An orange rescue floaty slapped the surface of the water just out of Toms reach. His abdomen felt made of wood, pain spreading down to his legs and up his neck. The closer Tom got to the floating tug the louder the cheers came from the Coasties encouraging him from the deck. Pauls arms and legs floated beside him, jolting with each backstroke as Tom hauled him. It seemed to take every once of focus Tom had left to see through the searing pain and he grasped out for the rescue floaty, the drag line pulling taut as the crew on deck reeled them in. For the moment Tom could finally pause and realize the agony in his aged and strained muscles smoldering.
Akin watched from the bridge as the brothers were hauled up onto the deck, water splashing everywhere as gear was hurriedly shed or cut away. He had to lean over the railing to barely hear Tom explain that the helmet was damaged and stuck down. A special tool was produced that cracked the face mask off and the hiss of air rushing into the vacuum could be heard. Even in the amber lights of the cutter it was clear Paul was in a bad way, his face was blue, lips pale gray. The medical officer crowded in and barked for space, Tom laid strewn to the side with a pair of helpers pulling him free of his equipment.
“Command this is Salvage, status of Hunter One One?” From the depths and rising slowly Perry was trying to contact Akin for news, a strange twist of events. The entire operation had been turned on its head and Akin was already in a purgatory on the radio with Control. His message that the U-5918 had become operational was not well received, in fact, Cole seemed to believe there was a mistake and the wreckage must have skidded further into the depths. Akin, for all his failings, knew a liar when he heard one and he did not doubt Perry’s report.
Turning, Akin addressed the radio operator to relay his message, “Let them know they’re both secured on board. Get an ETA on them. We’ve got to be portside soon.” The commander stepped down the ladder well to see if there was anything he could do to help or any new information he could gain from the conscious brother.
On the deck below Tom stared helplessly as the medical officer and a corpsman sheared away the wetsuit and began chest compressions and pushing air into his mouth with a large rubber bag. The corpsmans interlocked fingers crushing Pauls ribs in, the air pushed through the bag causing his belly to rise and fall mechanically. Tom’s thoughts drifted to squirrel hunting, camping, fishing, drinking, arguing, wrestling, with the mound of human that the medical staff was working on. For all the world, in that moment, Tom wanted his brother to give a thumbs up.