Sam seems to be alive but in a profound sleep. Everyone continues to be glued to the images of Sam breathing peacefully while unaware of his precarious position. They all assume Erin must also be somewhere inside.
Bill Sheppard double-checks the course he must now negotiate through the lateral passage. He closely inspects the alley’s detailed map on the dashboard screen. It’s a narrower route, its currents spilling on the waterfall channel through side openings, but it finishes at a dead end. He must make sure he steers his boat, avoiding crashing against Sam’s and against the looming back wall.
As soon as they’ve untied the ropes, Sheppard revs up the engine and aims toward the tight entry. The crew barely has time to hold on to their seats as Sheppard skilfully swerves and rushes into the narrow archway, managing to nimbly scrape through.
The rescuers can now see far ahead, where Sam’s speedboat is wedged. Sheppard steers the twin-propeller boat at an angle, gradually slowing it down as it advances, until he reaches the end.
Everyone watching from the island breaks out in loud cheers, welcoming the images transmitted from the rescuers’ helmet cams. The sight of the two boats’ sides gently touching and the men jumping onto Sam’s speedboat seems like a far-fetched dream coming true.
Sheppard rushes towards his son, lifting his head while the paramedics give him oxygen.
To everyone’s delight, Sam suddenly opens his tired eyes and then anxiously stares at his father’s triumphant face as if trying to say something.
“Welcome back, son,” Sheppard lifts his thumb high in the air as a sign of victory.
Martha runs towards one of the screens and kisses both her son and husband’s images, Stella jumping by her side.
After a quick but thorough search inside the boat, a sombre-looking Sanders faces the cameras. “Sadly, we have not found any traces of Erin.”
“How is that possible?” Pat Lobart mumbles, startled.
“Maybe she never went in with him,” Stella hastily suggests.
“We’ll go back in and findher,” Lobart scowls and then walks out in a hurry.
“I don’t know what to think, Pat,” Martha comforts Mrs Lobart. “Let’s wait for what Sam has to say.”
The paramedics carefully carry Sam onto the waiting rescue boat while Sheppard, utterly exhausted, hands it over to the other pilot. As they exit the cave and reach the open sea, the rescue helicopter is waiting with its tethered basket in position. One of the paramedics fastens himself and Sam into the meshed metal seat. Overjoyed, Sheppard and Sanders watch as the cable steadily rolls up and its cargo reaches the cabin.
As the returning search party make their way into the island’s port, hundreds of people who never missed a minute of the tense rescue mission eagerly welcome their heroes.
CHAPTER 8
RUMOURS
Do you realise what it means? He took her!
Sam can barely make out his mother’s silhouette sitting by his bedside, but his blurred vision is getting clearer by the minute. As her familiar face comes into focus, he welcomes her gentle smile. He smiles back at her and briefly chuckles, his face relaxing into a contented expression.
Throughout the brief silence, he tries to memorise the startling turn of events in his puzzled mind. He recalls the fruitless arguments trying to convince everyone of his story, his calm demeanour increasingly changing into one filled with anguish.
“I’m not a liar,” Sam protests.
“I believe you, son,” Martha whispers in his ear as she squeezes him tightly and presses her wet cheeks against his. As she comforts him with her words of support, Sam calms down, and he breathes out a long resigned sigh.
But as he sees his father standing behind his mother, he stiffens his body and briskly pulls away from her to face Bill Sheppard with a pleading gaze. “What about you, Dad? Do you believe me? I know Stella does.”
“Son, your mother, your sister, and I do believe you, but—” Sheppard pauses and then hesitantly adds, “The thing is … nothing makes sense.”
“Nothing makes sense?” Martha flares up, “Well, you explain to me. How could he survive for days in that alley? Someone must have helpedhim, don’t you agree? And what about the orange light that Stella saw, the same colour as he describes?”
“Coincidence? We’ve been through the story several times, Martha. He mentions this man flying towards them from the alien aircraft. How did he help our Sam?—”
“Stop! I don’t want to start this argument again. The important thing is that our Sam is alive. Let’s wait until he fully recovers and his memory is clearer,” Martha retorts while tenderly stroking Sam’s forehead.
“Recovering?” Sam frowns at his mother. “I feel fine.”
“Well, the clinic’s doctor will be checking you soon,” she explains in a comforting tone.