Alive Day

by Tom Sullivan

  “Good boy, Nelson,” he croaked. “Good boy. Go on, boy. Go on. Keep going, boy. Take me home.”

  He felt the big animal reaching down inside for more reserves and somehow seeming to double his effort. The waves resounded in and out, closer and closer, and the big dog swam on.

  Brenden felt his feet touch the rocky bottom, but he couldn’t use them to walk. He was frozen—frozen stiff—and as the breakers swirled around him, he knew he was drowning. Water rushed into his mouth, choking him. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt his grip on Nelson’s harness loosening. The animal sensed it, too, and pulled even harder.

  The water had become shallow, but even more dangerous, as sand found its way into his throat and lungs. He gasped for air and felt his head go under as a breaker rolled over him.

  Nelson secured his feet on the ground and, with the Herculean effort of a sled dog, hauled his master clear of the surf.

  Brenden lay on the mud, unable to move, but knowing somewhere in the back of his mind he had found land. He was safe. And somehow—thanks to Nelson—he would live.

  chaptert twenty-one

  The man and the dog lay exhausted on the rock-strewn beach. Neither moved. Only the sound of their breathing—intermittent and ragged—suggested they were still alive. The man was conscious of nothing, had no idea where he was. Only the singular awareness that he was alive penetrated the cold and pain his body was experiencing.

  The big animal, on the other hand, knew exactly where he was. He was on the island—their island. Only a few miles from home, and home was where Master had told him to go.

  “Take me home,” the man had said over and over again as they fought their way through the darkened ocean. “Take me home.”

  Nelson had brought them this close. Home was out there, and as he gathered his strength, that was the thought dominating the animal’s mind, consuming his being and committing him to the mission. Get us home. But how? How to get Master from the beach all the way home?

  The animal licked the salt from Master’s face and gently pulled on his arm, encouraging the man to get up, to move, to follow him. But Master was too hurt, too cold, too stiff to try.

  Nelson needed water. He knew he needed it desperately. Dehydration was zapping his strength, and so the command “Take me home,” along with the need for water, moved him to make a difficult decision. He would leave Master and go for help.

  He was not the first animal to function in this way. The bond between dog and man had often been expressed in ways suggesting that these great animals’ capacity to think, to interpret, and to understand was far more involved and far more significant than humans gave them credit for. And so Nelson moved off in the dark, headed for home and help.

  THE BAINBRIDGE ISLAND DOCK was in chaos. Family and friends of passengers suspected to have been on the four o’clock ferry were gathering, trying to learn anything they could about their loved ones. The local Bainbridge police were there, along with some Coast Guard and paramedics from Seattle, the local chief of police from Parvo, and some annoying reporters who had commandeered a boat and arrived on the island.

  Kat quickly realized that at this point no one knew any thing for certain. There was a search under way, and Kat prayed that Brenden would be pulled from the water.

  “Heavenly Father, please give Brenden the strength to survive. Keep him safe, and please bring him home to his family. His work is just beginning, and he still has so much to give.”

  For now, all that anyone knew was that the ferryboat had sunk and that survivors would be taken to a number of hospitals on the mainland. Though everyone wanted to make the crossing, the authorities had determined that only immediate family members would be transported.

  Kat called Annie, and her friend promised that she would stay with the children overnight, and if necessary, get them off to school in the morning. Kat thanked her and was on the first boat making the crossing to Seattle, where she sat in the waiting room of County Hospital with all the others.

  The minutes seemed to pass like hours. Just after midnight the paramedics started to bring people in, and Kat watched as the gurneys rolled by her; she saw every face, but not Brenden’s. Not the face of the man she loved. Not the face that held her heart. Not the touchstone of her soul. Brenden was still out there somewhere in the bay. Alive or dead, he was out there with only Nelson to help him.

  The fog had lifted, and morning was about to replace the night. The Bainbridge chief of police suggested that all of the families go home and get some sleep.

  “We have your numbers,” he said. “Honestly, there’s no real reason to stay here. I mean . . .”

  And he stopped.

  “You mean there are no more survivors,” a man said.

  “No. No, that’s not what I mean,” the chief said, struggling for the right words. “But I think that it’s important for all of you to try to get some rest.”

  About twenty people filed out of the hospital, representing the ten or fifteen families that were left. No one spoke during the cold crossing to Bainbridge. There was simply nothing to say.

  For the first time that night, Kat began to consider what she would tell the children if—She nearly choked on her tears, unable to go on with the thought.

  “He’s alive,” she said out loud. “I know it. Brenden’s alive. He’s young and strong, and he’s alive.”

  Arriving at the island, she politely thanked the policeman who offered to escort her home.

  “I live right over there,” she said, pointing, “just two minutes away.”

  As she walked toward the condo, for the first time in her life Kat Collins-McCarthy felt what it truly meant to be alone. The feeling of emptiness was completely overwhelming, and the devastation of the potential loss of her husband was so heavy on her heart that she thought it would break.

  NELSON WAS HOME—OR almost home. Because Master’s family lived on the upper floor in their building, the big dog couldn’t get to Lady, couldn’t feel Boy’s hug, couldn’t lick Girl’s beautiful face. So he sat on the stoop outside, looking up and whining quietly. Then he felt her vibration. He had done this a lot when he and Master had been babysitting the children. Nelson always could tell when Lady was coming home; now the vibration was strong, and the animal stood on point, quivering, waiting for her to come around the corner of the building, signaling that he could run into her arms.

  She cried out loud as the animal galloped to her. Dropping to her knees and hugging him, her tears fell on his salty coat as she held him, rocking him like one of her children. Lady was crying, and Nelson was whimpering, but the dog’s cries carried more importance. He broke away from the woman and bounced back and forth in front of her, barking with a shrillness in his voice that said, Listen to me. Come on. Follow me.

  Thank God she got it, and they both began to run. Kat was a good athlete, but now she ran with the desperation and adrenaline of a wife desperate to save her husband’s life. Nelson was exhausted and nearly dying of thirst, but he ran on, driven by the same love Kat felt for Brenden.

  LIKE KAT, BRENDEN MCCARTHY had never felt so alone as he lay on the beach in desperate pain, now without Nelson to comfort him. Where did the dog go? He understood that at some point as he drifted in and out of consciousness the animal had left him. Why? Why is Nelson not here? Could it be that they had washed up on the island? Could it be that his friend had gone for help? Brenden hoped so. He prayed so.

  I wish I could move, but I’m so cold and so hurt.

  NELSON HAD LEFT THE road, and the dog and the woman scrambled over sand dunes and rocky outcroppings to get to the ocean. Kat fell a number of times, banging her elbow and bloodying her knee, but she did not let up; eventually they arrived on a promontory just above the beach.

  Nelson leaped from rock to rock as Kat eased herself down the side of the hill, her eyes straining, searching, and then . . . finding him.

  “Brenden!” she cried. “Brenden!”

  She was beside him now, holding his
head in her lap, stroking his face, kissing his eyes.

  “Brenden. Brenden.”

  With his good hand, he touched her face and whispered, “Don’t cry, Kat. It’ll be all right. Nelson took care of me. It’ll be okay.”

  “Oh, Brenden,” she said, still crying. “Oh, Brenden, I love you.”

  Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed the Bainbridge police, and a few minutes later the paramedics arrived, putting a sling on Brenden’s shoulder and wrapping him in thermal blankets.

  “We’re going to medevac him,” they told Kat. “We’re worried about hypothermia. His body temperature is way down. There isn’t enough room in the bird. The police will get you to the hospital as fast as they can.”

  “Thank you,” Kat said. “I’ll get the dog home and then meet you there. Take good care of my husband, please.”

  “Will do,” the young medic said. “You take care of that amazing dog.”

  The patrol car drove Kat and Nelson home, and after giving the big animal some water, she left him with Annie and the kids. Then Kat hitched a ride on a police boat back across the bay to the hospital.

  WHEN SHE ENTERED BRENDEN’S room in the ICU, she was greeted by a doctor going over his chart.

  “Your husband’s a lucky guy,” the doctor said. “He has a dislocated shoulder, a broken humerus, a couple of cracked ribs, and maybe a puncture of the lung on the right side. There are some small abrasions and a couple of chipped teeth, but all in all, he’ll heal.”

  “Thank God,” Kat said. “Thank God.”

  Brenden was alert enough to try to smile.

  “Hi, babe,” he said. “I guess I’ll be home for a while, and you’ll be taking care of me.”

  “That’s okay with me,” she said, smiling. “That’s just the way I want it.”

  The doctor turned and moved to the door. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said. “Try to take it easy, Dr. McCarthy. You’re pretty banged up, and what you need right now is rest.”

  After the doctor had left, Brenden said, “Do we know how many people were lost out there, Kat?”

  “Twenty-two at last count,” she said. “That’s what the police told me.”

  Brenden sighed, taking in the news.

  “Nelson saved my life,” Brenden said, reflecting. “I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for him. I hurt my arm and shoulder in the fall, and I don’t know if I would have been able to survive in the water if Nelson hadn’t kept me going. He put it all on the line for me, Kat. He risked his life. You know, during my therapy sessions with Antwone Carver, I talked to him about the Bible verse ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ That sure describes Nelson. It’s the ultimate testimony of faith.”

  Kat squeezed her husband’s hand, acknowledging a bond with God and each other.

  Brenden went on. “So is he okay?”

  “He’s just fine,” Kat said. “He was thirsty, and he’s tired, but he’s at home with the children, and Annie’s with them. Brenden . . .” Her voice cracked, heavy with emotion. “Brenden, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  “I thought about that a lot, Kat,” Brenden said, “out there in the dark. I thought about how much I love you. That’s what kept me going. I just couldn’t die out there, Kat. I love you.”

  They were quiet for a minute, with the woman sitting close by the bed, holding her husband’s hand.

  Finally he said, “Now I understand what Antwone Carver was talking about.”

  “What do you mean?” Kat asked.

  “I mean, when the Marines talk about their Alive Day. You know, the day they beat death. They call it their Alive Day because for them it’s about surviving and new beginnings.”

  “So this is your Alive Day,” Kat said.

  “Yeah,” Brenden acknowledged, absorbing the concept, pulling it deep into his consciousness. “What’s the date, Kat?”

  “April 28th,” she told him.

  “April 28th,” Brenden said. “My Alive Day.”

  epilogue

  Nine months had passed since the sinking of the ferry, and Brenden’s injuries had completely healed. He had returned to his morning ritual of exercise, and Nelson was guiding him better than ever.

  Mora had started kindergarten, and Brian was a second grader, allowing Kat to substitute-teach in the local school system.

  Christmas had been special for the McCarthy family, with Santa Claus still very much in the picture and Kat and Brenden making the most of their holiday experience. The new year had dawned full of promise and hope, and Brenden was even more grateful for every day of his life.

  The phone rang in the middle of breakfast on a Saturday morning in January. Immediately Brenden could tell that Kat was both surprised and delighted by the call.

  “Antwone Carver,” she said. “We think about you all the time. How is your lovely Darla?” She smiled at Brenden. “She’s what? Oh my goodness, Antwone. You have to tell Brenden about this yourself.”

  Brenden took the phone from her hand.

  “Okay, Marine,” he said. “What’s so exciting?”

  “Darla’s pregnant,” Carver said. “We’re going to have a baby, Doc. It’s the real deal. We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Antwone,” Brenden said, “I couldn’t be happier.”

  “And you know what?” Carver said, excited. “We learned about it yesterday, and you know what today is, Doc?”

  “Saturday,” Brenden said, sounding stupid.

  “Yeah, dog, it’s Saturday,” Carver said, “but it’s also my Alive Day.”

  “Oh man,” Brenden said. “I forgot.”

  “It’s my Alive Day,” Carver went on, “and now Darla is pregnant. And that’s not all. Remember we talked about my taking a job with the Corps as a recruiter?”

  “Sure, Antwone,” Brenden said. “That’s what I hoped would work out for you.”

  “Well, it did,” Carver said. “For the last two months I’ve been talking to brothers in neighborhoods all over California. So far I’ve signed up just over a hundred guys, and it feels great.”

  “So you really have a family now, don’t you, Antwone?” Brenden said. “The Corps, Darla, and a new addition to your family.”

  “Listen,” Carver said seriously. “I want to ask you something, Doc. If it’s a boy . . .” He paused. “If it’s a boy, would you mind if we named him Brenden?”

  “Antwone,” Brenden said, “I would be honored if there was a Brenden Carver in the world. If he’s anything like his dad, he’ll grow up to be a hero.”

  “Thanks for saying that,” Carver said. “By the way, I got your letter a few months ago. The one that told me you had an Alive Day yourself. Pretty scary, huh?”

  “I’ll tell you something, Antwone,” Brenden said. “I learned that you were right. When you have an Alive Day, you come to understand that each day you live has to be meaningful. That’s what I feel all the time.”

  “You know what, Doc? Everybody should have an Alive Day, because it’s what makes us know that living is what it’s all about.”

  “You got it right,” Brenden said. “Alive Day makes us know that living matters and each day has to count. I’ll see you soon, Marine. Keep us posted on how Darla’s feeling, would you?”

  The men hung up and Brenden turned to his wife. “Let’s make this a special day, Kat. Let’s get the kids and do something really special. I want to celebrate”—he put his arm around his wife—“what it really means to be alive.”

  Dear Reader,

  I’m delighted you’ve taken this journey with Brenden, Nelson, and Antwone. While the story started as an extension of my love for the black Lab named Nelson (a fictional version of a real dog I had for years) who was willing to lay down his life for his friend, it became a journey for me as I learned about the amazing women and men of our military.

  While fictional, Alive Day shines light on a very real challenge facing our nation: that o
f truly welcoming home the heroes who fight for our country. Not just with banners and kind words—which are helpful, to be sure—but with real programs and tangible results. My hope is that you’ll feel empowered by this story to fight for those who have served us so nobly.

  Training for new careers, reentering civilian life, and coping with post-traumatic stress disorder are probably the most important issues facing veterans. Since Congress is attempting to write new legislation on veterans issues, most particularly payments for war injury, writing to your congressperson in support of veterans legislation remains critical.

  I hope you’ll join me in prayer and action to support these amazing men and women.

  Peace be with you,

  Tom Sullivan

  Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

  (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Kevin S. O’Brien/Released)

  If you’re interested in helping our troops, visit any of the following Web sites:

  www.uso.org/donate

  www.americasupportsyou.mil

  www.supportourtroops.org

  www.operationhomefront.net

  www.fisherhouse.org

  www.soldiersangels.org

  Love shared is more valuable than any other gift.

  To find out more information, visit these Web sites:

  Guide Dogs for the Blind www.guidedogs.com

  Leader Dogs for the Blind www.leaderdog.org

  The Seeing Eye www.seeingeye.org

  Morris Animal Foundation www.morrisanimalfoundation.org