THE RESCUER - CHAPTER 1: THE DREAM

I woke up crying.

At 4:37 in the morning.

With the sheets drenched in sweat and my heart pounding my chest as if it wanted to escape.

I'm 70 years old and I've spent my whole life without crying.

Not even when my mother died.

Not even when my wife told me she didn't love me anymore.

Nothing.

But that night I cried.

Like a child.

Like a pathetic old man.

Like someone who has just understood something they had been denying for 70 years.

---

The dream.

Damn, the dream.

I couldn't get it out of my head.

Three days had passed and I was still seeing the images.

I was still feeling.

I was still smelling.

As if it hadn't been a dream but a memory.

Or a premonition.

Or something worse.

A truth.

---

In the dream, I was on a beach.

I don't know which one.

It could have been any of the ones in the south of France where I live.

Clear sand.

Intense blue sea.

Smell of salt and sunscreen.

People everywhere.

Families.

Children playing.

Couples lying on their towels.

Everything normal.

Everything ordinary.

Until I saw him.

---

The lifeguard.

Up in his wooden tower painted white.

Red swimsuit.

Sunglasses.

Whistle hanging from his neck.

Tanned.

Black hair.

About 40 or so years old.

Worked-out body but not exaggerated.

One of those that you can tell really swims, that does his job, not one that spends the day in the gym taking pictures.

---

I looked at him.

And he looked at me.

And something happened.

I don't know what the hell it was.

But it was as if time had stopped.

As if all the noise from the beach had disappeared.

As if only he and I existed.

His eyes.

Dark.

Fixed on mine.

Without blinking.

Without smiling.

Without anything.

Just looking at me.

As if he knew something I didn't know.

Or worse.

As if he knew something I had been denying my whole life.

---

I looked away.

Scared.

Confused.

With my heart racing.

I went back to my towel.

I lay down.

I tried to read the book I had brought.

But the letters were moving.

I couldn't concentrate.

Because I felt his gaze.

Still.

On top of me.

As if it was burning my skin.

---

An hour passed.

Or five minutes.

I don't know.

Time in dreams is weird.

Suddenly I heard the whistle.

Loud.

Insistent.

Three short blows.

Everyone looked towards the lifegua...