Hidden Allegiance: A Jackson Quick Adventure Page 2

  “Do you have your gun or that pair of binoculars we bought?” Bella asks without taking her eyes off of the horizon.

  “No,” I admit. “They’re in the tent.” I’m slipping.

  She turns to look at me, her eyes searching mine. “Should we go back?”

  “It could be nothing,” I say, though my gut tells me it’s not nothing.

  “Or it could be something. I don’t think anyone typically comes here on a boat. We should go back.”

  “Can you tell which direction it’s coming from?”

  Bella shakes her head.

  I start to walk farther south, toward Alamere Falls. The falls are maybe a mile from us, but the water pouring forty feet from the cliff into the ocean below is an easy landmark from this distance.

  “What are you doing?” Bella grabs my hand. “We should turn back.”

  “I’m not ready to do that. If we hike back to the tent, we’re sitting ducks if this turns out to be anything,”

  Bella lets go of my hand and folds her arms across her chest. “I get it. But not too long. I’m not up for a sprint this morning.”

  “Deal,” I wink at her and trek parallel to the waves ebbing with the low tide.

  I start jogging south toward the falls, Bella keeping pace to my left. The tide is pulling out, but the crash of the waves is intensifying, the interval between them shrinking.

  “Do you see anything?” Bella asks.

  “Not yet,” I reply. “I’m not even sure we’re headed the right direction.”

  “Wait!” Bella says. “Over there!” She points out into the surf. “I see them.”

  About two hundred yards off shore is a white boat, slipping along the waves toward the shore, the outboard engine spitting against the rise and fall of the water.

  From our distance, it looks as though there are two people on board, a man and a woman. The man is at the helm.

  “What are they doing?” Bella asks. She’s standing beside me, her hands on her hips. “I mean, there’s nowhere to dock the boat.”

  “They’d have to raise the engine before they get too close or they’ll damage it.” I look past the boat and check the gloomy horizon. “They’re alone. I can’t tell where they came from, though. And this weather—”

  “It doesn’t add up,” Bella cuts in. “I say we head back. There’s no telling who they are. They could be working for Blogis.”

  “Or Sir Spencer.”

  “Or Sir Spencer,” she agrees.

  “Now that we know what we’re facing, we can go prepare.”

  “Or leave now.”

  “We could do that. Let’s go.”

  Then we hear the thunderous crash of a large wave and loud mechanical whine, followed by a scream.

  Beyond the break, where the boat rode the waves just a moment ago, is its hull. The boat is upside down.

  Bella’s eyes widen. “The boat flipped! They’re in the water!”

  I don’t see either of the boat’s occupants. I reach back to peel off my left shoe.

  Bella looks at me as though I’ve grown a third eye. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going in.” I flip off my right shoe and then slip my jacket off, tossing it onto the beach.

  “Jackson, no,” she pleads. “You don’t know who they are. And the ocean—”

  “You’re right; I don’t know who they are. But I can’t let them drown. They could be unconscious.”

  “They could be here to kill us!”

  “Maybe.” I cup her face in my hands and kiss her on the forehead. “But I can’t let them die because of what they might be here to do.”

  Her eyebrows are knitted together, her mouth curled into a pout. “Be careful,” she says. “Don’t die on me.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell her, take a deep breath, and trounce into the icy surf.

  ***

  My lungs burn with each gasp, the taste of salt heavy in my mouth. My neck is pulsing from a heartbeat that is clearly protesting my decision to dive into the sixty degree water. The choppy surf is forcing me to pull against the water two or three strokes just to maintain my momentum toward the boat.

  I bury my head into the water, kicking my feet rapidly against the weight of my pants, fighting the volley of cresting waves that seem endless. I sense a brief lull in the onslaught and pull up to tread water. Maybe twenty yards from me is the hull of the boat. It has turned parallel to the shoreline, the words Arima and Sea Chaser upside down, but clearly visible. The outboard engine, its propeller in the air, has stopped.

  “Hello!” I call out, cupping my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice above the din of the surf. My legs are churning under the water to keep my body afloat. “Is anyone there?”

  Nothing.

  I kick my legs behind me and dive back into the water, swimming quickly to the capsized boat. I try breathing to the side, but too much water gets into my mouth. I revert to popping my head forward so that I can breathe and keep my eyes on the boat.

  My muscles are tightening from the lactic acid building inside of them and the cold of the water. Even if I find either of the boaters, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to bring them back to shore.

  I stop again and tread water fifteen feet or so from the boat, peering over the rise and fall of the hull until another wave crashes around me. I duck under the water as it whitecaps on top of me.

  I pull myself above the water and call out again, “Hello? Are you okay?” My muscles are tightening. I don’t see or hear anyone and I’m afraid to get too close to the boat. One rogue wave could knock it on top of me and that would be it.

  I spin enough to look back to the shore. It takes me a few seconds to spot Bella. She’s a good thirty or forty yards south of me. The rip current is strong, and because I’ve been focused on the boat, I didn’t keep my bearing.

  I start to turn back toward the boat for one last check when something grips my left ankle and yanks me under the water. I suck in a quick gulp of air as I slip under, a pair of hands now grabbing at my thighs and tugging on my pants.

  The water is too turbulent for me to see anything, but the hands are strong and keep pulling. I manage to grab one of the wrists and yank it off of me as I kick away from what has to be one of the boaters. I pull myself back above the water long enough to choke down some air before another, weaker tug, pulls me under again.

  This time, I immediately kick away, swimming backwards until I surface. I wipe the saltwater from my eyes and tread in the surf. I duck under the water, this time with my eyes open, looking for the boater.

  About five feet in front of me, I can make out a dark shape thrashing near the surface. I dive down, underneath the boater, and kick myself to the surface behind him. I pop back to the surface to suck in another breath and then carefully swim up behind the boater.

  I get within a couple of inches and reach out, across his shoulder, grabbing him like the shoulder harness of a seatbelt. Gripping him under his left armpit, I pull him back, kicking underneath his body to lay him prone on the water’s surface. He stiffens, fighting against me.

  “I’ve got you,” I spit through the surf. “Calm down, I’ve got you!”

  He stops flailing and relaxes. It’s only then I realize it’s not a him.

  It’s the woman.

  “I’m gonna swim back to shore,” I say between deep, heaving, salt-laden breaths. “Relax and kick your legs if you can.”

  She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her legs flapping against my hip.

  From my position, I’m now swimming with the current, with the waves toward the shore. My body feels numb, like I’ve been playing in the snow for too long. My back is to the shore, my right arm draped across the woman’s chest, my left arm is doing all of the work, with the help of a weak scissors kick. The boat is now mostly under
water, still doing its dance with the waves and terrific current. I can smell the gasoline and oil that must be leaking into the ocean.

  “We’ll be okay. Stay with me. Stay awake if you can.” Her chest is thumping against my forearm, her heart working overdrive. Her feet kick a little faster for a few seconds and then weaken again.

  Another surge of water pushes us forward and it seems like we’re past the worst of it, but then the current changes and I’m fighting against the water again.

  It’s low tide and the water’s moving away from the shore, taking us with it.

  I can’t tell how close I am to hitting the beach, or at least shallow enough water to stand and drag in the boater. I try to look over my shoulder but can’t see far enough behind me to gain perspective. Way off to my left are the falls, cascading into the ocean. Though I can tell I’m moving farther away from them with each kick, I can’t get a sense of whether I’m making progress toward the beach.

  “We’re there.” I’m trying to convince the woman as much as myself.

  Spitting out a mouthful of her hair, I resume the push to shore. Maybe another two or three minutes of concentrated effort will get us there.

  From behind me I catch a glimpse of Bella over my left shoulder. She’s standing in the water, reaching for me. She tugs on my collar and pulls me toward her, and I let my feet slip to the sandy floor beneath us. Bella pulls me into her and falls back into the water.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I sigh, still holding onto the woman. “Help me with her, please.”

  Bella reaches around my body, and together we trudge to the beach on either side of the woman. When we reach the shore, the three of us collapse onto the wet sand.

  I roll over onto my back, the sky above me black with clouds, and let myself sink into the sand. My arms and legs feel as though they’ve sunk beneath the surface. The sound of the waves crashing against each other fades behind the sound of my own heartbeat.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  CHAPTER 2

  “I couldn’t find him.” The woman’s hands are grabbing at the sand, squeezing it through her fingers. “He hit his head, I think. I tried to find him.”

  The three of us are sitting at the spot where the cliffs meet the beach. Too tired to climb up to the relative warmth of our camp, we’ve spent thirty minutes shivering, trying to muster strength and learn more about who this woman is.

  “We rented the boat in Bolinas at the marina. But we weren’t experienced. We had trouble with the current.”

  “We need to get you warm now,” Bella says. “All three of us should get back to the camp. I have some extra clothes for you. We can restart the fire.”

  “It looks like rain,” I chatter through my teeth. “We should hurry.”

  Bella and I help the woman to her feet, and over the next half hour we wage a battle against our stiffening limbs and the steep climb back to the camp. We make it, barely, and Bella helps the woman into the tent. I wait outside, parking myself on the wooden picnic table at the edge of the camping spot.

  Looking over the bluff and out onto the Pacific, I consider what I just did.

  After everything I’ve endured over the last two years, after everyone I’ve killed and maimed in the name of self-preservation, I could have died trying to save the life of a stranger.

  A stranger who could be here to kill me.

  I shake off the thought that the woman is a threat, fruitlessly searching the waves for any sign of her companion. Another chill runs through my body and I shake involuntarily against the sea breeze.

  Bella peeks her head out from the tent. “We’re good. You can come in and change. I’ll start the fire.”

  I shake my head and push myself up from the picnic table. “Sorry. I should’ve gotten it going.”

  She steps out and toward me, extending her arms and grabbing me into an embrace. “It’s okay, not a big deal.”

  “I’m still kinda wet,” I protest, my arms at my side. “You’ll get —”

  “I don’t care,” she cuts in, burying her face into my jacket. “You scared the hell out of me, Jackson.”

  “I’m sorry.” I close my arms around her back. “I couldn’t let them die, Bella. I felt like…”

  “I get it,” she says, looking up at me, her eyes warm and full of forgiveness. “I understand. Still…”

  “I know.”

  “You need to get changed,” she says, pulling away from me and patting my chest with her palms. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do about that sunken boat and missing boater. It’s not like I’m comfortable running up to the ranger station and calling all kinds of attention to ourselves. You diving in to save them really put us in a spot.”

  “I know.”

  “Did she say anything else in there?” I nod toward the tent.

  Bella shakes her head. “No. I didn’t want to press. She just said they were out for a joy ride, underestimated the weather, and lost a handle on things.”

  I step toward the tent. “Is she gonna come out here so that I can change?”

  “Yes,” Bella smirks. “I told her that she could stay in there until you went inside. It’s a little bit warmer in there than out here.”

  “Then I’ll help you with the fire,” I tell her, and join her next to the stack of sticks and kindling we’ve been burning for the last few days.

  I grab a handle of sticks from our dry stack and Bella strikes a match, kneels down, and touches the flame to the kindling. It smokes at first and then gradually catches.

  ***

  “I should have thanked you earlier,” the woman says. “I’m embarrassed. I mean, you saved my life. You tried to save…” she stops, her quivering lips pressed together.

  “It’s okay...” Bella inches closer to her and wraps an arm around her. “No thanks needed.”

  We’re sitting around the fire, having eaten tomato soup warmed on the worn charcoal grill cemented into the ground next to the picnic table. We’ve been heating our food with Sterno cups, as opposed to charcoal. Sterno is a lot easier to cram into a backpack. We’ve got three left.

  “I’ve been so rude. I haven’t even introduced myself,” the woman sniffles. “I’m Cydney…with a ‘C’.”

  Bella offers her hand and the woman shakes it. “I’m Bella. This is Jackson.”

  I wave across the top of the flames. The woman waves back. “Thank you, Jackson,” Cydney says. “My boyfriend, Cliff, he would have thanked you too.”

  I nod and shift uncomfortably on the ground. “You’re welcome.”

  She presses her fingers against her temples. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I haven’t been thinking clearly. Should I call the authorities or the Coast Guard or someone? I mean, somebody has to look for Cliff.” Her eyes search mine for the answer before turning to Bella. “Somebody has to pull that boat out of the ocean, right?

  A cold drop of rain hits my face, followed by another.

  “We don’t have a phone,” Bella says calmly, placing a hand on Cydney’s knee. “It’s a six mile hike back to the ranger station. I don’t think we’re up to that at the moment. Get some sleep. Then we can lead you to the station.”

  Cydney shakes her head, turning to look at me again, hoping, maybe, that I’ll side with her. “A map we had on the boat showed a Coast Guard station just south of here. Could we alert them somehow?”

  “I agree with Bella,” I say. “It’s only eight o’clock in the morning. The visitor’s center won’t be open for a couple of hours. The Coast Guard won’t put up a chopper in this kind of weather, and their boats won’t find anything until the surf calms. Let’s wait out the rain until ten o’clock. You can rest in there. I’ll keep watch on the shore.”

  Cydney looks back at Bella and nods dejectedly. She gets up without saying anything further and slinks back
to the tent, unzips the opening, and disappears inside.

  “That was weird,” I mumble.

  “She’s in shock, Jackson,” Bella says. “That’s not weird.”

  “No. It’s weird that she gave up so easily. I figured that we’d have to restrain her from going for help once she warmed up and got some food. I mean, she seems nonchalant about Cliff being dead, doesn’t she?”

  “I dunno,” Bella shrugs. “People react to trauma in different ways.”

  “I guess.”

  The rain is beating against the fire, trying to put out the struggling flames. The sky flickers for an instant and in the distance, the rumble of thunder rolls off the clouds and over the ocean. We clean up the cans of soup and the disposable bowls, and toss them into sealed trash containers. I take an unopened can of soup and put it back into the campsite’s food storage locker. Bella puts out the Sterno with a cupful of water, leaving it on the grill to cool. It’s an unspoken post-meal routine we’ve developed during our time here. We’re a good team.

  Her hair is still in a ponytail, though some of the strands have loosened and are wet against her cheeks. “What next?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  She takes a step toward me and lowers her voice. “You think we’re okay for a couple of hours? I mean, we really should be reporting what happened.”

  “You’re right. I did create a real problem for us. We have to take her to the visitor’s center. That compromises our anonymity. We were gonna leave here anyway, right? This just makes our decision for us.”

  “Right,” she agrees. “Do you buy her story?”

  “You don’t?” I ask. “You’re the one who thought I was being too cynical.”

  “You just got me thinking,” she whispers. “That’s all.”

  “I’m gonna grab my poncho and binoculars from the tent and then sit on the bluff and watch the waves. It won’t be long and the tide will start pushing stuff back in to the shore.”

  “By stuff you mean Cliff?” she whispers, glancing at the tent.

  I shrug. “Cliff, parts of the boat, whatever they had on board. In two hours, we’ll pack up everything and start the hike. It’ll take until close to noon, regardless of the weather.”