out! It’s too cold. There could be a fuel spill!”
She knew Shelly couldn’t hear her; the crackling of the waves drowned out every word. Pete heard her, though, and he looked behind them to see why she was yelling.
“Shelly’s in the water,” Daria called to him.
“What’s she doing out there?” Andy asked.
Pete glanced behind him toward the darkening water, then turned back to the front of the boat, but not before Daria had caught the look of disgust in his face. She knew what he was thinking.
It was a moment before she realized that another small boat was in the water, ten yards or so from them. Two men were in the boat, neither of whom she could recognize in the fading light, but she was relieved they were there. She glanced back to see Shelly only a short distance behind them, her smooth strokes propelling her through the water, and Daria felt a thrill of admiration at her sister’s grace and energy—despite her questionable judgment at coming into the water at all. If any fuel had spilled from the plane, it could bum her, or worse yet, ignite. But if the water was clear, they might be able to use Shelly’s help.
The two boats came together as they neared the plane.
“Ocean Rescue’s tied up in the inlet,” a man in the second boat said.
“Capsized fishing vessel. Don’t know when they’ll get here.”
The boats glided close to the plane, and the situation became instantly, painfully clear. There were two women
