Rescuing the Paramedic's Heart

by Emily Forbes

If she didn’t realise that then he had nothing to offer her.

  His heart was heavy in his chest, his hopes and dreams dashed. Had he made a mistake? Had he let his memories could his judgement? Had the girl he remembered changed that much?

  No, the Poppy he remembered was still there. Still making plans. The only problem was her current plan was to save her house at the expense of everything else.

  He had plans too but it seemed that while he was considering a future with her, she was on a different path. Did he even matter?

  * * *

  Ryder was nursing a mild hangover courtesy of Jet, but he knew his lack of focus was related more to Poppy than to the beers he’d had last night.

  After Poppy had cancelled their plans he’d gone directly to Jet and put his hand up for any extra shifts that were available. Jet had known about his plans for the weekend but he hadn’t questioned him. He’d taken one look at him and said he’d see what he could do and he’d managed to find additional shifts. Ryder appreciated the opportunity to stay busy but even though it was a glorious November day not even the brilliant sunshine could lift his mood.

  Poppy had called him twice last night but he’d let the calls go through to his message service. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear what she had to say. He didn’t trust himself not to lose his temper. He had always prided himself on being impartial, on being able to listen to other’s points of view without judgement, but Poppy was testing his patience.

  He wanted to be there for her but he also wanted her to give him the same consideration. He wanted to be important to her. He didn’t want to be a stopgap, something or someone to be discarded the moment another priority came along. He wanted to be her priority.

  Was he being unfair?

  He didn’t think so. Their relationship was fledgling but that didn’t mean it wasn’t important. It didn’t mean he wasn’t important.

  If it had been any other weekend he would probably have been more understanding but this weekend was supposed to have been special and it hurt to think that Poppy could so easily give it up. Give him up.

  She’d told him that she’d thought about being with him for twelve years. Now that she’d ticked that box, was she moving on? Was he nothing but a curiosity? A teenage fantasy that hadn’t lived up to her expectations?

  He’d been watching the water at the south end of the beach as his mind turned over. In front of him was a group of teenage boys, tackling each other and doing somersaults over the waves. He could remember doing the same thing in his youth but now, with the wisdom of experience, seeing these antics worried him. What if one of them mistimed his landing? Misjudged the depth of the water? Landed on their head? He thought of all the things that could go wrong but knew they wouldn’t listen to his warnings. Knew they would consider him to be worrying over nothing.

  He redirected his gaze, looking towards Backpackers’ Rip, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The late afternoon swell was picking up, the breeze was coming in. He could see a lone swimmer getting close to the rip. A man with dark hair. He disappeared briefly behind a wave and Ryder waited for his head to bob up again. He didn’t look like a confident swimmer and he made a note to keep an eye on him.

  ‘Would you mind if we took a photo with you?’

  Ryder’s attention was drawn away from the ocean by two tourists, two pretty girls in bikinis, who brandished a cellphone. The lifeguards were constantly being asked to pose for photographs. Ryder didn’t usually mind, it was a pleasant part of the job—unless the tourists got a little too familiar, which happened on occasion. This time, though, it was a couple of quick selfies and he was happy to oblige.

  The girls checked the photos and, as they requested ‘just one more’, Ryder thought he saw a hand raised in the ocean.

  He checked for the lone swimmer.

  He couldn’t see him.

  The afternoon sun was behind him, bright on the water, and he wasn’t one hundred per cent certain of what he’d seen. Maybe the swimmer had got out of the water. Maybe he hadn’t seen a hand. It could have been a trick of the light. The sea was getting rough and the swell and the sunlight made it difficult to get a clear visual. But he needed to check.

  He excused himself from the tourists and grabbed the binoculars and the radio. He’d call it into the Tower. Jet had a better vantage point from up there, he’d be able to see over the waves.

  ‘Central, this is Ryder.’

  ‘Go ahead, Easy.’

  ‘I’m down at Backpackers’. I’ve had my eye on a lone swimmer, just north of the rip, behind the first breakers. I’ve lost sight of him behind the waves. Can you see if you can spot him? Male, dark hair.’

  Ryder waited several seconds, knowing that Jet would be taking his time, scanning the waves, giving himself time to see if the swimmer was moving or giving him time to surface if he’d gone under. Looking for anything untoward. Ryder kept his eyes on the water too but came up with nothing.

  ‘Nothing,’ came Jet’s reply. ‘I can’t see anyone on their own or anyone who looks like they’re in trouble.’

  Despite Jet confirming that he hadn’t seen anything either, Ryder still felt uneasy. He knew it was possible that the man had returned to shore or was swimming with friends but he had the distinct impression that the man wasn’t a strong swimmer and his sudden disappearance had him worried.

  ‘I reckon I’ll go out for a look,’ he told Jet. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘Copy that,’ came the reply.

  He lifted the rescue board from the rack on the side of the buggy and jogged into the water. He threw the board in front of him and leapt on, paddling out, up and over the swell. He didn’t see anyone who looked in need of help on his way out and when he got to the spot where he’d last seen the man there was nothing but empty water. He sat astride the board and scanned the sea again. Nothing.

  He paddled a little further out to check with the surfers. He knew they often came to the aid of struggling swimmers, and even though he couldn’t see anyone who looked like they were being a Good Samaritan, they might be able to shed some light on the man’s whereabouts. But none of them had noticed anything untoward either.

  He figured the swimmer must have left the water while he’d been busy with the tourists. Maybe he’d imagined the hand in the air. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything at all, he thought as he returned to the beach.

  He spent the next hour patrolling the beach, pulling people out of the water, reuniting kids with their distracted parents, and he’d almost forgotten about the lone swimmer when a young woman approached the buggy where he and Bluey were standing.

  Ryder initially thought she was also after a photo but then he saw she wasn’t smiling or holding a cellphone. She looked worried.

  ‘Please, can you help me?’ She spoke with what Ryder thought was an Eastern European accent. ‘My boyfriend is missing.’

  ‘What do you mean, missing?’

  This woman was in her early twenties and he assumed the boyfriend would be a similar age. People that age didn’t go missing on Bondi.

  ‘He went for a swim. I fell asleep. He has not come back.’

  ‘When was this? How long ago?’

  The woman gave a little shrug as if she wasn’t quite sure but her eyes filled with tears, her distress obvious. ‘One hour?’

  ‘Where were you sleeping?’ Ryder asked.

  She pointed to the southern end of the beach and Ryder’s heart plummeted. She was pointing towards Backpackers’ Rip. ‘Can he swim?’

  ‘A little.’

  That was not what he wanted to hear.

  ‘What does he look like? Dark hair, blond? Tall, short?’ Ryder accompanied his questions with hand gestures. Pointing at her hair, raising his hand high and low but she didn’t seem to need his pantomime, her English was accented but good.

  ‘Not as tall as yo
u,’ she said as she looked him up and down. ‘Smaller. Dark hair.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Sergei.’

  ‘And what is your name?’

  ‘Mika.’

  ‘Okay, Mika, I want you to take a look and see if you can see him in the water,’ Ryder said as he handed her a pair of binoculars. Maybe with some additional magnification she would spot him.

  He switched on the radio. ‘Ryder to Central. We’ve got a report of a missing person who might have gone swimming. Possibly in Backpackers’.’ His voice remained calm even though his gut was churning. Had he missed something? He knew Jet would be thinking the same as him.

  He turned to Mika, who was standing next to Bluey, binoculars raised. ‘Can you see him?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Central, Bluey and I will head out but we need someone to check the beach, the foreshore, everywhere.’ There was a possibility that Sergei wasn’t in the water. It was a slim chance but there nonetheless. ‘And can you send someone down here with the defib?’

  ‘Copy that,’ Jet replied. ‘I’ll send Dutchy down and get Gibbo to launch the jet-ski.’

  There were eight lifeguards on duty and this search and rescue would stretch them thin on other parts of the beach but that was unavoidable. They needed all the manpower they could muster. Ryder knew Jet would call the police as well as the paramedics.

  He grabbed one rescue board as Bluey dashed off to pick up one that was stored further along the beach. He ran into the water, threw the board down and leapt on. The swell had dropped, the tide had eased and the water was clear. It was getting late but there was still enough light to ensure good visibility. The lifeguards would have been thinking about packing up soon but that would change now, depending on the outcome of their search.

  He looked over his shoulder as he paddled out. He could see Dutchy in one of the buggies, heading for Mika, and he could hear the whine of the jet-ski as Gibbo hit the water.

  ‘Central.’ He spoke out loudly, knowing the radio microphone in his armband would relay his words to the tower. ‘Tell Gibbo to head out the back, he can check the rip.’

  Backpackers’ Rip could have carried an unsuspecting swimmer out to sea or Sergei could be stranded on the rocks past Icebergs. Ryder thought that second scenario was unlikely as someone would have alerted the tower, but if he’d been carried out to sea they might never find him.

  He kept paddling as he searched the water, top and bottom, but he couldn’t quieten the voice in his head, the one that told him that if the swimmer he’d thought he’d seen earlier had been Sergei then there was a good chance that it was going to be too late to save him now.

  ‘What’s going on, man?’ He looked up to see one of the surfers he’d spoken to earlier paddling towards him.

  ‘We’ve had a report of a missing person. It’s possible he may have gone swimming.’

  ‘Is it the guy you were looking for earlier?’

  ‘Could be. Have any of you helped someone out today? Taken them out of the water?’

  ‘Not me, man, but I’ll check with the others. Who are we looking for?’

  ‘A man, slight build, mid-twenties, dark hair.’ It was important to know Ryder wasn’t looking for a female, or a teenager, or an elderly swimmer, but Ryder knew, in reality, they were looking for a body. A poor swimmer wasn’t going to last in the ocean in these conditions for an hour or more, and even a competent swimmer would have become fatigued. If Sergei was in the water they were looking at a recovery exercise and that knowledge weighed heavily on Ryder’s conscience.

  The surfer nodded and paddled off.

  ‘Gibbo has got nothing.’ Jet’s voice came through the radio in Ryder’s armband.

  ‘We’ve got nothing either,’ Ryder responded. Everyone seemed to be accounted for. Maybe Sergei hadn’t gone swimming after all. ‘Have you checked the toilet block and showers?’

  ‘Yes, we’re covering all bases,’ Jet replied, and Ryder could hear what was unsaid. Sergei hadn’t been found on dry land and, therefore, he must be in the water. His stomach sat like a stone in his belly.

  ‘I’ve called Lifesaver One, they’re on the way,’ Jet added.

  Ryder heard the chopper approaching as the surfer returned.

  ‘Most of the guys have only been in the water for about an hour,’ the surfer told him, ‘and there’ve been plenty of swimmers with dark hair.’ Ryder knew that was always the case, it was like trying to pick a needle out of a haystack if that was his only defining feature. ‘But no one has seen anyone in trouble or given anyone any assistance.’

  The surfer’s information sounded like good news but Ryder’s antennae were twitching. He knew how quickly and silently people could drown. If Sergei had been swimming alone, which seemed like the case, he could easily have drowned without anyone noticing.

  He thanked the surfer as Lifesaver One appeared over the headland. The helicopter hovered over the ocean, staying high enough above the waves so the wash from its rotors didn’t disturb the water.

  Ryder and Bluey waited as the chopper moved slowly overhead but there was nothing to indicate they’d spotted anything untoward.

  ‘Do we keep looking?’ Bluey asked.

  Ryder nodded. He could see two ambulances and a quick response vehicle parked near the lifeguard tower plus several police cars. Police could be seen combing the beach but there was still no sign of Sergei. Ryder wouldn’t give up until it got too dark to see. Or until Sergei was found.

  He paddled towards Icebergs Surf Club and drifted over a bed of seaweed near the rocks. The rocks cast shadows on the water and the dark seaweed took on a slightly sinister appearance. Patches of pale sand broke through the blackness, providing some relief. His eyes skimmed the sea bed, looking without really seeing, but as he lifted his head to see if anyone else had had any success something caught his eye. Unsure if it was an irregular shape or an unexpected movement, he looked beneath the surface again.

  He peered into the water.

  Something pale was moving in the depths. It might have been weed or a stingray or a fish but as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he was filled with dread. Briefly he hoped his eyes were deceiving him but in reality he knew they were not.

  He wasn’t looking at a patch of sand. Or a fish.

  It was a hand. And it was several feet under the surface.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘BLUE! OVER HERE,’ he yelled over his shoulder as he slid off his board and dived down to the ocean floor.

  The hand belonged to a dark-haired man. Ryder pulled on his arm but the man didn’t move. His lungs were burning as he dived deeper. The man’s eyes were open, staring lifelessly into the ocean.

  He pulled on the man’s shorts. This time he moved slightly but he still didn’t come free. Ryder looked down. The man’s foot was tangled in the seaweed. He was trapped, tethered to the ocean floor. He must have gone under and become stuck.

  Ryder surfaced and breathed in deeply, preparing to dive again.

  ‘Have you found him?’ Bluey asked.

  He nodded. He was certain it was Sergei. It had to be Sergei.

  ‘I’ll let everyone know.’ Bluey’s usual happy disposition was subdued by Ryder’s expression. There was no need for further discussion, it was obvious the outcome was a tragic one.

  Ryder submerged himself again, this time diving deeper to free Sergei’s foot. The weed was thick and slippery and he had to work hard to free it. Sergei must have panicked when the weed had wrapped around his foot. Of course he would have panicked but somehow he had made the situation worse by thrashing about.

  He pulled the weed from around Sergei’s ankle and then grabbed him under the armpits and dragged him to the surface. He might be slight but he was a dead weight and Ryder’s muscles and lungs were screaming by the time he broke through the waves.

/>   Sergei was limp and unresponsive.

  Bluey had called for the jet-ski and Ryder and Bluey wrangled the body onto the rescue sled that was towed behind the ski. Gibbo would get him back to shore as quickly as possible so resuscitation could be attempted. They could only assume how long he’d been submerged for and all efforts would have to be made to revive him.

  Ryder and Bluey paddled into shore. Ryder was exhausted, mentally and physically drained, but he had to keep going. He hopped off his rescue board in the shallow water and dragged it back to the lifeguard buggy.

  Gibbo had brought the jet-ski in nearby and Ryder could see dozens of first responders circling around. There were several paramedics in attendance, Poppy amongst them, as well as an intensive care doctor.

  Poppy’s blonde hair shone in the afternoon light and guided him up from the water like a beacon. Despite the fact that she had cancelled their plans, despite the fact that she had made it clear that he wasn’t her priority, he couldn’t prevent his heart rate from escalating when he saw her. He still wanted her, she still stirred him. He hadn’t stopped loving her and he knew he wouldn’t for a long time. It was possible he would always love her.

  She was sitting with Mika, with one arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulder. Poppy saw him coming up the beach and she smiled at him but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. The afternoon had taken a toll on all of them, most of all Sergei and Mika.

  It was getting late and Ryder could feel a slight chill in the air. Normally by this time the crowds on the beach would be starting to thin out but there was still a large number of people hanging around. They were attracted to the drama, wanting to know how the story ended.

  In an attempt to give Sergei some privacy the police had erected a screen around him and the mass of first responders. Ryder couldn’t get close but he didn’t need to. He could hear the resuscitation efforts and while he understood the need for the medics to try their best, he knew, in his gut, it had been too long. Sergei’s skin was grey and waxy. It would take a miracle to bring him back.