the
shore.
Except for the one girl who hadn't gone off
the sandbar. She had tried to come back with the other girls, but
couldn't find a shallow path back in. The incoming tide had made
the calm water deeper than it was when she'd gone out, and now
there was no way to walk back in.
Sam knew where this was
headed; he’d dealt with this before. He grabbed his flotation
device and started walking in her general direction. He'd have to
swim out and tow her back in, no big deal. The water would probably
feel pretty good by now. He waved to her to signal that he was
coming, and that she shouldn't panic.
She didn't see him. She
was up to her chin with her head back, desperately trying to walk
in. She took one slow, exploratory step at a time, each time going
lower in the water. She understood that the tide was coming in, and
if she didn't hurry, this was going to get worse. She took another
step forward.
The other girls saw Sam
approaching them and started calling out flirtatiously, not even
noticing their friend behind them was in trouble. Sam was almost to
the water's edge when he saw her go under. Then he broke into a
run. She was easy to spot, as her head was still breaking the
surface occasionally. She was panicking, but still managed to jump
up and down, catching enough breath each time. She must have
misjudged a breath, because he saw her come up and then go back
down without breathing: she was choking on the water.
He reached her quickly.
She couldn’t have been in real trouble for more than a half a
minute. He pushed the life preserver toward her, and she grabbed it
instantly. He started swimming back in, but after a couple of
strokes, she let go of the floatation device and just lay there
face down in the water, unmoving.
He immediately went back for her, rolling
her on her back and pulling her in. It wasn't long before his feet
could touch bottom, and he carried her, running back to the dry
sand as quickly as he could through the waves.
He put her down and checked her breathing.
Nothing. He rolled her over and shook her, hoping she would cough
up water. He didn't think she'd actually inhaled much water, just
enough to choke on to the point of passing out. He was right. She
twitched and shook her head, and a mouthful of water came out. She
twisted and pushed herself to her knees, retching and gagging. She
was also breathing, so Sam knew she'd be OK now.
Her friends were
surrounding her now, patting her back, bringing her towels, and
generally fawning and doting all over her. Two of them were
apologizing for not helping or not noticing. Sam couldn't fault
them; he'd seen this plenty of times. It was so easy to miss a
drowning, since the victim rarely gets a chance to yell for help.
He helped the girl to her feet. "What's your name?" He
asked.
She looked at him with thankfulness and
relief. "I'm Jean. Jean Young. Who are you?"
"Sam. Sam Peters. Are you
feeling OK?" He still had her by the arm, making sure she could
walk without falling. She was starting to get some color back, and
he really did think she'd be fine, "You should probably still go to
the hospital and get checked out. You were unconscious, and you
could possibly have inhaled or swallowed something."
Jean didn't argue. One of her friends took
her arm and started leading her away from Sam, toward the parking
lot. Sam made sure they all heard his advice about getting checked
out, and watched them leave. He walked back to his tower and
started filling out the rescue report.
The rest of the morning
and afternoon were mostly uneventful, which was the way Sam
preferred it. Later that afternoon, after he had finished taping up
a child's cut foot, he returned to his tower to find Jean
there.
She had gone to the hospital, gotten checked
over, and the doctor said she was fine. "Then I went home, got
cleaned up and dressed, and it came to me that I hadn't thanked
you, and that maybe you had paperwork for me
shore.
Except for the one girl who hadn't gone off
the sandbar. She had tried to come back with the other girls, but
couldn't find a shallow path back in. The incoming tide had made
the calm water deeper than it was when she'd gone out, and now
there was no way to walk back in.
Sam knew where this was
headed; he’d dealt with this before. He grabbed his flotation
device and started walking in her general direction. He'd have to
swim out and tow her back in, no big deal. The water would probably
feel pretty good by now. He waved to her to signal that he was
coming, and that she shouldn't panic.
She didn't see him. She
was up to her chin with her head back, desperately trying to walk
in. She took one slow, exploratory step at a time, each time going
lower in the water. She understood that the tide was coming in, and
if she didn't hurry, this was going to get worse. She took another
step forward.
The other girls saw Sam
approaching them and started calling out flirtatiously, not even
noticing their friend behind them was in trouble. Sam was almost to
the water's edge when he saw her go under. Then he broke into a
run. She was easy to spot, as her head was still breaking the
surface occasionally. She was panicking, but still managed to jump
up and down, catching enough breath each time. She must have
misjudged a breath, because he saw her come up and then go back
down without breathing: she was choking on the water.
He reached her quickly.
She couldn’t have been in real trouble for more than a half a
minute. He pushed the life preserver toward her, and she grabbed it
instantly. He started swimming back in, but after a couple of
strokes, she let go of the floatation device and just lay there
face down in the water, unmoving.
He immediately went back for her, rolling
her on her back and pulling her in. It wasn't long before his feet
could touch bottom, and he carried her, running back to the dry
sand as quickly as he could through the waves.
He put her down and checked her breathing.
Nothing. He rolled her over and shook her, hoping she would cough
up water. He didn't think she'd actually inhaled much water, just
enough to choke on to the point of passing out. He was right. She
twitched and shook her head, and a mouthful of water came out. She
twisted and pushed herself to her knees, retching and gagging. She
was also breathing, so Sam knew she'd be OK now.
Her friends were
surrounding her now, patting her back, bringing her towels, and
generally fawning and doting all over her. Two of them were
apologizing for not helping or not noticing. Sam couldn't fault
them; he'd seen this plenty of times. It was so easy to miss a
drowning, since the victim rarely gets a chance to yell for help.
He helped the girl to her feet. "What's your name?" He
asked.
She looked at him with thankfulness and
relief. "I'm Jean. Jean Young. Who are you?"
"Sam. Sam Peters. Are you
feeling OK?" He still had her by the arm, making sure she could
walk without falling. She was starting to get some color back, and
he really did think she'd be fine, "You should probably still go to
the hospital and get checked out. You were unconscious, and you
could possibly have inhaled or swallowed something."
Jean didn't argue. One of her friends took
her arm and started leading her away from Sam, toward the parking
lot. Sam made sure they all heard his advice about getting checked
out, and watched them leave. He walked back to his tower and
started filling out the rescue report.
The rest of the morning
and afternoon were mostly uneventful, which was the way Sam
preferred it. Later that afternoon, after he had finished taping up
a child's cut foot, he returned to his tower to find Jean
there.
She had gone to the hospital, gotten checked
over, and the doctor said she was fine. "Then I went home, got
cleaned up and dressed, and it came to me that I hadn't thanked
you, and that maybe you had paperwork for me
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