Mary and Halley (sequel to When Mary Met Halley)

thirty

We ran, Halley sprinting faster than I could, and she caught his arm just in time to yank him up as the water rushed back out to sea. Had she not, he would have gone right with it, at least far enough to be in over his head.

She hefted him into her arms as the next wave pushed against the back of her legs and I steadied them both, even as he fought against her hold, calling for his father over and over. The tide was coming in fast and a bigger wave hit us as we stumbled up higher, knocking her forward onto her knees from her unbalanced load. 

"Shit!" I said, helping her up, wet to my mid-thighs. I scanned the water as best as I could in the dark but saw no one. We got the boy out of harm's way, settling momentarily on the threadbare blanket next to a hookless ocean fishing pole, tackle, and backpack. 

"Papi," the boy said again, weeping but no longer trying to go to his father. He said something else in Spanish.

Halley answered him soothingly and then translated for me. "He says he was putting a fish back and a big wave knocked him down," she told him.

"Shit," I said again, my heart aching for him.

"I know." She wiped her face with her sleeve, keeping a hand on his arm to make sure he didn't change his mind. Her fear-filled eyes met mine and I belatedly remembered how water could trigger her.

"It's okay," I said automatically, calm replacing my own panic. "Call 911." I knew the best thing for her was to have something to do. 

Two surfers in their late teens appeared suddenly, scaring the shit out of me. They paused, surveying the scene. "You guys cool?" the taller one asked, shifting his board. His dark hair was cut short and his wetsuit was unzipped to his waist.

"We think his dad got swept away," I said, pointing dumbly as Halley spoke urgently into the phone. "He was calling for him, we just got here so we don't know when it happened."

He looked doubtfully at his friend and they both shook their heads, but he put his board down and began to shrug back into the top of the suit. "We'll try, but don't expect much," he answered with a glance at the bawling boy. "We were leaving 'cause it was getting rough," he called over his shoulder as they moved quickly into the water.

"Wait!" Halley called, but they didn't stop. "They said not to try and find him," she told me. She was shivering, the front of her wet, and I pulled off my cable-knit sweater. The kid was colder though and she tugged off his wet shirt before wrapping him in my sweater. He was three or four and didn't protest her actions, his gaze locked on the waves, eyes dripping tears. 

A woman and man in their sixties appeared farther up the beach, a portly pug snarfling along at their heels. "Excuse me," Halley said, waving to get their attention. "We just called 911 because we think a man was washed out to sea; could you possibly direct the emergency personnel to us if you see them please?"

I knew it wasn't the appropriate time to appreciate how formal she got when she was under stress, like that time she'd straightened out the asshole doctor at the hospital, but I did anyway. 

The elderly couple got past their initial surprise and nodded agreement. "Is there anything else we can do?" the woman asked, taking off her orange beanie with a pom-pom on top to hear me better. The noisy-breathing dog stretched to the end of its yellow leash in an attempt to smell the kid.

"I don't think so, but thank you," Halley answered, kneeling to hug the distraught child to her. 

"We'll make sure they know where to find you," the woman said, tugging the dog along as they hurried away.

I kept my vision on the surfers, their heads and shoulders bobbing in the choppy surf before one went under to search again, though we all knew it was probably hopeless. The waves just pulled people under and out; it was swift and deadly. We heard about someone drowning on these beaches at least once a month.