Maverick Mania (9 page)

I knew I was right. During the time I was swimming across the lake, Riggins had plenty of time to get to the far shore with his outboard motor. But he hadn't moved the pontoon boat right away—which meant he must have taken some time to tie up Steve and Caleb. Only then would he have started the boat's engine.

I watched the pontoon boat pass me. I wished I were close enough to swim hard and catch up to the rubber dinghy that was being towed behind it. That way I could hitch a ride without anyone seeing me.

Instead I had to chase the boat.

I didn't know how much farther Riggins planned to take the pontoon boat. I didn't know how he was going to sink it. I didn't know how long it would take to sink.

I just knew I had to get there before it went under.

I used the breaststroke as I followed. It was slower than an overhand crawl, but it let me keep my head above water so I could watch the pontoon boat.

The good news was that I had guessed right. Once Charlie Riggins reached the middle of the lake, he cut the motor.

The bad news also was that I had guessed right. The middle of the lake was still a long swim away.

I pushed as hard as I could, staying with the breaststroke and frog kicks. If I went to a flutter kick for more speed, I would splash, and the lake was very quiet without the sound of the outboard motor. I could not afford to let Charlie Riggins know I was nearby. It would be too easy for him to chase me down with the rubber dinghy.

Across that silence, I heard a big whack of steel against something solid. And another. And another.

I could not make sense of it.

The whacking continued, ringing clear over the water.

I pushed harder and began to gasp for air. I'd been swimming for at least half an hour. If it hadn't been for endless soccer practices and endless soccer games, I would have had to turn back to shore a long time ago.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

Then silence.

Was it my imagination, or did I see two dark figures move toward the back of the pontoon boat?

I saw them only briefly before they both crouched out of sight.

Then I heard the sound of the rubber dinghy's outboard engine. The two people must have jumped into it.

Seconds later, I saw the low outline of the rubber dinghy as it left the pontoon boat and headed for the shore.

And seconds after that, I saw the pontoon boat tilt forward and begin to sink!

With the outboard motor now making lots of noise, I didn't have to worry about splashing. I switched back to an overhand crawl with a flutter kick. And I gave it everything I could. The pontoon boat was sinking, and I was still at least a soccer field away! My lungs began to heave. My legs and arms began to hurt. But I had to keep pushing. I stopped for a second and lifted my head out of the water.

The rubber dinghy was out of sight. In place of its motor, I heard my friends screaming for help. The pontoon boat had begun to go under!

I slammed my face back into the lake and propelled myself forward. Harder. Harder. Harder.

Half a soccer field away. A third of the pontoon boat already under.

My throat was raw from sucking in air. The only thing keeping my arms and legs in motion was terror. Harder. Harder. Harder.

Somehow, I reached the pontoon boat. It was halfway under and sliding down fast.

I grabbed a rail and pulled myself up.

“Matt!” Steve yelled. He was on the rear deck of the pontoon boat. The front half—the cabin part—was already underwater.

“Matt!”

I could only suck in air. No way could I talk.

“We're tied to the rail,” Steve said. “You've got to get us loose.”

I held the rail and staggered up the deck toward Steve. His arms were tied to the upper railing, his legs to the lower railing.
Caleb was tied to the railing a few feet away.

The water was almost at their feet!

I heaved and tried to catch my breath, still unable to talk. I found the knots around Steve's feet. If I didn't do his feet first, they'd be under water even before his hands were loose.

My cold wet fingers fumbled with the knots. The knots were too tight. I couldn't pull the rope loose.

“Can't do it,” I gasped. I stood, staggering again as the pontoon boat tilted more. “I can't get the rope undone!”

And the water reached his feet.

The moonlight showed a couple of life jackets floating nearby. Life jackets that would not help as the pontoon boat dragged Steve and Caleb under.

“Ax!” Caleb cried. “Get the ax!”

“What?” I asked. I had to grab the railing beside Steve to keep my balance. In the dark between me and Caleb, I could not see his face.

“He used an ax to punch holes in the pontoons. Get the ax.”

That explained the whacking sound.

“Where is it?”

“He left it on the deck. Maybe it slid down toward the cabin.” The cabin that was already under water!

Without thinking about how scared I was, I dove. It was like diving into cold midnight. My ears roared as the water closed over my head.

I kicked downward, blindly reaching with my hands. My clawing fingers raked the outside wall of the cabin. I followed the wall down to where it met the deck. If the ax was still on board, that's where I would find it.

Just as I was about to run out of air, I felt the smooth long handle of the ax. I grabbed it and pushed upward.

I reached the surface. I had to hold on to the railing with my free hand to get my balance on the tilted deck. The pontoon boat was almost at the angle of a set of stairs.

Then I realized the worst of it.

Steve's feet were under water. How was I going to cut the knots loose? Getting his
hands free wouldn't help if his legs were still tied to the pontoon boat. And at best, there was only a minute left.

I felt panic squeezing me again, like a giant snake closing in for the kill.

Soccer, I told myself, soccer. Sudden-death overtime. I'm the last man back with the ball. Attackers moving in. What would I do?

Look at the situation. Make the best choice possible in the time remaining. And act on the decision.

I lifted the ax above my head.

“Matt!” Steve yelled. “What are you do—?”

I slammed the ax down.

Not at Steve's wrists. Not at the rope around the railing. But at the railing itself, a couple of feet away from Steve.

The aluminum pipe of the railing sheared in half.

I took another mighty swing and cut through the lower railing. Then I staggered past the motor to Caleb. With two more jumbo swings, I cut through the upper
railing and then the lower railing. I dropped the ax. It splashed to the deck at my feet and slid back toward the cabin. I kicked at the lower rail, bending it away from me. I leaned into the upper rail, bending it too.

I grabbed Caleb and pulled him toward the breaks. “Slide your hands toward me,” I said. “Hurry!”

When his wrists reached the gap in the railing, his hands popped loose. Still knotted together, but no longer tied to the pontoon boat.

“You too,” I called across to Steve. “Slide your hands loose. I'll be right there to help you with your legs.”

Then I bent over into the water. It was already up to Caleb's knees. I helped him slide his legs off the broken railing.

“Can't swim,” he said. “Not with my hands and legs tied.”

He probably didn't see my grin in the darkness. I already knew how to solve that problem. The floating life jackets had begun to bang against my legs.

I snatched one and shoved it into Caleb's chest. “Hold this down with your arms,” I said. “I'll be right back.”

I took another life jacket and sloshed over to Steve. He had already worked his hands loose.

“Take this!” I said.

He hugged it against himself.

I helped him slip his legs free from the lower railing.

Any later and he would have been gone.

Without even a splash, the pontoon boat dropped out from under us just as we kicked away from the railing.

The three of us bobbed in the water. My friends were still tied up but holding on to their life jackets. I stared at them, almost in a daze.

With some splashing, we joined together. Steve floated on a life jacket on my left, and Caleb floated on my right. I put an arm around each of them. I felt so tired, I might have gone under without their help.

I slowly kicked through the water, pointing us toward shore.

I imagined the pontoon boat behind us, drifting downward farther and farther in the midnight black of the water, until it settled somewhere on the ancient banks of the river below.

I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted the salt of my tears.

It was Tuesday afternoon. To warm up, our team—including Caleb Riggins—passed balls around on our half of the field.

In our morning game, Caleb had scored three goals to help the Mavericks win 4–1. If we won this final game and scored at least three goals, we were guaranteed a spot in the sudden-death finals. And that final game would probably be against the team we had beaten this morning. As I saw it, if we won with enough goals this afternoon, we'd have
a good chance at winning the entire tournament to go on to the nationals.

I kicked the ball to Caleb. He made a move on Johnnie, drawing the ball back with his left foot, hitting it with the inside of his heel, popping it through Johnnie's legs and picking it up on the other side.

Johnnie laughed, and Caleb turned around to grin at me.

Already, last night's events hardly seemed real.

It had taken half an hour for Steve and Caleb and me to get close to shore. We were still a hundred yards away when two police cars roared down the road to the edge of the lake. Their flashing lights bounced eerie red-and-blue shadows off the desert brush as we shouted across the water to them.

I had not been surprised to see the state troopers. Just before leaving the minivan, I had written a note and stuck it beneath the driver's side windshield wiper. I hoped someone would notice the emergency flashers Steve had left on, stop and read the note. It was a simple note, asking whoever
found it to call the police and send them down the road to the lake.

The state troopers, of course, had arrived too late to catch Charlie and Louise Riggins. The Blazer was long gone, leaving behind a rubber dinghy and tire tracks in the sand as proof of their escape.

But today both Charlie and his wife were in jail in Lake Havasu City.

Desert highways, you see, are long and lonely with little traffic. The Rigginses had traveled only about ten miles before the truck came to a sputtering stop. My little trick before stepping into the water had been to add sand to the gas tank, and it had worked really well. We told the state troopers what had happened and they went out looking. They found the Rigginses standing beside the truck beneath the night stars, trying to hitch a ride.

Neither Charlie nor Louise, however, had given any explanation for their crazy actions. They had hired a lawyer and refused to talk to anyone but him. All the police knew for sure was that Charlie and
Louise and Caleb were not who they said they were—the police had confirmed that the Rigginses had taken on the identities of the dead family before moving to Lake Havasu City.

The police didn't know why. Nor did they know Caleb's real name or his background.

As for Caleb, he was almost relieved to have escaped his parents. During that long swim to shore from the sunken pontoon boat, Caleb had told me and Steve that Charlie and Louise had always treated him overly strictly, making him a near prisoner in their home all his life. If it hadn't been for soccer—his only escape—his life would have been totally miserable.

Arrangements had already been made with a school psychologist to help Caleb through the next few weeks, which would be difficult. After all, his parents had tried to drown him, and he had no idea why.

Me? I felt some freedom too. Freedom from caring about something as unimportant as appearances. Sure, my dad had
shaved his head and ran a classroom zoo while Charlie Riggins wore three-piece suits and owned a beautiful house. Sure, people who didn't understand my parents joked about them. But Mom and Dad gave me love and care. That's what mattered. I was who I was because of how they had raised me. And I was going to be proud of it.

From the soccer field, I turned to wave at Mom, Dad and Leontine. They were sitting in the stands, ready to scream and cheer and shout and make fools of themselves. They waved back. Dad, of course, waved carefully. He hadn't learned his lesson with Larry and had the snake draped around his shoulders. And there was a lot of room in the bleachers on both sides of my family because of it.

The referee blew his whistle to get the game started.

There was one minute left in the game. We were up 2–1, but we needed a third goal to qualify for the finals.

We pressed hard near their goal. Caleb and Steve passed the ball back and forth. Caleb got the ball from Steve and saw Johnnie open. Caleb kicked the ball hard, but his pass bounced off their defender and out of the end zone.

Corner kick.

Forty-five seconds left.

We lined up quickly.

The Redland High Robins—wearing brown uniforms—formed a wall of defense in front of their net.

Steve took the kick from the corner.

He lofted the ball high. As it came down, one of their strikers broke away to punt the ball toward center field. Johnnie fought him for it, and the striker's kick wobbled the ball weakly toward me.

I trapped it and looked up. Two brown uniforms were dashing toward me.

Look at the situation. Make the best choice possible in the time remaining. And act on the decision.

Compared to a life or death situation, this didn't seem like pressure at all.

Caleb was hanging to the left side of the net, in the middle of all the remaining players. All I needed to do was get the ball to him.