“Yes. I imagine she’ll show up any time now,” Thorne said.
Malcolm wiped his forehead. “It’s hot up here.”
“Yes, it’s hot.”
They listened to the buzzing of insects in the midday sun, and watched the raptors retreat.
“You know, I’m thinking,” Malcolm said. “Maybe we ought to go back.”
“Go back?” Levine said. “Now? What about our observations? What about the other cameras we want to place and – ”
“I don’t know, maybe it’d be good to take a break.”
Levine stared at him in disbelief. He said nothing.
Thorne and the kids looked at Malcolm silently.
“Well, it seems to me,” Malcolm said, “that if Sarah’s coming all the way from Africa, we should be there to greet her.” He shrugged. “I think it’s simple politeness.”
Thorne said, “I didn’t realize that, uh…”
“No, no,” Malcolm said quickly. “It’s nothing like that. I just, uh…You know, maybe she’s not even coming.” He looked suddenly uncertain. “Did she say she was coming?”
“She said she’d think about it.”
Malcolm frowned. “Then she’s coming. If Sarah said that she’s corning. I know her. So. What do you say, want to go back?”
“Certainly not,” Levine said, peering through binoculars. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving here now.”
Malcolm turned. “Doc? Want to go back?”
“Sure,” Thorne said, wiping his forehead. “It’s hot.”
“If I know Sarah,” Malcolm said, climbing down the scaffolding, she’s going to show up on this island just looking great.”
Cave
She struggled upward, and her head broke the surface, but she saw only water – great swells rising fifteen feet above her, on all sides. The power of the ocean was immense. The surge dragged her forward, then back, and she was helpless to resist. She could not see the boat anywhere, only foaming sea, on all sides. She could not see the island, only water. Only water. She fought a sense of overwhelming panic.
She tried to kick against the current, but her boots were leaden. She sank down again, and struggled back, gasping for air. She had to get her boots off, somehow. She gulped a breath and ducked her head under the water, and tried to unlace the boots. Her lungs burned as she fumbled with the knots. The ocean swept her back and forth, ceaselessly
She got one boot off, gulped air, and ducked down again. Her fingers were stiff with cold and fright, as she worked on the other boot. It seemed to take hours. Finally her legs were free, light, and she dogpaddled, catching her breath. The surge lifted her high, dropped her again. She could not see the island. She felt panic again. She turned, and felt the surge lift once more. And then she saw the island
The sheer cliffs were close, frighteningly close. The waves boomed as they smashed against the rocks. She was no more than fifty yards offshore, being swept inexorably toward the crashing surf On the next crest, she saw the cave, a hundred yards to her right. She tried to swim toward it, but it was hopeless. She had no power at all to move in this gigantic surf. She felt only the strength of the sea, sweeping her to the Cliffs.
Panic made her heart race. She knew she would be instantly killed. A wave crested over her; she gulped sea water, and coughed. Her eyes blurred. She felt nausea and deep, deep terror.
She put her head down and began to swim, arm over arm, kicking as hard as she could. She had no sense of movement, only the sideways pull of the surge. She dared not look up. She kicked harder. When she raised her head for another breath, she saw she had moved a little – not much, but a little – to the north. She was a little nearer to the cave.
She was encouraged, but she was terrified. She had so little strength! Her arms and legs ached with her effort. Her lungs burned. Her breath came in short ragged heaving gasps. She coughed again, grabbed another breath, put her head down and kicked onward.
Even with her head in the water, she heard the deep boom of the surf against the cliffs. She kicked with all her might. The currents and surge moved her left and right, forward and back. It was hopeless. But still she tried.