Home > Resistance (Night School #4)

Resistance (Night School #4)
Author: C.J. Daugherty

One

‘You must relax,’ Sylvain said. ‘If you’re tense, you’ll sink.’

Allie glared at him. Every muscle in her body was stretched tight as a wire. ‘I am relaxed.’

They stood in cool, waist-deep water, gentle waves jostling them. The sand was soft beneath their toes. Allie could feel the heat of the sun strong on her skin as she looked out over the cobalt waters.

Sylvain’s eyebrows winged up. ‘You are not relaxed.’ He gestured at her tight shoulders, and hands curled into fists. ‘Look at you. We’re swimming in the Mediterranean Sea – you act like you’re about to be tortured.’

Allie shrugged. She was affecting nonchalance but the fact was, she could hardly believe she was really here. With him. Doing this.

I am in the south of France, she thought, and Sylvain is teaching me how to swim. WTF?

Sylvain was still waiting for her to say something so she muttered darkly about waterboarding.

His lips twitched.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘It’s easy. Just … sit.’

Looking around at the utter lack of anything to sit on, Allie squinted suspiciously. ‘Sit?’

He demonstrated, lowering his body into the water, which seemed to pick him up and carry him, as if he were relaxing in an invisible chair. Then he leaned back and floated, weightless as a feather. ‘See? It’s easy.’

Hesitantly, Allie let her body drop into the water as he’d done. The second she lifted her feet from the seabed she sank like stone. Splashing wildly, she regained her footing and turned to him, sputtering and outraged.

‘I can’t sit,’ she said, fuming, ‘on water.’

Sylvain tried to hold a sympathetic expression but his eyes danced and his lips curved up.

‘That was … unfortunate.’

‘Unfortunate?’ Still tasting salt water, Allie seemed to have lost her ability to put a sentence together.

‘Look,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘Try it again. This time I’ll hold on to you.’

‘Oh no.’ Allie, who had just about had enough swimming for one day, stepped quickly away from him.

Laughing now, Sylvain followed her. ‘Oh yes.’

Allie tried to run towards shore but the sand and water conspired to slow her and in seconds his hands were on her waist. He pulled her back out as she flailed and giggled with helpless indignation.

‘I can’t swim. Please don’t make me learn,’ she implored. ‘I hate learning. Learning is stupid. Learning is bad.’

‘Learning,’ Sylvain said calmly, ‘is wonderful.’

He was swimming beside her now and her feet weren’t touching the sea floor. His hands were steady on her waist and then she was floating in the water without quite knowing how it had happened.

Treading water, Sylvain turned a slow circle, spinning her easily as she lay flat on her back, staring up at the perfect blue sky.

‘See?’ he said. ‘I knew you could do it.’

‘But you’re holding me up,’ she said.

‘No I’m not.’

And he wasn’t. At some point he’d let go. She was floating, free.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Allie whispered. But it was true. She wasn’t sinking or sputtering. The water held her, like gentle hands. She felt safe.

For just a second, she closed her eyes. It was so quiet and calm, the only sound the swish of the waves reaching the sand, and the sigh as the water returned to the sea. It was … perfect.

That was when the first shot split the air.

The explosive sound ripped through the quiet cove. Allie flinched and started to sink. Before she could go under, Sylvain grabbed her, pulling her close.

His eyes searched the shore.

Clinging to his shoulders, Allie followed his gaze. Everything was just as it had been: soft sand, towering boulders, blue sea. But suddenly it looked different; dangerous.

Irrational anger flashed inside her like fire. This was the first time they’d left the compound since they’d arrived at Sylvain’s family home a month ago. Now they’d never be allowed out again. Was this how her whole life was going to be? Constantly on the run?

Constantly afraid.

She thought of Rachel, who she’d left sitting by the pool at Sylvain’s family’s villa. What if she was under attack, too? They had to get out of here. Get back to her.

She sent up a silent prayer. Please let her be OK.

Still holding her tightly, Sylvain began swimming towards a rock jetty that edged the beach, jutting out into the sea. Feeling like a dead weight, Allie tried to make herself as small and light as possible. But he was a strong swimmer and they moved with sure swiftness.

The whole time, they both watched the shore. Nothing stirred.

Then another gunshot rang out.

As the sound echoed off the rocks, Allie and Sylvain exchanged a shocked look. They both knew better than to speak. Without a word, he shifted her to his other arm, putting his body between her and the suddenly deadly shore.

The water seemed colder now; Allie’s teeth began to chatter.

Guns. They’d faced a lot of things in England, but never guns. You couldn’t outrun a bullet. Or outswim it.

For three months she and Rachel had moved from safe house to safe house. Each more elegant than the last. Each more isolated. Each more lonely.

A few weeks ago they’d arrived in France to find Sylvain waiting for them. Like a piece of home.

And they’d actually been having fun … Until now.

   
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