Atlantis Riptide

Atlantis Riptide - Chapter Nine A

Chapter Nine A

Seriously Stingy Sitch

Chase sunk under the waves.

A loud rushing filled my head with all sorts of awful scenarios. My heart stopped, then thumped wildly. The friction from my heart caused a static charge to shoot through me, spurring me into action.

Without thought to Joe and his stupid paintball gun, I jerked out of the other guy’s arms, ran through the shallow surf, and dove under the surface. The salt hit my face like annoying gnats, which was unusual, but right now, everything bothered me.

I’d heard stories about how dangerous paint gun pellets could be, how they shouldn’t be toys at all, how idiots like Joe should never possess one.

I swam as fast as non-humanly possible and reached Chase as his body hit the sandy bottom. His eyelids were closed and his mouth open. His body lifeless.

I placed my hand over his chest and felt his heart beating in a slow rhythm. He wasn’t dead, just unconscious. The pellet must’ve hit a vulnerable spot on his head.

Relief swelled like the waves. I grabbed him beneath the shoulders and dragged him back to the air mattress. I draped him on his side over the orange plastic, and then cleared his air passages.

He choked up water and then sucked down air. Gasping, he breathed on his own. I ran my hands over his forehead where the green paint marked the spot and felt a large, red bump.

Chase winced and he blinked several times. He was conscious but his gaze appeared cloudy and unfocused.

            I scanned the beach. We were still thirty yards out but Joe and his buddies stood on shore watching. The gun was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hidden behind his back. I didn’t want to find out if they meant to cause further trouble.

            Chase moaned. Goosebumps appeared on his exposed arms. I had to get him out of the water and going through Joe and his goons would only take more time.

            “Can you hang on a bit longer?” Literally, because he hung over the air mattress.

            “I can swim on my own.” His voice sounded weak, shaky. His eyelids closed again and my worry ratcheted up.

            “No. Let me tug you back to shore.”

            Making sure he was balanced, I gripped the plastic edge of the air mattress and swam further out to sea. With my speed I could round the edge of the cove and land on the next beach in minutes. I wouldn’t need to fight Joe and on dry land I could assess Chase’s damage.

            At the end of the cove, the waves intensified ripping at the raft in my hand. Waves tumbled over my head and smashed onto the rocks near the cliffs. Ocean spray made the top of the raft slick. We were at the furthest point, rounding the tip before entering the next cove.