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Rick woke up with a throbbing headache that felt like his own brain was attacking him. He groaned and tried to move, but silk pressed against him on every side. On three sides, it was the firm, silk covered interior of a casket. Beneath him was Dante’s silk-shirted torso, warm and slick with blood. His partner’s chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. The air in the casket was stale with the overwhelming metallic smell of blood and rotten smells of mildew and vomit making it hard to breathe. Snatches of memory made their way past the drum solo in his head.
Dante had tackled him and taken the shot meant for him. Rick must have hit his head on the way down, and Dante clearly didn’t die – yet anyway.
“Dante?” Rick tried to scoot off his wounded partner as far as he could to give him space to breathe. A horrible thought occurred to him: what if they were buried in the casket? How much oxygen did a casket even hold? He pushed at the lid, but it didn’t budge.
“Rick? Thank God you’re awake.” Dante’s voice was little more than a raspy whisper. “We have to get you out of here. There’s not much time.”
“Right. There can’t be much oxygen in here. Especially not for both of us.”
“No, I...” Dante took a shaky breath. His voice hitched as he continued, “If you’re not clear when I die, I will kill you.”
Rick’s blood ran cold. “How long are we talking here?”
“I cannot tell, but it isn’t long... I feared you wouldn’t awaken in time.” Dante’s voice trailed off and his breathing became more shallow, so much so that Rick had to lay a panicked hand on his partner’s chest to feel him breathe.
Rick punched Dante in the arm as hard as their cramped situation allowed. Dante took a gasping breath and fumbled with something in his hand.
“Keep this for me.” Dante pressed his rosary into Rick’s hand. “And help me get my glove off, I can’t get my other hand free.” He held up a shaky hand while Rick gingerly pulled his glove off. “I was conscious when they dumped us... mostly. I’m pretty sure they dumped the coffin in the Potomac, rather than burying it.” He wheezed a short laugh, that turned into a fit of coughing. “Apparently they were more concerned about quenching my fire than actually keeping you from escaping. Which means if I can burn open the lid, you’ll have a shot at the surface.”
Rick frowned. There were a lot of problems with Dante’s plan. The Potomac varied vastly in depth, and the strong current actually made it so dangerous that swimming in it was against the law. If Dante could burn through enough of the lid before the water put out his fire, and if Rick could get to the top before he ran out of oxygen himself, he’d still have the challenge of finding his partner’s body. It was a long shot, Dante had to know that, so Rick worked the rosary into the pocket of his pants and said nothing. Jesus, help us here.
And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee. A verse of Scripture and a completely irrational sense of peace filled his heart.
“You can swim, right?” Dante froze with one hand half an inch from the silk covered lid.
“You know that probably won’t make a difference, right?” Rick focused on taking deep breaths to get all the oxygen he could in his bloodstream before he hit the water.
“I am sorry, my friend.” Dante glanced at the glove still in Rick’s hand. “You can give that back when you come back for me.”
“Lord willing.” Rick awkwardly stuffed the glove in his pocket with the rosary and sighed. “Let’s do this.”
“Gracious God, in the name of your Holy Son, I ask that you grant my partner his life.” Dante made a quick gesture and focused the flames in his hands at the lid, softly muttering a prayer in Latin as he worked. Smoke immediately filled the small space, making it impossible to breathe. Rick held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn’t get out soon, he’d use up his oxygen before he even hit the water.
Dante’s flame flickered and failed, his hands falling to his side and the rise and fall of his chest stilling.
Panic grabbed Rick by the throat as he automatically started Dante’s resurrection countdown. Thirty seconds. If he wasn’t free in thirty seconds, they were both dead.
Dante had managed to burn away the lid deep into the wood, leaving charred walnut and strips of singed silk. Rick prayed it was enough to weaken the lid, and kicked it with all his might.
The lid splintered, letting water stream through the cracks, but held. Rick’s chest already ached, and certainty that he wasn’t even going to make it out of the casket before he ran out of air nagged at the corners of his mind. He hit the lid again, this time with his knees and fists. It gave, flooding the casket and ending the threat of Dante’s resurrection fire. With a silent promise to return for his friend, Rick pushed free of the casket and shot toward the surface.
Please, let us be above the falls. Most of the Potomac averaged twenty-four feet deep, but the tidal area south of the falls could get more than a hundred feet deep. Not only would he not make it to the surface, both his and Dante’s bodies would wash out to sea long before anyone found them.
His lungs burned and his body ached. Dante was counting on him. He had to come back for his partner. Blackness edged his vision. The iron cross of Dante’s rosary dug into his thigh from inside his pocket, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.
Jesus, give me the strength to get to the top. Rick’s head broke the surface and he sucked in a deep gasp of air, treading water as he tried to catch his breath and get his bearings. He needed to get to the shore and call the director to help rescue Dante. Trees lined either side of the river. Getting out wasn’t going to be the problem. Getting back to civilization with a waterlogged phone might be. How far were they from DC? Rick hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to explore much since he’d moved.
His side began to ache and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He needed to get to shore and then figure it out. Struggling against the current as little as possible, he struck out diagonally toward the bank and pulled himself out of the water. He leaned back against a tree and held his arm to his side as he struggled to catch his breath. His side cramped and he curled around his still healing wound with a low cry. Hiking out of the woods to civilization was out of the question. Dear Jesus, we're not out of the woods yet. I have no idea where I am, much less how to get Dante's body back. I'm going to need your help here.
As he finished praying, a couple in a paddle boat rounded a bend in the river. With a teary laugh, he shouted and waved. "Hey! I need a little help here."
The couple looked at him startled, then at each other nervously. For a terrifying moment he was afraid they were going to paddle by, but they slowly turned toward him and waved back.
“How did you get out here?” The man shouted back at him as they paddled closer.
Rick worked his soggy wallet out of his saturated pants and showed them his badge. “I’m a Federal agent. My case went sour and the bad guy dumped me and my partner in the Potomac.”
The couple’s skeptical looks turned horrified and they paddled harder toward him.
“Where’s your partner?” The man offered him a hand and helped him onto the back of the paddle boat while scanning the woods.
Rick hesitated. There was no way he was going to explain that in a way that wouldn’t freak them out. “We got separated. If I can call my boss, he can get a team out here to look for my partner.”
The woman nodded enthusiastically, tapped the screen of her phone a couple times and handed it to him.
“Thanks, uh, where are we?” Rick tapped in the digits of Director Leon’s number and held the phone to his ear.
“Just north of Fletcher’s Cove.” The couple started paddling back out into the river. “You can tell your boss to meet us there.”
“Director Charles Leon, PNI?” Director Leon answered after only one ring. “This is a private line. How did you get this number?”
“Director, it’s Rick McCoy. I need a recovery team to meet me at Fletcher’s Cove.” Rick kept his voice low as he tried to code the conversation as much as possible. “Dante and I were dumped into the Potomac.”
“Dante’s still down there?” Director Leon sounded grim, but he clearly understood the problem. “Did he die before he hit the water? Did you mark where he went down?”
“Yes, and roughly. I was kind of with him.” Rick looked out into the river and frowned. As long as Dante’s body stayed in the casket, finding him should be easy. If he somehow drifted free, they may never find him. Fear gripped Rick’s stomach. “We’re at Fletcher’s Cove.”
“I’ll bring a team and some paramedics. I’ll need a full report when I get there.” Director Leon hung up.
Rick handed the phone back to the couple who then made small talk about his job all the way to the dock. By the time they left him alone sitting on the dock, his head was pounding and his side ached. Sirens neared and two ambulances, three MPD patrol cars, and the director’s black sedan careened into the parking lot. The uniformed officers swept through and herded the civilians behind the vehicles while the director and a pair of paramedics approached him. Rick lifted his head from his hands and waved the paramedics off.
“I need to know if you’re going to collapse on me, Rick.” The director gave him an assessing look, his eyes lingering on the fading blood stains on his clothes.
“I have a concussion and my side is on fire.” Rick stood and gritted his teeth against the pain and dizziness. “But the blood is Dante’s and I’m not going anywhere until I have him back.”