“Come on! We need help out here!”
The woman grasped Daria’s wrist again, and this time Daria did not pull away. She watched in horror as the plane sank lower, pulling the pilot completely underwater, her terrified eyes still wide, staring hard at Daria.
“Oh, God,” Daria said.
“Pete! What can we do?”
Pete turned to Daria. He looked past her, though, and his face suddenly registered shock.
“Oh my God, Shelly,” he shouted.
“Move!”
Daria remembered that Shelly was near the plane’s propellers, and she spun around in terror. But Shelly was safe and sound, treading water, still trying to hold up the plane and wearing a look of confusion at Pete’s reprimand. Daria had no idea why Pete had yelled at her, but there was no time to find out. The plane was suddenly rising again.
And another boat was coming toward them, this one motorized.
“Ocean Rescue’s coming!” she said, then under her breath, “Hurry.
Hurry. “
The pilot’s head rose out of the water, her hair slicked back from her face. Her eyes were still open, but she was not breathing. Floating on her stomach, Daria struggled to breathe into the woman’s mouth as the rescue boat pulled alongside them. Pete got a knife from one of the men in the boat and, slipping beneath the surface of the water, finally freed the pilot.
“Get her into the boat!” Pete shouted, and he and Daria pulled the woman from the plane and passed her to the men in the rescue boat. The boat sped off, and Andy drew his small craft close to them again.
“Get Shelly in first,” Daria said.
“She’s been in the water the longest.”
Shelly was weak now, and Andy had to pull her into the boat.
Daria could barely climb into the boat herself. Her feet were numb and her entire body trembled from exertion and anxiety. Pete pushed her, while Andy pulled. Pete was winded and exhausted when he managed to crawl into the boat himself.
Andy rowed the boat toward shore, and the breakers caught them and carried them onto the beach. They could hear shouting and, in the distance, the whirring of a helicopter.
Too late, Daria thought. She shook with the cold, and her legs threatened to give out from under her as she climbed out of the boat.
She was dressed only in her wet underwear, and she shivered as she staggered over to the cot where the medic was working on the pilot.
The young woman was intubated, bagged and hooked up to an ECG. Daria peered over the medic’s shoulder and saw the flat line on the ECG screen. The defibrillator paddles rested in the sand, obviously no longer needed. The pilot was dead, her brown eyes still open. Fighting tears, Daria turned away, but even with her own eyes shut, she could still see the pilot’s pleading gaze.
“Sorry, Dar.” Mike, who’d arrived with the ambulances, handed her a blanket.
“We’ll take over from here. Do you need a form for your field notes?”
Paperwork. How could Mike even think of that right now?
“I’ve got one in my car,” she said. She tried to wrap the blanket around herself, but her fingers would not do what she wanted them to, and Mike had to help her.
“You’re freezing,” Mike said.
“Go get warm.” He walked back to the ambulance, and she turned away from the scene. She was dazed and dizzy. Where was Pete? Where were Shelly and Andy? Her breath was like fire moving in and out of her chest, and her throat was tight with the need to cry. She hugged the blanket tighter around her body, then spotted someone in the crowd handing Andy a stack of towels. Shelly was near him, and he passed a couple of them to her. She clutched the towels to her chest, and even with the sparse lights from the ambulances, Daria could see her violent shivering. “Do you need a towel?” A woman walked up to Daria and pressed a couple of towels into her arms.
“Thanks,” Daria mumbled. She turned around again, looking for Pete, and finally saw him several yards away, his back to her. By the way he was bending over the water, she knew he was sick. She walked toward him and put one of the towels over his shoulders. He was trembling uncontrollably and didn’t even look at her as he took another towel from her arms and wiped his mouth with it.
She felt his need to be silent, to be asked no questions or receive no words of empty comfort. She rubbed his back through the towel as he stared at the ground, his breathing ragged.
Finally, he glanced at her, his gaze darting quickly to her face before turning out to sea. In the darkness, at least, it appeared the plane had disappeared.
“Do you know what happened out there?” he asked.
She was confused by the question.
“Do you mean… I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
He looked at her directly now, and his eyes were cold.
“Do you know why I yelled at Shelly when we were out there?”
She shook her head.
