Invisible Armies

Chapter 29

The sand firms beneath their feet and slopes downwards; they have reached the high-water mark. The moon has set or is hidden behind cloud, but starlight and the ambient light of the city reveal whitecapped waves before them. To their left, a spit of sand projects into the sea, ending at a long perpendicular wall of stones, a breakwater that caps the spit like the crossbar on a capital T.

An appalling thought hits Danielle as they reach the waterline.

"Can you swim?" she asks, her voice low.

"No," Jayalitha says.

"Shit." Danielle halts a moment, then decides they have no choice. "We're going into the water anyway. Stay with me and be quiet."

Jayalitha doesn't argue. Danielle takes her hand and leads her into the water. Jayalitha gasps with the shock of transition. The water feels painfully cold, although Danielle knows it should be near 65 degrees. It is probably horribly polluted, Venice is full of drains that lead straight to the ocean, but plenty of surfers risk it, and besides, if she gets out of this fix with only an incurable skin rash, Danielle will consider herself very lucky.

The beach drops off more steeply than she hoped; they are only thirty feet from the shore, where the secondary waves begin to crest, when Jayalitha can go no further without submerging her head.

"Okay," Danielle says, "turn around."

They see two flashlights, scanning back and forth across the sand, flickering up and down as those who hold them approach at a fast run. Jayalitha squeezes Danielle's hand tightly. Danielle, standing behind her, holds her zipped-shut purse with her other hand, equally tight. If this works, and they somehow get out, they will need money. They rock back and forth in the surging water, endlessly finding their feet.

"Our hope is that they will not find us here?" Jayalitha whispers.

"Yes." Danielle looks to their right. The breakwater at the end of the protruding spit of sand. If they can get to the water behind that high, un-climbably slippery wall of rock, they will be invisible.

"This way," she whispers, and begins to edge towards it. It is only a hundred feet away but their pace, walking through the sea, is incredibly slow. She hopes the ocean floor does not get any deeper en route. She hopes they can make it there before their pursuers think of the water as a possible hiding place. She thinks of footprints, they must have left footprints, and freezes with terror a moment – but then relaxes. Venice Beach is so busy by day that the sand is riddled with thousands of footprints, it will be nearly impossible by flashlight to work out which are freshest. Unless the tide is going out. Then theirs will be the only ones leading into the water. She adds "tide coming in" to the list of her desperate hopes.

The two flashlights have separated now, at the water's edge, one going north and one south. Danielle considers making a run for it while they're both moving away – but no, too chancy, best to make their way for the breakwater, past which they cannot be seen, and wait for them to leave. She wonders how long they can hold out in the water. 65 degrees is plenty warm enough to swim in, but simple math dictates that the body can't maintain its necessary 98 degrees forever when soaked in liquid so much colder.

"Breathe hard," Danielle whispers, thinking of yoga classes, pranayama lessons. "Try to warm yourself."

"Yes," Jayalitha says. "I understand."

They are almost at the end of the breakwater now – but the ocean floor is descending again, too deep for Jayalitha. And the flashlights are coming back, converging on the beach before them. They will just have to hope to stay here unseen. Snatches of conversation between their pursuers, two men, are audible between waves.