Skinny-Dipping at Monster Lake (15 page)

“Okay.”

“Let's get 'er done.”

We slipped our masks on, cleared the regulators, and—a light in one hand and four ropes in the other—we swam for the submarine.

The water was cloudy, but with the powerful lights I could still see the bottom. As we moved farther from shore, deeper, the muddy bottom disappeared into nothingness. I stayed with Dad, though, and never gave it a thought. One handful of rope and the other holding the light made swimming a little tricky, at first. But after a few feet I got the hang of guiding with my fins and my body.

What I noticed the most was the quiet.

Above—even when Dad was giving instructions and everyone was quiet—it wasn't really quiet. There was the constant hum of the light generator. There were the sounds of horses stomping their hooves and snorting. Men moving about. Crickets chirping. The breeze rustling the leaves.

Here—except for my own breathing—there was silence. Nothing but a peaceful stillness.

Then . . .

I saw it.

About ten feet below us and a little to the left, a dark form began to take shape through the murky water. Round and tapered, like the body of a big fish—an enormous shark—it lay motionless on the bottom. I knew what it was, but seeing it for the first time gave me an eerie feeling. Lifeless and still, I could almost picture a sudden movement. A quick flip of a fin or tail that would bring it to life. Send it knifing through the water and . . .

Suddenly I realized I was holding my breath. I forced myself to concentrate. Breathe slow and steady.

Dad swam to the propeller on the back of the sub. The prop was quite a bit bigger than those I'd seen on an outboard motor. The guard around it was probably three to four feet around and
attached to the back of the sub with four steel rods. Tucking three of the ropes under his arm, and dropping his light, Dad tied the fourth to the propeller guard. Once done, he pulled on it, then yanked a couple of times to make sure the knot was secure.

Careful to keep it from glaring in his eyes, I held my light on where he worked. Dad finished all four of his ropes, then he waved for me to bring mine. When all eight ropes were tied, he picked up his light from the bottom and swam around to the front of the submarine. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to inspect the thing, see what it looked like, how it was made.

That could wait.

Dad pointed his light at the front of the sub for a moment or two, then pointed up. I met him on the surface.

“It's Mrs. Baum, all right,” he told me, once he had the hose out of his mouth. “She's unconscious, but still responsive.”

I pulled my hose out. “What's that mean, Dad?”

He smiled. “Her eyes are closed, but when the light hit her, she flinched. It means she's still alive, but we need to hurry.

“Rowdy?”

“Ready, Simon!”

“You'll have to pull toward the fence and the light generator. If you go the other way, we'll get tangled in the tree again.”

“Will do,” Mr. Aikman called back. “Want us to start?”

“Just a second.” Dad turned to me. “I'll go down where I can see the ropes. You stay here and watch. If anything starts to come loose, I'll hit you with my light. You yell at them to stop, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rowdy!” he shouted. “Count to ten, then start pulling. If Kent yells—stop.”

“Got ya, Simon.”

Floating on the surface like a jellyfish, I kept my light on Dad. I could barely see him when he stopped. I knew he was aiming his light on the ropes at the back of the sub, only the water was so cloudy I couldn't see that far. Every muscle tight and tense, I watched. Waited.

Then . . . ever so slowly at first . . . Dad's light started to move.

I followed from above as we headed in.

I stayed even with him. In a little while I could see him clearly in my light. A few more feet and the outline—the shape of the sub—began to appear. It was still ominous and eerie-looking. Then I could see the propeller guard and the ropes.
Finally I saw the muddy bottom as the sub slid closer and closer to the shore.

Before I knew it, Dad was on the surface with me. We swam along, watching the ropes. Every now and then Dad would raise his head to see if the hatch was above the surface.

When the wheel and the very top of the hatch port were a good two inches above the waterline, Dad ripped off his mask.

“That's good, boys. Hold it!”

Wriggling his shoulders, he got out of his tank and handed it to me. My fins brushed the bottom, but it wasn't quite shallow enough to stand up. Holding his tank, I treaded water and watched as he climbed on top of the thing and started turning the wheel.

It moved a lot easier than I expected. Then he gave it a hard spin and lifted.

“Emma? Emma Baum? Can you hear me? Emma?”

He stood up on the back of the sub and reached out toward me. “Tank. Quick.”

I handed it to him. He yanked the hose and regulator off, twisted the valve all the way open. Then, holding the tank in front of him, he kind of dived at the hatch. The only thing left were his legs.

Suddenly Greg was there with us.

“What's he doing?” I asked.

“Flooding the compartment with air. All the oxygen's used up. Got to get fresh air in there so—”

Dad yelled something. Hanging upside down in the opening, we couldn't understand him.

“What?” Greg called.

“The other tank!”

Greg helped me out of my tank. Like Dad had done, he yanked the hose from the regulator and climbed up on the sub. Before he handed it down alongside where Dad was hanging, he opened the valve. I could hear the air spewing out.

Then another sound came to my ears. It was a siren. Glancing toward the dam, I saw the second ambulance racing across.

“Emma.” I could barely hear Dad's voice. “Come on, hon. Wake up.”

There was no response. Just the scream of the siren, howling in the distance.

“Emma.” His voice was louder now. Determined and almost angry. “Open your eyes, Emma! Wake up!”

We'd tried so hard. Everyone. We had worked together. We'd done the very best we could. But what if all we'd done was for nothing?

What if we were too late?

E
yes squeezed so tight that it made my head ache, I could hear the words inside my skull:

“Please let her be all right. Please don't let her die.”

I blinked and looked up. I could hear Dad's voice. I treaded water.
Please.
And waited.
Please help her.
And watched. And suddenly Greg straightened up. He looked down at me and smiled.

With him out of the hole, I could hear Dad talking to Mrs. Baum.

“No. Don't try to get up. You're safe. We've got you. Just sit there for a moment. Let us help you.”

Feet kicking and struggling, Dad backed himself out of the hole.

“Oxygen,” he whispered.

Greg leaped from the back of the sub and sprinted to shore. There was a whole lot of movement on the bank that I hadn't even noticed before. Mr. Aikman had ridden Duke to the gate and was leading the ambulance through the pasture. The guys were off their horses, leading them
out of the way while their dads moved the ropes.

Greg was in the back of the ambulance before it rolled to a complete stop. By the time they turned the siren off and hopped out, he already had the little green oxygen tank and was racing for the lake. The two men followed him, but about halfway to me, one doubled back to get the ladder.

I swam out of the way and sloshed up to join my friends.

We all watched as Dad took the oxygen tank and squeezed down into the sub. For the life of me, I couldn't figure how. The thing looked barely big enough for one person to fit inside, much less two.

While we waited, a flash of light caught my eye. I glanced to the dead-end road that led to Mrs. Baum's house. Three more cars drove up and stopped beside where the men had parked. It was hard to see past the floodlights on the generator. But when one of the doors opened, I saw someone with long hair. When she stepped out, I could tell it was a woman wearing a dress.

“Looks like Samantha's wedding shower is over,” I told Ted. “Guess our moms are coming to see what's going on.”

The men must have noticed, too. They scurried over to where they'd left their clothes and started trying to sort things out and find their trousers.

By the time we all gathered by the base of the fallen cottonwood tree, it was probably one of the weirdest-looking groups anyone could imagine. There were eight boys in their bathing trunks. Eight women in formal dresses—who still had on their makeup and jewelry. And seven gentlemen wearing dress slacks with no shirts or shoes.

If some stranger had happened on to the scene, without any idea of what was going on, the poor guy would have probably fainted, just from the sight.

Mrs. Baum's head finally appeared from the hatch. Slow and careful, they helped her out. Greg held on to her until Dad climbed out. Then they lowered her to the other two firefighters. They carried her to shore, where Pete and Mr. Bently had the stretcher waiting.

“I'm fine,” Mrs. Baum protested when they carried the stretcher toward the ambulance. “I've just got a little headache, but other than that I'm fine. Let me off this fool thing. I just want to go home and rest. I don't know what all the fuss is about, but—”

“Emma!” Dad's voice was kind yet firm when he caught up with them. “We need to have a doctor check you over. Make sure you're all right.”

“But—”

“No
buts.
You're going to the hospital. They may even keep you overnight.”

“But—”

“We'll watch the house. Make sure nobody bothers anything.”

“But—” She tried to sit up.

Mom came to stand beside Dad when they put her into the back of the ambulance. “Emma. Just calm down and quit your fussing.”

Greg leaned over and whispered something to Dad. He nodded and whispered to Mom. She smiled.

“Tell you what, Emma. Why don't I ride with you to the emergency room,” Mom said. “There's enough space back here. I'll just go along for the ride. Make sure they treat you right, while you're there.”

The old woman's eyes kind of lit up. She leaned back on the stretcher and seemed to relax a bit.

“Still think it's a bunch of nonsense,” she muttered. “I don't need to go to see no fool doctor. But if you're going with me . . . well, I guess . . .”

Mom climbed in the back and sat down on the bench next to her. One of the other paramedics climbed in next to them. Greg and Dad told Pete to ride in front with the driver. At the open doorway he hesitated.

“I don't need no fool doctor to tell me my arm's broken,” Pete teased.

Both men glared at him. They looked at each other, smiled, and shoved him into the ambulance.

“Oh, sit down and shut up,” both said with a chuckle.

Greg closed the door. “Might call dispatch. See if Captain Miller can send a wrecker or two to get the truck out that you messed up.”

“
I
messed up?” Pete yelped. “Hey, that wasn't my fault.”

Greg shrugged. “You were driving.”

Pete kind of sneered at him and gave a quick gesture with his good hand. Then he leaned to the side so he could see around Greg and Dad.

“Hey, where's Kent?” he asked.

“I'm right here, Pete,” I called.

He waved me over. I trotted over to them. Pete reached out with his good arm and ruffled my hair.

“Good job, kid. If you hadn't come up with the idea of using the horses, we might not have gotten her out of there in time.”

“Thanks, Pete.”

As they drove slowly up the hill, so as not to jostle Mrs. Baum too much, Dad, Greg, and I walked back to join the rest of our group. Before we reached the others, Dad stepped in front of me.
He turned to face me and stuck out his hand. Not quite knowing what to do, I put my hand out, too. Dad shook it.

“I'm proud of you, Kent,” he said softly. “I know that was your first night dive. It's pretty scary for most people. But you acted like an old pro. You did a good job, son.”

I don't know what made me prouder—what Dad said, or the way he shook my hand and smiled at me.

Greg looked down his nose at me. He arched an eyebrow and shook his head.

“Hey, punk. Don't expect me to go braggin' about how brave you were. You didn't do nothing more than what I expected from you, all along. Ain't no big deal.”

He stood there and glared at me a second. Then a smile curled the corners of his mouth. All of a sudden those big arms of his wrapped around me. He gave me such a hug, I thought he was going to squeeze the air clean out of me.

All three of us—side by side—strolled up to join the others.

Everyone stood around and visited for a time. We took turns explaining to the moms all that had happened. Told them about Jordan hearing the SOS, and how we located the sub. Then there were
theories and guesses about where and how Mrs. Baum got the submarine and
why
she was out in the lake in the thing . . . and so much noise . . . well, all I could think about was how quiet and peaceful it was when I was underwater with Dad.

After a time we got the rest of the flashlights from our fishing camp and showed the moms the boathouse and the trench that led to the lake. Then everyone wanted to inspect the submarine. Dad handed Ted one of the big underwater lights. The women, dressed in high heels and fancy dresses, decided not to go sloshing out into the lake. They headed back to the cars and went home. Our dads stayed with us. Once the women left, the men stripped down to their underwear. Ted and his dad went first. They circled the submarine, then took turns climbing through the hatch to check out the insides. Everyone else sort of paired off and waited his turn. It was almost time for Jordan and me to go look it over when the wrecker showed up.