xp_logs | King tide: Underwater Rescue

Luckily for Hope, help is not too far away.

If the radio chatter hadn't been so dire, Namor would have winced at the static.

He sat floating high enough to observe a sizable chunk of the wrecked island. The push and pull of the waves played a dangerous game of hide and seek with the still moving debris on this edge of the coast; its former small town having taken the brunt of the tsunami's impact.

The high-pitched metallic buzz hit again: many people talking in rapid succession to determine location and severity of a developing incident. Namor straightened, however, as it was clear that there was a volunteer down.

Hope managed to suck in one last breath as the water closed over her head. She fought to remain calm, but straight out panic and a feeling of "I have to get out of here!" surged through her. Her mind already sought the familiar path that would set her spirit free, the path that often meant freedom for her.

But in this circumstance, all it would bring was death.

It took a few minutes for the people in Namor's ear to triangulate Hope's position. Even with Sarah guiding, it wasn't exact. The communication was, however, efficient and crisp: female volunteer confirmed under the water, no units in the area.

Namor shot arrow straight with confirmed purpose. This was why he was here.

There was no stopping it. As soon as she felt she was out of air, the panic took over. I have to get out of here. Away, someplace safe. She didn't even realize she slipped free from her body and her mind sped away. I have to get out of here.

Namor wasted no time when he was over the target location. The two flotation devices strapped to his back made a violent "bloop" as he hit the water, their tether keeping the red torpedo connected to him. It didn't take long for Namor's eyes to adjust to the murky water, but this was why aerial survival was useless: too much debris, too much silt, not enough time.

Sarah's voice chimed in his ear, "Geolocation puts her a thousand meter to your northwest." Namor, sleek and sharklike, darted in that direction.

The burning of her lungs faded away as her mind floated free, yet still on a course of away away away. The water was still around her! She had to get out!

Such was her desire and panic, she hardly noticed the stretch forming at the back of her own mind.

There she was. She had floated out from the original coordinates, but a strong rip current could move bodies more than a hundred meters a minute. Far faster than any human swimmer. But Namor wasn't human, and the sea was his.

When he reached her, her body was limp and starting to purple. She looked battered by debris, but Namor spent little time accessing the situation.

Suddenly it was like something was burning in the back of her mind, like a overused muscle. But still she had to get out... get away....

And in a flash... the world shifted and the burning faded, like an elastic snapping back in place.

Her hair was a cloudy halo as Namor swam up from behind, slowing gradually as to best position himself for a chest hold. It was a textbook rescue: one arm looped across the victim's chest to provide support while surfacing, rescue tube pinned between his chest and her back.

As they broke the surface, Namor positioned his other arm under the girl's armpit as to point her head to the sky and brace her back against his chest as they moved backwards toward shore. Then the standard question:"Are you oka---"

He paused, blanching. They have never said who this was on the radio. Namor's expression grew even more grim as he tapped the device on his ear. "Victim found, condition critical. Pulse faint. Paramedic required."

Cecilia's head was spinning. She'd let Hope - she'd seen... Hope was gone. And she'd done nothing. And despite all the wreckage floating by her, and the wails of victims (not survivors, not yet), she was paralyzed, watching the shore for some sign of the girl she'd watched slide out to sea. Her heart pounded. She felt dizzy and sick.

Then Namor's voice startled her into action. "I'm here - I'm..." she coughed. She was still reeling, and there was no time for reeling. Time for Dr. Reyes. "Gimme a position." She said after a minute, scanning the shoreline for some sign of him. "Breathing? Alert?"

"No," was the only detail Namor provided. "Network, where am I?"

Sarah was busy gathering the necessary information even before Namor asked for it. "Transport is en route and I'm about to send you the location information... now, there, you should have it, right?" She hoped it had gotten through, and waited for confirmation before moving on to her next task at hand.

Cecilia grunted in affirmation, then headed toward Namor's position. "Soon as you get her on the shore, push her jaw forward." By then, hopefully she'd be able to take over. She'd already lost Hope once, and there was no damn way she'd let her go again.

It wasn't long until they made shore-fall. It had been tricky to avoid some of the housing debris closer into what was passing for shore in this destination, but Namor's mutation ensured that he could deftly move in the water even with a buoyed Hope. Cecilia arrived on the scene to find her laid out on her back, arms to her sides, jaw back. Namor was hunched over her protectively, hands searching for a pulse.

"Move." Cecilia took Namor's place stuck her fingers under Hope's jaw and gently jutted it forward a little more. "Watch her chest." She was vaguely aware she was being rude, and she knew she'd get a lecture on civil propriety from the Marquis of where-ever, but until Hope was alive, she didn't give two fucks. "We might have to turn her." Cecilia stuck her fingers in Hope's mouth. "Yep. Grab her legs."

Together, they turned Hope on her side, with Cecilia gently cradling her neck. She let some water drain out, then nodded at Namor and turned her onto her back. "Keep looking at her chest." She glanced at Namor, trying to look a little more reassuring and less business-like. "If it's not rising, we'll have to do this again." She shifted her knees and then pinched Hope's nose shut before issuing two deep breaths, then stuck her fingers on Hope's carotid artery to check for a pulse.

They were rewarded with a labored, raspy breath. Namor's calm facade broke a little at this, and he turned with a very small hopeful expression on his face to the Doctor in Charge. Behind them, the squeal of tires on the sand and the hum of a motor signaled that the medical transport had arrived.

Thank God. Cecilia let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. Her hands were shaking. "Gotta watch her pulse and keep her warm." She stood, removed her relatively dry jacket and draped it over Hope. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, steadying herself before giving Namor a small, weak smile. "You did good, kid." Her head was spinning, and she squeezed one of Namor's hand lightly in an attempt to ground herself again.

Okay. Enough of that. More people to save. "Watch her neck when you move her," she said to the newcomers. With that, she took off down the beach. Hope would understand.

Well, not that she would notice anyway. Hope was still not conscious as they loaded her onto a rescue board and and into the truck. Cecelia has little to worry about in the responding paramedic's professionalism, and Namor soon found himself without clear purpose.

His face hardened again, and he tapped his intercom. "Where to now, Network?"