The boy’s mother must have finally seen what was happening because I heard her scream behind me, “Joey! No!”
But it was too late.
Her boy was gone.
Jordan dashed forward and, without any hesitation, leapt off the pier into the frigid river. I didn’t have a great vantage point, but I was close enough to see him disappear immediately beneath the water’s surface.
From what I knew about Artificials, although their skin was water-resistant, they weren’t designed to be fully submerged and I had no idea how this would affect him.
But right now I wasn’t really worried about that.
I was more concerned about the boy.
I made it to the end of the pier and joined Agent Vernon in scanning the water for any sign of Jordan or the child.
Only currents, swift and deadly.
Neither of them reappeared.
The woman came pounding across the pier toward us. “Joey!” she cried, her voice breaking and desperate.
Nothing.
Just that dark water rushing past the support pylons.
But then—
All at once, splashing out of the river, Jordan lifted the boy toward the pier and Agent Vernon bent down and hefted him to safety. From the awkward position the agent was in, it would have required incredible strength to hoist the child up like that.
Joey was sputtering and crying, but at least he was breathing. The NCB agent passed him to his mother, who studied him up and down as if she were looking for something else that might be wrong with him, beyond the fact that he had just very nearly drowned.
She brushed the wet hair away from his forehead as he reached out for her. Then, she took hold of him, and he threw his arms around her neck and held on as she softly repeated his name over and over again, “Joey, oh Joey . . .”
My attention shifted to the water again.
And to Jordan, who was now trying to climb onto the pier.
He grabbed a board, but it was rotten and crumbled as he gripped it, sending him toppling backward into the river.
Agent Vernon and I waited, but Jordan didn’t resurface.
Seconds ticked by, and at last the agent whipped off his tie and said, “Screw it.”
Without another word he jumped in.
I had no clue what kind of debris might be waiting at the bottom of the river or how deep it was or what deadly undercurrents might be lurking down there, and time stretched thin as I waited for either of them to come up again.
“Jordan!” I yelled, to no avail. “Agent Vernon!”
The cold water swirled by, oblivious to my cries.
No sign of either of them.
“Agent Vernon!” I hollered again, louder, as if it would help, as if he’d be able to hear me from where he was and my desperate cry would do anything to save him.
As I watched for them, I realized I was holding my own breath, vainly willing them to come back up.
But they did not.
Unable to keep my air in any longer, I gasped for a breath, and, unsure what else to do, uttered a frantic prayer that they would be alright and, either coincidentally or as a remarkably prompt answer to my flailing request, Agent Vernon emerged from the water, maybe ten meters downstream, carrying Jordan slung over his strong shoulders.
They were closer to shore than I was, and by the time I’d crossed the pier and returned to the lawn, the agent had made his way past the rocky shoreline to dry land.
I hurried toward them.
Shivering from being in the water, Agent Vernon carefully lowered Jordan to the ground, bent over him, and then hesitated, presumably unsure what to do.
Jordan lay motionless with his eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly at the relentless sunlight beating down on us.
“I know they don’t breathe like we do,” the agent said urgently, “but they draw in air to cool their processors, right?”
“I think so. We need to get that water out of him.”
“Right.” Agent Vernon straddled Jordan and used both hands to press in against his stomach. “Well, this is a first.”
When he was doing the compressions, it reminded me of the doctor pressing in on my daughter’s chest when he tried to save her, and it was too hard for me to watch him working on Jordan.
I looked away.
The boy’s mother approached us, her son still in her arms. “It’s your fault!” she shouted at me.
“What?”
“Your Artificial! He frightened Joey. He scared him. That’s why he stepped backward!”
“Jordan was just trying to help,” I countered. “He didn’t—”
But she didn’t wait for me to finish and just bustled her boy toward the building, where a crowd was beginning to form.
I gave my attention back to the agent and his attempts to awaken Jordan.
Water spewed from Jordan’s mouth each time Agent Vernon pressed on his stomach.
But my Artificial did not revive.
* * *
His thoughts flicker.
And jump.
Water to the boy to the man to the shore.
A bristle of sunlight. Sharp and distant.
And fear—no—terror.
Being underwater.
Being helpless.
And then—
Now—
* * *
Jordan coughed up a mouthful of river water and Agent Vernon leaned back.
Sitting up, Jordan wiped his hand across his mouth.
“Are you alright?” I asked urgently.
“I’m not maaaade fooor that.” His slurring words made him sound drunk.
“Will you be okay?”
“I’m not underrrr designed to go waaaater,” he articulated with great effort, but he didn’t seem to notice his convoluted word order.
Agent Vernon stood. “You better get him looked at.”
“The production center,” I said. “I need to take him in.”
Jordan nodded. “I belieeeeve would that be besssst.” More slurring. “They can damage any fiiiix I have sustained.”
Agent Vernon helped him to his feet, but when Jordan tried to walk, he stumbled, and if the agent hadn’t been there to support him, he would have fallen face-first to the ground.
“I’ll ride with you two,” Agent Vernon offered.
“We should be okay,” I said.
But he shook his head. “Your Artificial can’t even stand on his own right now and you’ve been through more than enough. You don’t need him collapsing beside you or pulling you to the ground along with him if he falls over. I’ll help you transport him over there to get looked at.”
At first I wondered if maybe he was offering to ride along just so he could ask me more questions during the drive, but the more he insisted, the more I believed he just wanted what was best for Jordan, and for me.