Paul Zangallio made it back from his trip to the shed and tossed two five cell flashlights down to the waiting trio standing on the fallen roof. Steve Sidel and Kevin Backlin each caught a light and started climbing down the ramp into the darkness with Bill Forham right on their heels. The screams and moans that had been drifting up through the crack in the roof were very faint by now but the terror was still very evident in the sounds.
Sheriff Ralph Slocum and Deputy Paul Johanson had just climbed to the top of the drainage ditch with the ambulance attendants and firemen from Forest Glenn right behind them lugging their emergency equipment when they heard the chopping sound of the first helicopter.
Sheriff Slocum ran to the middle of the courtyard of the resort and started waving his arms frantically to signal the helicopter to set down on the grassy lawn. He shielded his eyes from the debris blowing around in the constant swirl of the helicopter blades and backed toward the still standing second floor. He heard a cracking noise over the roar of the blades and turned around in time to see the second floor sink completely out of sight. He yelled into his hand held radio, previously tuned to the same channel as the helicopter.
“Get back! Don’t try to land. You’re making too much vibration and everything is caving in more. You have to get back”
The helicopter pilot immediately reversed his direction and headed back toward the driveway where the emergency vehicles were parked.
“Okay Sheriff,” came a metallic sounding voice from the sheriff’s radio, “You’ll have to transport the people over to the driveway in order for us to pick them up. I’ll set down by the patrol cars and shut my engine off. We have one more helicopter on the way and I’ll radio them and tell them it’s not safe to fly over the main part of the resort.”
“Thanks. I hope not much more damage has been done.”
The sheriff looked toward the lake and was horrified to see that a large crack that led to the marina was now slowly spreading toward a group of people in the front parking lot. The water from the lake was filling the crack as fast as it widened and he saw a small boat caught in the surge of the water with two people yelling for help from the inside of the boat. As he continued to stare at the boat, he saw the bow dip down in the rushing torrent and soon the little white boat was completely gone from view.
The people standing at the edge of the hole where the lobby once stood began yelling down in the hole and pointing toward the approaching crack. Deputy Johanson looked at the Sheriff and loudly exclaimed.
“My God Ralph. It’s getting worse. We’ve got to get those people out of there before the whole place disappears.”
“You’re right Paul. I think the whole place is going under. Let’s go over to the parking lot and see if we can get those people out of there.”
Jeff and Todd Finley were almost to shore when they saw the large crack form between where the marina had stood and the shoreline. Jeff slowed the boat down and tried to turn around but the current caught the boat and started to pull it toward shore and the large crevice that had formed. Jeff slid the lever that controlled the speed to the extreme right but the pull of the water was stronger than the motor’s output. The sweat broke out on his forehead and large beads began rolling into his eyes stinging and making him constantly blink. His ample size shirt was plastered to his dripping back and his face changed to a bright crimson. Still, the boat wanted to follow the strong pull of the water. He yelled at Todd to come back and sit on the seat next to him and grab the handle of the little five horse motor. Todd quickly did as his dad said and took over trying to steer the boat away from shore.
When Todd had a firm grip on the handle, Jeff grabbed the boat’s worn varnished paddle and with his massive arms began stroking the water on both sides of the boat. His alternating strokes finally began making headway and they started slowly to pull away from shore. The cypress and concrete dock was only twenty feet away and he told Todd to start steering in that direction but, very slowly so they would not be pulled over sideways.
The bow of the boat was within five feet of the edge of the dock when Jeff heard the helicopter approaching the edge of the lake away from the buildings. Not wanting to stop his frantic paddling he told Todd to wave his free hand in the air to try to catch someone’s attention. Todd began waving his left arm back and forth but, looking down he saw the white rag his dad used to wipe his hands after unhooking a fish. He reached down and picked up the smelly rag and began waving it not unlike a flag announcing a surrender The bow of the boat bumped the edge of the dock and Jeff Finley dropped the paddle and went toward the bow to catch the closest wooden plank on the dock. Just as he reached out to get a grip the crevice on shore broke wide open and the water current jerked the boat backwards toward the shore. The little motor at full acceleration gave a loud clunking sound and quit running. The boat spun quickly around and started to head with the water current at full speed.
The boat suddenly started to dip down in the bow with the flow of the water heading down into the large chasm. Jeff grabbed Todd around the middle with his large left arm and picked up the stern anchor with his right. He swung the anchor rope in a large circle around the top of his head and released in the direction of the dock at the same time the boat sank under the surface of the water. Jeff’s bad leg with the brace on it jammed beneath the back seat of the boat and they were jerked violently underwater.
The anchor spun through the air and over the top railing of the dock close to the shoreline. When the rope hit the railing, it reached the end of its length and the anchor wrapped around the sturdy rail. The stopping motion of the rope jerked back on the boat and it pulled the boat toward shore at the base of the dock.
Jeff Finley, with a tight grip on his son sputtered as the boat with its two occupants rose back out of the water and smashed into the side of the dock. Jeff, with heavy labored breaths reached up to the railing and pulled him and his son out of the half-submerged boat. He lay panting on the rough planking of the dock and said to his still coughing son.
“Next time we go fishing. I’m going to listen to you and we’ll go in early if the fish are not biting. The bumpy ride in the boat wasn’t so bad. It was that sudden stop that did me in.” He grinned at his son and tousled his soaked blonde head.
Sally Backlin and Kathy Santos ran down the entire side of the lake searching for Billy and Jack. They called their names every minute or so but were answered only by silence. They made their way back to where the marina had been and saw Otis laying on the ground surrounded by a small group of people. He was obviously in much pain and they didn’t really want to bother him but they figured he would have seen the boys if anyone had.
“Excuse me sir.” Sally barely spoke. “Do you think I could ask you a question?”
“I don’t think he is any shape to answer any questions.” Piped up Ted Brumfield the cameraman. “He almost died in that hole in the ground.”
“It’s all right young lady. I’ll be fit as a fiddle very shortly. What question could a young lady like you possibly want answered by an old cripple like me?”
“It’s my brother sir. I’m really worried about him. We have looked all around the lake for him and his friend and we can’t find them anywhere. I wanted to ask you if you had possibly seen him and his friend. They said that they were going down to the lake to play early this morning and no one in our families have seen them since. I was hoping you might have seen them since you run the marina and can see the lake from where you work. My brother has red hair and his friend has blonde hair and I’m just hoping you saw where they may have gone.