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  Mariah pursed her lips, tilted her head, and peered down her nose. The wind had unraveled some of her bun, framing her face in soft, wisps of hair. Silently, he savored her steel-grey eyes that were saying more than she was and her pale skin glowing under silver moonbeams. Despite her mask of worry, she was still pretty and happened to be the best girlfriend he’d ever had. A thought lingered, rising like the tide. This might be the last time his eyes would ever rest on her. It floated, then ebbed. A call of duty awaited.

  “Mariah, don’t do this. I have to go,” he said. Before anyone could talk him out of it, he dove off the platform.

  Jake and water used to go together like bread and butter. They were bosom buddies going all the way back to second grade, when he first learned to swim. Many swim trophies later, Jake had given up the sport after the water turned on him and took the life of his best friend, Christian. Everyone told him it was a freak accident that never should have happened, but it happened, nonetheless. Ever since, Jake never felt the same way about the water. If it could betray him once, it sure as hell could do it again.

  There was no splash when he dove in. The water greedily gulped him. The reunification was not as bad as he’d imagined it to be. Sure, the cold, salty sea bit his skin as he descended several feet into the abyss, but he remembered this feeling—coasting until his momentum ceased, and he liked it. Nothing compared. Arms and legs in sync, he slowed, then adjusted his trajectory. He was swimming toward the water’s surface when he thought he heard a voice call his name. Gurgling bubbles streamed past his ears as he stopped short, waiting and straining to hear. There it was again. Faint but present and familiar somehow. That’s impossible, he thought, but his curiosity got the better of him. He blinked, and the seawater sent daggers into his eyes, but within that brief millisecond, he swore he saw something. It was there. Wasn’t it? A face. Christian’s face. Swaths of bubbles engulfed him as he shot up like a bullet. When he breached the water’s surface, he was inundated by the deafening drum of his heart and his breaths, short and ragged, flooding his ears. He swiped his face and spit. There’s nothing there. Focus.

  Arms and legs cycling, he turned in circles, eyes carefully skimming the water until he finally spotted a large dark object, floating. He started toward it when the voices resurfaced, louder this time. There was no denying them anymore. The words were soft as velvet, sweeter than honey, sharper than a straight razor. But they weren’t coming from the water. No, they were within his head, whispering away. A repetitive chorus of doubt.

  This is futile. You’re too late, too weak. Turn around.

  He ignored them. At least, he tried. But their impact had already crept into his subconscious. What if the voices were right—what if he were too late? Was he prepared for a dead body? What if the person were combative—what would he do then? Or, was it possible that this was some sort of crazed trick—maybe to get him off the boat? One other question loomed. The “what if” he thought he’d drowned a long time ago. What if he froze, like he did with Christian?

  The admission weighed heavily on his heart. The medals, the accolades, they meant nothing. He was no hero. After all, he’d failed his best friend when he needed him the most. And now….

  No. It won’t happen again. I’m coming, Christian. All adrenaline, he powered forward slicing and weaving through the sea until he reached a body. His breath faltered.

  Long dark hair fanned rippling waves. His eyes traced it to its source. A woman. It was a woman. He drew closer. Cloud cover diluted the moonbeams, but he could make out the fact that she was lying on her back, afloat, eyes shut.

  He wanted to say something to her but found that he could not. Was he too late? Had he failed yet again? His stomach knotted, and he reminded himself to stay calm and to take control. What now? Despite being soaked by seawater he could still feel the perspiration trickling down his forehead. Oh—the sling. Where’s the sling? His eyes darted and settled on the canary yellow sling bobbing several feet away. Water splashed as he lunged in its direction. Seconds later, he returned with the sling in hand. It was like working with a jellyfish; her arms were so limp. The bags strapped to her back didn’t help either. With trembling hands, he managed to finagle the sling above her ribcage, underneath her arm, swallowing hard after he’d finished. Dear God, don’t let her be dead. When he was done, he waved and yelled. “Pull!”

  Soon, the lifeless lump was skimming the water toward the boat, and it wasn’t long before she was hoisted into the air.

  “Got her.” Jake heard someone exclaim.

  By the time he got back to the boat and up the ladder, the woman was lying in a tangled heap across the deck. The bright, silver beam from Nathan’s flashlight revealed skin dark as ebony, with wet dark curls plastered across her face. Given her contorted position, Jake couldn't tell how tall she was, but she looked taller than average—5’7”, maybe 5’8” at most, with a slight build. The bags were still strapped to her back, and she wore some sort of layered jumpsuit, blue in color. The shape and cut reminiscent of a soldier’s uniform.

  “I can’t believe this. Is she breathing?” asked Mariah, as the entire group huddled around the woman.

  Mariah knelt down and removed the hair from her face. The woman didn’t flinch. Rick pressed the side of his face against her bosom. “Her chest. It isn’t moving. I don’t think she’s breathing.”

  In a panic, Karen stepped away from the huddle.

  “Karen?” Rick called out. “Don’t you know CPR?”

  Karen replied, “Me? What about you? You’ve gotta know that stuff too.”

  “Karen, really? You’re Pre-med. You’re like—better at this. Please!”

  “Hold on. Just—give me a minute, okay?” She shut her eyes and squeezed her temples. “I had one freakin’ class on rescue breathing, and it was like two years ago!”

  “We don’t have a minute,” Rick yelled.

  “You can do this,” Jake reassured her, shivering as he removed the knotted rope from his waist.

  Karen nodded, a determined glint in her eye. “Get the hell out of the way.” Everyone moved. “Not you, Rick. Help me get this stuff off her back so we can lay her flat.” The two of them worked to peel the backpacks off her body and tossed them to the side. “Careful, we don’t want to injure her spine.”

  Someone threw Jake a towel, and he patted dry rather quickly before putting his sweatshirt back on.

  “Somebody call 911,” said Jake as he hurriedly pushed through to dry the woman. “And get her some blankets.”

  “I’ll make the call,” said Mariah, lunging for her purse and phone.

  “I got the blankets,” Nathan declared.

  Like an expert, Karen went to work. At first, the woman didn’t respond, and Jake silently wondered if the poor lady was going to make it. Relief washed over him when she abruptly spit water, coughing.

  Several hands patted Karen’s back and squeezed her shoulder.

  “You did it,” Jake whispered.

  “Yeah,” Karen said, swiping her forehead. She turned to the woman. “You’re going to be okay. Help is on the way.”

  The woman bellowed as she clutched her stomach. She was conscious but shivering uncontrollably.

  “Are we waiting for her to die of hypothermia or what? Where are the blankets?” Karen shot a worried glance at Nathan.

  “I’m looking,” Nathan answered, his arms full of bags, which he dumped off to the side.

  Jake pointed with one shaking finger. “Look in that duffel bag. No, to the left of that one.” A minute later, Nathan tossed a blanket to Karen and another to Jake. Together, they spread them over the woman. Jake slid his hand underneath the blanket and held her icy, damp fingers. A shudder passed over him when his eyes met hers. They were dark and hauntingly beautiful. Her lips parted as if to say something, but then her grip tightened, her body tensed, and a moan resulted.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Karen whispered.

  “I—I don’t know,” said Jake. “It�
��s okay, it’s okay,” he said. Only, he wasn’t sure if that were true.

  “Please, you’ve got to hurry,” said Mariah to whoever was on the other end of her receiver. “They wanna know where we are?” she said.

  “Tell them we’ll meet them by Dock 23,” said Rick, before sprinting toward the bridge.

  “Dock 23,” Mariah repeated. “We’ll meet you at Dock 23…yes, she’s improving, her eyes are open. Yeah, she’s lying down. We didn’t see anybody else. No, no wreckage either, just her.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Karen. There was no answer. Instead, the woman shifted and groaned.

  “Let me see her bags,” said Jake. “She probably has ID on her. Maybe we can contact her family.”

  “I got it,” Nate declared. He seized the one nearest him and seemed to fumble with it for a minute or two before announcing, “I can’t get this one open. Hold on.” Dropping the first bag, he made for the second. When he opened it, he found a small purse. “I think I found something.” He shined his flashlight on a card in his hand. “Her name is Samantha. Samantha York.”

  “Samantha,” Jake whispered. “Hang in there.”

  The woman’s eyes were now shut, but she acknowledged him with a nod.

  A thump resounded as Nathan tossed the bag aside and set his flashlight down.

  “Man, nobody’s ever gonna believe this.” Positioning himself on the deck between Jake and Karen, he fished his cellphone from his pocket and hit the record button on his camera app.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jake swatted the phone away.

  Nathan shrugged his shoulders. “What? I guarantee it’ll go viral. She’s like a mermaid, man, and you’ve gotta admit--she’s hot.”

  “Really?” Jake shook his head in disgust.

  “Fine.” Nathan turned it off.

  “Wait, wait, shhh. She said something,” said Karen, smacking Nathan harder than what appeared to be necessary. They grew quiet.

  “My babies.” The woman’s voice cracked, and her face screwed up as if she were in pain. “They’re coming,” she whispered.

  They looked at one another and froze. Karen peeled the blanket back and slowly unzipped the strange outfit from the collar, down to just below the woman’s navel. As she did so, a substantial bump was revealed.

  “Dear God.” Karen cupped her mouth.

  “What the f—” said Nate, mouth agape as he stood up and stepped back, nearly tripping over his feet. He ripped the cell phone from Mariah’s hands and gestured wildly. “Hey, we need somebody freakin’ NOW, dude, I’m talkin’ helicopters, ambulances, whatever the heck you got, man, ‘cause this lady—she’s havin’ babies—PLURAL, and I am like ill-prepared for this!” He gave the phone back to Mariah. “I was good when this was about getting her out of the water, but now that’s it’s turned into some Doogie Howser stuff, I’m sorry, I’m out.” He scuttled off.

  Mariah put the phone to her ear. “Hello? Hello? Dang it, we lost them.” She slapped her side in exasperation and turned toward the group. “That’s okay, though. They’re going to meet us at the dock and they’re sending out the Coast Guard to search for more people.”

  “Good,” said Jake.

  The boat was moving faster now. Karen stroked Samantha’s hair, and Jake held her hand as Mariah found more blankets. She slipped a rolled one underneath the woman’s head and draped the other over Jake’s shoulders. Despite the sweatshirt, he was still shaking.

  They were twenty minutes in, with approximately ten to go. Every now and then, the woman would moan, and Jake’s hand ached from all the squeezing she was doing. But, somehow, he knew the worst was over. Unlike Christian, she was going to make it. Warmth spread through his gut and a weight began to lift from his heart.

  “You know, the baby could come any minute,” said Jake. “I think we should get supplies.”

  Mariah tilted her head. “Please don’t say that. We’re almost there.”

  Karen swiped her forehead and looked at Mariah. “I’ll get supplies. Better safe than sorry.”

  “So, like, what are you going to get?” asked Mariah.

  “I don’t know. They get hot water and towels in the movies.” Karen stood up, rubbing her eyes and face. There were more than a few lines rippling across her forehead. Hours earlier, this girl was something of a pain, but now Jake was glad she had come aboard.

  “I’ll come with you. Help you find some stuff. Plus, I gotta pee.” Mariah stood up, looking every part Karen’s equal in the exhaustion department.

  “Can you grab some water for her?” asked Jake. “She’s probably thirsty.”

  “Sure. You’re going to be okay alone?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  The girls left, and he was left to comfort Samantha.

  Quiet now, it occurred to him that maybe he should’ve been timing her contractions. When the girls came back, he’d take care of that.

  “It won’t be long now,” he said while stroking her hand. “The paramedics are on their way. Everything’s going to be alright.” It wasn’t news, but it was better than not saying anything at all. Besides, he needed to keep her spirits up. Help her pass the time. Faint music was playing in the background. No one had bothered to turn off Nirvana and now “Dumb” gushed.

  Her head slowly rolled toward him. This was good. Her eyes were closed, but she looked calmer and more coherent now. There were so many questions that came to mind. Questions like, how long had she been out there? What was she doing in the water? Was she alone? Were there others? He wasn’t going to bombard her with such questions now, but he was curious.

  His blanket slipped off his shoulders as he repositioned himself, studying her. Her eyes were really moving behind her lids, and her mouth twitched as if she might have something to say. Maybe he’d get some answers after all. Maybe she’d explain why she was dressed so oddly, or how she’d become separated from her boat. Nervous anticipation filled his gut, and then her eyes opened.

  Something crunched underneath him as he gasped, clutching his collar and stumbling backward. Her eyes—they were like nothing he’d ever seen before. They glowed an electric blue, brighter than the sun, deeper than the ocean. Heart in his throat, he stared at her, and she at him. She blinked, and the color vanished.

  The sound of footsteps caught his attention. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.

  “You okay?” asked Mariah, as she and Karen returned with arms full of stuff.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. He was doing well to get that out. “Just getting comfortable.”

  “Hydration to the rescue.” Karen clutched a water bottle and towel, kneeling with Mariah. “If you can kind of hold her head up for me, I can-"

  “No, don’t touch her,” said Jake a little more forcefully than intended.

  The girls frowned.

  Jake continued, “I think it would be best to leave her alone. Like you said, we don’t want to injure anything, right?”

  Karen looked confused. Mariah looked ticked.

  “What?” Mariah asked. “I thought we were going to get prepared in case—”

  “And we are. Thanks for bringing everything back, but I think we’re good. Her contractions are few and far between. Nothing’s happening before we dock. I say, we let the professionals handle this.” He sweetened the deal before she could protest. “Look. There’s some food in the fridge. Why don’t you guys go inside and chill out for a while.”

  “But your dad—” Mariah began.

  “Is going to have to understand,” he finished. “We were meant to be here tonight.” He sighed. “I needed to be here.” No lie there. “So go. I want to be alone.”

  Seconds felt like minutes passing between them.

  “I don’t know about you, but it’s been a hell of a night.” Karen passed the water bottle to him. “Jake, I think I’ll take you up on that,” she said. Her legs creaked as she stood.

  Mariah gave Jake a long look. “Alright,” she said. “Call us if you need us.” All of a
sudden “In Bloom” was blaring. “Got damn Nate,” she hissed, rolling her eyes. She got to her feet and was about to head toward the salon with Karen when she stopped, staring at the deck. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

  There was a soft white mound on the deck, then Jake felt something fall on his cheek. He swiped at it, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger as both the girls leaned in. “Feels like—like snow.”

  Beautiful Creature

  Lyrica’s eyes popped open, but she couldn’t see. The space she occupied was just as dark and nebulous as her mind.

  Where am I?

  She was lying down. That much she could tell. A rhythmic beep sounded in the distance. Slowly, she turned her head to her right and froze. A large, glowing grin hovered only a few feet away. It took a few seconds to realize it was a window; the grin perpetuated by the light peeking around the edges of an aging canvas window shade.

  Sighing, she lay there. Closing her eyes, attempting to clear the cobwebs from her thoughts. Push, Lyrica. What’s happening here? An unsettling feeling churned in the pit of her stomach, and for a moment, she couldn’t decide what would be worse—not remembering anything, or remembering everything. Her mind whirled until finally, there was a breakthrough.

  She had been swimming. Flailing at first—the cold water sent daggers up her spine, but then swimming. Ascending from the depths of strange mirky waters, using her arms and legs to propel her as quickly as possible. The stretch seemed endless and her chest felt heavy, ready to explode. Finally, she breached, drawing deep breaths of frigid air as her lungs struggled to expand. She remembered her heart drumming against her chest and could almost taste the salt water dripping down her face; seeping into her mouth.

  Shivering and wet, her eyes darted. The cloud cover was considerable, but as far as she could see, ice-cold waves stretched for leagues into utter darkness. As the sea slapped her face, fear sliced her heart. There was no land in sight. She slipped her fingers through the straps or her backpacks, relieved that they were still there. They would help keep her afloat, but that was all. She needed to find a safe haven soon.