“Don’t fucking question me!” I growled. “Just do it!”
Raine scowled and moved the sail slightly. It rippled and lost wind, then immediately filled up again, pulling the raft to one side and nearly making Raine lose her balance.
“Be careful!” I screamed at her.
“I’m trying!” She was close to tears, but I just didn’t have the time to deal with anything other than the immediate situation. I felt myself shutting down – turning everything off except what I needed for right now. If we could get farther down the beach, we might get out of the riptide and be able to make it to shore.
It was more than an hour of heavy paddling and sail adjusting before we finally pushed past the tide, and we could steer back towards the beach. My arms ached, but I pushed the pain down, refusing to acknowledge it. The anchors were starting to drag in the sand, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant I could probably get out now and bad because it was slowing us down. Deciding it was still too soon, I paddled against the drag of the anchors, forcing my brain to ignore the increasing pain through my back and shoulders.
I could finally see the sand bank below the waves and tossed myself overboard, pulling the lead behind me. I heard Raine scream out at me but ignored her as I pushed my feet to the bottom and started hauling the raft by the rope closer to the beach. The sail was no longer effective, and trying to yell back at her was only going to compromise my resolve, so I just pushed on. Through blind determination, I didn’t realize I had jumped out too soon – we were still too far from the beach. My feet suddenly gave out as the sand bank disappeared from under me.
I went under, choking on seawater and feeling the rope cut into the skin around my stomach. I pulled on it, and it tightened further into my skin, but at least I knew I hadn’t let go. If I let go, the raft could have easily been pulled back out by the currents. There would be no way for Raine to get it to shore on her own, and I probably couldn’t swim fast enough to get back to her. I had to get across to the next bank, and to do that, I had to let some of the rope out.
I came up spurting water from my lungs, coughing and gasping for air right before another wave hit me. Thankfully, it at least knocked me forward – closer to the beach. I reached down while I was under, untying the lead from my waist and wrapping it around my arm. My fingers clenched onto it – I could not let go. No matter what, I could not let go.
I pushed up long enough to get another breath and hear Raine screaming my name. When I went back under, I swam as hard as I could, feeling the weight of the raft and the crush of the waves all around me. My limbs were already so tired they didn’t want to move, and I bit down into my lower lip just to focus on something other than the pain in my arms. I needed air, so I pushed up again, took a quick breath, and continued on.
I pushed through the pain. I swam hard. Another breath. I listened to her screaming because it meant she was okay and then pushed through the pain some more.
When my feet finally hit sand, I almost went into panic mode, believing I had gone backwards and was on the outer sandbank again. When I pushed myself up and got my head above water, I could see the beach in front of me. My feet dug in, pushed forward, and I dragged the raft behind me. Raine was still yelling, though the tone of her cries was decidedly different. Another pull and I yanked on the raft’s lead to pull it over the sand. It was dragging hard now, and I wasn’t sure what the obstruction was, so I just pulled harder, my muscles straining and complaining about the exertion. Most of my body was out of the water, but it wasn’t registering. I just kept pulling on the rope. Even when I heard splashing behind me and felt Raine’s hand on my shoulder, I wasn’t quite sure what was happening.
“Bastian, you did it!” she cried out. Her arms were around my neck, but I shook my head and pulled again. Raine held on, her hand on the side of my face, trying to turn my head to look at her. “Bastian – stop. We’re on the beach!”
My feet heard her, apparently, because I stopped walking and turned to look at the raft. It was half in and half out of the water now, still rising and falling a little with the remaining waves as they crashed against the beach. I turned around, wrapped the rope around my waist again, and pulled hard, then again, and again, until the raft was completely beached. I looked around, trying to determine if we were at high or low tide. It appeared the tide was high at the moment and was probably going out, but I couldn’t tell for sure. My mind started checking off the important things I had to consider.
Raine was on the beach, and she was safe for the moment.
The raft was out of the water, and high tide meant it shouldn’t be pulled back out again.