Read Online Swim That Rock by John Rocco - Free Book Online

drifting in and out of consciousness. The deck is turning red.
    Get the cut above his heart. That’s what they said in first-aid class.
I shove a pile of onion bags beneath his back and head and try to get him to sit up, but it’s almost impossible. He’s deadweight, and the boat is running around in circles while the blood mixes with the salt water and mud. I’m trying to yell for help, but all that’s coming from my mouth is a dry squeal.
    I finally manage to get Gene upright, and as the Hawkline makes another wide arc, I suddenly see Captain, sorting out his catch on the deck of his boat.
    Unexpectedly, Gene reaches over with his good arm and grabs hold of my hand, the one still holding the knife. He’s squinting and looking at the pearl skull. He looks like he’s passing out and his eyes look half-dead.
    “Where’d you get this?” Gene mumbles. “You’re not supposed to . . .” Gene’s eyes roll around in their sockets, and his arm goes limp.
    “What?” I’m leaning right down into Gene’s face so I can hear him, but he’s passed out.
    I bury the throttle and bounce us over to Captain’s boat, turning at the last minute, making a wake and bumping into his port side.
    “Easy, kid, what ya —” He stops midsentence when he sees Gene amidst the mud, quahogs, and blood. Captain jumps aboard, lifts Gene up onto his shoulder, and climbs back into his boat. I throw the anchor to the Hawkline, and just as I make the jump to Captain’s boat, four hundred and seventy horsepower slams into gear, shifting everything on deck, including me, Gene, and the quahogs, all into a pile at the stern.
    I’m up against Gene’s chest, and I can feel his heart still beating. He’s like a rag doll, resting among the shells and mud. I want to just lie here with him, be with him if he’s going to die.
    “You can’t die, Gene, you can’t die.” I continue to press my hand into the soaked bandage to try and stop the flow of blood. I feel his hand move to cover mine. It’s cold, but at least I know he’s not dead.
He’s looking out for me. He’s holding my hand, and I know he’s going to be all right. He’s got to be all right.
    It seems like only a minute has passed, and we’re already flying up the Providence River. The roar of the engines winds down as Captain pulls the boat up to a dock near the seawall. The cops are waiting, and there is an ambulance kicking up dust on the gravel road. Captain must have called on his radio because, like magic, they are all there. I’m all bloody now, keeping Gene’s body warm with my own and gripping his hand, and all I’m saying is, “Hold on, Gene, hold on.”
    They get him on a stretcher, and I’m still holding his hand when the paramedics say, “You gotta let go, but you can come with him.”
    I slowly open my hand, all sticky with Gene’s blood, and climb into the ambulance. I can see Captain, looking up at us from his boat at the dock. He’s got the hose out, and he’s washing his deck and quahogs and everything, engines shaking and smoking at the stern. He looks nervous with all the cops around, and he lets the lines loose from the dock and moves slowly out of the harbor, unnoticed, as they work on Gene. Before the doors shut, I catch one last glimpse of Captain’s boat flying back out toward the bay.
    The paramedics work quickly, putting an oxygen mask over Gene’s face and sticking a needle into the vein in his arm. They attach a long hose to the needle that ends in a bag of clear liquid that they clip to a bar above Gene’s head.
    “What’s that?” I ask
    “Saline. Got to get his blood pressure up,” the paramedic says.
    “What’s saline?”
    “Salt water,” the guy says.
    I can’t believe it. I start to snicker, but then I can’t hold back and a laugh bursts out of my mouth. The guy is looking at me as if I’m crazy, and I probably look crazy too, with blood all over me, laughing my head off in the back of an ambulance. But I can’t help