The Line Throwers is an ongoing comedy series about Riverborn County’s elite river lifeguards. New readers can jump in or catch up with earlier stories:
Trailer Line Throwers - Trailer
Previous Installments
Line Throwers 1 - Stonehouse 3: Meet the team responsible for one of the river’s busiest stretches.
Line Throwers 2 - Aspen of the Lowlands: A tourist’s big day goes sideways as he drifts into Eastbank Bend.
Line Throwers 3 - We Need Heroes: Recruiting season introduces Johnny, a trailer park lifeguard with big dreams.
Line Throwers 3 - Floating Party Pub: A bachelorette party rescue, while Riverborn County faces a high-stakes opportunity for National Park Designation.
“Don’t forget your lures, dear.”
“I’ve got ’em,” Pete said.
“And your fishing vest.”
“This ain’t my first time.” He reached for the door.
“And the keycard. I’m going shopping, so I won’t be here when you get back. Don’t lose it, either. There’s a replacement fee. We should’ve just gotten those bracelet keys they offered.”
“And pay an upcharge?”
*****
A whistle sounded over the Line Thrower tryout area upriver. It was a rugged section of the county, far from the posh shopping district and Restaurant Row, where campers and outdoor adventurers came to get their fill of Riverborn.
“Move those legs, skink! This ain’t the trailer park pool!” Barrett shouted at Johnny who was staggering past carrying a sandbag over each shoulder.
Johnny dropped them in a designated square, then began unraveling a training line. Another recruit followed close behind. She got her line untangled first and launched it into a tire target. Johnny’s hit a second after and they were off to the next station.
From the observation tower, Sarge lowered his binoculars. “Who are those two?”
A recruit coordinator consulted his clipboard. “Johnny Grade and Cassidy Quinn. She goes by Cass.”
Sarge nodded. “Keep an eye on ‘em.”
Barrett blew his whistle, signaling the next group to launch their kayaks.
*****
Pete flicked his lure beneath an overhanging limb and took a peaceful breath. This was his favorite part of their annual trip to Riverborn county. His wife always tried to negotiate a stay downtown, but he wasn’t paying resort prices when nature was where he wanted to be.
A whistle blared.
Pete winced. “What the devil?” He looked downriver.
Another whistle.
“Christ with cream cheese.” He reached into his pocket for a tin of chew. As he pulled it free, the keycard came with it, flipping into the water. “Oh come on.”
*****
A recruit balanced on a small skiff and sent a line toward an overturned kayak, it fell short of the anchor point. His second attempt sailed wide, splashing against a rock.
Barrett clicked a stopwatch. “Excellent. They’re all dead.”
The recruit began another attempt.
“Just leave it! Get to the rope test!”
*****
Pete moved from the shoreline onto a cluster of rocks, where his keycard was wedged. There it sat. An undetermined replacement fee staring him in the face.
“Not today.” He stepped onto a closer rock. His foot slipped, dunking him straight into the water.
Pete surfaced and gasped, his life jacket bobbing him onto his back.
“Dammit!”
The keycard floated beside him, he grasped at it, but it slipped away. The current now carried them both downstream.
*****
A coordinator blew a whistle. “Ten minute break!”
The recruits scattered near the water’s edge. Some collapsing onto the ground, getting covered in leaves and dirt. Others rested their hands on their knees or found nearby benches.
Johnny leaned against an observation deck railing and wiped his forehead with his shirt.
Cassidy settled beside him. “Johnny, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, filling a plastic cup of water from a Gatorade jug.
“Not skink?”
“To some,” Johnny said.
“Cass,” she said, offering her hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
A recruit sitting on a rock pointed toward the water. “Oh here we go.”
Johnny looked up. A man in a life jacket was bobbing downstream, one hand waving above the water.
“Guess the next tests are starting,” a recruit said.
“Guys is way too committed to the bit. Must want extra credit,” another said.
Pete disappeared, then popped back up.
*****
Sarge raised his binoculars. “We start the simulations?”
The recruit coordinator spoke through a protein bar. “Starts tomorrow.”
Sarge lowered the binoculars.
Pete disappeared beneath the surface again.
“Then that’s not one of ours,” the Sarge said. “Barrett, go!”
*****
Johnny dropped his cup and raced down the dock, snatching a throw bag in the process.
“Where’s he going?” the coordinator asked.
Johnny leaped into a skiff to get a better angle, it rocked from his momentum.
Cass was right behind him, grabbing the mooring line before the boat could swing away.
Johnny launched the bag. The rope unfurled across the water, landing just beyond Pete’s outstretched hand.
“Grab it!” Johnny shouted.
Pete held the line. The current pulled it taut.
Cass spotted a calmer section of water near the dock. “Bring him this way.”
Together, they guided Pete toward the landing.
Barrett was there, pulling Pete to the shoreline.
Pete collapsed on his back, coughing.
“You hurt anywhere?” Barrett said, kneeling beside him.
Pete shook his head. “No. No.”
A cheer erupted from the group. Cass helped Johnny climb out of the skiff, the two exchanged a high-five.
Sarge approached. “Good instincts you two. Real good.”
They both smiled.
“Good instincts?” Barrett said. “The skink didn’t follow protocol.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Sarge replied. “That said, jumping into a skiff at full speed? That’s how a rescuer ends up needing to be rescued.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said.
Sarge looked between them. “You both show some real promise. Keep at it.” He headed back toward the lookout.
Barrett helped Pete to his feet. “So what happened to you anyway?”
“Dropped my keycard in the river. Tried to fish it out.”
“You know the resort does key bracelets?”
“And pay the upcharge? Please.”
“It’s eight bucks.”
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See you soon,
—Ricky C.
Johnny's getting noticed!!