Suzy watched Carey wading in the water, fully dressed in pale blue shirt and pants plus snorkel mask. Annie was dozing. What a dreary sight she looked in that billious green shirt and the baggy dark green slacks! Patty was holding her head in her hands. Jeez, what a bunch of fun people, Suzy thought. She decided she'd go look for shells.
She wandered along the beach, amusing herself with a mental image of Arthur shuffling around like a bear, with his eyes bandaged, but it was unlikely Arthur would go blind, they'd graft on some new corneas or something. It was morelikely that Arthure's tragedy would be to fall ffor some young girl. He was the right age to make a fool of himself, and Suzy had seen it happen before. After the divorce from Silvana, Arthur marries the young girl, but she doesn't want to stay at home, she wants to party. So there's the old guy, working all day at the office, whippoing it up in the evening and fucking his brains out all night, until he has a heart attack in some nightclub at three in the morning, and at the funeral the young girl looks wonderful, in black with crimson touches at the collar, like Elizabeth Taylor stealing the scene at Richard Burton's memorial service. So this young girl ends up with all the old guy's money and lives happily ever after. That's the stuff that modern Cinderella stories are made of...
Suzy tugged at her left, but her sneaker sank in the gritty sand. her right sneaker started to squelch, and her left foot sank completely beneath the surface. It was boggy here, she thought, not sandy like the rest of the beach., The ground was slushy, with tufts of coarse grass.
Again Suzy tried to pull her left foot free. The shoe made a sucking, squelchy noise, but she couldn't heave her foot out.
This was rediculous! Exasperated, she jerked her knees, trying to release her feet, then crossly bent down to untie her shoelaces.
Behind her, Suzy heard someone yelling. She turned her head. The skipper, followed by Winston, was running along the beach. He called, "You're in quicksand, lady. Don't move."
It didn't occur to Suzy to be frightened. So se'd stepped in the quicksand. So they were coming to get her out. She'd forgotten, was all. Sure, she'd splashed through that little rivulet in the sand between the waterfall and the sea, even though she'd been warned. No big deal. It wasn't a crime. They were supposed to be looking after her, weren't they? Why hadn't anyone called out earlier?
The skipper panted up the the edge of the coarse grass. He was about fifteen feet from Suzy, and he kept moving around, because the sludge was sucking at the soles of his sneakers. Winston scuttled to the beach, where he pulled dead branches from the debris beneath the trees. He dragged the branches back to the skipper, who had taken off his shirt and torn it into strips. The skipper knotted bits of cotton and used them to lash two branches together, to form one longer branch. Winston, who weighed far less than the man, lay on his stomach at the edge of the quicksand; slowly, he pushed the elongated branch toward Suzy, whose ankles where now submerged.
Suzy now realized that she was in danger. Her whole body was rigid and trembling.
The branch didn't reach her, short by about six feet.
The scene seemed sharp but unreal to Suzy, like a surrealist painting. It looked exactly the same as it had before lunch - the little waves still hit the beach with a friendly slurp, the sun still shone on the azure see. But as she felt herself sinking deeper into the bog, she started to whimper. Soon, it would still look exactly the same, except that Suzy would be gone.
"Crouch down, Suzy," the skipper called. "Now, very slowly, try to crawl on your hands towards me. Don't try to move your feet, you'll only sink further. Throw yourself forward with your arms spread out. I want you horizontal."
White-faced, Suzy did so, but still she couldn't reach the branch. Covered in muck, sand in her mouth, she lay with her arms outstreched, but the branch was still two feet beyond her reach.
The skipper pulled back the spread-eagled Winston by his ankles - it wasn't fair to push the boy farther - then, swearing softly, he spread his arms and legs. He started to snake his hips towards Suzy, pushing the branch before him
Lying in the muck, and whimpering, Suzy desparately twitched her fingers, trying to reach the branch as he shoved it toward her. Eventually, her fingertips touched it, but she could only grasp the weak ends of the palm fronds.
The skipper dared go no further, but he shoved the bound branches as far as he could, beyond his reach. Suzy was able to get a good grip on it, but now the skipper couldn't reach it.
"Hang on, Suzy." If he could go that far, then Winston could go a bit further. He snaked backward until he was clear. He told Winston to crawl onto the bog again and get a grip on the branch. Winston knew the danger, but without a word, he lay down and edged onto the slush, until he was about two feet inside the quicksand area. The skipper crawled behind him. "Okay, Winston, when I say one, two three, pull, you and Suzy hang on to the branch, and I'll pull you out. Stop sniveling, girl, and concentrate!"
"One, two...three!"
Nothing happened. Winston felt as if he were being torn in two.
"Again," said the skipper. "One, two, three...pull!" As he wriggled backward off the quicksand, he pulled Winston toward him. Winston hungon firmly to the branch.
"My arms! Oh, my arms!" gasped Suzy through a mouthful of sand. "I can't hold on anymore."
"Suzy, you're moving! You're coming out! Hang on, girl!" The sinews on the skipper's arms trembled with the effort, but he was now clear of the treacherous sand and Syscy's muddy bare feet were clear of the ground. The sneakers would never be seen again.
Inch by inch, Winston was pulled clear, heaving the palm branch with him.
Finally, Suzy was dragged from the swampy sand.
"You can stand up, Suzy, you're clear now."
But Suzy couldn't. She was shaking and whimpering with frightl the skipper had to help her to her feet. It was no longer possible to see that she wore a pink halter top and shorts. Except for the blond crown of her head, every bit of her was caked in khaki mud.
As they staggered toward the sea to clean themselves, the rest of the party could be seen half a mile up the beach; Carey was still snorkeling, Silvana was still reading, Annie was still dozing and Patty was sitting cross-legged with her head bowed; she was meditating.