YesterWorld (Book 2 of the Down World Series)

Original Edition: Part Two, Chapter Seventeen

Hi folks! Thank you so much for reading part one of Yesterworld! As always, your comments are so useful to me as I craft this story to let me know what's working and what could use some tweaking. I really appreciate them!

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PART TWO

"George!" I screamed, still trying to tread water in the middle of the lake without letting Adam's rigid body slide off my chest where I was holding him up. "George, help!"

I scanned the shoreline desperately for George's little cabin—the structure he had converted from a small boathouse that had resided on the shore on the other side of reality. For a moment, the cabin seemed abandoned. The tell-tale plume of smoke from the chimney that indicated he was home and cooking in his small kitchen was absent.

I struggled to catch my breath, Adam's body growing too heavy for me to hold up as my arms started to give way and my icy lips chattered just above the waterline. But then George appeared in his doorway, confused at first, looking around for the source of the sound.

"George, here!" I shouted with what little breath I could spare. "Help," I whispered, no longer having the lung capacity to shout.

I saw him run for the water and dive in. I turned my attention back to Adam's stiff face, using one hand to try to slap him back to consciousness while I dog paddled with the other. Finally, George reached us and took over the duty of towing in Adam so I could focus on getting myself to shore.

Halfway there, I flipped over to a backstroke, both because it was easier to float that way, and also so I could confirm that George was successfully towing Adam in.

It seemed to take forever to get there, but finally, I was able to crawl from the water and hurl my body onto dry sand. I was panting and scraping at the beach, trying to bring feeling back into my ice-cold fingers, as George dragged Adam onto the strip of ground next to me.

George tried to shake Adam, but nothing came of it.

"I don't—I don't know how..." George began.

"I do," I said, wracking my brain to try and remember the details of the CPR lessons we had been forced to take in gym last year. I laid Adam's arms out by his sides so he was flat on his back and tilted his head up a bit to open his airway.

Taking a deep breath, I began compressions on his chest. One, two, three, four. I couldn't remember how many, so twenty would have to do. My hands warmed slightly with the contact, and I pinched his nose and tried breathing into his mouth. 

Nothing happened.

I tried again, but he was cold as ice, his lips almost blue.

I steadied my anxious mind, pressing my left hand over my right and thumping away at Adam's chest again. One, two, three, four. "Breathe, Adam," I whispered through my tight throat. "Please breathe." I looked up at George, who sat hopelessly staring down at the dying man before him.

And then Adam's whole body exploded in a rupture. He flipped over onto his side and threw up what seemed to be a gallon of water. He was breathing.

Oh thank God. He was breathing.

Although George must have had no idea what was going on, he bent over in relief, letting a sound that was half chuckle, half moan escape his mouth.

"George," I began, catching my breath again while Adam recovered. Relief was quickly replaced with something more necessary: reality. "Go get your shotgun."

*

George ran towards the cabin while I watched Adam pant and catch his breath. My shirt had turned into an icicle and I struggled to wring it out. I stood up to my full height—all five foot four of me—and did little jumping jacks to try to heat up my core.

Adam started to prop himself up onto all fours, then stretched back onto his bent legs. I could hear his teeth chattering, which I took as a good sign that he was warming up. But as his strength came back to him, I knew I had to keep the upper hand before he recovered completely.

Hurry up, George.

"Just stay down, Adam." I pushed the icy strands of hair out of my face, keeping my eyes trained on him.

"Why the hell..." he wheezed in a scratchy voice. Coughing a couple times, he was able to speak again. "Why did you follow me?"

"Why did you build a portal?"

"You lied to me."

"You roofied me!"

"It was melatonin! It's organic."

He started to stand and George wasn't back yet. Panicking, I gave in to an instinct to keep Adam down and I threw myself onto his back before he could rise. But I instantly realized I'd made a huge mistake. In one fell swoop, Adam flipped his entire body over onto his back, pinning me beneath him. I smashed against the sand with a grunt.

A split second later, Adam had flipped over again, pinning my arms up over my head, his legs on either side of me.

"You really wanna wrestle me?" he said, his forceful voice almost teasing me. "I was All State three years."

"Get off of me!" I screamed, my knee rising on its own to smash him in the groin. I must have hit the mark because his eyes crossed slightly and he fell off of me onto his side. I started to crawl away, but before I'd made it more than a couple inches he grabbed hold of my ankle.

"Ahem!" George's voice shouted loud and clear above our heads. We both stopped what must have seemed like a comical mismatch of flailing to look up at him, standing calmly with the shotgun in his hand, pointed at the sky. "Who was the shotgun for, Marina?"

"Him," I screamed, at the exact same time as Adam shouted, "Her!"

"Don't trust her, George," Adam continued, pulling me closer before I could stand, and holding me in a half Nelson with one arm twisted behind my back. It hurt like crazy, and I couldn't help but turn into the twisting arm to relieve the pressure, making me face Adam again. "She's working with her mother."

"You lying sack of—"

"Keep the gun on her, George."

I blanched for a second, trying to figure out how Adam even knew George's name. But then I remembered—he met all of them in high school, when he was with Jenny.

What kind of nonsense had he filled their heads with?

"He's lying to you, George," I explained, trying to keep my cool, although I was still forced to face Adam. I tried whipping my body left and right to free myself, but it was useless.

"I have the pictures to prove it, George."

"Those pictures show me helping Sage!"

Before this charade could go on any further, we were both stopped in our tracks by a shotgun blast. Adam, seeming to be acting on instinct, pulled me into him and covered my head with his hand. But a moment later, we both realized we were fine, and I pushed myself away from him, childishly slapping at his chest.

George had fired the gun into the sky.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Adam," George said in his calm voice. "She just saved your life."

Adam and I sat next to each other, both panting from exertion, while he took this in. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw that the news was having an effect on him. He looked chastened.

"Is that true?" he asked George.

George only nodded, and I could feel Adam's body shrink a bit by my side.

"Let's get inside," George said, scanning the trees that surrounded the lake. "They'll be coming now."

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Keep reading for chapter 18!