The intensity with which Jimmy wanted to see his parents became more than he could handle. Emotion swept over him, and he began to sob. His uncontrolled crying resulted in him taking deeper breaths coupled with more salt water.
Jimmy began to cough up phlegm and the salty fluids. His stomach seized. A massive grip squeezed his insides, forcing bile into his throat. This triggered nausea, and while he was trying to tread water, he began to vomit.
He retched over and over again until the bile once stored in his gallbladder found its way to his throat. Jimmy desperately wanted to crawl onto his hands and knees to let it all out. Empty the contents of his stomach and start over. However, he couldn’t.
Jimmy gargled with sea water to clear the nasty taste out of his mouth. He tried to produce saliva and swallowed. He discovered he didn’t have enough saliva to soothe his raw throat. He fought the pain and the nausea as he floated on his back. The exertion, salt water and stress were dehydrating him at a rapid rate now. He took a deep breath and slid beneath the surface of the water.
That was when he heard the low rumble of a boat motor in the distance.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sunday, November 10
Florida Bay
Hank focused his attention on the tiny island sitting equidistant between the Boggies and Derelict Key, which he identified on the nautical chart. The key was not identified on the charts, and by Hank’s estimation, it barely measured three hundred feet across. It was not the island itself that caught his eye. Something was bobbing in the water, up and down, yet remaining in the same location despite the gently rolling waves that would carry the debris closer to the island.
Hank pointed to the south after tapping Erin on the shoulder. “Slowly make your way toward that island. We can pick up the search again in a moment.”
Erin followed his instruction and turned the Hatteras to port. While she did, Hank picked up the handset to the marine radio and reached out to his sister-in-law.
“Jessica, do you copy?”
“Go ahead, Hank.”
“We’re working our way due west of Buttonwood Sound. Nothing so far.”
“Roger,” she replied.
Hank slowly pressed the transmit button. “Stand by.”
With his other hand, he pulled the binoculars back up to his face and focused on the bobbing debris near the small island of mangrove trees. He leaned forward as if those extra few inches would close the gap and allow him to get a better fix on the object that had grabbed his attention.
Hank’s voice became excited. “There, Erin! Do you see it? Just west of the island.”
“Okay, barely,” she replied as she brought her hand above her eyes to reduce the glare.
Hank fumbled with the charts and tried to get his bearings. He keyed the mic again. “Jessica! Twenty-five degrees, ten minutes, north longitude. Eighty degrees, twenty-nine minutes, west latitude. I’ve got something. Definitely a body!”
“I see it, Hank! A guy. He’s treading water!”
Erin immediately turned in that direction and gave the Hatteras full throttle, forcing the bow upward. From the flybridge, Hank was still able to keep his eyes affixed on the body.
Hank raised Jessica on the radio again. “Almost there. We have somebody in the water alive. West side of the island. Hurry!”
In the distance, the sound of the powerful outboard engines on the back of Jessica’s boat coming to life could be heard across the serene waters of Florida Bay. Hank glanced at the depth finder mounted on the helm of the flybridge, carefully monitoring their distance to the sandy bottom as they approached the small island. The draft on his Hatteras was about four feet, making it susceptible to dragging along a sand bar.
“He’s waving, Hank! He’s waving!”
Hank grabbed his binoculars and focused on the bobbing head. He saw the arm for a moment before it fell below the water’s surface along with the man’s head. For several seconds, the man’s arm from the elbow up was able to wave.
And then it disappeared.
Jimmy had slipped below the surface. He’d summoned every fiber of his being to help him stay alive. He’d heard the boat in the distance and tried to tread water to get its attention. He followed it in the distance as it traversed the bay, clearly searching for something.
His eyes betrayed him at first, partly due to the damage caused by the salt water and partly because of his dehydration. Jimmy thought it was a Coast Guard vessel. He suddenly wondered if the National Guard had enlisted the assistance of the Coast Guard to locate their escaped prisoner. Afraid of being captured and beaten again, he considered hiding under water to avoid detection. He glanced toward the small stand of mangroves that seemed to be a good place to hide, as well as hang on to until his body could recover.
Only, he didn’t have the strength to get there. Jimmy accepted his fate, assuming that he’d be caught and imprisoned. At least he’d be alive. He made his way closer to the trees until his feet were able to touch bottom. Standing on his toes, his head and upper shoulders protruded above the surface. He tried to shout, but his swollen throat betrayed him. He began waving, but as he did, he lost his balance and slipped underwater.
Jimmy inched closer to the mangroves, hoping to reach higher ground yet still be visible to the passing boat. He was able to get better footing and waved with both arms when he noticed the boat turning toward him. To his rear, he heard another boat approach rapidly from the other direction.
They’d seen him. He was going to be rescued. He began jumping up and down to elevate himself above the surface, waving his arms to grab their attention while suffering the stinging pain of trying to yell.
Up and down, bounding along the sandy surface, unknowingly moving away from the small mangrove-covered sandbar. And then, as is often the case in the ocean, the currents had created a trough along the sandy bottom that dropped off six feet or so. Jimmy lost his footing and immediately slid down the trough until he was more than ten feet underwater.
Jimmy felt something bump his legs. It was large, solid, cold. He frantically twisted his body to avoid the underwater creature. His heart raced, and his face seemed to tingle.
He felt the movement of the current that had created the trough in the sandy floor. It pulled at his legs, tugging him deeper below the water. The sea creature, a large fish of some kind, bumped into him again. Its skin was like rubbery sandpaper as it grazed his feet and ankles.
Jimmy opened his mouth, thinking if he screamed, the monster that circled him would leave him be. He tried and tried, but he had no breath left as he cried for help.
“Where’d he go?” asked Erin. She pulled back on the throttle and allowed the boat’s wake to push them slowly toward the island.
Hank scampered off the flybridge and raced onto the bow. He was holding the railing as he walked around the perimeter of the bow, looking into the water.
Jessica was less than a hundred yards away as she raced toward him. Hank turned toward her and raised both hands in the air, urging her to slow down. It had been nearly a minute since they’d seen the man waving his arms high over his head. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday, November 10
Florida Bay
Jimmy tried to hold his breath and fought death by not panicking underwater. He slowly turned in a circle, waving his arms, just below the sandy bottom before the drop-off, his arms churning the water over his head. He could see the surface and the large boat hovering nearby. It was moving closer to him. His efforts to swim upward weren’t working as if his feet were tied to anvils holding him down.