Kyle felt the color drain from his face, a new chill rattling in his chest that had nothing to do with the cold. Heat raced up his arms, pain prickling at his skin. He winced, breath puffing like little clouds of smoke in front of his face. It couldn’t be her...
"Sweet Mary," the Captain gasped, stumbling closer to the rails of the boat. Even against the bitter cold leeching at his body heat, he'd never felt so frozen inside at the sight mapped out in front of him. Staring back at the other men, he screamed. "Don't just stand there, we've got to get them off the ice!"
The Captain’s words snapped him out of his haze. Without a moment's pause, the men all moved into action, grabbing ropes and hacking at the ice frantically. Kyle stepped back from the railing, biting his lip. He could feel the etchings on his skin returning to life underneath his sleeves. Her presence alone was enough to trigger the memories, to reawaken the spirit within.
Spinning around, Kyle darted inside the nearest room, grabbing a rope long enough to tether him back to the boat. He looped it around his waist, knotting it and quickly running back onto deck. His fingers shook as he secured the other end to the railing, giving it a final tug to check its hold. Tossing his cap onto the deck, his wild and unruly blonde hair danced around his head like a lion’s mane as he jumped from the boat in a single, flawless leap, landing on the ice soundlessly.
He dashed across the slippery ground, gliding to the unconscious girl. For a moment, he stood there, transfixed. Her nightgown was thin and sheer, no where near the proper clothing to be braving the cold the sea. Yet she looked perfect and unharmed. Her skin was a fair peach tint; not a single inch of her skin was damaged by the freezing temperatures. Placing his hands under her, he scooped up the girl’s petite frame, cradling her tightly against his chest as he slowly inched his way back to the boat.
Over the railing, he could hear them chanting in symphony, encouraging each other to pull them up from the ice below. Kyle turned down to stare at the girl in his arms, baffled by her calm, placid composure. His fingers gently brushed away at the stray strands of hair covering her face, grazing her skin with his. The gasp and jolt in his chest nearly screamed from his throat. Pictures flooded his mind like a breaking dam, memories so strong he felt reality slipping around him. Sinking his teeth into his lower lip, his clutch tightened to an iron grasp around her immobile frame.
With a final tug, the men hoisted them over the railing and onto the icy deck. Kyle dropped to his side, clutching the girl and covering her head before rolling to his knees, then feet. Closely followed by the four pairs of incredulous stares, he carried her inside the ship, shoving aside the quickly forgotten mugs of beer, coins and unfinished card game to the floor. He placed her on the table delicately, but kept a hand linked in one of hers. She was still warm, her heart beating steady.
Almost instantly, the men all began to fire questions in an uproar.
"How in the hell did she end up all the way out here?"
“There’s no other boats but us out here for miles, right?”
"Where are her clothes?"
"How long you think she's been dead?"
"She's not," Kyle spoke with a snap, meeting all eyes with his own steel gaze. "Dead. She has a pulse."
The room went silent. From the end of the room, the Captain pressed forward. His wary eyes went from Kyle’s steady gaze to the girl. Her chest rose and fell in tiny spurts.
Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded at the man who first pointed out the body on the ice. “Head on up and radio to base. Tell them we’re coming back with a miracle.” Scratching his chin, he scowled back at the table. "Will someone get a blanket on her, for crying out loud.”
One of the men rustled in the corner, yanking a thin sheet of wool from a folding chair, but Kyle was already removing his worn coat, draping it over the girl. The longer he stared at her, the more he saw it; the familiar shade of gold in her hair, the way her skin seemed to glow on its own, it was all painfully familiar. Memories jabbed at his mind, shocking him to the point of jolting him where he stood. Could it really be her?
"I think I know who she is," he murmured, entranced by her unconscious being. "It's the Morgan girl."
The few men who had stayed paused, silencing any underhanded whispers or suspicions. "She's been missing for weeks, mate. You really think it's her?"
"Only one way to find out," Kyle replied, a sad smile on his face. He stared at her for another moment before taking her back into his arms, making for the narrow hallway to the set of cots they used for beds. “Make sure he tells base that it might be the missing Morgan girl.”