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blowing back. . .
* * *
"Heather!" the woman screamed.
"Ma'am, you need to get back," the lifeguard said. They were all getting
people out of the pool and driving them as far back as they could. The news
had been all over the VX story with lurid details of what it did and when they
got the news and saw the oil slick on the surface. . . well they didn't get
paid enough to die.
"My daughter is in there!" the woman shouted. "She was down by the wave
thing!"
The guard looked over his shoulder and could see where whirlpools had formed
as the massive pumps
reversed. The pressure would be enormous; if there was anyone down there they
weren't coming out.
"Ma'am, I'm sure she's not down there," he started to say as the crowd surged
forward and parted.
A heavy-set guy was head down pushing through the crowd and panting hard as if
he'd been running. As he passed the guard he looked at the woman.
"Where?" the guy panted.
"On the right, I think," the woman said.
"On it," the man said, diving into the water.
"Hey!" the guard shouted. "No diving!"
* * *
Mike knew he was fucked. Those were big fucking pumps, designed to drive
masses of water like son-of-a-bitch. Then there was the VX which was probably
in the water somewhere.
But he also could see a figure pinned against the grates. The figure's arms
were up but the person couldn't reach the surface. They were caught like a
spider in a web, only a few feet from air.
But inches from air could kill you.
He could feel the suction of the inlets, now, drawing him in. He rode the
current, his feet forward, and slammed with both feet onto the grate. The
grating was small specifically to keep people from being sucked in by the
waves. It wasn't actually hard to stay "upright" sideways.
He crouched and walked, carefully, to where the figure, a girl naturally, was
pinned in a rather charming spread-eagle. But at that point he was sort of
stuck. He couldn't figure out how to get her unglued.
Up was the only rational choice but it was going to hurt like hell. Especially
since the only thing he could get ahold of was one arm and her hair.
He grabbed both, crouched and yanked her upwards. He gained a few inches,
stepped forward and tried it again. So far so good. Now if she just wouldn't
die on him.
He kept yanking until he felt the flow was pulling him down instead of
sideways. He could see a slight shelf just above water level. He lunged for
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it, got one hand on the ledge then pulled the girl upwards against the lighter
flow.
* * *
Heather had been sure she was dead. When she felt the water irresistibly
pulling her under she'd taken a big breath of air. Surely they would stop the
flow as soon as they realized what happened. And there were all these
life-guards and stuff around. She wasn't going to drown!
But as time went on, as she felt that screaming craving to breathe, pinned
against the intake, all she could think was that it was a lousy way to die.
She was too damned young to die such a lousy way. It made her want to curse.
It was just so unfair. She'd never seen anything. She'd never. . . done
anything!
She hadn't had much time so she'd prayed. She hadn't cried, though, cause she
couldn't afford the air.
She just hung on, fighting the will to breathe, letting out a bit of air from
time to time, a trick she'd picked up in swimming class. She could feel her
vision getting darker when somebody grabbed her by the arm and the hair! Oh.
My. God! That hurt! But she hung on. Then she started being dragged across the
concrete and that hurt. But she was being dragged up. That was good.
She was half unconscious when her mouth cleared the water but she let out what
air she had left and took a big glorious drink.
"Oh," she said, taking another breath.
"Air's great when you haven't had any in a while, ain't it?" the man holding
her hair said. He let go of the hair and pulled her up into a little ledge
were water usually flowed out. "You okay?"
"I am now," Heather said, breathing deeply.
"Not too much," the man said. "Calm it down. Or you'll hyperventilate. And,
uh. . ."
Heather looked down and realized that her bikini had. . . Well it was hanging
around her neck and covering her top about as well as a necklace.
"Oh," Heather said, blushing and tying it back up. "Thank you. For both."
"You're welcome," the man said. "I'd ask for favors, but you're much too
young. And you shouldn't argue with your mother; she really loves you, you
know?"
"How do you. . .?" she asked then she ducked her head. "You're the guy in the
GT, right?"
"Right," the man said. "And you're the girl with the belly."
"What?" Heather asked, looking down. "I don't have a fat belly!"
"I didn't say 'fat,'" the man said, chuckling. "Wave for your mom to tell her
you're okay."
Heather dutifully waved then looked at the crowd. Everybody was out of the
water and they were staying way back.
"What's happening?" she asked. She felt weird. She'd nearly died and now she
was chatting with some stranger while perched up on an outlet in full view of
a big crowd.
"Somebody dumped poison in the water," the man said.
"That's why they were sucking it all out," Heather said.
"Correct," the guy said, looking over at her. The look gave her butterflies in
her belly.
"Wha. . . who. . . why. . . Did somebody stop them or what?"
"Yeah," the man said, standing up. The whirlpools were gone. "Somebody stopped
them. Time to take a swim."
"Okay," Heather said, jumping into the water. She must have cut up her back
because it really hurt.
"Ouch!" she said as she surfaced.
"Pain is weakness leaving the body," the man said then followed her in.
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"Whatever," Heather said, frowning. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," the man said, breast stroking towards the side of the pool.
"Can I get a ride in your GT?"
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