Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [115]
Skell stood in the bow, bare chested. His skin was as white as milk, his torso lean and sinewy. He'd gotten several tattoos while in prison, all of them in vibrant colors. From a distance they looked like scars.
Skell was yelling at Perez, telling him to make the boat go faster. His voice was high pitched, almost a scream. His sociopathic rage had taken over.
I swam toward the boat, my flippers propelling me effortlessly through the water. I was directly in their line of vision, but they weren't looking my way. In the distance I could see the FBI cutter, coming fast.
“This is the spot,” Perez called out.
“You sure?” Skell shouted back.
“Yeah, man.”
“Then let's do it.”
Perez stopped the engine, and the boat came to a halt. Bending down, Skell lifted Melinda out of the boat and stood upright with her in his arms. She looked dead, and for a moment I thought I was too late. Then her fingers fluttered like a butterfly's wings. It did something to my heart, and I hurtled myself toward her.
A loud blast ripped through the air. The cutter was a hundred yards away, and a man wearing an FBI slicker stood on the bow, wielding a bullhorn.
“This is the FBI,” the man announced. “Stop what you're doing and put your hands into the air.”
“Cover me,” Skell said.
Perez pulled a gun from his waistband. He turned and faced the cutter.
“I repeat, stop what you're doing!”
“Fuck you!” Perez screamed.
On the cutter another man wearing an FBI slicker appeared. He had a rifle, which he aimed at Perez. The shot ripped across the ocean.
Perez grabbed his arm. Then he fell, rocking the boat.
“Put the girl down,” ordered the man with the bullhorn.
I was fifteen feet from the boat. Looking at Skell, I knew he wasn't going to comply. Killing was what defined his existence and would keep him alive in my memory long after he was gone. With a defiant yell, he tossed Melinda into the water.
Diving beneath the boat, I watched Melinda sink. Her body looked weightless, almost poetic. Reaching the ocean floor, she slipped behind a coral ledge, and disappeared from my sight.
I propelled myself toward her. I had never been this deep before and had no idea what I was getting into. The thought was unsettling. Then I remembered Melinda's testimony at Skell's trial, and the courage it had taken to go down that road.
I owed her.
A dark shadow loomed overhead. Thinking it was the FBI cutter, I looked up and saw that I was wrong. It was Skell, chasing me.
Skell had ripped off the rest of his clothes and was naked. The crazed look in his eyes was still there. Clutched in his hand was a knife normally used to fillet fish. He used the knife to slice the water like he was in a street fight.
In seconds he was on top of me. I swam backwards with my flippers until I was safely away from him. He stopped over the spot where Melinda had disappeared and started treading water. Then he motioned to me.
I instantly understood. Skell was going to stay right where he was. Either I engaged him and we fought it out, or I stayed back and let Melinda drown.
Those were my options.
I charged him.
The element of surprise was mine. I grabbed his wrist with one hand and punched him in the face with the other. It had to hurt, because he made a noise that was loud enough for me to hear underwater.
Then Skell cut me.
It wasn't a deep gash, just a run of the blade across my left forearm. But the ribbon of blood was enough to get my attention. It clouded the water and told me I was in trouble. Again I propelled myself backwards.
Skell remained where he was. I got set to charge him again, then felt an enormous thrush of water. It was a feeling that every swimmer dreaded. A big fish was lurking behind me.
I froze as a male lemon shark swam past. It was easily three hundred pounds. The shark was checking us out, just as the school of sharks had checked me out the other day. I placed my hand on its side and guided it toward Skell.
Skell's face darkened. He didn't understand that the shark wouldn't hurt him and was only guarding