Weather Together - 3. Chapter 3

Mason didn't hesitate.

He flung the backpack off his shoulders and immediately lowered himself onto the windowsill. Rain lashed his face, making it nearly impossible to see as he gripped the window frame and peered inside.

“Wyatt!”

Unconscious, Wyatt’s head sagged forward as his limp body dangled from a jagged beam of splintered flooring, his shirt the only thing keeping him from disappearing beneath the flood. The water had already reached his waist and was climbing higher by the second.

"No, no, no! Wyatt, wake up!"

Wyatt’s body swayed with the current, unresponsive.

Mason dropped through the window and plunged into the chaos below. The water hit him like ice, searing his skin and ripping the air from his lungs. He surfaced with a ragged breath, shoving past wreckage that smacked against his shoulders as he fought toward Wyatt.

"Wyatt!" he called desperately as he reached him. "Come on, wake up!"

He grabbed Wyatt's shoulders, trying to lift him, but the shirt held fast on the splintered wood. Blood trickled down Wyatt’s temple from a gash on his forehead.

The water was at Wyatt's chest now.

Panic shot through Mason as he remembered Wyatt's trapped foot. He sucked in a deep breath and dove under, following Wyatt's leg down through the murky water until he found his ankle, now wedged between two pieces of collapsed flooring. His lungs burned as he grabbed the debris and pushed.

It wouldn’t budge.

Mason broke the surface, gasping. “Wyatt, please wake up!”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He plunged back under and grabbed Wyatt’s knee and yanked hard, straining with every ounce of strength in his arms and back, but nothing gave.

He kicked upward and surfaced again, coughing out water.

“Shit! Come on, think!” Mason hissed, his eyes darting around the wrecked room.

With his heart slamming against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape, Mason gulped another breath and launched himself under again. He planted his foot against the wall, locked his grip around Wyatt's leg, and heaved.

Nothing.

Bubbles leaked from his mouth as his chest screamed for air, but he refused to surface.

Again and again, he kicked at the wreckage until finally, the wood shifted.

Mason wrenched Wyatt's foot sideways, throwing everything he had into the motion. It slipped free with a violent jolt. His chest heaved in protest, screaming for oxygen as he kicked hard, dragging himself back above water. His lungs spasmed, coughing and sucking down frantic gulps of air.

The flood swirled at Wyatt's throat.

"Okay, okay," Mason panted, reaching up to where Wyatt's shirt was snagged. The jagged wood had speared clean through the fabric, bunching it tight against the beam. Mason tugged at it. The shirt stretched but wouldn’t release.

Water now lapped at Wyatt's chin.

“Goddammit, come on!” Mason roared.

The current surged, dragging Wyatt sideways until his mouth dipped beneath the surface. Mason panicked, shoving him up, choking as water splashed into his own mouth. He pressed Wyatt’s slack body against his chest and clawed at the shirt, shredding his nails on wet wood.

The fabric refused to tear.

Mason's muscles shook as he braced his heel against the submerged floor. With one brutal heave, he threw his weight into it and ripped the shirt free. Wyatt sagged in his arms, his head falling against Mason's shoulder.

"Stay with me," Mason said, kicking hard to keep them both afloat as he started swimming toward the window.

The current fought against him, trying to drag them deeper into the flooded room. Mason's muscles screamed with exhaustion, but he forced himself to keep moving. By the time he reached the wall, the opening was only a couple of feet above their heads, but it might as well have been a cliff.

"Wyatt, please," he begged as he shook him. "I need you to wake up! Please!"

A quiet groan escaped Wyatt’s lips as his eyelids fluttered. "Mase?"

"Thank God! Listen to me. We need to get to that window. I need you to help me."

Wyatt’s eyes struggled to focus. "My head..."

“I know. Just hang on for me, okay?” Mason guided Wyatt’s limp hand to the windowsill, then the other. “Hold. Just hold.”

He let go as Wyatt held on weakly, his head lolled to the side. Mason hauled himself onto the sill, but when he turned, Wyatt wasn’t hanging onto the window anymore.

He was sinking.

“NO!” Mason screamed as he lunged, snatching Wyatt’s hand before it vanished beneath the surface. He hauled Wyatt close, dragging his upper body through the opening. His arms shook as he tried to lift Wyatt's dead weight further, but his muscles had nothing left. He was completely spent.

The roof loomed just beyond reach.

There was no way he could get Wyatt up there.

Mason yelled out in frustration. Water had reached window level, spilling through the opening past their bodies. He looked around frantically until the gleam of Wyatt's belt buckle caught his eye.

An idea struck.

With trembling fingers, he undid Wyatt's belt, then ripped his own free. He looped one belt through the buckle of the other, wrapped it around Wyatt's chest under his arms, and cinched it tight.

"Please work," he whispered.

Mason positioned himself on the windowsill and reached up with what little strength he had left and hoisted himself up and over, collapsing on the wet shingles to catch his breath, the belt still gripped in his hand.

He looked over the edge at Wyatt dangling from the makeshift harness.

"Come on," Mason grunted, gripping the leather with both hands. He planted his feet and began raising Wyatt up, the belt biting into his palms as he worked inch by inch.

When Wyatt was within reach, Mason grabbed his arm. With one final surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he dragged Wyatt's limp body over the edge and onto the shingles.

They both collapsed.

For a moment, Mason just lay there as his chest heaved, and rain pelted his face.

Then instinct jerked him upright.

He quickly rolled Wyatt onto his back. His skin was ice-cold and his lips tinged blue. Mason lowered his ear to Wyatt's mouth.

Wyatt wasn't breathing.

“No! Don’t you dare!” Mason thrust his palms repeatedly against Wyatt’s sternum before tilting his head back and sealing his mouth over his, forcing air into his lungs. “Breathe, dammit!”

On the third cycle, Wyatt’s body convulsed. A violent cough tore out of him, spraying water as his back arched. He gagged, choking on the flood that had nearly claimed him.

Mason sobbed with relief as he cupped Wyatt’s face in both hands. “That’s it, that’s it, come back to me.”

Wyatt’s green eyes blinked open, slow and hazy. “Mase…?”

“I’m here. I’m right here,” Mason choked out. He pressed his forehead against Wyatt’s, tears mixing with the rain. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Wyatt coughed again. “Could’ve… just let me nap…”

A half-sob, half-laugh broke out of Mason as he wrapped his arms around Wyatt, holding on like he’d never let go again. “You scared the hell out of me, you jerk.”

A weak smile flickered across Wyatt’s face before his eyes slipped shut again, drained by exhaustion.

Lightning split the sky, making Mason flinch. He looked up and froze as reality came thundering back.

The surrounding floodwater was just below the roof now.

They weren’t out of the storm yet.

Not even close.