Bridge to a Distant Star - Carolyn Williford [126]
Overhead, miraculously, traffic had stopped. An alert driver noticed something was wrong, that the traffic ahead of him seemed to disappear. So he’d skidded to a stop on the slick pavement, accidentally—but fortunately—straddling and blocking both lanes of traffic. Managing to bring his large truck to a complete halt just a few feet before the pavement simply ended.
Those directly behind the truck braked quickly enough to keep from crashing into him, but several other vehicles behind them were unable to do so, causing a chain reaction. Though the drivers were angry about the damage to their vehicles and the delay, they had no idea of the tragedy they’d been spared.
Ignorant of this miracle above, Jaurez and his men repeatedly glanced up at the gaping hole. Solemnly crossing themselves, they prayed no more vehicles would plunge into the depths and turned their full attention toward those already in the water. Obediently following Captain Luis’s command, despite their conviction of its futility.
Finally, the weather began to calm, nature’s tantrum abating. The rain slowed to a drizzle, more annoying than dangerous. Despite the continued heavy cloud cover, the crew was encouraged to see more light in the east. The coming of dawn. Darkness had brought them destruction and death; they breathed a sigh of relief to see it diminish.
Morales, a seasoned member of the crew, leaned forward, straining to see into the water. He gave Jaurez a puzzled look, shaking his head in wonder. “It’s not possible …” he mumbled.
“What? What’s that?” Jaurez threw back at him, irritated.
“Did you hear—?”
A faint cry, carried on the sea breeze. Heartrending and plaintive.
“Mommy!”
Jaurez jerked forward, extending his body toward the source of the sound. Called out over his shoulder, “Morales, did you hear that?”
A look of amazement moved over Morales’s features. His mouth dropped open. “I heard it. It can’t be—but it sounds like a child.”
“Stay right where you are, Morales,” Jaurez instructed. He was pumping adrenaline now, every fiber in his being intent on finding survivors. Clicking into emergency drill procedure, he barked out, “Don’t move your eyes from that spot—not even for a moment. Everyone—direct all the lights where the cry seems to be coming from. Where Morales is pointing. Anyone—John. Grab the life ring.”
Morales kept his eyes peeled, while John hurriedly brought the ring to Jaurez. The two of them checked the strength of the rope’s knot on the ring, tying the other end to a secure post on the Wilder Wanderer. “Is there anything—can you actually see anyone out there, Morales?”
“Mommy!” The mournful sound floated to them again, like a ghost gliding across the waves.
“Good Lord above,” Morales whispered, his voice choking with awe. “There. Over there.” Pointing, shouting, and nearly losing his balance in his excitement. “I see two—there’s two—no, I’m countin’ three heads bobbin’ in the water. Gimme the life ring. Gimme the ring!”
Jaurez mechanically handed the ring to him, his gaze focused on the jutting waves. Squinting, he asked, “Where? I can’t see a blamed thing out there but water. Morales, there’s no way that … God in heaven,” he suddenly muttered, crossing himself again. “If they’re not ghosts, then they’re angels sent by God. Get that life ring to ’em, Morales. Them poor souls. We gotta get ’em outta there, now.”
Regretfully, he tore his eyes away from the bobbing heads, barking out, “Whatever you do, don’t let them outta your sight. I’ll be right back—going to tell the captain. Tell him to alert the Coast Guard—we’ve got survivors.” Before hurrying off, he grabbed Morales’s arm, stared intently into his eyes. “God be with your throw, man.”
All the crewmen stood with Morales