feeling like I’ve outsmarted Unknown, I head for the office door, but I’m not even sure where I’m going. I assume the person is talking about Mr. Whitman, but who’s the friend?
“Holy shit. Rory told me he was swimming laps tonight.” A rush of anxiety slams into me as I pull open the door.
Mr. Whitman is standing on the other side of it, taking a bite out of his peanut butter Twix bar. “Want the other half?” he asks.
I breathe a quick sigh of relief that he’s okay.
“Not right now. I need you to go into the office and lock the door behind you.” He tries to ask me why, but I cut him off. “Please just listen to me. I’ll be right back,” I say, moving him into the room.
Before he has another chance to argue, I shut the door and wait for him to lock it. Once he does, I take off down the hall toward the pool.
My phone pings as I go to pull open the double doors that lead into the pool. I draw out my cell and see a response from my dad:
Did you mean to send me a text of all gibberish? It’s nothing but symbols and numbers.
I groan when I find the entire conversation with Unknown gone from my phone so I can’t try to re-forward it.
“Damn this fucking app!”
I shove my cell back into my pocket in frustration before I continue to rush into the pool area. I’m hit by the over-chlorinated air the instant I enter. I gag a little and bring my hand up to cover my nose and mouth, trying to limit the amount of chlorine entering my lungs. I scan the area, looking for any sign of Rory, but I don’t see him. Panic sets in even more as I run around the pool’s edge, keeping my eyes on the water for anything.
A shape floating a fair distance from me catches my eye. My mind goes to a dark place when I make out the form in the water.
“Rory!” I shout out, hoping the form isn’t his body floating in the water. I slip and fall to my knees, but don’t care as I make a quick recovery and keep pushing forward, trying to make it to the shape. “Rory!” I cry out again, praying that he’ll pop out from one of the doors surrounding the pool with a smile on his face, completely safe from harm.
The figure is a person, and without even giving it a second thought, I leap into the pool and begin swimming as fast as I can. My only drive is to get to the person in the water. I reach out the moment I’m within grabbing distance and flip the individual over to see my worst fear come true—it’s Rory.
“Rory, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay,” I yell, dragging him toward the side of the pool. I prop him up on the ladder and climb out, never taking my hands off him. “I’ve got you, Rory,” I repeat, and imagine him answering me. I desperately want him to answer me, but he doesn’t. He just floats there, interlocked with the ladder, bobbing up and down in the water.
Somewhere I find the strength to pull him up the ladder and lay him down on the ground. As I begin to administer CPR, I thank my dad for encouraging me to get certified through his department.
Every chest compression and breath feels like it does nothing, and I start to lose hope.
“I won’t give up on you, Rory,” I say before administering another breath.
I press on his chest again, a little harder and quicker than before. No matter how futile it seems, I keep going. Tears stream down my face as memories of Rory and me flow through my head. I give him another breath and begin chest compressions once more. His pale blue-tinted skin causes doubt to rise up in my mind, but I keep at it.
“Come on, Rory. Don’t give up on me.” I close my eyes as the tears overwhelm them. “Dammit, come on!”
The sound of light coughing makes me whip my head over to look at Rory’s face. I let out a relieved and teary laugh when I see him spitting up water in between coughs. I can’t even form words, so I just take him in my arms and squeeze tightly. For a split second, I feel like I’ve beaten this psycho asshole. Unknown didn’t get what he