Wordless by AdriAnne Strickland Page B

and rippling around us. Drey had taught me, but I hadn’t done it often. “Sort of.”
    Right then, the barge banked, turning slowly north from its eastern course and toward the center of the lake. For a horrible moment, I thought Jacques had decided to double back and turn us in. Then Khaya said, “He’s giving us the chance to slip off the starboard side. We’ll be out of sight, and the water’s so dark. He’ll lead them away from us.”
    “Oh,” I said.
    “Take off your pants.”
    “What?” I spun around. Khaya already had her shoes off and was tugging her pants down over her smooth thighs, her skin looking luminous in the night.
    “Your pants and shoes,” she hissed, “so you can swim. It’s going to be hard enough with the backpack.”
    I looked away, my face burning. I kicked off my shoes and shoved down my pants, leaving only my T-shirt and boxers. She stuffed her clothes and shoes into my pack, wearing only her black tank top and underwear. With my pants and boots soon piled on top, I could barely zip the bag closed, and it felt like a lead weight when I tossed it over my shoulders.
    “We can’t afford to lose the pack,” Khaya said, as if weighing the bag with her eyes. “Keep hold of it at all costs.”
    “Even drowning?” I sounded less sarcastic and more terrified than I’d intended.
    “Tavin, you’re not going to drown. Staying calm is the first step toward realizing that. Now follow me.” She slipped over the starboard side as lithely as a dancer, as dark as a shadow.
    I hauled myself over. Luckily, we weren’t far off the water, and the gunwale provided a handhold that we could use to lower ourselves. I clung to it as Khaya slid herself into the lake. She let out a little gasp as she did. Somewhere in the back of my head the voice of reason was screaming. I ignored it and followed her into the black water.
    My own gasp left me as if my chest had been squeezed. It was cold. Definitely cold. And the pack was already trying to sink me as it dipped in the water and caught the barge’s current, almost slamming me into the algae-slick hull.
    “Shit,” I said, trying to kick myself away.
    “It’s okay, Tavin, just breathe,” Khaya said in her calmest voice. She had to have been as cold as I was. “You’re going to take my hand, and we’re going to duck under at the same time, then swim toward shore, got it? We need to stay under as long as we can. Remember, deep breaths.”
    The barge was almost past us—it was our only cover, hiding us from the speedboats. The high-pitched hums of their motors was growing louder. I nodded, a bone-deep shiver rattling up my spine and out through my teeth.
    “Okay. Last deep breath. Here we go.” She took my hand firmly and inhaled, long and deep. I did the same, filling my lungs.
    And then she ducked under. I went in after her, the water closing over my head.
    The world became black and icy and muffled and pressing. With one hand I paddled like mad, while the other squeezed Khaya’s hand in what must have been a painful grip. It wasn’t difficult to sink with the backpack weighing me down, and soon we were well beneath the surface, hidden from anyone who could see us, kicking as hard as we could.
    Thank the Gods Khaya seemed to know where she was going, because I couldn’t see a thing. We could have been paddling right toward the speedboats for all I knew. Not that we were getting much closer to land even if we were on the right track, not at this pace. I’d seen how far we were from the dark shore before we’d ducked under. We’d be lucky if we could make it that far without drowning, let alone getting caught.
    Water whirled by my ears as I swam, whistling a background tune to the throbbing beat of my heart. My lungs soon started to feel tight, and eventually, they started to burn. I squeezed Khaya’s hand urgently in the suffocating darkness.
    She squeezed it tighter, holding me down.
    So I kept kicking for one second, two seconds, three