Chapter 1
Jake
I have a theory. There is often one simple decision that can become the turning point in your life. One moment that changes the whole trajectory of your existence. I’ve had a lot of time in the last few months to contemplate this idea. But even though the theory makes sense, I’m still trying to identify that ultimate life-changing event in my life. What single incident sent me careening down this path to such an extraordinary life?
Not that long ago, I was just a normal kid living in a small Kansas town without a care in the world. How did I go from that to becoming an “international icon,” as one recent press release claimed? I may be over-analyzing, but it’s a little hard not to, with my life literally replaying before my eyes.
Watching your life flash before your eyes. Whoever coined the expression certainly did not mean what I’m witnessing now. This is not a death’s-doorstep moment, but it’s definitely strange. Surreal.
“Jake?” Sophie lowers her ever-present camera and looks up at me, her beautiful face creasing in concern. “Are you okay?”
I shake the thoughts out of my head and smile at her. “Um…Yeah. Fine.”
Her arm wraps around my bicep, her soft sweatshirt warming my bare forearm. “I bet you’re also thinking how odd this is.”
Through my sunglasses, I scan the activity enfolding in front of us on this beautiful fall day. The natural beauty of the cloudless blue sky, towering evergreens, and aspens with their quaking golden leaves oddly frame the diametrically opposing scene of chaos. The dozens of people milling around the rocky boulders and mountain fauna look completely out of place. Huge cameras on lifts and pulleys, rows of bright lights, dangling microphones, trucks and vans, and people scurrying around have transformed the peaceful, old, abandoned Colorado silver mine, which just yesterday was a deserted relic, into mayhem. And smack dab in the middle of it all are two teen actors who are portraying Sophie and me.
Yeah. Odd is one word to describe it.
Sophie leans against me, her head resting against my chest. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”
I shake off the emotions that have been building over the last few days—too much introspection might not be a good thing—and wrap my arms around her, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. “I think I’d prefer that it wasn’t.” After months of hoping it wouldn’t happen, the movie, Ultimate Blindside: The Jake Taylor Story, is a reality.
She lets out a little laugh. “Too late for that, Taylor. Although I still don’t know why they aren’t shooting this scene at the actual mine where our story unfolded.”
“Sure you do. You just don’t like the reason.”
She stiffens and pulls out of my embrace, her fist anchoring onto her hip. “Because they are completely wrong. I don’t care what those location scouts claim. Silver Springs Mine is very picturesque. I mean, this one is fine, but it’s not accurate. This isn’t where our story took place.”
I reach for my feisty girlfriend’s hand. “I’m glad they aren’t shooting these scenes there. That is our place, and I wouldn’t want to share it with the world.”
Her face lights up. “Aw…that’s sweet.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
She grins, then shakes her head, her brown waves swaying with the movement. “Your secret is safe with me.”
From behind us, the loud blare of a car horn causes us to spin around. A giant equipment truck, driving away from the area, skids to a stop inches from a cluster of trees as the driver slams on the brakes. In front of the truck, a car speeding around the last bend in the road swerves, narrowly misses the truck, and plows through the dirt, careening straight for the pond next to the road.
In horror, I watch as the older-model silver car launches off the bank. For a moment, it appears suspended in air above the calm reflecting waters of the pond, then plunges into the water with a sickening splash.
Sophie covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my gosh!”
Instinct kicks in as I immediately sprint toward the pond, solely focused on reaching the driver before the car sinks underwater. Within moments, I reach the edge of the pond, kick off my shoes, pull off my T-shirt, and dive into the cold water. The icy water is a shock to my system, but the adrenaline pumping through me keeps me moving. As I swim toward the car, my gaze locks onto the back window, which offers a clear view into the vehicle. The sight ratchets up the fear. The driver is slumped over the steering wheel, not moving. But worse than that—the small head of a child is visible in the back seat.
As I reach the car, I glance back toward shore and notice two crew members splashing through the lake toward me. Good, ’cause I’m going to need some help. I bang on the driver’s-side window as I tread water, my legs weighted by my wet jeans. The woman driver’s eyes flutter open, and her head rolls toward me. Blood trickles down her cheek from a gash on her forehead. She blinks several times, trying to focus. Suddenly, her eyes widen, and her head whips back and forth. That’s when her screams begin. My mind races. I need a plan. There’s probably not much time until the car completely submerges.
Come on, Taylor, now is not the time to panic. Despite having watched numerous survival videos on what to do in such an emergency, in the moment, I struggle to recall any of their expert advice. Presumably, the electric windows will stop working as soon as the motor floods with lake water, which means we need to get the window open. I smack my hand on the window to get the woman’s attention again. I rotate my hand in what I hope is the universal sign of “roll down your window.” She nods and, with her left hand, reaches for the window button.
As the window lowers, the car continues to slowly sink, decreasing the time before the lake water begins filling the vehicle.
The woman stares at me with huge, fear-filled eyes, blood streaking her face and saturating a strand of pale blonde hair. “My daughter.”
I nod, attempting to convey confidence and not terror. A quick glance over my shoulder assures me the crew members are getting close. “I know. Can you climb back, unbuckle her, and hand her to me?”
She shakes her head, her eyes pleading. “No. I think my right arm might be broken.”
Well, that complicates matters. “Okay. Let’s get you out first.”
“No! I can’t leave her!”
The back end of the car sinks a bit. The movement pushes the nose of the vehicle up, preventing the water from pouring through the open window. We need to act now.
“I know you’re scared, but we need to get you both out before this car completely submerges.” I focus my gaze on hers. “Trust me. I will get her out.”
The woman’s frantic eyes glance back at the little girl and then at me. She nods and reaches across her body with her left hand to unlatch her seatbelt. She looks back at her daughter. “Lila.” The woman’s voice catches in her throat. “This nice young man is going to get you out of the car for mommy. Be a good girl and do what he says. I love you.”
She bites her lower lip and winces in pain, but is able to maneuver out the window. The frigid water causes her to gasp. With no time to lose, I quickly launch myself headfirst into the car.
The little blonde girl, who looks to be around two, is dressed all in pink. She eyes me warily, then sticks her thumb in her mouth. For better or worse, she has absolutely no idea how serious the situation is.
The car shifts again, and I can see the water level outside the back window inches higher. I focus on the small girl. Her pretty blue eyes are large saucers in her head. I give her what I hope is a friendly, reassuring smile.
“Hi there. I’m just going to get you out of here, then we’re going for a little swim. Okay?”
Lila’s expression doesn’t change at all. I notice a stuffed animal—a brown dog with white spots—lying on the seat next to her, and pick it up. “Here, why don’t you hang on to this. I’m just going to unbuckle you.”
I fiddle for a moment with the buckles. Straps seem to be coming from everywhere. Sure, having a childproof car seat is good, but come on. I shoot a prayer up to God. With each passing moment, our cocoon darkens, decreasing my visibility. Our sinking is evident by the dark water continuing its persistent crawl up the back window. The floorboards are no longer dry as the murky water begins to trickle in around the doors. I try to ignore the building panic as the water swirls around my ankles.
“Jake! Hurry!” One of the crew guys outside yells.
I’ve got to move. My fingers shake as I fumble with the release. Finally, a buckle gives, freeing the straps. Thank you, Lord. The little girl yelps as I pull her out of the seat and hand her to the arms reaching into the open window. Moving as fast as possible, I scramble into the front seat and hoist myself through the window as water cascades in.
The guy holding Lila has one hand on the sinking hood. His pale face and crazed eyes add a new concern to the unfolding crisis.
“You okay, man?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I’m not a very strong swimmer. I don’t think I can tread water or swim with her in my arms.”
“No problem,” I assure him. “I’ve got her. You go.”
I reach for the little girl. Her cautious opinion must have changed because, without any coaxing, she latches onto me, wrapping herself around me like a little monkey. I feel the suctiony pull of the sinking car as it slides past me, but am able to kick away from the danger.
Pulling the girl tighter, I focus my attention on the shore. Thankfully, while I was in the water, crew members were also kicking into rescue mode. There’s a rope floating in the water a few feet away and a line of folks ready to pull us in. Two men are helping the mother climb up onto the bank. A woman holding a blanket hurries toward her. Hope they have more of those on hand.
Shouts swirl in the warm fall air, but my only focus remains getting through the icy gray water while keeping our heads above the murk. After a few powerful kicks, I reach the safety line. My free hand clutches the course rope as I continue to support the precious cargo I’m carrying with the other. Soon, we’re being pulled toward the shore.
As we near the bank, arms reach out toward the girl, but she is not interested in their help and buries her head in my neck, her grasp tightening. I give her a reassuring squeeze with my arm, then scramble up the bank, watching where I step to avoid slipping on the wet rocks. Finally, on solid ground, I look up, expecting to see her mother rushing toward us, but instead I’m greeted by a slew of cameras.