9. Tide
Date: 4-30-2024
Time: 0720
The sound of the explosions has me forcing my arms around Moe, tackling him to the ground so hard his yelp is audible over the boom. The ship is close enough to shore that debris is filtering through the sky, raining down ashes from the clouds above.
My ears ring. Squeezing my eyes shut I try to shake the noise away, my hands sinking into the warm sand beneath Moe’s head. The feeling is the only thing I can focus on while I pry my eyes back open. What in the bloody hell was that?
I stare at him. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear a single thing over this fucking ringing. Sending my gaze over his physique, he seems fine, flailing his hands into my chest in an attempt to get me off. He’s okay, but I’m not. All I see is red.
Stumbling to my feet I grab the closest person by the collar. Thankfully, it’s Sam. His eyes quickly bring me back to the beach, firm hands grabbing my wrists and pushing me off him, holding them tightly in case I do decide to swing. He looks just as shocked as I am as he gives me a final push, causing me to stumble back. I realize I’m yelling and swearing at anyone standing by, giving out meaningless orders because no one is listening to a single thing I say, they’re all just staring out at the water. Brushing my fingers through my hair, I burl around to see the product of what just happened.
The ship, split in two and slowly sinking beneath flames that engulf what’s left of it. What’s going on? How did this happen so close to my shore? I’m standing right here on the beach; I was waiting for her. Jesus Christ . I look around at my team that I gathered here to receive their ship. They’re starting to talk, starting to exchange glances. I begin pacing nervously, my hands piled atop my head as I think. I didn’t do this . I know I didn’t do this. This is a fucking set up.
I need to find Cordelia.
I can feel the sounds around me coming back, a loud creaking emanating from the ship as it continues to go down. I’m not about to be framed for a crime I didn’t commit and she’s not getting off that easily. My eyes are so wide with panic they might roll out my skull. I need to do something; they’re all waiting for me to do something.
As if Sam senses my thoughts, he’s sprinting across the sand towards the motorboat by the dock. My first steps are unsteady, sinking quickly into the soft ground as I walk backwards, shouting my orders. It’s not until I get nearer the firm stuff at the water's edge that the floodgates open and adrenaline rushes my system. I’m sprinting, I’m on the dock, I’m on the boat. We’re moving.
Metal panes and various arrays of heavily damaged equipment float around, bobbing in and out of the murky surface. The boat jerks and I know a piece just ran through the motor. I need to think straight, one hand holding onto the side of the boat, the other thrumming my chest. The air is impossibly humid and thickening with smoke. Goosebumps are rising along my flesh, noises jumbling together as the ringing dulls.
I lean over the side, looking frantically around, taking in each body that we move by each more gruesome than the last; others lay face down, others are already bluing at the mouth. Missing limbs floating in every direction. Sam slows the boat.
“Cas, do you see anything?”
I keep looking around. He knows how important it is for me to get her because he understands she plays a vital part in this war. We need her. My chest is feeling crushed under a ten-pound brick.
“No,” I shake my head, “nothing yet, keep going.”
My hopes are fading, and I feel her picture burning a hole in my pocket, making each second that ticks by drag out like hours. I need her. Pushing back my hair, I wipe off the droplets of sweat running down my forehead. My heart’s racing too fast. She can’t matter to me like this, she’s just a minor obsession of mine. Like a hobby. That also happens to be the priority target. Nevermind all these other bodies, the only one I need, and I need alive, is her.
Nimble fingers break through the surface ahead, causing ripples that draw my attention immediately. My cheeks puff with an exhale of relief when unusual black, wet hair rises up amongst the waves, clinging to her head as she darts it around in fear.
“SAM!” I shout, pointing in her direction. That feeling of calm quickly dissipates when the suction of the sinking ship pulls her back under. I stand, stabilizing myself as we hit another unforgiving wave, already pulling my shirt from my head and tossing my wallet and knives to the floor of the boat. I swear when I get my hands on her—
“We can’t get any closer, Cas, it’s too dangerous!” The moaning of the ship almost drowns his voice out. I vaguely hear him calling my name as I pinch my nose shut and jump. Within seconds I’m already too deep, the turbulent current dragging me in the same direction as her.
The ocean makes my skin feel like it’s being sliced by ice shards the further down I go. Eyes burning and blurry from the salt. I can’t let her die. Not yet. Not right in front of me. I still haven’t decided on what to do with her, but this isn’t how I wanted any of this to happen.
I swim further, trying to catch up with her. That’s when I realize she’s allowing herself to sink, she’s diving . Legs uncoordinated but propelling her towards a body stuck below a beam that I can barely make out in the growing darkness, each of her strokes becoming slower and less effective than the last the further down she pushes. She can’t swim.
My lungs burn with the need to suck in air, but I can’t just yet. My arm reaches out, pulling another handful of water behind me. She’s almost at the body, now close enough that I can tell it’s a man, and he’s clearly already dead. My lungs scream. If I’m out of air, she must be very close. My fingers hook around her vest just as hers brush against the man's. She tries to fight against me as she keeps trying to go down, but with every bubble that flows from her mouth, the more oxygen she’s losing. Then her body jerks. Locking an arm around her waist, her unfocused eyes land on mine as she does the one thing I don’t need her to do and tries to breathe. She’s been under too long; the human body can only be told to refuse air for a few minutes before it fights against the mind for that vital need. At least I’d like to believe she's not psychotic enough to purposely want to drown herself simply because she's in my arms. I don't plan on drowning in this wreckage with her, so I begin to push hard against the current. What a contradiction—here I am, saving her life when I always thought she’d be needing to be saved from me.
My fingers slip through every Velcro and various latches in place that hold gear to her body, its weight only pulling us both deeper than we need to be. I thought I was frantic before. Yeah, that was nothing compared to now as I catch her hands floating limply through the water while her eyes close over and her body jolts again. Dark spots speckle my own eyesight, and I know I have less than 60 seconds to resurface before we both meet our watery graves.
I’ve wondered what she’d feel like as her life drained from her body in my hands, would she be afraid? Would I do it quickly or would I do it slowly? Would she even stand a fighting chance against me? But in none of my imagined scenarios was I envisioning her body, cold and slack and at the mercy of my seas. As I swim hard and pull her up, the water growing lighter ahead of me, the feelings rising are scarier than the thought of drowning.
Sam comes into view, blurred still by the surface and the strain on my vision. As I break through, I try to shout to him but I’m too busy gulping down as much air as I can while I drag her towards the edge of the boat, letting his grip replace mine as he pulls her up. It's so dark, the smoke having completely filled the air in my absence–Sam has his shirt pulled over his mouth, his eyes red and watering to combat the tainted fog. He reaches out a hand immediately giving me muffled orders and I let his strength help pull me over the ledge. I can barely figure out that he wants me working on her chest with how heavy my head feels.
The boat begins to move as I straddle her to hold her steady while I do compressions. It’s times like this that remind me why I’d trust him with my life; he’s taken action that he knows I need from him and hasn’t once questioned me.
“COME ON!” I yell as the boat speeds over waves, and we jolt around helplessly. I have the life I need in my hands, but it’s slipping through like sand with each hard pump I put into her chest. My teeth chatter against the chill quickly overtaking my bones. Each word Sam shouts through his walkie is just background noise as I focus on her once-pink lips fading into a blue like the bodies around the ship. It reminds me of her eyes. I just need her to open her eyes. Her tan skin pales and that odd feeling wraps around my chest like a vise again.
“No. Not like this. Stay with me.” I mumble, checking her pulse. I can’t even process a single thought as I wrap my mouth around hers, forcing breaths back into her lungs. Even though I’m trying to keep her body warm, it feels like I’m stealing the heat.
I alternate between trying to kick-start her heart and forcing her to breathe. Everything is in slow motion. For four years, I’ve watched their every move. For two years, I’ve memorized every feature of her face. For a week, I’ve tried to replay her voice in my head just so I don’t forget the sound.
I don’t even realize we’re on the shore. Hands grasp at my shoulders, trying to pull me away, but I don’t budge. It’s crazy what adrenaline can do to you. Then I see Sam wave over as his hands take her under the arms. Another pair of hands grab her legs as they pull her from beneath me and run her up the beach. I don’t hesitate in following, watching Sam take over compressions whilst Moe grabs me and hands me my clothes. I push him to the side so I can watch her.
“Just fucking breathe .” I snap, collapsing to my knees and taking over the rescue breaths. As my mouth wraps hers, my fingers holding her chin up, her back arches and she begins to sputter. I recoil when water hits my face as she spits. For once, I don’t want to beat someone to a bloody pulp for the action. Her chest heaves with vomit as Sam rolls her onto her side.
Sitting back on my heels I allow my medical team to pull her onto a gurney and hurl her towards the medical vehicle. Sam collapses into the sand, gathering his breath through gagged coughs.
“Make sure you cuff her when she's stable!” I yell at the team. My voice is broken, sounding like my vocal cords have gone through a grinder.
I press my palms to my temples, trying to fight back the images of my father’s body limp in my hands as his blood stained my clothes.
“Cas?” My name comes but I barely register the startled small voice that mumbles it. Moe’s hand wraps around my shoulder, giving me a shake before he’s barking orders like he’s the soddin’ boss. I don’t know whether I’m proud or shocked, but something warms just as quickly as it chills. I brought him out here to let him watch the boat come in. He was going to leave before it hit shore. My goal was to observe until I had her in my hands. The problem was seeing unplanned circumstances unfold in front of my face.
Heated blankets line my broad shoulders, finally urging me to open my eyes only to lock onto squinted gray ones. I glance back at Sam covered head to toe in soot, ash and now sand.
“Cas. You need to go get checked.”
“Help Sam.” I push at Moes hands. Bustling bodies blur from the smoke pushing onto the shore, search crews just now taking action into the water. I stand, every inch of my skin freezing enough my teeth chatter. Women and men search bodies that have surfaced on the sand, others standing in complete shock at what happened. Moe stands motionless, pulling his mouth into a tight line.
“I said I’m fine. Go and help Sam.” My eyes narrow in his direction forcing him into action. I brace my arm around Sam's waist, he mirrors the movement.
“We need to get to the infirmary.” I say quietly against the burn in my lungs. We make our way through the swarm of chaos. Sam coughs and sputters, spitting thick black mucus into the dunes. He brushes his arm against his nose with a sniff. It’s logical to get a workup, but I just want to… I look into the distance where the high raised stone walls surround my base.
“I want a missile count and anyone who wasn’t accounted for on this beach to be questioned. We know we didn’t do it, but just to be sure, cover the bases.” I take a shuddering breath feeling a dryness coat my throat.
“If you do find someone responsible, they’re to come to me directly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my little shark is still fucking breathing actual air and not water.”
“Moe.” I pause looking at the destruction behind. I can't fix it right now and Sam is so quiet besides his hoarse breathing, I know I need to get him checked.
“Yes sir.”
I grunt at how fast Moe drops Sam's weight and sprints away. The ground even beneath our feet, the chill of the wind blocked from the large walls. The large infirmary block has bodies rushing in and out of the sliding doors.
“Almost there.”
I earn a grunt in response.
As soon as we get through the threshold medics latch onto our bodies, yelling orders at each other separating soldiers into areas where they can be treated. A wall of doors has doctors rushing through each one to tend to the more serious cases.
I shift my hips on the creaking table flicking my gaze to all my men sitting on gurneys, beds, and chairs around the open area. A nurse rushes out of one of the rooms lining the wall, drawing my attention. My shoulders straighten only to slouch back.
The smell of sterile equipment and smoke taints the infirmary, itching the hairs in my nostrils. “Take another breath.”
I look over to the nurse holding a mask over Sam's mouth.
“I wasn’t even on the fucking beach. I shouldn’t have to get checked!” Baxter yells from across the room, reluctantly plopping down and the blue sheet lining the bed.
A nurse comes to my side, pushing the blanket from my shoulders. My jaw clenches. Rubber gloves stick to my skin examining each small bruise and scar.
“How much smoke did you inhale?”
I unintentionally ignore her, looking around the room for any sign of her .
“ Okay … what about water?”
“I just need a breathing treatment and warm fluids.” My back straightens as I try to look over bobbing heads. I lean forward trying to peer into the cubicles that surround mine, separated by thin blue curtains. Have they already put her in a room? The nurse pulls my arm brushing her thumb over a vein bulging in the crook of my elbow, preparing to insert my IV but a gurney rushes past with thick aluminum blankets covering the expanse, cuffs link her wrists to the rails and her body jolts with a sudden bump in the floor.
Pulling my arm away I move to stand, a gloved hand presses against my chest encouraging me to glare in the direction. Lora locks eyes on mine with a cocked brow, her short copper hair is pinned back and her large, framed glasses fall to the tip of her nose exposing her ebony eyes. Without looking down she pushes the metal stick in with practiced ease.
“Ouch.”
She smiles brightly.
“You can go to war, but you can't handle a little pinch?” She teases. I turn my attention to a large wood door opening and Cordelia's body being wheeled in behind it. There's a quiet huff.
“You can see her later.” The once light tone hardens drawing my narrowed eyes in her direction. “She's being watched closely. She'll be well tended to and if anything changes, you'll be informed.”
I nod. Despite her words I can't help but look back to the door.
Date: 4-30-2024
Time: 1932
The smell of the ocean fills my nose, a subtle hint of tobacco and cologne lying beneath the brisk air. My skin carries a light layer of dew, shimmering beneath the red and orange hues that paint the sky, mirroring in complexion the man beside me.
“Alright now, you think you’re a man? Pull it.”
Pull back the slider.
Click.
Bang.
The sound vibrates across the waves, carrying the noise into the water as my first body falls to my feet.
“I’ve been a man pops, this doesn’t prove otherwise.” The red that sinks into the sand should disgust me, but I feel nothing. Most would’ve presumed I’d killed many by the age of 22, but I’ve never had an interest in my father’s line of work.
“That’s my boy. You need to learn that no matter what, this blood will forever stain your hands. No matter how many times you wash them, it’ll always be there. This is what it’s going to take to keep the world safe. Harmony, if you will. A boy will let these demons haunt him; a man will feed them to–”
“The sharks and move on. I know.”
Loud banging mixes with a rapid beeping and shallow breaths forcing my eyes open to the ceiling. I groan, shifting to sit up and ease the ache in my muscles. My lungs scream in protest to suck in a full breath of air.
I look at the metal cuffs clanking against the white bed rails, slowly dragging my gaze up until I'm staring into ocean blues. There’re those eyes. I smirk, leaning forward to pull a strand of her hair between my fingers.
“Hello, Delilah .” I hum. Twisting the short soft strand between the tips of my fingers. She jerks, trying to pull away but I tighten my grip. I tsk and shake my head.
“I don’t like this color on you,” I brush the pad of my thumb over it once more, dropping it to the pillow below. I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in the seat, she thrashes her arms and kicks her legs. “And it’s shorter than last time.”
“Ass…hole…” Sharkie’s voice comes out hoarse and broken. I can’t help but focus on the way her throat bobs, trying to swallow when she throws her head back. We gained all the information we needed after I was cleared. Clever she thought she could infiltrate my base without me recognizing her.
“Happy now?” I draw my attention back up to hers. If only you knew how happy I am . I grin.
“Want another boat? Three’s a lucky…number.” Her yell is quietly breaking in and out like a teenager through puberty. I tap my finger to the sleeve of my shirt. She thrashes her arms again, the cuffs only hitting repeatedly off the railing.
“I didn’t sink your precious little ship.” My tone holds a warning below my whisper. She coughs and sputters, kicking her feet in a weak attempt. Her movements are slow and sluggish. I should drop it. She's here, breathing, responsive. I have time in the world to get all the information I need.
“I'll take a ‘thank you’ for saving your life.” What am I doing?
“Saving my life ?” The words are slow, rolling off her lips in an attempted growl. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip. Don't look. I stand, wrapping my fingers around the railing. Her eyes drop to where she's linked to the bed.
“You sick son of b–” I brace my hands into her pillow shaking the bed from my sudden pull away from the cot side as I lean over her, cutting off her pitiful attempt at an insult. That’s right, little shark, you’re not as brave as you think you are. Her back arches off the bed and her head writhes side to side as I duck mine lower beside hers. She’s entertaining when pissed off, more so when she can’t get away from me.
“ I didn’t sink your precious fucking ship .”
I had hoped she’d calm down; except she only gets even more pissed flailing her limbs and jolts her forehead in my direction. I pull back with a low vibration rattling my chest. It's enough for one day. She’ll calm down eventually.
Her eyelids grow heavy trying to remain focused on my motions.
“Get some rest. You have plenty of time.”
Turning my back to her, I smile at the air that escapes her lungs from a weak yell and I allow it to follow me out of the room.