Free Crocodile Tears by Anthony Horowitz

smashed into the side mirror, but it didn’t matter because he couldn’t feel anything. Somehow he managed to curl his fingers around the handle and pull. The door opened. Alex’s own natural buoyancy was dragging him up, but he kicked out, forcing himself to stay down. He reached inside and put his arms around Edward Pleasure, yet he couldn’t get him out. He seemed to be stuck, jammed against the steering wheel.
    With his own air running out and the surface at least sixty feet away, Alex thought the unthinkable. It was like some devil voice whispering in his ear. Leave him. Look after yourself. If you stay down here any longer, both of you will die.
    It was the air bag pinning him in place. That was the problem. Alex still had the walking stick. At the last moment, almost instinctually, he had slipped it through his belt, taking it with him. Now he drew it out and, holding it this time by the handle, jabbed the splintered end into the nylon skin. He felt it puncture and there was a rush of bubbles against his fist. He was briefly tempted to breathe them in—
    but somehow he remembered that there would be nitrogen rather than oxygen inside the bag and it wouldn’t do him any good. The bag crumpled. Alex pulled again. Edward Pleasure came free.
    They were out of the car—but which way was up? Alex couldn’t even see the bubbles escaping from his lips. Nor could he feel them. The intensity of the cold had punched right through him and his entire body was numb. He was still gripping Edward Pleasure and he kicked out with his legs, hoping that gravity, buoyancy, whatever would take him in the right direction.
    The journalist was dragging him down. He was a dead weight in Alex’s arms, and once again that voice was in his ear. Let him go. Forget him. Save yourself. But he just gripped all the tighter, kicked and kicked again.

    Alex was following his own advice and humming—not a tune, more a soft moan of despair. Suppose he was wrong? The Nissan could have plunged a hundred feet or even more. He looked up but saw no light, no sign of the surface.
    He kicked.
    It didn’t feel as if he was making any progress. And what about Edward? How could Alex be sure he was still alive?
    His chest was beginning to ache. His lungs were screaming for air and Alex knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist them much longer. It couldn’t have taken him more than a minute to clamber across the car. Another minute to get Edward out. Perhaps another minute since then. Surely he could hold his breath longer than that!
    But not in this cold. The icy chill of Loch Arkaig had weakened him. It was all over. His humming faltered and stopped. There was no more air to come out. With a sob of pure despair Alex opened his mouth …
    … And breathed air. He didn’t even know how or when he had reached the surface. He hadn’t felt his shoulders break through. Somehow he was just there. As his vision cleared, he saw the blurred outline of the moon, lost behind clouds, and a scatter of still-falling snow. He had to struggle to keep Edward Pleasure’s head above water, and he wondered, with a sense of dread, if the rescue had all been in vain.
    He wasn’t sure that Sabina’s father was still breathing. He looked horribly like a corpse.
    And where was Sabina? Alex tried to call her name, but he was too frozen … his chest, his vocal cords. He jerked around in the water. There was Kilmore Castle, high above him. The shore was about sixty feet away. He was alone. She hadn’t made it.

    “ Aaah …”
    No. He was wrong. There was a splashing sound, the black surface of the lake parted, and suddenly Sabina was next to him with light rippling around her. Her face was white. Her long hair had come loose and was hanging into the water. She had tried to call his name, but it was too much for her. The two of them stared at each other, saying more with their eyes than they could ever have managed with words. Then Sabina reached out and took hold of her