Paul dozed fitfully while trying to summon the memory. When it finally came, it came as suddenly and powerfully as that storm so many years ago. He sat up straight in the bunk, disoriented by the memory and the unfamiliar surroundings. His eyes again found the desperate message carved into the cell wall. He was drenched in sweat and shaky. His heart pounded. He thought for a minute it was another panic attack when the events of the day in 1961 came back with a clarity that stunned him.
It had been the hottest day so far. No end in sight to either the heat or the drought. The weathermen had given their usual “chance of late afternoon thunderstorm” forecast, but that had become more of a hope than a prediction. Paul was out on his screened porch, hoping for the slightest breeze to come by, but the air was motionless. Heavy gray clouds loomed over the lake, but no more threatening than any others did that summer. He had already been in the lake for a dip. A momentary relief from the sweltering heat. He had showered, made a pitcher of lemonade, and parked on the porch. His parents were away visiting relatives and wouldn’t be home until late that evening. As he sipped slowly, suddenly drowsy in the oppressive heat, a movement on the lake caught his eye. A rowboat floated on the glassy surface. Paul picked up a pair of binoculars he kept on the porch. It was a woman and a young girl, probably trying to escape the heat. As he drifted off he wondered if they were any cooler out there. He thought about taking his canoe out later as his eyes slipped shut.
A deafening clap of thunder jarred him from his brief sleep. He glanced at the clock, amazed that only thirty minutes had passed. The change in the weather seemed impossible. A cool wind was whistling through the screens. Black clouds rolled across the sky, so low it looked as if the sky was falling. A flash of lightning reached down into the trees. Paul heard the cracking of branches where it hit but that sound was quickly drowned out by another explosion of thunder. A movement on the lake caught Paul’s attention. The mirror-like surface of a half-hour ago was now in turmoil. The wind whipped the lake into a frenzy of waves. Something touched Paul’s memory and he grabbed his binoculars. The woman in the rowboat, now barely visible, was struggling in a futile effort against the surging water. The relentless wind, which seemed to be getting colder with each gust, was spinning the boat around like a toy. Then the rain began. Not as a sprinkle which would slowly turn into a heavier shower but as a torrential, drowning rain. Visibility quickly became a memory and as the skies darkened, Paul lost sight of the rowboat. Frantically he scanned back and forth over where the boat should be. A gust of wind sent a picture crashing to the floor behind him. In a dazzling flash of lightning, Paul was able to spot the boat again. In his brief glance it looked as if the woman had surrendered the oars in favor of huddling with the young girl who was probably scared to death. Paul kept the binoculars trained on the same spot as thunder shook the house. His hands ached from his grip, intent on not losing the right spot. When the lightning came again, it came in a blinding series of jolts, touching down all around the lake. In the sustained light from the multiple flashes, Paul was able to see the boat again. What he saw was burned into his mind. A dark shape was hanging over the bow of the boat, and as the light disappeared into a rattling quake of thunder, the boat flipped over.
Paul kept the glasses trained on the spot but as the lightning danced before him, he was unable to pick up the boat or its passengers again. He bolted into the house to call the police and threw the phone to the floor when there was no sound in the receiver. The lines must be down. Instinctively he grabbed his Buck knife from the table and hooked it on his belt. Without another thought he sprinted outside; slipping across his yard, he quickly untied his canoe and leapt in, paddling furiously in the raging water.
The howling wind and swirling water threatened to flip the canoe at any time but Paul was somehow able to keep it afloat. With every flash of lightning, the mental image of the rowboat flipping over, that strange dark shape hung across the bow, filled his mind. He kept his house in sight as he paddled, picturing the spot where he had last seen the rowboat. The cold wind bit at his rain-soaked body, but the effort of rowing was causing Paul to break into a sweat. His back and arms were already getting sore before he had even covered half of the distance. The thunder was constant, ranging from a low, threatening rumble to an earth-shaking crescendo. Jagged spears of lightning ripped across the black curtain of sky.
Paul stopped rowing and tried to scan the surface of the water using the binoculars, but visibility was next to nothing. He grabbed the oars and again began the seemingly futile task of rowing against the swelling lake. He turned occasionally to try to spot a couple of landmarks he had used to roughly triangulate where the rowboat had flipped. The looming hulk of the mental hospital on one side and a giant pine, a full twenty feet taller than others surrounding it, on the other side. Paul knew that even if he could spot these and stay on course, the chance of finding the boat or its occupants was slim. Nevertheless, he forged ahead, a sense of purpose driving him. Just as he was about to turn to get his bearings again, the canoe slammed to a halt, sending Paul rolling backwards. The back of his neck hit the front seat of the canoe hard, sending a shower of sparks into explosion behind his eyes. He quickly sat up, expecting the canoe to be torn to shreds by rocks. What he saw caused him to blink in surprise. It was the bottom of the rowboat that he had hit! The canoe was essentially run aground on top of it. Paul quickly began to search the water for the woman and the girl, his eyes darting frantically back and forth.
If it weren’t for the bright orange of the life jacket, he never would have seen her. Twenty feet away floated the limp body of the little girl, held above water by the Day-Glo vest. Paul dove into the water without hesitation. He was a strong swimmer, having grown up on the lake, but the combination of the rolling waves and his aching arms and shoulders made even this short swim a struggle. He reached the girl, so intent on saving her that he no longer heard the sounds of the storm. Every part of him, every nerve and muscle, was focused on saving this girl. She was unconscious but he could feel a weak but regular pulse. Grabbing the front of her vest, he began kicking furiously back toward the canoe. Getting back was much worse. The canoe seemed to move further away with every stroke Paul took. The extra drag of the girl on his depleted muscles was agonizing. Finally, he reached the two boats.
He let the girl float for a moment as he clung to the half-sunk rowboat, trying to catch his breath. He still had to get her into the boat, find the mother, and row them all to shore without tipping over. It wasn’t going to be easy. He hauled the girl up next to him and found he could easily roll her onto the bottom of the rowboat. From there, he climbed into the canoe and was able to bring her onboard while the canoe was still lodged against the rowboat. He laid her down in back with her head resting on another lifejacket. As he was about to push the canoe loose from the rowboat, a thought struck him. He dove back into the water, kicking down past the edge of the rowboat and coming up under it. There was not enough of an air pocket under it for Paul to resurface, but he began feeling his way around what was the floor of the small boat. As his lungs began to beg for air, his hand felt something and he grabbed it before swimming back to the surface. He burst from under the lake, gasping for air, feeling dizzy. In his hand was another orange life vest. As he crawled back onto the rowboat and into the canoe, the lightning charred picture of the girl and her mother huddling in the boat flashed again in his mind. This time he noticed the life jacket on the little girl and that there was not one on the mother she was clinging to.