Fisher's Light

Panic starts to overwhelm me when it hits me that this is the start of a hurricane. I have no idea where Lucy is or if she’s safe. I don’t care what the hell it’s doing out there or how dangerous it is, I can’t stay here for more than a few minutes to take a breather. I have to get to my truck and get back to the other side of the island to Lucy. My wetsuit is starting to feel like it’s suffocating me, so I quickly unzip it and slide my arms out, pushing it off my body until I’m wearing nothing but my swim trunks. Within seconds, the motorized sound of the light turning at the top of the structure comes to a halt. The room is pitched into darkness, but thankfully, the back-up generator kicks on and the sconces on the wall flicker back to life, bathing the room in soft light. Unfortunately, the generator isn’t powerful enough to keep the heat going and my skin quickly chills. Thankfully, Trip is a romantic at heart and always makes sure there are a few clean blankets left on a small table by the door for couples that want to come out to the lighthouse, curl up together and enjoy the view. Grabbing one from the pile, I wrap it around myself, cupping my hands around my mouth and blowing warm air against my chilled fingers.

I hear something that sounds like a scream coming from outside and I stop rubbing my hands together to warm them up and strain my ears, listening harder, but all I hear is rain beating against the side of the lighthouse. I shake my head and pull the blanket tighter around my body.

I hear another scream, this one louder than before, almost like the wind carried it right here into the building. Stepping over my wet suit in a pile at my feet, I move towards the door, thinking there’s no way anyone else is out in this weather. If there’s someone out there as stupid as me, however, I can’t just stand here and not help them. I think about putting my wet suit back on to protect me from the elements, but it would take me forever to get that thing back on my body. Another scream rips through the wind and the rain and whoever is out there sounds like they’re in a world of pain. I don’t have time to do anything other than toss the blanket from my shoulders, push open the door and race back out into the storm.

Chapter 43

Lucy

Present Day

I need to move. I need to get off this beach, but I can’t. My throat is raw from screaming into the wind and my face burns with the force of the rain pelting into me, and still, I don’t care. The tide gets closer and closer to me as I kneel here in the sand, screaming and crying and cursing the storm, but I don’t move. I want to be swept out into that ocean. I want to let the water take me out to sea and drown me in guilt in misery. The water rushes up around my legs as the brutal waves keep pounding against the surf and my knees sink deeper into the sand each time the water races away. My flimsy t-shirt is plastered to my skin, my sopping wet jeans are molded to my body and my hair flies around my face, whipping against my raw cheeks and stabbing into my eyes. I’m so cold from the wind and the rain and the biting ocean water that my body shakes and my muscles scream in pain.

I think I hear my name on the wind and I sob, hunching over, still clutching Fisher’s fin to my chest, squeezing it as hard as I can, wishing it was him in my arms and not some fucking piece of rubber. I angrily toss the fin into the ocean swirling around my legs and I lean forward, my hands sinking into the water and the mushy sand. I start crawling mindlessly into the surf as waves crash into my arms and chest. There’s nothing left in me to get up to my feet and walk. I crawl and I sob, smacking my hands down into the angry tide, dragging my knees through the water and sand, choking on my tears and the repeated splash of salt water against my mouth and nose.

I hear my name again, louder and filled with fear and I pause, staring down a giant wave headed right for me. I should stand up, I should run, but there isn’t time and I don’t care. Go ahead and swallow me up, go ahead and spit me out into the sea… I don’t care. I close my eyes and hear my name screamed with so much pain that it makes my already broken heart split off into even more pieces as the wave crashes over top of me. My hands and my knees are suddenly ripped away from the beach. My shoulder slams into the sand, my head scrapes against pebbles and seashells and I’m tumbled around and around, upside down and inside out as I swallow huge mouthfuls of water. I don’t even try to fight against the ocean, just allow my body to go limp and let it take me wherever it wants to go. I’m dizzy and I’m numb and I have no idea which way is up as my body continues to be tossed around like a rag doll. I automatically open my mouth to breathe when my chest gets tight and panic overwhelms me. Water fills my lungs instead of air and I start to thrash against the pain in my chest. My brain is still fighting to live even though my heart wants nothing more than to die.

Something hard and strong and warm, so different from the cold ocean water, wraps around my waist and yanks me backwards. I claw and fight, trying to get it to let go of me and just let me stay here, under the water, but it refuses. It tightens its hold on me, squeezing me hard as it continues to pull and pull until my head suddenly breaks the surface. I cough and sputter and cry, spitting out water, the pain in my chest exploding as cool air fills my lungs. My body is hefted right out of the water until I feel arms under my legs and around my back, cradling me to strength and warmth that I instantly recognize.

I close my eyes through the dizziness and disorientation as my body is jostled, not even caring about the wind and rain still hammering against me until it suddenly stops and I feel nothing but heat and the sound of the wind is no longer ringing through my ears, but becomes muffled. Coughs wrack my body all over again as a blanket is wrapped around me and strong hands pat and rub my back, helping me lean forward to spit out more water, and I suddenly hear the voice that I thought I’d never hear again.