“Logan!” she gasped. “What happened to you? Are you al—”
I waved her off. “I’m fine. His injuries are much worse.”
I struggled to get words out over the intense sting that burned and radiated across my upper body.
Ange splashed antiseptic over the gash in the guy’s leg, causing him to cringe even more. Then, using a pair of tweezers, she cleaned the wound of broken pieces of coral and bandaged it up.
Once the guy was good, Ange focused on my wounds. She cleaned the tweezers, then pulled out broken pieces of purple spines. It stung, but I did my best to suppress it by petting Atticus. When all the pieces were cleared, she had Scarlett dampen a few rags with hot water and drape them over my wounds.
“Now, no going back in for half an hour, all right?” she said in her motherly tone. “I’m not done with you.”
I thanked her, then scanned over the stern as a thirty-foot Bayliner pulled right up to our boat. There was a big, bulky young guy with a decent gut for his age and a farmer’s tan manning the helm. He wore a backward sun visor, purple sunglasses, and stars-and-stripes swimming trunks. He held a beer in his left hand and turned down the music when he reached us. There was a second guy on the boat, but he was too preoccupied by the hookah he was smoking as he lounged at the stern.
“Cody, are you all right, man?” the big shirtless guy shouted from the Bayliner. “I was taking a leak and didn’t even know what was happening.”
This guy, oblivious to what was happening? I was willing to bet that was a common occurrence.
He lowered his sunglasses when he saw the bandage around his friend’s leg.
“Wow, you get a scrape?”
“He nearly died,” Ange snapped.
“She’s right,” I said. “Your friend would still be down there had it not been for Scarlett.”
I motioned toward our daughter, who was sitting beside the guy she’d saved and sliding her trusty Spare Air back into its pouch.
The idiot laughed. “Thanks for looking out.” He chugged the rest of his beer, then tossed it to the deck and grabbed another from his cooler, adding, “You guys want a cold one on me?”
I shook my head, genuinely shocked that this guy was for real.
“You realize you can get a DUI operating a boat, right?” Ange said.
The guy laughed stupidly again, then spread his arms out wide.
“Good thing there’s a shortage of cops out here.”
He kept his arms held out and looked around with a big goofy smile on his face.
To prevent losing any more brain cells by associating with the guy who made Mr. Bean look like Albert Einstein, I focused my attention back on Cody.
People drowning while freediving is more common than it should be. Sometimes, unavoidable instances occur. Sometimes every rule is followed, every preparation made, and still a fluke whacks you out of nowhere.
But the vast majority of victims are claimed due to a lack of respect for the ocean, or whatever body of water you’re in. It doesn’t matter if you’re a foot or two hundred feet down. When your lungs throb for unattainable air and you can’t move, your depth will be irrelevant.
“You should really look into getting a freediving certification,” I said to Cody.
“They have those?”
I nodded.
“Yeah. Most reputable is PADI. It’s a fun course and you’ll learn a lot. FYI the first rule is to never freedive without a buddy.”
He hung his head and bit his lip.
“Sorry for this. And thank you for saving my life. All of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Scarlett said with a proud grin.
“You’re alive,” I said, “and you’ve learned a good lesson. The ocean can be the most awe-inspiring, as well as the most terrifying thing you’ve ever encountered. It must be respected.”
“And you’ll have a cool scar,” Scarlett added. “You could embellish the story a little, make it a real sea story by saying that sharks or eels were involved.”
He smiled for the first time, then we helped him to his feet.
“Be smarter next time,” I said as I shook his hand. I leaned in closer and lowered my voice. “And get yourself some new friends.”
He nodded meekly, then climbed over to the Bayliner.
“You’re buying me a new camera if you broke it,” the idiot said to Cody as he stepped beside him.
He said other stuff too, but I turned away and stepped forward so I couldn’t hear it.
“Well, that was exciting,” Ange said. “Saving helpless victims? You’re becoming more like your dad every day.”
Scarlett beamed at that.
“And your mom,” I said, popping open the cooler and pulling out a few chilled coconut waters. I handed them out, cracked open one for myself, then took a few refreshing swigs. “You did good, Scar. I didn’t even see him. And it’s a good thing you had your can of Spare Air.”
“Sorry for dropping it,” she said. “You all right?”
I waved her off. “You didn’t. He smacked it away. And I’m fine. Not my first run-in with those pesky purple spike balls. And I’m sure it won’t be my last.”
FIVE
Preferring to avoid crowds, we motored away from the statue and anchored down beside the edge of Molasses Reef. Just minutes after diving the reef, Ange spotted a few lionfish spread out in a long rocky alcove. We made quick work of the colorful tropical fish with our pole spears. In a world of regulations and licenses and specified seasons, going after lionfish offers a breath of fresh air. The invasive species is always in season; in fact, spearing the colorful spiny fish is encouraged.
After another hour soaking up the bountiful marine life
