Chapter 19
Uncaring about the weather, Julian wrenched open the door of his truck and sprinted toward the disaster he could see unfolding.
But….
Fuck.
No matter how fast he ran, he was going to be too late to do a damned thing to help Petula.
Julian noted the minute Petula became aware of the danger, too.
One minute she was backing up slowly, and the next she’d floored the gas, but Julian cursed again. She wasn’t going to make it.
Petula must have seen the futility of continuing, because she stopped her backward trajectory, stuck her head out the window of her van, and looked directly at him.
Even from a distance, Julian could see the fear in her face. Regret, too. But for what? Did she seriously think she was going to die?
Not on his watch.
Julian cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jump, Petula. Jump,” he yelled.
If she were at least clear of the van, she might go under, but Julian would find her. He was an incredibly strong swimmer, and like his brother Buck, he could hold his breath for an extraordinary amount of time.
Petula looked at him and shook her head.
Clearly, she couldn’t do it, and…
Julian gasped in a breath.
Oh, my God. No!
“Stay in the vehicle!” he amended frantically. “Stay there.”
In his gut-wrenching need to see her away from the van, Julian hadn’t understood that his initial order had been dangerously incorrect. If she jumped, she surely would be hit with one of the many trees that were speeding downhill in the deluge.
She looked puzzled at his change of heart, but nodded, for which Julian was thankful.
It was only because of her fears that she hadn’t listened. But where did it leave them, now?
He couldn’t get any closer to her without also being in the path of the churning waters.
All he could do was stand and watch.
His heart was in his throat as the crest of the flood reached her vehicle. The surge picked up the van like a child’s toy, tossed it several feet into the air, then swept it askance toward the reservoir.
Julian’s feet rooted to the spot in horror.
He had to act. He had to…
…get his ass in gear.
Spinning in place, he ran full-tilt back to the truck, already pulling his phone from his pocket to call his brothers.
Spence picked up on the first ring.
“Jules. What’s—?”
“No time, Spence,” he gasped. “Petula’s in trouble. There was a dam break or something on the land north of us.” He rattled off the address. “She’s still in the van, and it’s been caught up in the current, headed for a reservoir. I’m stripping down now to go get her.”
His shaking fingers lowered the zipper of his jacket and he tossed it aside. That was followed quickly by his shirt before he began working on his jeans.
“Wait,” Spence called out. “Don’t go unprotected.
I have gear in the back of my truck, Jules.
Suit up. That water will be damned cold, and you’ll be no good to her if you pass out from hypothermia.
All I have is a wet suit, though. Not ideal for the frigid water, but it’ll keep you from becoming an ice cube, and it will only take an extra few minutes to get it on. ”
Spence continued. “Petula will be damned cold too, by the time you get her out, but there’s nothing you can do about that except move as quickly as possible.
Get her back to shore and put her into the hands of medical personnel, ASAP.
I’m calling EMS right now. We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t die.”
“I’m not planning on it,” Julian clipped.
He hung up.
Petula was not going to die today, either.
Julian had clear view of the brown van as he yanked on his wet suit.
The unwieldy behemoth was bobbing and swirling in the rushing water, but it remained upright, thank god, and Julian could just make out Petula, still in the cab.
He thought, by her posture, that she must be clutching the wheel in a death grip.
That didn’t bode well for her state of mind.
Julian seized a mask, fins, and a tank from the bed of the truck.
The regulator he grabbed had a tandem breathing apparatus—called an octopus—attached, which was the safety protocol for all regulators these days, and for that, Julian was thankful.
Petula might need help breathing, either when he got to her, or when he was swimming her in.
He was taking no chances, just in case she became submerged at some point.
Julian’s heart beat fast as he finished donning his equipment, then he took one precious second to breathe. He needed to calm himself. He already knew that Petula had to be panicking. For both of them to be unnerved wouldn’t do either of them any good.
His pause, however, was serendipitous. It had him spotting a large coil of nylon rope nestled under a tarp.
Maybe…?
Without overthinking it, Julian reached in and grabbed the coil, then ran full tilt toward the reservoir, noting that the water which had been rushing downhill bringing a lot of trees and branches with it, had slowed to a small stream.
That was good news, but it didn’t mean that dangerous detritus wasn’t still swirling around in the water, either on or beneath the surface.
The last thing he needed was to get clunked in the head or tangled in something.
Which meant his best bet was to mask up and fully submerge on the way out, so he could see any debris coming at him.
When Julian reached the bank, his mind had already formed a plan. Finding the sturdiest tree, he tied one end of the rope tightly around it, looped the rest of the coil over his head and one shoulder, pulled on his fins, and dove right in.
Damn. The water was fucking frigid.
He’d known it would be, at least for a few minutes before the layer next to his skin warmed up, but even then it would still be freaking frosty. If he’d only had a dry suit…
No. He’d manage just fine. He, at least, had some protection against the cold. He couldn’t imagine how Petula was coping. Not only would she be out of her mind with fear, if he didn’t get to her within the next fifteen minutes or so, she could be rendered unconscious because of the freezing water.
If Julian had anything to say about it, it wasn’t going to take him half that long to reach her.
Submerging, and swimming as fast as he ever had before, Julian came up every ten seconds or so to make sure he not only kept eyes on the van, but didn’t stray from his course. The vehicle was tilting to one side, now, and he couldn’t see Petula any more.
Fuck.
Hang on. Hang on, Julian repeated over and over in his head.
He didn’t know what he’d do if he got to the van and Petula was nowhere to be found.
He immediately shut that thought down. He’d deal with that possibility when he reached the vehicle. There was no need to borrow more trouble.
Head in the game, he told himself.
The swim seemed to take forever. It didn’t exactly help that Julian had to uncoil the rope as he went, but he knew it would be important in bringing Petula back if she were incapacitated. There was no way he could swim and keep her above water without it.
Julian fixated for a moment on the floundering van still twenty feet away, and almost got bashed with half a tree.
Fuck.
He dove, and was able to come up clear on the other side.
It was a close call. Too close.
His head remained on an underwater swivel until he finally spotted the chassis of the van no more than ten feet ahead. Thank god the visibility in the water, even with the incoming rush, had stayed fairly clear. It allowed him to peruse what was around and below the vehicle.
What he didn’t see, was Petula.
He hoped that was good news.
Julian put on a burst of speed, launched himself to the surface, and spit out his regulator.
The rain and wind were relentless, howling around him.
“Petula,” he bellowed, then paused to listen.
Nothing.
“Petula,” he cried out again.
Swimming on the surface now to reach the bobbing van while keeping his eyes peeled was difficult.
“Here.”
Petula’s voice hit his ears. It was shaky but loud.
Thank God.
But where was she?
“Yell again,” Julian shouted, looking around, trying to place her.
“Up here,” she hollered.
Julian swam to his right, around the van which seemed to be tipping in that direction more and more with each gust of wind.
That’s when he saw her. She was perched on top of the vehicle, lying flat, clutching the lip of the roof where it met the van’s body. It was a position that wouldn’t be sustainable for very long. Her fingers had to be blue with cold.
“Petula,” Julian swam as close as possible, speaking as calmly as he could. “It’s going to be okay. I’m here now.”
He could feel her panic.
“You’re doing great,” he continued to soothe. “You’re going to be fine, sweetheart. But I need you to listen.”
She lifted her head, and he blanched. Petula looked terrified.
“You can do this, Petula. I promise.”
She was listening.
“As soon as I say, you’re going to let go and slide down into the water.”
He thought she sobbed, but couldn’t be sure. What he could see clearly was her shaking her head. Vehemently. Before she laid back down on the metal surface.
“Yes.” Julian made his voice strong to be heard above the wind. “You can do this. You can. I know you’re scared, but I’m right here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
When she raised her head again, he held up the rope, which still, thank god, had a few feet of play in it. “I’m going to put this rope around you, then tie you onto me,” he told her, hoping that the more information he imparted would help mitigate her fear. “I’ll do all the work. Okay?”
Did she nod from her prone position? He couldn’t be sure.
“I also have a regulator for you,” he said, “so if you do go under, you’ll still be able to breathe.”
Petula lifted her face a fraction of an inch; her eyes frantically searched his, trying, he believed, to ascertain whether or not he was telling the truth.
He held the rope up again, then the regulator, so she could see them both.
“I… I can’t let go,” she managed to shout, her voice trembling.