PRECIOUS CARGO: a short story
From the Fall/Winter 2020 edition of The Maryland Literary Review:
On any other summer day, someone would have spotted Anson flailing in the heavy surf, a conscientious mother lathering sunscreen on her toddler under one of the pastel umbrellas that dotted the beach, a divorced dad helping the daughter he hasn’t seen in two weeks build an elaborate sandcastle near the water’s edge, weekend boaters sunbathing aboard their pricey pontoons and bowriders, but on that unusually cool August morning, as a light fog rolled in off the lake, the beach was completely deserted. In the bay, anchored near the breakwall, a lone cabin cruiser named the Lady Cordelia bobbed up and down in the heaving white waves. Atop the grassy hill overlooking the lake, Sister Agnes picked plastic bottles from a garbage can inside the picnic pavilion and whispered prophecies about the creature rumored to lurk along the steep shale cliffs. On the fishing pier, two middle-aged men passed a brown paper bag back and forth and searched their shirt pockets for fresh cigarettes. From time to time they checked their lines to see if they’d hooked a yellow walleye or largemouth bass. Neither gave any indication of having seen the teenage boy struggling to stay afloat. After last night’s torrential downpour, no one was supposed to be in the lake. Earlier that morning, park rangers posted signs warning swimmers of dangerous currents and raw sewage spills. Regardless of the weather or the season, there was always a sign that read “No Lifeguard on Duty. Swim at Your Own Risk.”
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