Romiette and Julio (24 page)

“Can you die of noise, Julio?” Romi asked between bursts of thunder and flashes of lightning.

“I don’t know if noise ever killed anybody, but fear sure did.” Once more the thunder exploded above their heads.

“I’ve never seen lightning up close like this before,” Romi exclaimed, amazed at the spectacle in spite of her fear. “It’s so wild. Like God spitting fire from his fingernails!”

“And then crashing mountains together!” Julio said in awe. Both of them realized the danger they were in. “We’ve got to get out of this boat, Romi,” Julio said with certainty.

Romi’s heart quickened. Fear spoke first. “I’m not getting out of this boat! You must be crazy! If I get out of the boat and in the water, I will die! No doubt about it—I’m just gonna sink to the bottom and die!”

“Not if I can help it. Let’s see now, where are the oars—they ought to be attached to the side, right?” Julio felt for the place where the oars ought to be.

“I can’t see much, but I don’t think there are any oars here, Julio.”

“They took them, of course.” Julio sighed.

“Now what?” Romi asked.

“Are your hands still stiff from the ropes, Romi?”

“They’re OK. What do you want me to do?”

“Let’s see if we can paddle this thing by hand.” They each moved to a side of the small boat and placed their hands in the cold water. On a summer day, streaming a hand in the water playfully was a pleasant and soothing experience. But their hands soon became numb as they tried to move the boat in the frigid, churning water. The boat made no progress.

“It’s raining so hard and the lightning is so close!” Romi yelled through the downpour.

Julio had been in storms in a boat before, but never a storm this intense, and never alone. He knew they were a sure target for a bolt of lightning. “We gotta get out of this boat, and off this water, Romi! That lightning is too sharp and too close. It’s gonna hit us!”

“I can hardly hear you! The thunder is roaring so much! The whole world is exploding!” screamed Romi. She laughed then, in spite of the situation. Julio, curly hair dripping, drenched and weary, was illuminated for a moment by the lightning. He looked awful. She knew she didn’t look much better. “Look at us, Julio! And to think I worried this afternoon about how my hair would look for you.”

Julio looked at Romi’s matted hair and soaked clothes and tossed more water on her. They both
laughed so hard, they forgot their plight for one brief moment. Then a bolt of lightning speared past them and landed with a flaming, steaming sizzle in a tree about ten feet up the shore. It jarred them back to reality.

“Oh, my Lord! That one was close!” Romi cried, suddenly serious and frightened again.

Julio told her clearly, “We’ve got to get out of this boat, Romi.”

“NO!” she screamed. “I’ll drown!”

“I won’t let you drown.” Julio lowered himself into the freezing water. He gasped at the coldness of it. He held out his hand to her. “Take my hand. Hold on to me. I will not let you go.”

“No, Julio, I’m terrified of water. I’ll pull you down. I can’t do it.” She let go of his hand and sat shaking in the boat.

“Romi, the lightning is hitting trees on shore. It will hit this boat. I know it.” In the flashes of lightning she could make out his face, pleading and full of concern not for himself but for her. “Come on, Romi. You’ll be fine.”

Trembling, she seized his hand and let him lead her over the side of the boat. He lowered her slowly and carefully into the water. Romi was stiff with fear and cold. She barely dared to breathe. He helped her grab the side of the boat and bent her numb fingers so she could grasp it better. The water sloshed onto her face and she gasped, but Julio lifted her so her head was above the waterline. “Please don’t let me go,” she said, trembling.

“I’ve got you. Relax. I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me? I love you, Romiette.”

“What did you say? The thunder, the noise, the water!”

“
Te amo.
I love you! You’re not going to die.”

With a crack that split the heavens, a huge bolt of fire was spit from the sky. It arced, twisted, and with vicious rage, the lightning stabbed the small wooden boat. The air smelled of charred wood and the harsh chemical odor of fire between water and sky. Flames, which were quickly extinguished by the driving rain, rose from the gaping hole and tried to spread along the bottom of the boat. Both Romiette and Julio could feel the electricity of the lightning bolt as the small boat was incinerated and crumpled. Her hand was wrenched from his, and he was alone struggling to find the surface. Julio reached for Romi in the darkness, but all was fire and acrid smoke and swirling water. He searched the area, fruitlessly grabbing broken pieces of wood from the boat, hoping that Romi was somehow clinging to one of them. He shouted her name, went under again and again, but Romi was deep within the thing she feared the most—the dark, cold water.

Romi tried to think, to scream, to remember. The water seared her thoughts. Thinking became a dream, and remembering a painful reality. Was this reality or a dream?

The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, then thunder exploded once again. She smelled the water then. Deep, evil, powerful. The water had been their only hope, their only chance, their leap into faith, into death. She had screamed. Then all was silence as the water thundered into her ears, forced itself down her throat, and burned its way into her nose, her lungs, her brain. This water was fierce and deadly—no cool, gentle waves, but hot, choking, liquid flames, sucking the breath of life from her. She struggled, searching for air, for land, for something to hold on to. But there was only the water, pulling her into its depths. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t swim. She could no longer scream. The fire cooled, the terror ebbed, and the dark shadow of death embraced her.

She drifted then—in a haze of colors and swirls and black, frightening void. Voices? Could she hear voices? One voice? Maybe it was a song. No, all was silence. Thick, enveloping quiet that led to despair. No reason to care, to
breathe, to live. So easy to let the silence swallow her. But the voice pierced the darkness. It was calling her name, grabbing her thoughts, and making her remember the fear, the pain, the cold, clammy water. The water! She gasped, and the water grabbed her once more, viciously dragging her to its depths. But that voice. It floated down to where she lay, cradled in the arms of the victorious water. The voice called her one last time. It was Julio.

Julio swam to the surface once more and breathed deeply. It was still raining in strong sheets of water, but the fury of the storm seemed to have subsided. He looked around frantically for Romiette, but he could see so sign of her. He knew she was terrified. This was her nightmare, her fear dream, and he was unable to help her. He plunged beneath the water but, except for the diminishing sound of the thunder as it retreated into the distance, he could hear nothing. He shouted her name, half praying, half pleading to the hidden stars to help him find her.

“Romiette! Romiette!” He dove under the water again, reaching for her, feeling for her, sensing her closeness. He knew he only had a short time to find her. He let himself drift to the bottom of the lake where the darkness of the water was total and complete. The only thing that led him was his heart, his knowledge that he would never leave that lake without her. His lungs were burning fire, about to explode, when he touched her arm. She was floating facedown, her hair caught on a jagged rock. He
touched her face, gently freed her, and swam with her to the surface.

He gasped frantically, and let her face feel the night air. The rain had stopped, the lightning was merely a distant blink, and the air was clear and cold. But Romiette floated in his arms, not breathing, unaware of the life it offered. Julio shouted her name again. “Romiette!” Silence, except for the echo of his voice on the water. He could see the shore now, and swam as swiftly as he could, calling her name, the only raindrops now his tears of fear and anguish. He knew that they could both die of hypothermia if they didn’t get out of that water right away. It seemed like hours, but only a few minutes had passed since they had lost each other in the storm. He reached the shore, half lifted, half dragged her from the water, and laid her gently on the ground. He forgot about the pain in his arms and back and head. He forgot about how cold he was. His only thought was to make her breathe, to make her live. He tried to remember all the steps of CPR as he breathed into her mouth and compressed her chest. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or just unconscious. She lay in the mud, unmoving, and Julio shouted curses to the stars.

The wind blew hard, much colder now that the rain had stopped, and Julio knew he could do no more. He shivered uncontrollably in the darkness and looked for shelter. He was dizzy, weak, and was starting to fade into unconsciousness himself. He picked up Romiette’s cool, damp body and
stumbled as far as he could into the woods. He tripped over a huge tree that had fallen many storms before, and almost dropped Romi as he landed in a hollow under it. He gently placed Romi on the spongy pine needles and leaves, then squeezed himself into the shallow hole next to her. He pulled Romiette as close to himself as he could. At least there was a bit of shelter from the wind, he thought vaguely. He tried to concentrate, but he was so tired, and the air was so cold. It was easy to rest for a bit. Julio shivered, hugged Romi closer to him, and faded into sleep.

Captain Escaluski frowned and scratched what was left of his thinning hair. He didn’t like this one. His men had been out all night, tromping through rain and mud, but able to do very little. All of the gang members except for the girl refused to make any statements at all—their code of silence, he assumed. His thoughts were interrupted by a call from Will Spear, his chief field investigator.

“Captain, this is Will. We found something, and it’s not good.”

Escaluski braced himself. “What is it?” he asked quickly.

“We found pieces of a boat, broken and floating, out here on the far end of the lake. It was charred and burned—a big hole burned right through the center of it. Looks like it had been struck by lightning.”

“Any sign of the kids?”

“No, Captain, just dark, stormy water.” Officer Spear paused. “Sir, I think you better order the lake-dragging equipment.”

Escaluski sighed. “Already done, Will. You don’t think they tried suicide like in the Shakespeare story, do you?” He was trying to cover all possibilities. “Maybe they were scared of the gang and tired of all the opposition to their relationship, and they decided to off themselves. It’s happened before. Any sign they were in that boat, Will?”

“Nothing yet, but if they
were
in that boat, we might have a case of murder instead. I sure hope not. They seemed to be nice kids.”

“Nice, yes; but stupid, maybe.”

“Either way,” Officer Spear summarized, “we’ve got a big thunderstorm, an unsearchable lake, two missing kids, and no bodies.”

“Yet,” added Escaluski, who had seen far too many unhappy endings to stories such as this one. He sighed again. “Thanks, Spear. Stay on it. Report to me anything you find.”

“Yes, sir.”

At that moment another officer knocked on the captain’s door. He was young, had only been on the force a few weeks, and was just one-quarter of an inch taller than the minimum requirement to be a police officer. Escaluski chuckled as he watched the new guy walk—it seemed as if he tiptoed everywhere—trying to make himself look taller. “Excuse me, sir, Officer Balzar here. I found something, sir, that I think might be important in this investigation.” He was almost trembling with excitement.

“What have you got, Balzar?” the captain questioned, smiling at his youthful enthusiasm.

“I went back and searched the trunk of the car once more, sir,” he explained. “The one that the alleged gang members were arrested in?”

“Yes, I know the car,” the captain said impatiently. “What did you find?”

“I crawled into the trunk, uh, since I’m gifted with small stature, sir, and I found this in the back.” He handed the captain a tiny video recorder, the one that had fallen from Julio’s pocket when they tossed him in the trunk.

Captain Escaluski looked at the camera and heartily thanked the young officer. “I think you’ve found the key piece of evidence, Balzar! Great detective work!”

Balzar beamed. The captain hurried to the lab to see if his men could run the tape. Perhaps this would help them find the missing teenagers.

Destiny and Ben tromped through the mud and diminishing rain, searching, but having no idea where to look. They looked under branches, in shallow caves, in all the picnic areas, even the trash Dumpsters. They could tell when the police had been through an area—it was well worn and flattened by several pairs of boots—but they never came into direct contact with the small police search team that worked through the storm and the night. Ben made Destiny rest back at the car a couple of times, but they spent most of the night searching for hope, and finding very little.

Destiny had called her mother on the car phone a couple of times, so they knew the police had found the key chain at the boathouse, and that the Devildogs had been arrested. A dull gray dawn was beginning to appear.

Destiny stretched and said to Ben, “Let’s check near the boathouse one more time, now that we can see a little better.”

“What do you think we can find that the police can’t?” Ben grumbled.

“You’ve been watching too many TV shows, Ben.” Destiny grinned. “Maybe they missed something.” She beamed the flashlight toward the bushes on the walkway that led from the boathouse to the water.

“See anything?” Ben asked, without much faith.

Destiny screamed, “Ben, com’ere! Where’s the other flashlight?”