Allison (A Kane Novel) Read Online Free Page B

from shore.  He adjusted his telephoto lens, bringing her into focus.  She had been dragged through the break line and was lying facedown in the water.  Mike pulled back to reveal the two guards already in the surf.  Busy with a rescue apiece, there was no way they would reach the final girl in time.
    All at once Mike saw the taller of the two young women he had noticed earlier running toward the shoreline.  The girl paused in knee-deep water to pull on a pair of swim fins, then took a breath and dived in.
    Jesus, Mike thought as he kept shooting.  She’s going out there!
     
    *        *        *
     
    Heart in my throat, I pulled toward the oncoming waves, arms slashing the choppy surface.  Having grown up on the beach, I was strong swimmer and an excellent bodysurfer.  I was terrified nonetheless, never having been out in waves this big.  Upon arriving at the Wedge and seeing the size of the waves, I had resolved that under no circumstances would I be surfing that day.  That was before I spotted the girls in trouble.  The lifeguards who’d already responded had their hands full, and the rescue jeep wouldn’t arrive in time.  Someone had to help.
    The outflowing riptide carried me swiftly to a smaller inside break.  An eight-foot wall of foam boiled toward me.  Caught in the rip, I knew there was no turning back.  After taking a hurried gulp of air, I scratched for the bottom an instant before the hissing surge reached me.  Moments later I emerged on the far side and continued swimming.  The worst was yet to come.  I still had to get past the outside break.
    Normally I would have waited for a lull between sets before trying to make it out.  Because of the situation, I didn’t have that luxury.  Momentarily raising my head, I checked the waves.  My stomach sank as I saw an eighteen-foot-high swell approaching.  I had to reach deeper water.
    Increasing my strokes, I kicked for all I was worth, arms and legs driving me toward the onrushing wave.  Being caught inside the break of a wall that large meant disaster.  In a shallow-bottomed area like the Wedge, getting slammed down from a height of eighteen feet could break a shoulder, a neck, or knock a swimmer unconscious—all of which could prove fatal.
    The riptide continued to ferry me seaward.  For a moment I thought I might surmount the looming wave before it curled.  Relentlessly, the gigantic swell moved toward me with the fury of a freight train, an angry plume of spray trailing from its crest, soaring ever higher as the ocean bottom threw it skyward, rising . . . rising . . .
    It’s too close, I thought, trying not to panic.  Dive.
    Taking one last breath, I submerged again, pulling for the bottom.  The mass of the wave moved over me, trying to pull me back.  I kicked with every bit of strength I possessed, thanking God I had taken the time to put on my fins.  My fingers scrabbled against sand.  I could go no deeper.
    Forward, then.
    Blood pounding in my ears, I struggled against the terrible sucking force of the wave, its power weakened by my depth but still strong enough to drag me into its churning maw.  My lungs burned.  My legs ached.  My thighs were beginning to cramp.
    I couldn’t stay down much longer.  Making one last effort, I kicked another few yards, chest skimming the bottom, hands pulling to either side, fins raising billows of sand behind me.  And still the wave pulled at me, unwilling to release its grip.
    If I get out of this, I thought, I’ll never go out in big surf again.
    An eternity passed.
    And then it was over.  Aware I had only seconds before the next swell arrived, I shot to the surface.  I choked down several gasps of air, the crash of the passing wave roaring in my ears.  I peered seaward.  The next wave looked even larger.  There would be no rest if I were to make it over.  And I had to make it over.  Another dive like the last was out of the question.  I didn’t have the