Top of The Edge - The Chase

Not knowing who Louise Ford was, Chlodwig, alias Billy Cook mistook her as one of the girls he had rendered out-of-commission only moments earlier. He angrily grabbed a hold of her and said, "You're mine now, and you're dead."

Fortunately, for Louise his strength had diminished, a result of the debilitating pain caused by the flare, as well as his continuous fight against the waves and riptide. She broke free from his grip and quickly began speaking to him in German. "I'm your contact. I'm here to help you." She wasn't sure she was getting through to him, but she continued on. "I need for you to relax and lie on your back so I can pull you out of here." He wasn't sure whether he should trust her or not, but at this point he was out of options. He did as Louise had instructed and rolled over onto his back. As she reached a depth less than knee deep, the intensity of the under current was still making it a battle to leave the water. She trudged on and finally, got him to where he could stand.

Time was not on their side and they both knew it. Just when Louise thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. She saw the light of the PT boat not too far off in the distance heading their way, her heart sank. "We need to move, and fast." She said in German. Billy Cook didn't reply. He just put forth his best effort to run, but the pain from the burn was too much and he nearly fell over as he let out a pitiful groan. Louise got under one of his arms and put her arm around his waist. "Let's just keep moving." she said - her words dripping with impending doom.

"Who is that!?" Cherry asked looking northward up the beach.

"What are you talking about?"

Then Maryanne saw exactly what she was talking about as they were all now observing Louise Ford assisting their attacker. He was up on his feet and clearly in a great deal of pain. They were slowly making their way up the beach and away from them.

"We need to follow them."

"I don't think that will be necessary." Maryanne responded. as she pointed out over the surf. PT boat 38 dispatched from the Charleston Coastguard Station was now headed straight toward their position.

Then suddenly, it seemed to appear out of nowhere. A black sedan with its lights off was driving right out there on the beach.

Just as they reached where Louise had dropped her coat and shoes, she heard the sound of a car approaching. "Not a minute too soon." she thought. Ralph didn't say a word as he jumped out of the car and helped Louise get their Nazi spy guest into the back seat. Louise quickly gathered her things, ran around to the other side and got into the back seat as well. Ralph looked at her in the rear-view mirror, his eyes seething with anger. She didn't have the time nor the inclination to apologize and stroke his ego. Instead, she snarled and through clenched teeth and said, "Get us out of here NOW! Ralph." He did as she said and floored it.

Realizing there was no longer a need to have his headlights off, Ralph switched them on. Now, he could actually see where he was going, and consequently drive a great deal faster than he had been. When he saw the campsite and horses, he figured there must be a decent trail off the beach there as well. He turned toward the trail, and suddenly saw the headlights of another vehicle up the beach and coming their way. Ralph cursed and continued driving as fast as he could. This particular trail over the dunes was anything but smooth. Seemingly with every bump his wounded passenger Billy Cook, the Nazi spy that had been badly burned grunted in pain as he and Louise were bounced around in the back seat like a couple of ragdolls. Finally, they reached the old farm road just west of the dunes that led to the old plank bridge off of this island. Ralph let out a sigh of relief - He had exited the beach and made it to the road without wrecking or getting stuck.

Vanderhorst ran back to his pickup and headed down the road in the same direction the car had gone. As soon as he got to a location where he knew there was a good solid trail out onto the beach, he took it, and just as he turned southward down the beach, he saw the car that only moments earlier had been stuck in the sand. He was now in full pursuit mode, and hoped he could overtake the sedan and cut it off from the trail off of the beach, but no such luck, he was still a good 100 meters away as he watched what appeared to be a woman help someone into the back seat of the vehicle he was pursuing. Now it was headed for the trail over the dunes that would enable them to make their way to the road and ultimately off the island. Vanderhorst's first inclination was to continue his pursuit and keep that vehicle in his sights at all cost. Then he saw the girls. They had obviously been injured, and not knowing the extent of their injuries, he made a quick judgment call to stop and render aid. He pulled his truck up alongside of the ladies and got out. "Are any of you seriously hurt, like broken bones or deep lacerations?" All three were sitting up right now.

Cherry was first to answer. "I... don't think so. Maryanne?"

"I'm a little shook up, but other than that... I'm fine."

"Robyn?" Cherry asked.

Robyn was still holding her head in her hands when she answered. "No broken bones, no lacerations, but my head, oh... my head feels like it's been used to play kickball."

As this conversation was taking place, three sailors in a Coast Guard raft from the PT boat rode the waves onto the beach adjacent to their location. LTJG Wycliffe immediately took charge and basically asked the same questions Mr. Vanderhorst had asked.

"Chief Petty Officer Daniels and Chief Petty Officer Wilson are both medics, they will check the three of you out and if need be, transport you the hospital via a PT Boat ride to the peninsula." Then addressing Mr. Vanderhorst, LTJG Wycliffe asked, "Sir, who are you? And how did you just happen to be out here to give chase to the car that just took off over dunes? What is your connection with all of this?"

"My name is Arnoldus Vanderhorst the fifth (V)... I own this island lieutenant."

Lieutenant Wycliffe was certainly surprised and impressed by the answer, but not so that anyone could tell.

"Well Mr. Vanderhorst, if you intend to continue your pursuit, I have been ordered to join you, and if not, I have been ordered to commandeer your vehicle and continue the pursuit on my own." Vanderhorst's face lit up with a wide smile as he responded. "Hop in son, and let's roll."

As they sped over the dunes, the pickup truck was catching plenty of air with all four tires leaving the ground. Mark Wycliffe was bracing himself with both hands on the dashboard and Vanderhorst was having the time of his life, "Don't worry son. There's only one road on and off this island, and I'm certain that's where they're headed. We'll catch up with them."

"I hope you're right sir." Wycliffe wasn't as optimistic as he considered the amount of time that had lapsed from when Vanderhorst first stopped his truck, to when they finally resumed the pursuit. "I as well as the US Coast Guard appreciates your assistance Mr. Vanderhorst."

"Son, this is the most fun and excitement this 64-year-old man has seen in over a decade."

Within no time they were off the island and riding on the much smoother main road.

"I thought we would have caught up with them before now." Vanderhorst's tone was noticeably disconcerted.

"Do you think they could have taken a different route and are still somewhere on the island?"

"I suppose it's possible, but highly improbable. We're not too far behind them. I can feel it.

Flare Sighted

U.S. Coast Guard PO2 (Petty Officer Second Class) Scott Peterson was on his coastal watch shift at the top of the Morris Island Lighthouse, when he was suddenly startled by the sudden illumination in the night sky south of his location. He guesstimated that it was within a couple of miles south of Folly Beach. Immediately he radioed the Charleston Coastguard station where the officer in charge (OIC) for the evening, Ensign Stanley Young, received the message.