I don’t have a chance to make my presence known before he does a graceless belly flop off the end of the dock, but the second he hits the water, I’m already out of my chair. I’m thinking night swimming alone while wearing a cast is not a good idea.
“Ahhh! What the fuck? Stop touching me!”
My beer bottle clatters to the dock, the remaining liquid foaming and sloshing across the boards. I flick on my flashlight and rush to the narrow path worn between the two docks. I nearly trip over his discarded crutches.
“Billy? Man, you okay?”
“Who’s that? Who’s there?”
Billy flails around in the water, his head going under, and he does the windmill, his panic obvious when he comes back up, sputtering and coughing. He’s only a handful of feet from the edge of the dock, but with the weight of his cast, it would be a challenge to swim. I’m also unsure if it’s waterproof.
“It’s your neighbor, Van. I’m a friend of Dillion’s. Grab the end of this, and I’ll pull you back in!” I hold out his crutch as he continues to flail and struggle.
I don’t want to jump in after him. Not because I care if I get wet, but Billy’s too frantic for me to get in the water with him without some kind of floatation device. It’s about twelve feet deep at the end of the dock, which shouldn’t be an issue, but I don’t want to get dragged under by him and end up drowning ten feet from a dock.
I’m grateful when he finally manages to grab hold of the crutch.
But as soon as he’s close enough, he clutches my arm and nearly pulls me in with him. I end up having to shimmy along the edge until the water is shallow enough for him to stand. Even then, he struggles, likely because he’s trying to walk on a casted leg and the bottom of the lake is full of rocks and sticks.
“I’m gonna get in and help you back to shore, okay?” I kick off my shoes and pull my shirt over my head before I join him in the water. The temperature has definitely dropped over the last few days, both in and out of the water, and goose bumps break across my skin as I sling his arm around my shoulder. He leans on me for support, and by the time I finally get him out of the water, he’s shivering.
I force him to sit down so he doesn’t do any more damage to himself.
“What the hell were you thinking? It’s dark, you can’t see a damn thing, and you have a freaking cast!” My shorts are suctioned to my legs, and the cool breeze coming off the water sends a shiver down my spine.
“I needed to shower, and I can’t use the one in the house,” he mumbles.
I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Why? Is it broken?” I nab my T-shirt from the dock and pat his shoulders to dry him off.
“Might as well be. They’re planting bugs.” The words are hard to make out because they’re slurring together and he’s mumbling. “I saw that man in the driveway this afternoon, talking to Dee. He must be a fed or something. He’s been watching me. They all have.”
“He’s not a fed; he’s my brother and an asshole. Raise your arms, please.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
I hold up his discarded shirt. “You’re cold, and it doesn’t look like you brought a towel down with you, so you should put this on.”
His teeth clack a few times before he finally lifts his arms in the air, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. It hangs off him, his collarbones poking out like hanger wire.
“He’s still probably working for the feds, though. That’s what they do. They make you think they’re just your family, and then they sell you out. Dee lived in the city for years. She has to have connections. She might not even know she has them.”
I’m struggling to understand what he’s talking about. I have to wonder if he’s been smoking the reefer in addition to whatever he’s been drinking. “Why would Dillion have connections to the feds?”
“It’s all connected. Everything is. They brainwash you and make you believe they’re good, and they’re not. Even my mom is working for them. The diner is a cover.”
Dillion mentioned being worried about her brother, and now I have to question if she’s right to be concerned. Nothing Billy says makes sense, and most of it seems to be rooted in paranoia.
Something I’m familiar with.
Thankfully not at this level, though.
“We gotta get you back up to the house, Billy.”
“Nope. No way. It’s bugged. They’re watching me. They can hear my thoughts.”
Not for much longer if he pulls another stunt like this and drowns in the freaking lake.