Darren Groth - Infinite Blue

Clayton Sandalford put his head down, kicked his legs, clawed at the ocean with everything he had.

A count to five.

To ten.

Another ten, fueled by a gurgled scream.

He lifted his head up from the surging current, paddling limply. Nothing gained. In fact, he was even farther away. The retreating beach was blurred, pixelating through the salt water in his eyes.

This shouldnt have happened. Hed been swimming between the flags, watching the breakers, noting the subtle shift from green to blue that he wanted to emulate on his sketching app. Clayton Sandalford was no lifeguard, but he knew his water safety. Hed adjusted with the sweep, dived beneath the bigger waves. Hed done nothing wrong. In the end, pure intent and blameless action hadnt mattered. The water had flexed one of its billion muscles and Clayton, powerless against the Pacific, had been pulled out to a place of no return. During seventeen short years, hed learned to swim and learned to survive, but doing both at the same time was too much to ask.

The rip continued to drive Clayton toward the horizon. Slowing his leaden legs and shoulders, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. Not long now. Soon the water would shift its irresistible force from along the surface to down into the depths. It would tug at him, coaxing him to take a last breath and surrender. He was tempted not to argue.

Im sorry, Mummu.

No!

Clayton slapped once more at the water, kicked harder.

Whoa, whoa! Stop flailing, hey?

Clayton opened his eyes and brought his head forward. The sight of another human being ten feet away had him scrambling to get closer.

Dude, seriously, stop! Chill. Stay calm. Breathe. The worst of the rips just about done.

As though on command, the churning current released him. Clayton was back in calm, bobbing waves.

Were going to have to swim around the point to get back to shore. Its a bit of a hike. Think you can make it?

I dont know. Claytons voice sounded foreign to his own ears, choked and afraid.

You know what? Its easy. Keep rolling your arms over. Kick every few strokes. Theres no rush. Take as much time as you need. If you get tired we can stop. Float on your back for a bit. Move your hands back and forth to help your buoyancy. Whatever it takes. Well make it back. Ill stay with you. Right alongside.

Who are you? he said.

Im Ash.

Youre not a lifeguard?

No.

Where the hell did you come from?

Look, I can play twenty questions out here, but I dont think you can. And you dont want the water asking another one.

Ash moved in beside Clayton. As instructed, Clayton began rolling his arms over. Inexplicably, he felt strong, light. The forces hed almost surrendered to now seemed to be at his mercy.

He crawled out of the surf, coughing and rasping through a tight chest. He touched the sand with cramping, slightly swollen hands. His feet tingled. Everything else ached. He collapsed and rolled onto his back, staring at the sky.

A girl saved me, he thought. A selfless stranger. A hero. Like those dolphins of sea-rescue folklore, shed appeared out of nowheremore vision than substanceeasing his panic and patiently guiding his long journey back to shore.

There was something else about her too. Something certain. The way she knew what to say and when to say it. The feeling of security hed felt swimming beside her. On the verge of allowing the sea to take him down, Clayton had doubted he could choose his destiny. Perhaps destiny had chosen him instead?

Ash.

Clayton propped himself on his elbows in time to watch her emerge from the shallows, lifting her knees high and shaking the water from her hair, as if shed been frolicking in the breakers rather than rescuing a drowning boy. She smiled and jogged up, showing no sign of breathlessness. Clayton dropped back to the sand, and she stood over him.

You okay? she said.

He nodded.

Sure?

A second nod.

Can you speak?

Yes, he wheezed. Thank you. For saving me.

I only helped. You saved yourself. Ash adjusted her position, blocking out a sliver of sunlight behind her. Youre a bit burnt. She looked him up and down. Not bad. She grinned. The burn, I meannot the body. I mean, the bodys fine. Nice, actually. She shook her head as though internally chiding herself.

Um. Clayton blinked at her. Okay. Squinting, he took in her shape silhouetted against the glare. Athletic upper body tapering to a slim waist and long, muscular legs. But his eyes were drawn to her shoulders, broad and powerful in a way that reminded him of a classical statue.

He sat up and examined his red, raw hands. Ash scanned the beach, then sat beside him. They watched the water, the rhythmic curl of the waves showing no sign of undercurrent.

You said you werent a lifeguard.

Im not.

You look like one. I mean, you look like you could go out and do that again without breaking a sweat. Are you an athlete?

Ash smiled. Clayton liked how broad it was, how it rivaled her shoulders. It wriggled into his tight chest, opening it, filling it with a tiny, warming sun. They were the only two people on the beach. He studied her face. Beneath her tanned cheeks she may have been blushing. It was hard to tell.

I swim a bit.

More than a bit, Im guessing.

ASHLEY RAY DRUMMOND!

The pair turned toward the urgent voice. A block-like woman in a tracksuit had made her way through the nearby boulders and was charging in their direction. Her right arm was bound in a sling, pinned against her chest.

Oh boy, said Ash.

You know her?

More than a bit.

Ash stood and waved. Clayton attempted to stand with her, but his legs wobbled and he sat down again. He folded his arms and tried not to look like a near-drowning victim.

The block-woman stomped up to them. What the hell are you doing way over here?

Hi, Mum.

Dont bloody hi me! You do realize how much this little diversion screws up your training plan, dont you?

Ash glanced down at Clayton. He smiled weakly.