so he decided to get out of the car and swim to the other side to get a better angle. The current of the river was strong and at first overtook him, but Jeremy’s powerful and practiced swimming strokes were stronger. He was able to get the driver’s-side door open and saw the flip knife on his father’s belt that he had always carried. Jeremy ripped the compact knife off his belt and cut the seatbelt over the chest and around the waist in two quick movements. His father fell just as he did. Still unconscious, Jeremy pulled on his father’s arms with all the strength he could muster. Having just completed multiple relays and a 400m race not too long ago, Jeremy’s muscles fatigued quickly. Jeremy cursed himself for not training harder. After one final pull, Jeremy finally dislodged his father from the rapidly sinking car.
He had not noticed until now but saw his unconscious father’s head was soaked in fresh red blood, and more of the thick red liquid was pooling out of his hair every second. Jeremy, with his left arm around his dad, swam away from the sinking car. He was just ten feet away from a small grouping of floral growth in the river that looked more like an island of trees as he got closer to it. Before he could reach land, Jeremy’s father was unexpectedly pulled under the water as his useless legs got tangled on a knot of underwater plants, and he lost his grip. Jeremy’s lungs were screaming for oxygen; his muscles were on fire; and he felt so tired and cold. He felt like he was about to fall asleep right there in the rushing river. Jeremy mustered the last of his strength and dove under the water trying to free his father from the grasp of the submerged growth.
Jeremy couldn’t see an inch past his face. The river was muddied, and the only thing he could identify was small sporadic particulates flying past his eyes. Other than that, he might as well been blind. He outstretched his arms desperately, hoping to find his father where he estimated he should have been. Flailing his arms and legs against the current, holding his breath against the pressure on his chest, and ignoring all the warning signs a body could give to signal you were, in fact, drowning and get to safety, Jeremy pressed on blindly, searching for his father. As his lungs were warning to burst if he did not breathe soon, he found a pant leg and gripped it with vicelike veracity. Jeremy followed the pant leg down to his feet where he could feel the tangled web of plant growth and roots. With the last few remaining joules of force, Jeremy freed the leg and pulled his father back to the surface.
He was finally able to get his father halfway up on the small island before getting on it himself and crawling behind his father, holding on to his head. Jeremy looked around for help, tried screaming, but his lungs refused. He tried to find understanding in what had just happened. Instead, he found two men standing on the bridge looking down at him. They both had sunglasses on; they both were wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket. However, one had a distinct bird tattoo on his neck. They stared for a moment, down at him and his motionless father, but when the police sirens got louder, they jumped back in the van and took off away from the scene. Jeremy did not know any first aid, but he did have an idea what a person who had drowned look like from TV and movies. His father’s lips were blue; his glazed-over eyes were bloodshot and dilated. His chest was not moving, and with his ears up against his father’s mouth, he could not hear even the subtlest of breaths.
He sat there holding what he already knew was his dead father’s body and screamed. What came out was more of a guttural subhuman scream. It was all his oxygen-deprived and exhausted body allowed. Jeremy’s lips were dry and cracked. His face was flushed red, and his fingers were discolored with a blue-and-purple hue. He began to shake violently. What started as a small shiver from his neck shot down his back and made his whole body shake. He may not have been a medical professional, but he knew the signs of shock and hypothermia and knew his body was taking over going into survival mode.
He had not even noticed the policemen shouting at him or the ambulance crews who had jumped into the water to rescue him. His vision was an unfocused blur of colors that seemed to constantly shift, forbidding him to focus on any one object. His hearing was that of a high-pitched tone that reminded him of a tornado siren. When one of the paramedics grabbed his father’s body, his vision and hearing cleared in a sudden jolt, and Jeremy fought the man and screamed at him to let him go. Another paramedic came up behind Jeremy, put a heavy wool blanket over his body, and tried to calm him down and convince Jeremy that it was okay, and they were there to help.
“It’s okay, son, we got you. Come on, let us help you of out here and warm you up. Come on, son.” One of the paramedics kept repeating like a broken record. After a bit of coaxing, Jeremy finally allowed the paramedics to take his father across the river where some firefighters hauled the corpse up the berm onto the closed-off street. Once they brought Jeremy over and sat him in the back of an ambulance, he was in almost full-blown catatonic shock.
A cop came up to Jeremy very slowly and cautiously.
“Hey son, you okay? Are…are you able to tell me what happened?” the older man asked, almost condescending. Jeremy heard the words but was having trouble processing them.
Son? Is that my dad calling me? Why did he call me son? Why are there cops here? Am I in trouble? Why am I so cold? Where is my dad?
“S…sir?” Jeremy finally managed.
“Can you tell me, what happened here?” the officer repeated.
“There…there was a van, it chased us. I think it hit us and…the river… Where is my dad? I need to talk to him. Where is he?” Jeremy asked looking around, confused. The cop adjusted the thick wool blanket and tried to get Jeremy’s attention again.
“What’s your name?”
“Jeremy…Jeremy Baron.”
“Where are you from, Jeremy?”
“Al…Alabama.”
“Oh wow, you must be cold up here then, huh?” The cop was trying anything to keep the boy lucid and talking.
“Yeah…cold.”
“Who do you root for, son, Auburn or the Crimson Tide?” Jeremy smiled a bit at the absurdity of the question, then he frowned and started to cry.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me, Jeremy.”
“I tried to save him. I couldn’t swim hard enough. I wasn’t strong enough. He died because of me!” Jeremy screamed so loud a large group of first responders stopped what they were doing to look in his direction.
“No no no. It is not your fault at all! It is those guys who chased you and knocked you into the river.” The cop expertly consoled him.
“Two guys…,” Jeremy whispered. “Two white males, sunglasses. Blue jeans and leather jackets, short cropped hair.” The details were flowing back into his mind with clear recollection. He did not even realize he noticed their hair until the words left his mouth, and he knew they were fact. “Maybe six feet, athletic build, one had a tattoo of a bird on his neck covering his throat.” The cop scribbled the details down as quickly as Jeremy was saying them.
“Great work, son, thank you. Stay here. Someone is going to take you to the hospital to get checked out, then you can call who you need to. Okay?” Jeremy looked around at the cacophony of sirens, diesel engines, and a large crane lifting the submerged vehicle out of the river. He took it all in and searched for some understanding and meaning in all of it. Ten minutes ago, he was just another happy kid in school. Now his life had been ripped apart like some cosmic joke, as if some deity sat there upon high, shrugged, and said, “Wonder what will happen if we do…this?”
It was not fair. He had good parents; he was a good son, studied hard, worked on his swimming year-round, never used drugs, and volunteered most weekends he was free. Why did
