My Sister's Keeper (42 page)

Our bodies were slick with perspiration, our breathing accelerating, gasping at the thin traces of oxygen left in the air. I could feel my heart pounding throughout my body. Tears spilled down my cheeks then back up into my eyes as the cylinder came to rest with me upside down.

What was it all about? Why was I even born?

“
If only I could have gotten that
gun
,” I sighed.

“
It wouldn’t have mattered,” Sydney panted. “It didn’t w—”

Our vessel abruptly lurched forward and plunged several feet before smacking the water of the canal bashing us against the walls of the drum like a baseball meeting a bat. The centrifugal force of our weight carried the tank deep into the water before it popped back to the surface bobbing like a cork. The side of the drum became cooler giving me a trace of comfort, a smidgeon of hope.

“
Hey!” Scott called from a short distance away. “You say it’s getting a little hard to breathe in there, Sydney darling?”

“
Don’t answer him,” I panted.

“
Maybe you could use a couple of
air holes.
” He sounded delirious.

The first shot caught the corner of the drum ripping through the thick plastic creating a circle of light near my face, the impact reverberating through the drum. The glowing, red hot lead buried itself in the wall melting the plastic and sliding down the wall burning the flesh on my arm.

“
Go ahead! Shoot me! Please!” Sydney screamed wrestling for room, for air, for cool. “I can’t take it!”

The second bullet thumped into the drum and Sydney flinched. “Oh, God, that hurts,” she moaned holding her breath.

I felt trapped. Powerless.
Castrated!
Rage swept through me like a hot wind on a wild fire. “You hit Sydney!”

“
Don’t,” she hushed me as she drew short labored breaths, her body trembling against mine.

A volley of four more rounds smashed into the barrel and molten lead seared into our flesh as cold water mercifully spewed in behind it—so cold that it, too, burned.

“
Oh, Sydney, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to get a picture. I thought that maybe for once something would work out in my favor.” I choked back tears. “If I’d just…gotten my hands on that…gun.”

“
I told you,” she panted, her voice growing faint. “The gun didn’t work. I tried it.”

“
The gun under the barrels?”

“
Yes.”

“
When?”

“
Right after he knocked you out…when he reloaded his gun. I pointed it at him and pulled the trigger, but it wouldn’t work. I tried it three times before he turned around.”

Outside, we heard shouting. “Shhh. Listen.” Men’s voices, shouting. Through the hole in front of me I could see lights flickering through the tree tops. Blue, red, white. “Sydney, the police are here!” We shouted and beat the drum. A shot rang out, then more shots. Hand guns. Shotguns. Tear gas launchers. As the tank bobbed in the canal, I watched the scene unfold through my tiny window and relayed it to Sydney. I saw an officer take a hit, heard the faint crackle of fire igniting, and watched the barn as it went up in flames.

They couldn’t hear us and no one knew we were there.

As the oxygen diminished, I had difficulty thinking. I tried to get my mouth closer to the hole in front of me to suck air through it, but couldn’t reach it and choked on what filled my lungs. The cold water had reached my knees and the euphoria I’d felt when the police arrived evaporated.

Sydney whispered, “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

I shuttered and gasped for air. “Ironic isn’t it?”

“
What?” she breathed.

“
I finally have something to live for.”

She whispered, “Me, too.”

Of all the unjust tragedies I’d witnessed in my life, this was the most unjust. Sydney was so
innocent.
She had molded a fabulous life for herself…had a…successful…business…and…

Starving for oxygen, I drifted in and out of consciousness.

Think!

“
Sydney? What’d you do with that gun?” I coughed.

She panted rapidly. “I…hid it…in…my...”

“
Where?”

“
It’s…” She fell silent.

“
Sydney, where is it? Where’s the gun?”

“
It’s…it’s…”

“
Do you have it? Is it here?”

“
What?”

I must have been getting some oxygen through that hole. I wasn’t thinking too well, but at least I could still think. “The gun. Is it here?”

“
It’s…”

“
Where, Sydney? Where’s the gun?”

Her voice was faint. “Under…my…shirt.”

56

T
HE FIRE NOW CONSUMED the barn and licked high into the air. The cold water slowly filling the barrel helped to cool our brains, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it would eventually drown us. Ten minutes tops. Our only hope was a gun that wouldn’t fire even if I could get to it. And
what
would I shoot to get us out? More holes and we’d drown quicker.

My right arm was pinned, but I could move my left…slightly. Sydney’s legs were wedged back against her chest and I was squashed against them upside down. Our heads rested near one another, mine bent under with my abdomen pressed against the back of her calves. I worked my hand down my left side and tried to find a way to get around her legs to her waist. The water was now midway up my thighs. Sydney had gone quiet—passed out from pain, heat, loss of blood, or a lack of oxygen. But she was still alive. I could feel her expand…occasionally…to take a breath of the rancid air…such that it…such that…

Think! Where’s the gun?

I curled my back and drew in my abdomen and managed to work my hand through to my right side. The barrel rolled a half-turn in the water shifting more of Sydney’s weight against me. I squeezed my hand between her thigh and abdomen just below her breast and heard the air escape her lungs as I forced my arm through. The barrel rolled another half-turn and I felt the punch of cold water hit my upper back. Air trapped in our clothing began bubbling through the water popping around us, bringing a trace of oxygen with it. I realized we were sinking faster and felt a surge of energy sweep through me. I forced my hand farther into the space between her thighs and touched something hard and cold beneath the cloth.

I raked my nails across the wet fabric and tugged at it, but it refused to move as the water rose to cover the gun. I could feel it—its hammer, cylinder, and grip. My energy was gone. My mind could no longer focus.

One minute!

My hand worked frantically as a new stream of cool water trickled down my neck and the bubbles began to fade. My fingers found a button and the opening it secured. I felt the smooth cold metal beneath as the water, rising faster, swallowed my elbow.

Thirty seconds!

I pulled at the gun, but it would not budge. Panic overtook me. Fighting the urge to give up, I closed my fingers around the grip afraid to touch the trigger and gave it a yank. Sydney gasped, sucked a deep breath, then emptied her lungs completely shrinking the size of her chest cavity and the gun slipped
free
.

I could hold it in my hand, but it was still lodged between us. As the water rose above my shoulders, I tried to pulled the gun through the tiny space behind her leg.

Suddenly the drum sat straight up, dropped, and sank beneath the water!

The remaining air bubbled out through a hole in the top as the tank struck the bottom of the canal with a thump. Cold water washed up my neck and I gulped a final lungful of air as the cylinder rolled slowly and fell onto its side. As water covered my head, I jerked the gun frantically up and down working it back and forth; edging it slowly through the opening until it finally came though.

Exhausted, trembling, starving for air, I pushed the gun down under my knees and slid the end of the barrel along the rim of the drum hoping to feel the bolts that held the latches in place. I worked back and forth along the edge of the lid until the gun bumped a rounded brad. I pressed the muzzle against the brad and pulled the trigger. I felt the gun click, but there was no explosion.

My fingers searched the gun for a lever or safety button. My lungs screamed for air. I pulled the trigger again, and again there was no sound.

I could hear nothing but the sound of water lapping the top of the tank.

I pictured my funeral.
What’s it all about, Alfie? Is it just for the moment we live?
That’s the song I want them to play.
Not
Amazing Grace
or
Nearer my God to Thee. Alfie
is the song for me.

I felt Sydney twitch. Using both thumbs and all the strength I had left, I cocked the hammer locking it back to its farthermost position.
A shot in the dark.
That’s all life is—or in my case—the lack of one. I smiled and air gurgled from my nose. My lungs spasmed, as if to laugh, then my throat opened and I involuntarily gulped water that set my chest on fire.

I squeezed the trigger and the cartridge exploded. For an instant it didn’t register. When it did, I frantically locked my thumbs on the hammer and cocked it again. I pulled the trigger, and again there was an underwater explosion. I tried to push the lid off, but it remained tight.

Where am I? Think!

I cocked the hammer again, slid the barrel of the gun along the rim, hit a brad, and fired. I heard bubbles. I jammed my knees against the lid, but it held. I wrapped my thumbs around the hammer and struggled to cock it again. My thumbs aching. The hammer spring resisting.
Oh, Sydney!
I forced the water from my chest as I squeezed back the hammer with all my strength.
Our Father, who art in heaven…give us this day our daily strength…
I felt the hammer lock back, touched the trigger, and barely heard the explosion, but felt an instant release of pressure as the lid sprang away. I groped through my knees for the edge of the tank, turned the gun backward, and hooked the grip on the lip and pulled.

As we floated weightless out of the drum, Sydney grabbed hold of me clutching me hard against her. My legs were numb and did not respond when I tried to stand. Her arms pulled at my head and shoulders. Through the murky water, I saw the end of the pier against the raging fire. Reaching for the piling that supported it, I grasped hold of it and climbed it like a greased pole.

When I burst out of the river with Sydney on my back, my lungs locked. I heard Sydney cough and suck in air, but my lungs failed to work. I gagged, threw my head back, and vomited, but still there was no air going into my lungs. Panicked, I flung myself back into the water fighting to get my feet planted on the muddy bottom, but my energy had disappeared. I had nothing left. I sank below the water and settled slowly to the bottom as my arms and legs fought to get hold of something solid. As I came to rest in the mud, peace settled over me and my pains faded. My arms and legs fell to my side.

Through the mist I saw Dad reach out for me. His eyes were red and his tongue was black. In his hand he held a whip from the hickory tree that grew in the corner of our backyard and I knew I was headed to hell. He swung the branch and pain exploded up my back. I saw Sydney above me, straddling me, her hair on fire, bending to kiss me. He swung again. Pain wracked my legs. I was with Martha. We were pedaling our bikes in an undeclared race to old man Jenkins’s private pond where we stripped to our underwear and swam with the wild ducks and geese to a tiny sandbar in the center. It was on that sandbar that we saw each other naked for the first time. The whip swung again and my body burst into flames. Sydney reached for me and as my skin turned black and cracked open, she pressed her lips to mine and forced her breath into me.

The whip smashed across my chest and I felt seawater ooze out of my mouth and run down my neck. Flames licked high into a black sky and I felt myself being sucked through a tube. Mom reached out for me as I swept past her, but disappeared in the smoke. My body swelled like a balloon as air rushed into me and Sydney appeared pressing her hands against me to force it out. As air gurgled up through the water in my throat, tears streamed down her checks. She slammed her fists against my chest and seemed to scream, yet I heard no sounds. She kissed me and her cold wet hair fell softly around my face and neck as my chest expanded. I had a vision of a helicopter overhead beaming its spotlight directly into my eyes.

Sydney placed her mouth to mine and my lungs again expanded and burned. The spotlight blasting into my face suddenly hurt and I heard the thump

thump

thump of its rotor blades. I tasted water in the back of my throat. It gagged me and I coughed. It ran down the sides of my neck. I coughed again. Sydney’s hot tears dripped on my cold skin as my lungs sucked in air and I tasted smoke.