Overfall by David Dun Page A

against the stars and kept himself straight. After a time he slowed to hear the splashes of her paddle, and with the thought of it came the cold, driven away only by reclaiming the rhythm. The current was running enough that he knew they would be swept up Heron Bay. It appeared she would miss the point. He had to catch her. Once more the barely audible splash of her stroke drew him on and once more the cold invaded his mind. He was a powerful swimmer in superb shape. Steadily he gained until he saw her—nearly sunk.
    “Get out. It leaks. You’re barely moving. Wrong direction.”
    “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”
    “Tie your shoelaces to your belt.”
    She also swam well. It took him minutes to guide them to the point and the shore. It was too far even to think about getting her to swim back. His foot touched bottom and he grabbed her around the waist. She was very weak from two major dunkings in the frigid water. The last fifty feet he carried her. On dry land he put her down and they put on their shoes.
    “Come on,” she said, wobbly but obviously determined to go someplace. He caught her and grabbed her shoulder.
    She turned.
    “What are you—” he began.
    “Took you a while,” she said through ragged breaths. Turning back toward the trees, she kept going.
    He followed. “You could have killed yourself.”
    “Thanks to you once again, I didn’t, though, did I?”
    “What the hell does that mean? You are one frustrating—”
    “Frustrating what?”
    “Just how were you gonna keep from freezing to death?”
    “That was your department.”
    “What made you think I’d be stupid enough to follow you?”
    Astounded at her grit, he trudged with her down the beach next to the trees. He had no dry matches, no smokes, and he would have to make a fire.
    “There’s a cabin inland over on Greene’s Bay,” she said. “It’s almost two miles. We can break in.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I saw it a couple days ago. Jason and I crossed over to Sonoma with Nutka and went for a walk. She’s a native.”
    He filed away the names for future consideration. “Are we looking for a trail?” He snapped on the waterproof light.
    “Turn it off!” she said. “Wait until we’re out of sight of the Windham Island shore.”
    “Who’s on the Windham shore?”
    “If we walk along this beach there is a tiny creek. I’ll recognize it. If we go up the channel about three-quarters of a mile, we’ll come to this concrete box with a pump at a spring with a plastic pipe going into it. We follow the pipe.”
    “They have a generator?”
    “I guess they must. They have a pump.”
    Just then an eerie rushing sound echoed across the channel. He turned toward the boat as it erupted in a ball of fire.
    “You can thank me later,” she said.
    “You should have said something.”
    Neither spoke for a moment as they stood with the heat of adrenaline moving through their bodies.
    “Give me a break,” she said. “You weren’t listening.”
    “You weren’t talking.”
    “Why are we arguing? You would have been dead.”
    “I liked the damned boat,” he said. “And I loved the dog.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said.
    “Not as sorry as the guy with the rocket launcher.”
    Within two minutes the boat was gone to the bottom.
    “Who did it?”
    “We’ll discuss it. I’ll make everything right. Better boat, everything.”
    “You can’t give me what I lost!”
    “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they’d do this.”
    “Do they have a boat?”
    “Yes.”
    The words weren’t out of her mouth before they heard the sound of whirling rotors, the thump of metal beating air, and saw a brilliant light skimming the water.
    “Do they have a chopper?”
    “They have one. I didn’t know it was here now.”
    “So you don’t know if the chopper is friend or foe.”
    “I don’t know who is friend or foe.”
    “Move,” he said in a harsh whisper as they ran up the beach and into the trees.
    For a moment they