HOME | DD

Description
“Huh.  How weird,” Zoe muttered as she stared out across the empty beach.  She was surprised by how peaceful the coast was tonight.  Even past midnight there were usually at least a few people on the small, isolated strip of sand.  Mostly it was just local teens from the surrounding towns who came out to the coast to huddle around hastily made campfires and chug beer, but it was completely dead tonight.  She didn’t like it.  The quiet bordered on suffocating.

Down below, her friends Marc and Bren were searching through the brush, looking for enough dry wood to get a fire going.  They weren’t having much luck.

“Shit!  Was it this cold last year?” Marc asked, his teeth chattering, “All I need is a stick up my ass and I’d be a human popcicle!”

“Did not need that mental image,” Bren laughed back.

Marc shivered and pulled his heavy wool coat tighter around himself against the cold ocean wind.  “Zoe!  Get the thermos and get your butt in gear!  It’s cold out here!”

Zoe just shook her head at him.  She was cold too, but couldn’t see what his rush was.  Grabbing the thermos and a stack of cups from the back seat, she slammed the door shut and headed across the parking lot.  Last January, a storm had reduced the stairs leading to the sand to large chunks of wood strewn all over the rock barrier.  The sight of a brand new set of stairs, looking far sturdier than the old steps made her breathe a sigh of relief.  She had no idea how she would have been able to navigate her way down and back up the rocks in these boots.  She loved them, but the precariously high heels made them treacherous to walk in.

“Okay now what were you whining about?” she asked, hopping off the last stair.

“Was it this cold last year?”

“Yep.”

“Then why do I feel like my balls are about to turn into ovaries?”

“Repressed desire to be a woman?”

“Ha…ha…ha.”

“Probably because both of us had more insulation last year.”

Marc looked down at his stomach, “Yeah I guess we were fatter.”

“Uh, No,” she said firmly, “You were fatter, I was just well insulated.”

Bren chuckled softly at his friends’ behavior.  The two acted more like siblings the older they got.

“My Aunt’s teaching belly dancing at the Rec Center.  You might want to think about signing up,” Bren said, pinching Marc’s side.

Marc raised his eyebrow at Bren and pursed his lips, “Small problem there: the whole point of belly dancing is to have a belly.  Little counter productive, eh?”

“Oh come on.  Aunt Fae likes you.”

Marc grimaced at the thought of Aunt Fae gyrating across the Rec Center basketball court.

Zoe sat down on a large rock, pulled off her boots and laid them carefully on the sand.  She trotted out across the sand towards the chilly ocean, handing Marc the cups and Bren the thermos as she passed by.  Easing her foot into the icy water first, she waited for her feet to quickly numb, then waded in further, feeling the salty foam floating on the water surface wrap around her calves.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Marc called out.

Zoe turned around and saw that Marc had come down to the water’s edge, the tide just barely lapping at the toes of his shoes.  Grinning, she shouted, “Come on.  The water’s fine!”

“Or not.  I enjoy having all my toes and would rather not loose any to frostbite, thank you.”

Zoe laughed at him and turned back towards the horizon, wading in further until the water was just below her knees, soaking the hem of her skirt.  She stared out across the water to the horizon with its gentle curve.  The water gave off a soft, strange glow.  As pretty as it was, she couldn’t help thinking that it gave the water a faintly sinister quality.

“Zoe, coffee.”

She sloshed clumsily through the water, nearly tripping a few times as she came back ashore.

“Ok, you were right.  It is fucking freezing,” she said, trying to rub some warmth back into her legs, “What was that about coffee?”

“Here, sweetie,” Bren said pouring her a cup and handing it to her.

“My savior,” Zoe joked, taking a sip, “Marc if you ever dump this man I’ll kick you.”

“Um, Aaaa.  And if he dumps me?”

Zoe grinned mischievously.  “I’ll still kick you for letting him get away.”

Zoe plodded back up towards the wooden stairs to get her boots.  Her feet were ice cold.  Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe noticed a strange mound of sand rising up from the middle of a shallow creek cutting through the sand from an outlet imbedded in the rock wall to the incoming tide.  At first glance, it looked like the ruins of a children’s sand castle, but it was strangely shaped.  She could almost make out the outline of a person’s profile.  Maybe a sand sculpture?  Whoever the artist was did a decent job.  Shame the tide would likely melt it by morning.
She sat down on a rock near the stairs while Bren and Marc perched on a large drift wood log nearby.  Zoe watched the tide coming in, her friend’s quiet conversation buzzing distantly in her ear.

She tried focusing on the calming waves, but her attention kept going back to the mound of sand.  She swore that she saw it changing, almost like it was refining itself.  And this is why you need more sleep, she told herself.  It couldn’t hurt to get a closer look, at the very least to convince herself that her eyes were playing tricks on her.

As she came closer, the mound took shape, details becoming more apparent.  It wasn’t a sculpture.  Half buried in the sand was the body of a man, only his face and chest visible above the water’s surface.

“Holy…”  She looked over her shoulder and shouted, “Marc!  Bren!  I need a flashlight.  I think there’s one under the driver’s seat.  Maybe it’s in the trunk?  I don’t know, just go look.  Now!”

“What?” Marc asked, puzzled by Zoe’s sudden panic.

“Just do it,” Zoe shouted.

She edged closer, her eyes struggling in the dark to see any sign of life, the slightest movement.  She knelt down at the edge of the shallow pool, leaned forward and reached out her hand for his wrist.  Zoe patiently searched for a pulse, hoping that his breathing was just too shallow to detect.

“Got the flashlight.  What the fuck is that?!”

Startled, Zoe jumped and spun around, losing her footing.  Marc caught her as she fell, grabbing her by the collar of her coat and dragged her away from the edge of the water.  Zoe stared up at him, confused by her sudden shift in orientation.

“Dead body,” she said flatly.

“What?  You’re shitting me right?  Bren!  Get over here!” Marc shouted.

Reaching up, she snatched the flashlight from Marc’s grip and picked herself up off the ground.  She tried wiping the wet sand off her knees and backside, but water was already seeping into her clothes.  Letting out a groan, Zoe switched on the flashlight, stepped into the ankle-deep water and waded towards him.  She gently prodded his ribs with the toe of her shoe.  No response.

“What’s so--Holy shit!” Bren blurted, jolting backwards at the sight of the pale figure imbedded in the sand, “That’s a--Zoe!  Get out of there!”

Zoe looked over her shoulder, waved them away and turned back to the lifeless body in front of her.  This was surreal.

“Zoe!  I don’t think the cops are going to be too fond of you fucking up their crime scene,” Marc yelled.

He was right.  This was probably one of the dumbest things she had ever done, but curiosity got the best of her.  Zoe stepped over the man’s body, straddling his chest and turned the light on his face.  Under the bright beam most of his features melted away, but his green eyes stood out against his pale complexion.  They frightened her.  Even clouded by death they had an intensity that made her skin crawl.

She moved her light down his body looking for injuries, half expecting to see a large piece taken out of his torso by a shark.  Wondering if they had stumbled upon a suicide, Zoe reached into the water and carefully lifted his hand.  His wrists were unmarred, the delicate veins completely intact.  His hands were another matter.  They were fragile looking with long slender fingers, but smooth as plaster without any trace of prints or palm lines.  Not finding any apparent injuries, she turned the light back onto his face.  He seemed gaunt, almost frail.

“Zoe!  Come on!!” Marc insisted.  The cold and Zoe’s strange behavior was shortening his temper by the second.  She was going to get them arrested if she wasn’t more careful.  “That’s it.  You’re banned from ‘Murder She Wrote.’”

“One sec!  I promise!” she said absently, leaning in closer to the man’s face.  She could have sworn that she saw his lips move.

Bren walked to the side of the shallow pool and hovered nervously.  “Zoe?”

“Bren, take a look at this.”

“We need to call the cops,” he reminded her, unwilling to come any closer.

“We will.  Just humor me, okay?”

Realizing the sooner he gave in, the sooner this mess would be over, Bren let out a heavy sigh and crouched down next to her.  Even with the beam from the flashlight, his eyes strained to make out any details.  “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I thought I saw--”

Suddenly the man gasped and his chest jerked upwards as his lungs lurched back to life.  Zoe tried scrambling away from him, but tripped and fell backwards.  Bren grabbed her under her arms and pulled her out of the water.  Too terrified to run, all they could do was watch as he gasped frantically, struggling for air.  Gradually his breathing quieted and his lips began mouthing voiceless words to the sky.
His face turned towards them, contorting into a pleading look as his hoarse voice finally broke through his silence.  His words were scattered at first, skipping from language to language.  He only uttered a few words in each before trying a new tongue as he quickly reached hysterics.

In a wave of frustration, he desperately cried out and finally found the words that triggered a response: “Help me.”

“He-he-help you?” Marc barely managed to stammer.

A barely perceptible nod was his only reply.  The man kept his frightened gaze on them, though his eyes seemed unfocused, looking through them rather than at them.  Zoe came closer and hesitantly took hold of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.  She hoped he would understand.  Slowly the energy faded from his body and his arm became lax.  His eyes closed and he sank back into unconsciousness. Zoe waited patiently until his breathing quieted before laying his hand back down.  He almost looked peaceful.

“Marc?  Can you call 911?”

“Yeah, sure.”  His voice sounded distant.  “I can’t find my phone.  Shit.  I left it on the charger.  Don’t you have yours?”

Zoe fished her cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it to Marc.  He flipped the phone open and tried dialing, but it let out a sickening chirp and shut off.

“Damn it.  You forgot to charge your phone.”

“What’re you talking about?” Zoe asked, standing up.  She snatched her phone back, switched it back on and started dialing.  “Don’t blame me that you can’t--”  Zoe’s words broke off as the phone once again shut off.  “Uh, Bren?”

“Don’t look at me.  I don’t have one,” Bren shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“Well shit,” Zoe sighed.

“It’s not far back to Cannon.  Let’s just drive up, get someone and bring’em back here,” Bren suggested.

Zoe looked back at the man lying unconscious on the sand.  She doubted that there was enough time to backtrack with help.  “If we load him into the car we can get him to the hospital a hell of a lot quicker than dinking around looking for help.”

“You’re joking right?  Zoe, we can’t move him.  We don’t know what’s happened to him.  What if his insides are fucked up?  Broken bones?  Do you feel like killing him?” Marc blurted.

“He needs to get to the hospital and unless you can call an ambulance via ESP, that’s going to be the quickest way.”

“Zoe…” Marc started to argue.

Ignoring him, she tried lifting the man out of the water, but his lower body was firmly imbedded in the sand.  She started digging away the sand around his limbs with her hands.  Bren quickly joined her, scooping away wet sand with the metal thermos lid.

Marc watched them, wavering on what to do.  “This is why I gave up dating girls,” he sighed, untying his shoelaces.  He pulled off his sneakers and socks, rolled up his pants and inched his way into the icy water.

“Zoe, you take that end,” Bren said, jerking his head towards the man’s chest.  After some careful manipulation, they managed to roll him onto his belly and drag him onto solid ground.  Hoisting him up, Marc took his shoulders while Bren lifted him at his knees.  They only made it a few yards before they were forced to put him back down.  He was far heavier than his slender frame let on.
Marc cracked his back as they struggled to regain their breath.  “Ready?” Bren wheezed.

“No, but I think this is as close as I’ll get.”

“Let’s try just dragging him.  Marc, you get his left.”

They hauled him off the ground by his shoulders and braced him between them.  We’re doing the right thing, we’re doing the right thing Marc kept repeating to himself as they dragged him up the stairs to the parking lot and set him down on the grass near the edge of the sidewalk.

Zoe re-parked Marc’s car as close as she could to the patch of grass.  As Marc opened the passenger side door and slid the front seat back, he found himself wishing that he had picked the sedan over the coupe.

“Wait.  What’re you doing?” Bren asked.

“Moving the seat forward so we can load him into the back.”

“Why can’t we just put him in the front?”

“I don’t want him grabbing the wheel if he wakes up again.”

“Well I don’t want him grabbing me!”

“Would you two knock it off!  We don’t have time for this shit!” Zoe snapped, “Bren, take his shoulders.  Marc ‘n’ me can get his legs.”

Loud cursing broke the quiet as they struggled to maneuver the man’s dead weight into the cramped back seat.  After several attempts, Bren reluctantly climbed into the vehicle, wrapped his arms around the man’s chest and heaved him into the car by his shoulders while Marc carried his legs.  It wasn’t until he was sitting in the back seat with the man slumped against him that Bren realized he was still naked.

“One of you mind lending me your coat?”

Zoe pulled off her long wool coat, leaned into the back of the car and handed it to him.  He wrapped it around the man, tucking it in around his sides like a blanket.
At least he’s not a walking misdemeanor now.  Bren tried moving the driver’s seat forward, but it wouldn’t budge.  The latch was jammed.  “Uh, pookums?  How do I get out of here?  The seat’s stuck.”

“Looks like Zoe gets shotgun,” Marc grinned, sliding the passenger seat back into place.  Zoe looked into the car at Bren and offered an apologetic shrug.  Bren shoved the man off him and tried twisting himself into some resemblance of a seated position, but the best he could manage was pressing himself up against the window with his legs wedged at an angle behind the driver’s seat.

Zoe climbed into the car and looked over her shoulder at Bren.  “You doing okay?”

“What do you think?” Bren snapped.

She took a deep breath and turned back around, gnawing at her lip anxiously.  This was not how she had pictured tonight going.  All she had wanted was to blow off some steam and now she was suddenly trapped in an episode of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive!”  Whoever they got to play her in the reenactment had better be decent looking.

Marc jumped into the driver’s side, buckled his seatbelt and asked, “Where’re we taking him?”

“We’ll try the hospital first.”

Marc nodded, started the car and sped off.  As they pulled back onto the highway, Zoe turned her phone back on and checked her for service.  “Finally,” she grumbled.

“Finally what?” Marc asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Phone seems to be back in business.”

“Good.  Call 411 and get an address for a hospital in Cannon.”

Zoe silently dialed information.  After a brief conversation with the operator she jotted down directions on her hand and hung up.  Unfortunately, the closest hospital was almost 20 miles away in Seaside.  Even flooring it, it was going to take a while to get there.  Zoe just hoped they wouldn’t be dragging in a corpse.

Description
“Huh.  How weird,” Zoe muttered as she stared out across the empty beach.  She was surprised by how peaceful the coast was tonight.  Even past midnight there were usually at least a few people on the small, isolated strip of sand.  Mostly it was just local teens from the surrounding towns who came out to the coast to huddle around hastily made campfires and chug beer, but it was completely dead tonight.  She didn’t like it.  The quiet bordered on suffocating.

Down below, her friends Marc and Bren were searching through the brush, looking for enough dry wood to get a fire going.  They weren’t having much luck.

“Shit!  Was it this cold last year?” Marc asked, his teeth chattering, “All I need is a stick up my ass and I’d be a human popcicle!”

“Did not need that mental image,” Bren laughed back.

Marc shivered and pulled his heavy wool coat tighter around himself against the cold ocean wind.  “Zoe!  Get the thermos and get your butt in gear!  It’s cold out here!”

Zoe just shook her head at him.  She was cold too, but couldn’t see what his rush was.  Grabbing the thermos and a stack of cups from the back seat, she slammed the door shut and headed across the parking lot.  Last January, a storm had reduced the stairs leading to the sand to large chunks of wood strewn all over the rock barrier.  The sight of a brand new set of stairs, looking far sturdier than the old steps made her breathe a sigh of relief.  She had no idea how she would have been able to navigate her way down and back up the rocks in these boots.  She loved them, but the precariously high heels made them treacherous to walk in.

“Okay now what were you whining about?” she asked, hopping off the last stair.

“Was it this cold last year?”

“Yep.”

“Then why do I feel like my balls are about to turn into ovaries?”

“Repressed desire to be a woman?”

“Ha…ha…ha.”

“Probably because both of us had more insulation last year.”

Marc looked down at his stomach, “Yeah I guess we were fatter.”

“Uh, No,” she said firmly, “You were fatter, I was just well insulated.”

Bren chuckled softly at his friends’ behavior.  The two acted more like siblings the older they got.

“My Aunt’s teaching belly dancing at the Rec Center.  You might want to think about signing up,” Bren said, pinching Marc’s side.

Marc raised his eyebrow at Bren and pursed his lips, “Small problem there: the whole point of belly dancing is to have a belly.  Little counter productive, eh?”

“Oh come on.  Aunt Fae likes you.”

Marc grimaced at the thought of Aunt Fae gyrating across the Rec Center basketball court.

Zoe sat down on a large rock, pulled off her boots and laid them carefully on the sand.  She trotted out across the sand towards the chilly ocean, handing Marc the cups and Bren the thermos as she passed by.  Easing her foot into the icy water first, she waited for her feet to quickly numb, then waded in further, feeling the salty foam floating on the water surface wrap around her calves.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Marc called out.

Zoe turned around and saw that Marc had come down to the water’s edge, the tide just barely lapping at the toes of his shoes.  Grinning, she shouted, “Come on.  The water’s fine!”

“Or not.  I enjoy having all my toes and would rather not loose any to frostbite, thank you.”

Zoe laughed at him and turned back towards the horizon, wading in further until the water was just below her knees, soaking the hem of her skirt.  She stared out across the water to the horizon with its gentle curve.  The water gave off a soft, strange glow.  As pretty as it was, she couldn’t help thinking that it gave the water a faintly sinister quality.

“Zoe, coffee.”

She sloshed clumsily through the water, nearly tripping a few times as she came back ashore.

“Ok, you were right.  It is fucking freezing,” she said, trying to rub some warmth back into her legs, “What was that about coffee?”

“Here, sweetie,” Bren said pouring her a cup and handing it to her.

“My savior,” Zoe joked, taking a sip, “Marc if you ever dump this man I’ll kick you.”

“Um, Aaaa.  And if he dumps me?”

Zoe grinned mischievously.  “I’ll still kick you for letting him get away.”

Zoe plodded back up towards the wooden stairs to get her boots.  Her feet were ice cold.  Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe noticed a strange mound of sand rising up from the middle of a shallow creek cutting through the sand from an outlet imbedded in the rock wall to the incoming tide.  At first glance, it looked like the ruins of a children’s sand castle, but it was strangely shaped.  She could almost make out the outline of a person’s profile.  Maybe a sand sculpture?  Whoever the artist was did a decent job.  Shame the tide would likely melt it by morning.
She sat down on a rock near the stairs while Bren and Marc perched on a large drift wood log nearby.  Zoe watched the tide coming in, her friend’s quiet conversation buzzing distantly in her ear.

She tried focusing on the calming waves, but her attention kept going back to the mound of sand.  She swore that she saw it changing, almost like it was refining itself.  And this is why you need more sleep, she told herself.  It couldn’t hurt to get a closer look, at the very least to convince herself that her eyes were playing tricks on her.

As she came closer, the mound took shape, details becoming more apparent.  It wasn’t a sculpture.  Half buried in the sand was the body of a man, only his face and chest visible above the water’s surface.

“Holy…”  She looked over her shoulder and shouted, “Marc!  Bren!  I need a flashlight.  I think there’s one under the driver’s seat.  Maybe it’s in the trunk?  I don’t know, just go look.  Now!”

“What?” Marc asked, puzzled by Zoe’s sudden panic.

“Just do it,” Zoe shouted.

She edged closer, her eyes struggling in the dark to see any sign of life, the slightest movement.  She knelt down at the edge of the shallow pool, leaned forward and reached out her hand for his wrist.  Zoe patiently searched for a pulse, hoping that his breathing was just too shallow to detect.

“Got the flashlight.  What the fuck is that?!”

Startled, Zoe jumped and spun around, losing her footing.  Marc caught her as she fell, grabbing her by the collar of her coat and dragged her away from the edge of the water.  Zoe stared up at him, confused by her sudden shift in orientation.

“Dead body,” she said flatly.

“What?  You’re shitting me right?  Bren!  Get over here!” Marc shouted.

Reaching up, she snatched the flashlight from Marc’s grip and picked herself up off the ground.  She tried wiping the wet sand off her knees and backside, but water was already seeping into her clothes.  Letting out a groan, Zoe switched on the flashlight, stepped into the ankle-deep water and waded towards him.  She gently prodded his ribs with the toe of her shoe.  No response.

“What’s so--Holy shit!” Bren blurted, jolting backwards at the sight of the pale figure imbedded in the sand, “That’s a--Zoe!  Get out of there!”

Zoe looked over her shoulder, waved them away and turned back to the lifeless body in front of her.  This was surreal.

“Zoe!  I don’t think the cops are going to be too fond of you fucking up their crime scene,” Marc yelled.

He was right.  This was probably one of the dumbest things she had ever done, but curiosity got the best of her.  Zoe stepped over the man’s body, straddling his chest and turned the light on his face.  Under the bright beam most of his features melted away, but his green eyes stood out against his pale complexion.  They frightened her.  Even clouded by death they had an intensity that made her skin crawl.

She moved her light down his body looking for injuries, half expecting to see a large piece taken out of his torso by a shark.  Wondering if they had stumbled upon a suicide, Zoe reached into the water and carefully lifted his hand.  His wrists were unmarred, the delicate veins completely intact.  His hands were another matter.  They were fragile looking with long slender fingers, but smooth as plaster without any trace of prints or palm lines.  Not finding any apparent injuries, she turned the light back onto his face.  He seemed gaunt, almost frail.

“Zoe!  Come on!!” Marc insisted.  The cold and Zoe’s strange behavior was shortening his temper by the second.  She was going to get them arrested if she wasn’t more careful.  “That’s it.  You’re banned from ‘Murder She Wrote.’”

“One sec!  I promise!” she said absently, leaning in closer to the man’s face.  She could have sworn that she saw his lips move.

Bren walked to the side of the shallow pool and hovered nervously.  “Zoe?”

“Bren, take a look at this.”

“We need to call the cops,” he reminded her, unwilling to come any closer.

“We will.  Just humor me, okay?”

Realizing the sooner he gave in, the sooner this mess would be over, Bren let out a heavy sigh and crouched down next to her.  Even with the beam from the flashlight, his eyes strained to make out any details.  “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“I thought I saw--”

Suddenly the man gasped and his chest jerked upwards as his lungs lurched back to life.  Zoe tried scrambling away from him, but tripped and fell backwards.  Bren grabbed her under her arms and pulled her out of the water.  Too terrified to run, all they could do was watch as he gasped frantically, struggling for air.  Gradually his breathing quieted and his lips began mouthing voiceless words to the sky.
His face turned towards them, contorting into a pleading look as his hoarse voice finally broke through his silence.  His words were scattered at first, skipping from language to language.  He only uttered a few words in each before trying a new tongue as he quickly reached hysterics.

In a wave of frustration, he desperately cried out and finally found the words that triggered a response: “Help me.”

“He-he-help you?” Marc barely managed to stammer.

A barely perceptible nod was his only reply.  The man kept his frightened gaze on them, though his eyes seemed unfocused, looking through them rather than at them.  Zoe came closer and hesitantly took hold of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.  She hoped he would understand.  Slowly the energy faded from his body and his arm became lax.  His eyes closed and he sank back into unconsciousness. Zoe waited patiently until his breathing quieted before laying his hand back down.  He almost looked peaceful.

“Marc?  Can you call 911?”

“Yeah, sure.”  His voice sounded distant.  “I can’t find my phone.  Shit.  I left it on the charger.  Don’t you have yours?”

Zoe fished her cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it to Marc.  He flipped the phone open and tried dialing, but it let out a sickening chirp and shut off.

“Damn it.  You forgot to charge your phone.”

“What’re you talking about?” Zoe asked, standing up.  She snatched her phone back, switched it back on and started dialing.  “Don’t blame me that you can’t--”  Zoe’s words broke off as the phone once again shut off.  “Uh, Bren?”

“Don’t look at me.  I don’t have one,” Bren shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“Well shit,” Zoe sighed.

“It’s not far back to Cannon.  Let’s just drive up, get someone and bring’em back here,” Bren suggested.

Zoe looked back at the man lying unconscious on the sand.  She doubted that there was enough time to backtrack with help.  “If we load him into the car we can get him to the hospital a hell of a lot quicker than dinking around looking for help.”

“You’re joking right?  Zoe, we can’t move him.  We don’t know what’s happened to him.  What if his insides are fucked up?  Broken bones?  Do you feel like killing him?” Marc blurted.

“He needs to get to the hospital and unless you can call an ambulance via ESP, that’s going to be the quickest way.”

“Zoe…” Marc started to argue.

Ignoring him, she tried lifting the man out of the water, but his lower body was firmly imbedded in the sand.  She started digging away the sand around his limbs with her hands.  Bren quickly joined her, scooping away wet sand with the metal thermos lid.

Marc watched them, wavering on what to do.  “This is why I gave up dating girls,” he sighed, untying his shoelaces.  He pulled off his sneakers and socks, rolled up his pants and inched his way into the icy water.

“Zoe, you take that end,” Bren said, jerking his head towards the man’s chest.  After some careful manipulation, they managed to roll him onto his belly and drag him onto solid ground.  Hoisting him up, Marc took his shoulders while Bren lifted him at his knees.  They only made it a few yards before they were forced to put him back down.  He was far heavier than his slender frame let on.
Marc cracked his back as they struggled to regain their breath.  “Ready?” Bren wheezed.

“No, but I think this is as close as I’ll get.”

“Let’s try just dragging him.  Marc, you get his left.”

They hauled him off the ground by his shoulders and braced him between them.  We’re doing the right thing, we’re doing the right thing Marc kept repeating to himself as they dragged him up the stairs to the parking lot and set him down on the grass near the edge of the sidewalk.

Zoe re-parked Marc’s car as close as she could to the patch of grass.  As Marc opened the passenger side door and slid the front seat back, he found himself wishing that he had picked the sedan over the coupe.

“Wait.  What’re you doing?” Bren asked.

“Moving the seat forward so we can load him into the back.”

“Why can’t we just put him in the front?”

“I don’t want him grabbing the wheel if he wakes up again.”

“Well I don’t want him grabbing me!”

“Would you two knock it off!  We don’t have time for this shit!” Zoe snapped, “Bren, take his shoulders.  Marc ‘n’ me can get his legs.”

Loud cursing broke the quiet as they struggled to maneuver the man’s dead weight into the cramped back seat.  After several attempts, Bren reluctantly climbed into the vehicle, wrapped his arms around the man’s chest and heaved him into the car by his shoulders while Marc carried his legs.  It wasn’t until he was sitting in the back seat with the man slumped against him that Bren realized he was still naked.

“One of you mind lending me your coat?”

Zoe pulled off her long wool coat, leaned into the back of the car and handed it to him.  He wrapped it around the man, tucking it in around his sides like a blanket.
At least he’s not a walking misdemeanor now.  Bren tried moving the driver’s seat forward, but it wouldn’t budge.  The latch was jammed.  “Uh, pookums?  How do I get out of here?  The seat’s stuck.”

“Looks like Zoe gets shotgun,” Marc grinned, sliding the passenger seat back into place.  Zoe looked into the car at Bren and offered an apologetic shrug.  Bren shoved the man off him and tried twisting himself into some resemblance of a seated position, but the best he could manage was pressing himself up against the window with his legs wedged at an angle behind the driver’s seat.

Zoe climbed into the car and looked over her shoulder at Bren.  “You doing okay?”

“What do you think?” Bren snapped.

She took a deep breath and turned back around, gnawing at her lip anxiously.  This was not how she had pictured tonight going.  All she had wanted was to blow off some steam and now she was suddenly trapped in an episode of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive!”  Whoever they got to play her in the reenactment had better be decent looking.

Marc jumped into the driver’s side, buckled his seatbelt and asked, “Where’re we taking him?”

“We’ll try the hospital first.”

Marc nodded, started the car and sped off.  As they pulled back onto the highway, Zoe turned her phone back on and checked her for service.  “Finally,” she grumbled.

“Finally what?” Marc asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Phone seems to be back in business.”

“Good.  Call 411 and get an address for a hospital in Cannon.”

Zoe silently dialed information.  After a brief conversation with the operator she jotted down directions on her hand and hung up.  Unfortunately, the closest hospital was almost 20 miles away in Seaside.  Even flooring it, it was going to take a while to get there.  Zoe just hoped they wouldn’t be dragging in a corpse.