Strap swims over to the rescue boat with Tyler in tow. Two men dressed in scuba diving attire with the rescue team’s logo over the chest pull Tyler’s body into the boat. One of the four rescue men shouts orders and immediately administers CPR.
Strap refuses to come aboard. “My friend is still down there. He’s looking for our other friend, Toby,” he notifies one of the divers.
The rescue divers take that as their cue, gear up, and jump in the water. “We’ll take the kid to shore. I’ll be back,” the driver of the rescue boat informs Strap.
My body gravitates over the rescue boat that escorts Tyler to the harbor. A helicopter passes overhead. Two rescue men crowd over him as they tirelessly continue to administer CPR. All color drains from his face, his lips white like a crisp new sheet. I hug myself as I continue to watch the men working on Tyler. From my peripheral vision, I see an ethereal version of Toby hovering above Tyler’s body. His body is still burned from the explosion, one side of his face unrecognizable. He shouts, but there are no words, no voice. I look back down as the men dock near the harbor, a rescue team waiting for them. I see the two men glance at each other, faces grim with despair as they continue to work on him. Together the team get him onto the harbor, trying very hard not to disturb the chest compression.
A flicker of motion draws my attention above, Tyler’s soul hovering over his own body. Eyes round with shock, he slowly rotates his head toward Toby, who is shouting at him. Arm movements frantic, desperate, he tries to get Tyler to hear him. In the far distance, a golden light shines down on Tyler’s form. Toby is still yelling at him and desperately trying to grab at him.
Strap’s boat returns with three more men. Slowly, they pass Toby’s body over to the men on the receiving end. Toby looks over to his body, then back to Tyler.
“Stand back,” a man’s voice commands. “Clear!”
A woman’s screams come from behind the rescue team. “Tyler!” Toby turns to the woman and then back again to Tyler. Tyler faces the warm glowing light. Shadows float up and wrap themselves around Toby’s arms and legs. He fights them off and leaps for Tyler.
They both fall into Tyler’s body just as the rescue team delivers a shock.
Silence. No one moves as the high-pitched, steady sound rings through the air.
“My baby!” the woman screams. “No! That’s my baby. Noooooo!”
A man runs up behind her and holds her back.
“Where is my son, Toby?” he demands.
“Let me go! Let me go!” She sobs. “Toby? Where’s Toby?” she asks between sobs. The diver that arrived in Strap’s boat shakes his head at the couple. Their father squeezes his eyes shut and clutches his mate close to his chest.
My surroundings waver. The woman’s sobs echo in the darkness as the edges of what I just witnessed start to roll into itself like a paper parchment.
Bright fluorescent lights flash on, and I blink, raising my hand to shield my eyes. A man in a white lab coat walks into the room with a clipboard, followed by another man in blue medical scrubs.
“What a shame,” the doctor says to his assistant. “Brothers—Alpha Larson’s sons. The older one is the Young Alpha.” He sniffs and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “The younger one is the fourth child. According to his family, he sneaked onto the boat to be with his brother.”
His assistant lifts the sheet to peer down at Toby’s body. He winces. “I remember him. We went to college together. He was a bit of an asshole.”
The doctor shakes his head. “Aren’t all Alphas assholes?”
“Not like this guy. He was scary as shitandmean. Made me appreciate our Alpha a little more every day.”
“Well, asshole or not, we have a job to do. Let’s start with the younger one. This is my least favorite part of the job. Doing an autopsy on a young kid.” They both move to the back of the room, not paying attention to the bodies.
Tyler sits up, coughing, puking water, and gasping for air. The doctor swings around, drops his clipboard, and crumples to the floor.
“Holy shit!” the medical assistant shouts.
Chapter 45
Let Me Be Your Pillar
JESSICA
Seven Years Ago
“Tyler was never the same after that night.”
The shadows leave my body and return to their place. I inspect my hands. Everything around me disappears. My feet are back on solid ground. The moon shines bright overhead, and I face Quartz Lake.
Shadow stands next to me at the lake’s edge. “It was like we were two souls locked in one body, both of us fighting for existence. Both of us locked in a jail of our own minds. He didn’t talk to anyone at first. He walked, slept, and ate like a robot on autopilot. He had no personality, no interest in the things he used to love. He didn’t like being touched. My parents took him to every doctor, every therapist. They spared no money or distance for the best. No one could help him. They blamed the trauma, the lack of oxygen to his brain when he drowned. Then, they labeled it all kinds of shit—PTSD, emotional shock, schizophrenia, bipolar—the list is endless.”
