It’s as if that realization unlocks me. Unfreezes me. I rip off my sweatshirt and hit the water, massive strokes chewing up the water as I churn toward the raft. The water is so cold that it hurts to breathe. But I don’t stop. When I get to where I last saw Josh, I dive down. Everything goes silent and black. Except there’s a part of my brain yammering away, telling me I’m going to die. Telling me that I let Sammy die. That I’m going to screw up again. But I keep diving, hands flailing in the darkness, reaching out.
Nothing.
My lungs burn. I start to slow down, kicks getting weaker. I can’t do it. One more stroke with my arms, and that’s it. I can’t resist as my body is pulled back toward the surface.
My fingers brush against something warm. Josh’s hand. I grab it, then his arm. Kick hard. A few seconds later, we both break the water, gasping, coughing. Josh’s eyes flicker open, but he’s too weak to swim. One arm across his chest, I slowly pull Josh back to the dock. Edward is still standing exactly where I left him. He doesn’t make a move to help as we haul ourselves onto the dock. We lie there, exhausted, just trying to breathe. Starting to shiver from the cold lake breeze.
“That was dramatic, Dylan,” says Edward, “but unnecessary. I’m sure Josh would have found his way back to the pier.” He starts to walk away from us, then turns back. “Remember to report to Harvey once you’ve dried off.”
Josh and I can’t speak. And I wouldn’t even know what to say. Finally, the cold wind starts to bite. We pull on our sweatshirts and leave the docks for the cabin. As we walk past the boat bobbing gently against the dock, I look down and stumble a little.
“What?” Josh asks.
“Nothing,” I say. I don’t want to freak him out more, so I just keep walking. I don’t tell him that there wasn’t even a gas tank in the boat.
I don’t think Edward ever planned to go and get him from the water.