The Tied Man

Finn

Lilith cut through the water like a sleek, black seal.  With only the sparse glow of the lantern for light I lost sight of her by the time she was no more than twenty yards from the shore, although I stared out into the gloom long after that.  She might not have had any belief, but I whispered a prayer to Saint Christopher on Lilith’s behalf.  The words were snatched away from me by the savage wind, and all I could do was wait and hope.

I desperately wished there was more I could do; that I was stronger, fitter, cleaner than I was; or simply that I could walk in a straight line without lurching along like some street-begging cripple.

‘Ah, give your head a shake,’ I muttered.  Lilith might well deserve so much better than me, but for now, I was all she had.  That was all there was to it.  I pulled my hood up and wrapped my coat a little tighter around me, and lit a cigarette as I kept vigil.

Lilith

On the far shore, Finn waited for me.  Nothing else mattered.  Not the cold, nor the frustrations of the last hour, or the nightmare return swim that awaited me.  Just the thought of Finn, standing ready to drag me from the lake and keep me warm and safe.  I thought of the strength it had taken for him to come this far for me, and once more, I walked into the oil-black water.

It was no warmer the second time around, and I was exhausted before I began.  Just as I was about to strike out, a searing pain bit into my left thigh and I yelped with shock.  I staggered back to shore and in the meagre light of the distant street lights I inspected the damage.

‘Shit,’ I hissed.  The leg of the wetsuit was ripped open from the top of my thigh to my knee, shredded on a submerged branch.  Blood mingled with water, and although the wound wasn’t deep I could already feel the sullen throb in my leg.  Worst of all, the wetsuit was now useless – a great flap of neoprene had been torn away and I knew I wouldn’t be able to swim with it dragging in the water.  For a moment, sheer panic froze me; I was stranded on the wrong side of the lake, with nowhere to run.

It was the sober realisation that I only had one option that got me going again; I unzipped the suit and felt my skin spasm with the cold blast of air as I stepped out of its protective layer.  I had to keep moving now, simply to survive.  I dragged the useless thing over to a bin that stood next to the jetty, pulled out the stinking contents and stuffed the wetsuit to the very bottom before burying  it as best I could under the rubbish.

I recalled reading some climber’s autobiography, where he’d stated that getting to the top of a mountain was only half the battle; you then had to haul your dead beat body back down again before it counted as a success: failure meant just another frozen carcass on a mountainside.  My return swim was now going to be the equivalent of doing the descent of Everest in vest and pants.

On that cheerful thought, I focused on the distant flickering that was the paraffin flame of Finn’s beacon lantern, and ran back into the lake before my body caught on to what I expected it to do.

Finn

Time had stopped.  Lilith had been away too long for things to have gone as planned, and I looked out helplessly across the lake, hoping to see some sign of her return, but there was nothing except churning water and darkness.  I didn’t even dare raise the lantern in case Coyle chose that moment to glance out of the window, or someone on the shore became a little too curious about the moving light.  Just as panic threatened to engulf me, a pale shape floated into the very margins of my sight.

I threw myself down the shingle slope as Lilith staggered to her feet in the shallows, letting the frigid waves lap around her, and  I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t clambering out, or why the hell she wasn’t wearing her wetsuit.  I was about to call out to her when she collapsed face first into the water.  I plunged into the lake, nearly falling myself as the excruciating cold wrapped itself around me, and hoisted Lilith over one shoulder.

My left leg threatened to give way and pitch us both to the floor as I scrabbled up the shifting gravel, and I almost regretted telling Henry to fuck off when he’d offered me a walking stick.  I didn’t dare check on Lilith yet; I was too terrified at what I might find.  Instead I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, taking us both to the refuge of the kitchen.

I booted at the door, and staggered into the kitchen.  I used my free hand to grab at the edge of the table before I toppled.

‘Finn?  What in heaven’s happened?’  Henry stared in terror at the limp form I had hanging off my back.

‘Don’t know,’ I gasped, and lowered Lilith to the floor by the stove.