Heroes Are My Weakness(36)

Tide’s out. Meet me in the cave. Please.

T.

She’d pulled a fresh top and a clean pair of shorts from her suitcase, fluffed her hair, dabbed on some lip gloss, and slipped out of the house.

He wasn’t on the beach, but she hadn’t really expected to see him there. They always met by a small, sandy area toward the back where there was a tidal pool to poke around in.

He was wrong about the tide. It was coming in strong. But they’d been in the cave before when the tide shifted, and there was no danger of being trapped. Even though the water was deeper at the back of the cave, they had no trouble swimming out.

Cold seawater soaked her sneakers and splashed her bare legs as she scrambled over the rocks to the entrance. When she got there, she turned on the small pink flashlight she’d brought down with her. “Theo?” Her voice echoed around the rocky chamber.

He didn’t answer.

A wave splashed her knees. Disappointed, she was about to turn back when she heard it. Not his response, but the frantic yips of the pups.

Her first thought was that Theo had brought them down so they could play with them. “Theo?” she called for him again, and when he didn’t answer, she moved deeper into the cave, searching it with the flashlight she’d brought with her.

The sandy crescent in the back near where she and Theo used to make out was underwater. The waves lapped at the ledge just above. On that ledge sat a cardboard box, and from inside the box came the sounds she was hearing.

“Theo!” She got a sick feeling in her stomach, a feeling that grew worse when he didn’t respond. She began wading toward the back of the cave until the rising water was at her waist.

The ledge was cut into the rock wall a few inches over her head. The old cardboard box was already getting soaked from the spray. If she tried to pull it off the ledge, the bottom would drop out and the pups would fall in the water. But she couldn’t leave them here. In no time at all, the waves would sweep the box away.

Theo, what have you done?

She couldn’t think about that, not with the pups’ yips growing more frantic. She felt along the cave wall with the toe of her sneaker until she found a niche to use as a step. She pulled herself up and shone the flashlight into the box. All six of the pups were there, yipping, terrified, scampering frenetically on a scrap of brown towel already soggy with seawater. She set the flashlight on the ledge, grabbed two of them, and tried to secure them against her chest so she could step down. Their sharp claws scratched her through her T-shirt, and she lost her grip. With terrified yelps, both pups tumbled back into the box.

She’d have to take them out one at a time. She snatched up the biggest and stepped off the ledge, wincing as his claws dug into her arm. So easy to swim out of the cave. So hard to wade through the swirling water with a struggling puppy in her arms.

She dragged herself toward the fading light at the cave opening. The water sucked at her legs. The pup was frantic, and its claws hurt. “Please be still. Please, please . . .”

By the time she reached the mouth of the cave, the scratches on her arm had begun to bleed, and five more pups were still inside. But before she could go back for any of them, she had to find someplace safe to put this one. She stumbled across the rocks toward their fire circle.

The pit held the ashes of last week’s fire, but the inside was dry, and the stones around the perimeter were high enough to keep the pup from getting out. She set it down, raced to the cave, and rushed back inside. She’d never stayed in there long enough to see how high the tide reached, but the water was still rising. As the cave floor sloped down, she began to swim. Even though it was summer, the water was icy. Her hands touched the wall, and she found her foothold under the ledge. Shivering, she reached into the box for the second pup and winced when a new set of claws scored her skin.

She managed to get this pup safely to the fire pit, but the water was growing deeper, and she had to struggle to reach the back of the cave for the third one. The flashlight she’d left on the ledge had grown dimmer, but she could see enough to tell that the cardboard box was close to collapsing. She’d never get them all out in time. But she had to.

She lifted the third pup and stepped off the ledge. A wave caught her, the dog struggled, and she lost her grip. It slipped into the water.

With a sob, she plunged her arms into the churning salt water and reached frantically around for the small body. She felt something and snatched the pup up.

The undertow dragged at her as she tried to wade toward the fading light at the mouth of the cave. She was having trouble breathing. The pup had stopped struggling, and she didn’t know if it was dead or alive until she placed it in the fire pit and saw it move.

Three more. She couldn’t go back in yet. She had to rest. But if she did, the animals would drown.

The undertow was growing stronger instead of weaker, and the water was rising higher. She lost a sneaker somewhere and kicked off the other. Every breath was a struggle, and by the time she reached the water-sodden box, she’d gone under twice. The second time, she swallowed so much salt water, she was still choking when she climbed up.

Before she could grab hold of the fourth pup, a wave knocked her back. She found her footing and climbed again, gasping for breath. She made a wild grab and pulled out another pup. The pain from the scratches on her arms and chest, the fire in her lungs, were excruciating. Her legs were giving out, and her muscles screamed for her to stop. A wave pulled her feet out from under her, and she and the pup were swamped, but somehow she managed to hold on. She tried to cough out the water she’d swallowed. The muscles in her arms and legs burned. Somehow she reached the fire pit.