And in the water, when she had already swam to the depths, Alba felt as though she was pulled by the strength of an internal movement that wanted to take her back to the surface, but she fought vigorously. With all of her knuckles against the waves and the swirls that altered the usual calm of the pond, she threw her arms out with effort to the place where she’d seen Dídac disappear.
Another commotion in the water, more intense, separated her from the bank without overpowering her, as she opposed all her will and resources of her distress. Beneath the vortex that she was about to conquer, she still sank and swam to the plants that imprisoned the boy.
And without touching the ground, in water that now was suddenly calm again, she pulled Dídac from the scrambling plants, among the tendrils from where other children had found death, and, without him giving any trouble, since he had lost consciousness, she dragged him with one hand, while the other and her legs opened a hole to the surface, where her bated breath exploded, like a bubble that has been pierced, before continuing to swim to where the river shallowed out.
As she climbed and hoisted the boy’s lifeless body, she still had time to see how the clouds of devices disappeared over the horizon to the east.
And, without entertaining herself, Alba lay down in Dídac on the edge of the grass, she removed as much water as she could, she turned his face upwards to see if he gave any signs of life, she sunk her mouth between his lips in order to pass air through his lungs until the boy blinked and moved, as if her mouth had bothered him.
She pulled his wet clothes off so the sun could dry his body. It was only when he recovered that he realised that the boys who had pushed him had gone.