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Oola

Oola thrust her head out of the water, sucking in a chestful of air.

“Mika?” Someone called in the darkness.

“No!” She gasped. “Still looking!”

Another breath, and she dove back down into the freezing lake, bubbles burbling around her as she forces her way into the darkness, her hands stretched out in front of her. Cold slime wrapped itself around her hands as she touched the bottom, and Oola stifled a yelp. Pulling her hand loose, she blew out a mouthful of air and started swimming along the lakebed, running her hands along the top of the slime, back and forth, back and forth.

Come on, Mika. I know you’re here.

Her hands sifted through the silt, drifting over rounded rocks, smashing into larger stones, touching rotting bits of wood and the weaving stalks of lake weeds.

Leg!

Oola’s hands gripped harder, and she felt algae squish between her fingers. No… Just a branch.

I’m running out of time.

Closing her eyes, Oola fell silent and still, letting her body drift in the gentle current, listening to the voice of the lake.

Water lapped above, against the shore. Humans thrashed about in the water there, their shouts and arguments dim and impenetrable. Her lungs burned, starved for breath.

**Pop**

Oola turned in the water and opened her eyes, staring blindly.

That was no river sound. Help me out, Mika.

A tiny light flares in front of her, just for a moment, illuminating swirls of mud.

Oola shoved herself forward through the water, groping blindly.

Rock… Mud… Leg!

She seized it, clenching her jaw as she squeezed. But the flesh held, resilient and cold. Her heart smashed against her ribs, demanding air, but Oola pushed that away, grabbing frantically, finding a knee, an ankle.

It’s her!

Grabbing the leg firmly, Oola gathered her feet underneath her, and launched upwards towards the surface, burying her toes in ooze. But the lake was not ready to give up its catch, the muck refusing to let go, rooting her to the lake bottom.

Helplessly, she screamed, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “Let her go.” A voice whispered. “Save yourself.” But it was not a voice. It was her voice.

Clenching her eyes shut, Oola kicked and twisted, and with a wrenching twist of the knee she pulled herself free. Laboriously, she swam, holding Mika’s leg clumsily in one hand as she fought the weight of the water.

“Let her go.” The voice spoke again, relentless, insistent. “Let her go, or die.”

Oola felt the chill deepen into her bones as she groped through the blackness. Something bumped against her. What is that? What am I holding? There was just darkness now, death’s warm embrace pulling itself tight around her, easing her cares, soothing her pains, lightening the load. A light shimmered through the water, gold and green and warm, beckoning her closer.

Oola felt herself pulled towards the light, the hint of a smile crossing her lips as its heat embraced her.

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Saturday, July 1st, 2006 at 12:35 am.
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