Leave No Trace

Chapter 32

Nolan

The cold of the water hit her like a freight train. She felt Danielson's hand slipping through her grasp, but instead she just clutched tighter, the frigid mid-October pressing against her. She felt something whiz past in the water, and she almost gasped, her eyes shut.

He's shooting at us from the boat. She tried swimming to the surface, her lungs protesting. She had no idea which way was up, though, and her clothes were weighing her down.

She broke the surfacing, inhaling the fresh, damp air, when a bullet flew past her cheek, so that she jerked back. Danielson surfaced next to her, coughing slightly from the water he'd obviously inhaled. She had no idea where to flee.

Especially if the marina guard was corrupt.

She was reminded that Dean had left the backpack with their phones up against the fence. She needed to get there- but in the pitch black, she couldn't tell which way the dock was. Until she saw the lights near the bottom of the Star, that the search crew had attached as part of their diving mission to rescue as much from the bottom of the lake as possible. She jerked Danielson towards that, wondering exactly how Dean could see them without lights.

She was losing feeling in her legs, as she kicked them frantically. Danielson, getting the idea, started following. Just as she realized how Dean was finding them. Sound.

She whispered to Danielson in quick gasping breaths "Mike- sounds- hears you- quiet." It was a barely audible sentence, but he instantly stopped thrashing quite so hard. Without no visual cues, and no sound, Dean would have a harder time finding them in the dark. However, she could see the street light beyond the fence of the marina.

Her teeth were chattering. She knew then that Dean must have put the backpack against the fence, where he'd be sure to go back for it. But her weapon was there, and as long as she or Danielson got off a shot first, they'd be able to stop Dean, which she wasn't sure they'd do.

She was shaking too hard right now, her entire body going numb. She wouldn't be able to get off a clear shot in the slight chance she actually got to the bag. Danielson was clearly shivering beside her. She had no idea how cold the water was, and she wasn't entirely sure she'd want to see a thermometer.

She'd go into shock, she'd contract hypothermia. If she got out of the water, she might have a chance. Danielson was swimming behind her, still holding her hand. She felt as though she was not moving. As if she were in some other realm, where darkness reigned, and moves were sluggish.

Just a bit farther. Then they would reach the dock. But she could feel the black of the night closing in. Even if she got to the backpack, she'd have a crucial choice. Call 911 and let Dean get away, or shoot him... and possibly be called a murdered. The choices were unpleasant either way.

Namely, because she would not be able to live with herself if Dean got away, and she had to be the one to tell Ally. To watch her face fall. To watch her descend into a nightmarish hell.

She jerked back, when her hand, blindly reaching in front of her, touched cold, slimy wood. She tried to haul herself out of the water, but found her legs no longer listened to her commands.

Please, she thought Please just let me have this small victory. Help me onto the dock. And lo and behold, she was able to hoist herself onto the dock. She then tried, with her weak arms, to life Danielson out of the water. In the minimal light from the far-away street lamp, she could see his exhausted face, drained of color.

"Mike..." she gasped, trying to stay quiet "I need you to.... get to the backpack. Don't wait for me.. okay?"

"Wh-what?" he asked, confused. It had clearly befuddled his senses too, the cold water frighteningly shocking to his brain.