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Maire knew she would have to gather eight pouches to ensure a win but figured if she could get at least five she would have a good chance. While the others battled against each other for the pouches closer to the surface, Maire would gather the ones farther down. She moved on to the next pouch. The pressure in her chest was growing, but she focused on untying the knot. Her fingers were numb now and she clumsily picked at the tangle of rope that held the pouch in place. After what seemed like an eternity, the knot slipped loose, and she moved on to the next bag. Above her, the water swirled and churned. The others were getting closer.
Her lungs were screaming now. How long had she been below the surface? One minute? More? She had no idea. She snagged the next pouch and now had four stowed inside her bathing suit. She tried to do the math. If she had four and Samuel, Camille, and Ned each had one, that would mean there were seven more bags left. If she could get two more, she figured she would be okay.
Her arms felt as if they were tied down by an anchor and the muscles in her calves clenched painfully. She could do this. She had to. She moved upward to the next light, but suddenly it disappeared. No, she thought. She was so close. The light reappeared and through the gloaming, she could see that someone else was closing in on the pouch too. It was all Maire could do to keep from gasping for air—air that she knew wouldn’t be there.
With all the strength she could muster, she kicked her legs and surged toward the light. Her hand snagged on the pouch, but it was knocked away.
Ned.
Her throat was burning and every bit of oxygen she had left in her lungs was gone. Again, she reached for the bag and, again, Ned blocked her, this time knocking the goggles from her face.
She flailed, reaching out blindly, but miraculously she gained purchase on the bag and it slipped from its tether. She had it. Maire began to swim toward the opening but was pulled back by a tug on her ankle. She jerked her leg, but Ned held tight. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d drown. Despair overtook her, and Maire began to flail.
This was it. There was no way she was going to be able to outlast him. She had to get to the surface or she would die. Her children would be without a mother. They would only have Shar to take care of them, or worse, their father.
Ned dragged her down but an unseen force grabbed her hair and was pulling her upward. Pain seared through her scalp. It was Samuel. Samuel was trying to free her from Ned’s grip. Ned’s fingernails scraped against her skin as he lost hold and the pain in her scalp faded. She was free. Samuel swam downward past her, but all Maire could think about was getting to the surface. She kicked and tried to use her arms to thrust herself upward, but the water felt thick. Every kick and stroke was like moving through mud.
Above her, Maire could see the ghostly hole in the pond cover that meant she would be okay. Her lungs screamed for air. She was so close, but her arms wouldn’t work anymore, her legs were useless, and she began sinking again, slowly this time. Gently. She thought drowning would be a cold, terrifying death, but once the panic passed, her limbs were pleasantly warm and as water filled her nose, her throat, and her ears, she was oddly at peace. There was nothing more she could do.
The hole disappeared. How fitting, Maire thought, to die this way. She deserved nothing less. She had tried to play God that night. She thought of her sweet daughters and her tears joined the lake water. I’m sorry, she thought over and over. I tried to be better, tried every day to be a good person, a good mom. Maire prayed her children would never learn about what she had done, how she was a murderer and a coward.
Suddenly, Maire felt hands grabbing and pulling at her and she was yanked from the lake and thrown onto a hard, unyielding surface. After the blackness of the water, the light hurt her eyes and she still couldn’t breathe. Two faces, etched with worry, loomed above her. Camille and Fern. Fern appeared to be just as wet as Camille, her dark hair plastered against her head. Had they both jumped into the water to save her? Strange, she thought. Wasn’t it Fern who was trying to undo her? Make her pay for her sins?
A surge of lake water erupted from her gullet, and Maire could breathe again. Her chest heaved with the effort of gathering as much air into her lungs as she could. Every nerve ending was on fire. Pain exploded throughout her body. Her lungs burned and her limbs were frigid. Someone wrapped her in a dry warm blanket and Maire moaned with relief.
“Are you okay?” Fern asked, her own teeth chattering and her beautiful gown clinging to her skin.
Maire nodded, still unable to speak. Camille, wrapped in her own blanket, placed an arm around Maire. “I didn’t think you were coming up,” Camille said. “We thought you were dead.”
“Me too,” Maire managed to eke out. She looked around. The colored flags hung limply. Beneath Samuel’s green flag were five pouches, beneath Ned’s and Camille’s were two. “Samuel? Ned?” she asked.
Fern had migrated back to the opening in the water and was staring into its black depths.
Camille shook her head. “They haven’t come back up yet. We have to do something.”
Maire thought of Samuel, how for a few blissful moments all those years ago she thought she was falling in love with him. And she thought of the pill she dropped in Ned’s drink. Without thinking, she scrambled over to the hole and jumped back in.
TWENTY-SIX
THE BEST FRIEND
Then
“Run,” Samuel urged, but Maire was frozen, unable to move, her eyes pinned to the pipe the man held in his hand. As he came closer, Maire could see the man was swaying unsteadily on his feet.
“You little shits,” the man slurred. “You think you’re funny,” he said, raising the pipe a little higher. Maire closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact, but then felt a strong yank on her arm.
“Run!” Samuel cried, trying to pull her away. Maire opened her eyes. The man had stopped advancing, the pipe slipping through his fingers and falling to the ground.
A strange gurgling noise rose up from the man’s chest and Maire watched in horror as the man fell to his knees, his eyes widening in fear just before a stream of vomit erupted from his throat. His head lolled and he fell onto his side, knees bent, one arm stuck awkwardly beneath his body.
With Samuel still holding her by the elbow, Maire took a step forward and stared down at the unmoving man. His eyes were open, his right pupil unnaturally large. “Is he dead?” Maire whispered.
“I don’t know,” Samuel answered, his voice cracking with emotion.
“We have to get help. The twins have a cell phone,” Maire said, turning in the direction of the bluff. “One of us should go...”
Samuel bent over and gave the man a tentative shake. “Hey, man,” he said. “Get up.” There was no response.
