You’d think after an entire summer I’d have managed to learn to drive the damned boat. Just one more reason why I shouldn’t be a full-time ranger.
“You can help the swimmers if they need us.”
Even though Nikki had babbled on about how many event participants would be hanging out on the swim beach, the sight of them was overwhelming. In their black wetsuits and swim caps, they almost looked like the group of sea lions I’d seen as a child at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. That paired with the huge sponsor banners and an emcee spinning songs between his random bursts of energy made the whole scene more intense than I had imagined possible.
“Do you think they’ll need us?” I asked as we walked down the boat ramp to the dock where our large Boston Whaler ranger boat looked ready to tackle the day.
“Couldn’t say. But we can’t have anyone drowning today.”
We stepped into the boat and fastened our life jackets—the type that inflated once they came into contact with the water.
“I saw your video.” Ben turned the key, and the boat roared to life.
I unhooked the ropes securing the boat to the dock, and he pushed the throttle handle forward. “I think everyone saw the video. I’m sorry I made a fool of the rangers.”
“Is that what she said to you yesterday?” He shook his head. “At least you tried. Brock stood there terrified after he called you to handle what he should have done himself.”
He pulled out into the sectioned-off area where the swimmers would make their way around three massive buoys before returning to the swim beach and running to their bikes in the parking lot.
“Don’t worry, kiddo. She’ll get over it. Your fifteen minutes of fame will be over once something else becomes more exciting.”
I shrugged and pulled my hat down.
The sun was rising over the prairie on the east side of the reservoir when Nikki’s voice came over the radio. “Five minutes until the start of the race.”
On shore, Nikki stood next to Ursula in the midst of the sea lion people flapping their arms like they were Olympic swimmers ready to earn their gold medals.
“Why don’t you pull the dive door so we have easier access to get people out of the water?” Ben said pointing to where a section of the boat’s sidewall could be removed.
I unclasped the hinges and pulled it out placing it to the side.
“If someone too large needs assistance, I’ll give you the controls and pull them out. Do you think you’ll be able to hold the boat steady if that happens?”
“I think so,” I said. Though I hadn’t gotten good at maneuvering the boat, I could at least keep it in one place.
The emcee’s voice came over the loudspeakers—quieter now that we were on the water—talking about the race and beginning the countdown, “Five, four, three, two, one.” The bullhorn blared, echoing through the Marina Cove. Swimmers made a mad dash for the water and entered splashing like hungry sharks were chasing them.
“Keep your eyes peeled for signs of distress.” Ben maneuvered the boat to be closer to the swimmers. Lifeguards paddled in kayaks between the swimmers and our boat.
Everyone seemed to be doing okay. Some of the swimmers peeled through the water as if it were as easy as taking a breath while others struggled, splashing with every stroke.
“We have a drowning.” Brock’s shaky voice came over the radio.
Already? The race had barely begun. The panic in Ben’s eyes mirrored my own.
“Where? Where’s the drowning?” I called out on the radio frantically searching the water.
“Golden Rock Pond.”
“Get off this channel and call the police,” Nikki hissed into her mic. I could see the anger on her face all the way from the water.
Ben backed the boat away from the swimmers. “He should have said that in the first place. He knows we have a triathlon going on over here.”
“Who is he working with today?”
“Dusty,” Ben replied. “Seamus is out here, patrolling the rest of the reservoir while we are stuck on event duty.”
“Three bodies in one week.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. The sun was up in full force now. “At least I wasn’t there for this one.”
“Looks like we have our first person in need of help,” Ben said and turned the boat in the direction of the start line.
Someone—whether male or female, I couldn’t tell due to the swim cap and goggles—flailed only yards from where the race had begun. “That didn’t take long,” I said.
“Do you think you can help him or her into the boat?”
The person looked to weight at least three hundred pounds. “I’ll do my best,” I said.
He expertly drove the boat right next to the person so they could hold onto the dive door opening.
“Thank you so much. I don’t know what happened,” a woman’s weak voice said as I grabbed her hands and began to pull. “I trained so hard. But then I thought about the fish and everything below me and the water was so dark. Are you going to pull me in?”
I was trying but making no progress.
“Uh, Ben?”
“Take the controls and try not to let the boat move.” He took the woman’s hands, and I took the wheel.
I could do this.
He pulled the woman out of the water without so much as a grunt and sat her on the seat before wrapping a blanket around her.
Only about five yards in front of the boat another swimmer called out for help.
“Ben?” I said, but he was busy talking to the woman, making sure she was okay.
I squared my shoulders and pushed the throttle forward turning the wheel like Ben had before. All I had to do was move straight forward.
The boat jolted at the panicking swimmer. Their arms and legs splashed frantically as they tried to get to us.
“Rylie what are you—”
But Ben’s warning came too late. The boat came to a grinding stop, and
