A wave of weakness washed over Rick. Kelsey was safe. That was all that mattered. One hand on his side, pressing against his wounds and hoping they were not as bad as he feared, he turned to swim the few feet to the beached, sinking craft. The others were lined at the railing, Matti and Jesse, Paola and her boy, and Kelsey, with little droplets of blood trickling from her chin into the water. She gave him such a hopeful look that he forced himself into a pained smile, more of a grimace.
Her reply was an expression of horror. “Dad, swim!”
Kelsey was no longer looking at him. She was looking beyond him, and Rick knew what that meant. He let go of his wounds, let the blood flow, and gritted his teeth against the pain in his side as he stretched into a swim. Matti and Jesse shouted for him. Paola turned away, holding her boy so he would not see, and Rick wished someone would do that for Kelsey, to spare her this.
Please, God or Satan or whoever is listening, spare her this.
He could feel the shark bearing down on him, practically feel the rush of displaced water as it sped up behind him. Matti stepped over the railing, held on, reached down for him. Rick touched the boat with his left hand, reached up with his right.
Matti’s hand closed on his wrist and started pulling.
Kelsey screamed again. She put her hands over her eyes and turned away, and Rick had a heartbeat to feel grateful that she wouldn’t see.
Then Matti dragged him out of the water. Jesse helped him get over the railing. They were all scrambling out of the sunken end of the boat, even Kelsey helping her father, when Rick turned to look back the way he’d come and saw the shark thrashing in the water. It threw its head back, and Rick saw Captain Len, still alive, mouth open in silent agony and terror. The captain hammered at the shark with both fists as its jaws closed around his pelvis and abdomen. Rick saw water spilling out of Captain Len’s mouth from when he’d been submerged. If only he’d had the time to drown.
The shark whipped him side to side like a dog with a toy as it plunged into the water again. Blood showered the surf. The captain’s scream cut off.
Moments later, they watched the shark swim away.
Part of Captain Len bobbed in the water. The rest was with the shark.
Kelsey climbed into her father’s lap. Rick held her tightly, wincing at the pain in his side, knowing he had to bind his wounds. He watched his blood run in little rivulets down the deck and into the water at the sunken end.
“We’ve got to get to shore,” he said.
Out in the water, the second shark had joined the first, and the two of them were now circling back toward the boat.
CHAPTER 14
Sheriff Reyes held a dark secret. He had never liked boats, never liked being out on the water at all. He liked to swim in the shallows, where his feet could still touch the ground. Whenever someone discovered this secret, it was assumed that he must be a poor swimmer, but in truth Reyes had been on the swim team in high school and he had made it all the way to the state championships. In a pool, or in the shallows, he swam like a fish. His fear of drowning did not trouble him there, or in the bathtub, of course, or even in a river. But in the ocean, or a large-enough lake, he had always felt like the water was waiting to drag him down, as if it called to him and had laid a claim on him as a child.
Reyes knew his fear made zero sense, yet he could not escape it. Most of the time he managed to forget all about it, even living so close to the Gulf, doing a job that gave him responsibility over several islands. But there were times when he had to swallow his fear and anxiety and step aboard a boat.
The Institute owned a variety of research vessels. One of them had been smashed into the marina in Fort Myers during the hurricane, but the others had survived the storm well. It hadn’t taken long for Dr. Tali Rocco to summon one of those vessels, and now Reyes found himself in his least favorite place in the world—on the water, in a boat … hunting sharks.
The research vessel was a fifty-footer, its hull as thick as a politician’s skull. It was a monstrous thing, with a crew of six, not counting the researchers themselves. Tali and her assistant, Philip, were crowded around a circular table just inside the cabin belowdecks. The area served as a sort of conference room, and even now Tali and Philip argued with their boss, Dr. Tremblay, on FaceTime. The two shark hunters were on the deck, rigging a massive, deck-mounted harpoon gun as well as a cage, in case one of them had to go into the water. Neither of them looked keen on the idea.
“You can’t just turn them off!” Tali snapped in a tone that might have gotten her fired on another day. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“Even if it did,” Philip chimed in, “the software at the Institute is ruined. There’s a backup, but the thing needs to be rebuilt and we’re out here on the water. Someone familiar enough could do it in a few hours, but until then—”
“You just said yourself it wouldn’t work,” Dr. Tremblay said, his voice tinny as it came through the speaker in Tali’s phone.
“Not fast enough,” Philip replied.
“Sir, you have to trust us,” Tali said. “They have to be stopped. People are going to die, and the word is already out. Do you really want the media knocking at your door and reporting that you could have helped but refused?”
They continued arguing. Reyes blocked it out. He did not understand the debate. These weren’t ordinary sharks, but an imminent danger based on unnatural species behavior. The Institute had been cooperating thus far only because they feared the public and political fallout of doing the opposite, but Dr. Tremblay’s military benefactors had put a lot of money into this research and development, and they weren’t about to give up their investment in these creatures without a fight.
Reyes’s phone buzzed and he slipped it from his pocket. Chief Smalls was calling.
“Rodney,” he answered. “Are the beaches under control?”
Chief Smalls laughed. His voice sounded small and faraway and the line crackled. “You kidding me? The word is out and I’ve got my officers and the state police working with your team, but with the power out in so many homes, it’s been a challenge. There’ve been three further reported shark attacks. At least two fatalities, including the girl your deputy called in.”
“And the helicopters?” Reyes asked.
“Sheriff, I’m trying,” the chief replied. “The governor is balking because the choppers are still surveying the damage and looking for people in need of rescue.”
“Goddammit, anyone on the water could be in need of rescue. Say whatever you have to say, but we need some of those choppers reassigned immediately.”
“I’m on it, man. Don’t doubt it.”
“I don’t,” Sheriff Reyes said. “Just frustrated. This is not the job we signed on for.”
A bit of static burst onto the line, masking the chief’s voice. “—kill order?”
“What’s that?”
“Did you get the kill order for the sharks?”
Reyes turned his back on the steps down to the cabin to make sure Tali and Philip didn’t hear. They knew the answer, but he didn’t want to rub their noses in it.
“Yeah. We’ve got the green light. Now we just have to find them.”
“How’s that coming?” Chief Smalls asked.
Reyes turned and looked down the steps. He could hear the scientists talking in the cabin, arguing with Dr. Tremblay. Philip seemed to have worked out a way to track the sharks. They were on an Institute research craft, so all of their equipment was here. But so far, they hadn’t managed to track anything.
“I think they’ve figured it out,” he said. “Let me go and put some pressure on them.”
“You think they’re stalling?”
“I’m going to find out.”
Chief Smalls signed off. Reyes said goodbye and studied the hunters for a second. The harpoon gun now affixed to the deck seemed more appropriate for a whaler, but it would certainly work if these guys knew how to aim—and if they could find the sharks. He just wondered how many peop
le would die in the meantime. If the beaches were closed, if the waters were clear, maybe they would get lucky and the two deaths so far would be the end of it.
No more stalling. He had to get Tali and Philip to do their job, whether they liked it or not. Once you’d created a monster, it was your responsibility to destroy it.
He started down the steps but his phone rang again. Deputy Hayes, this time.
“Agnes. What’s up?” he asked.
The clarity of this call seemed much sharper.
“I’m talking to a woman whose husband and daughter are out on a sightseeing boat with some friends. They’re not answering their phones.”
“A sightseeing boat,” Reyes echoed. “We just had a fucking hurricane. Who operates a…” His words trailed off. Did it matter? Tourists were trying to enjoy themselves in spite of the storm and some guy whose business had taken a hit had decided to make the best of it. “Never mind, Agnes. Have you tried ringing the company?”
“The husband, Richard Scully, made the reservation over the phone and he’s got the phone with him. Mrs. Scully doesn’t remember the name of the company. I think we need to get them off the water, Sheriff. Can we get a ping off their cell phones, try to fix their location?”
Reyes massaged his temple, but he only pondered the question for a second. “They might all be just fine, but under the circumstances, yes. Absolutely. Let’s get these folks on dry land, along with anyone else we can find.”
“What about you, Sheriff? You’re out on the water.”
Don’t remind me, he thought, the old fear bubbling up.
“We’ll be fine,” Reyes said. “Just hope we get these sharks quickly and quietly. Between hurricanes and red tide, killer sharks is the last publicity this region needs.”
“And people will die,” Deputy Hayes reminded him, like a mother whose son had forgotten his manners.
“Yeah,” Reyes said. “That, too.”
* * *
Rashad shouted for Marianna, and for the girl next door, Emma. He banged on the hull from within as a dreadful claustrophobia closed around him. He felt as if he could barely breathe as the wreck canted to one side and continued to slide deeper into the water. How had it come to this? An hour ago, he and Marianna were just enjoying the sunshine and now he was going to die. Marianna might already be dead.
He thought about his mother, and what his death would do to her. What it would cost his father emotionally to be strong enough to keep them both from falling apart. His dad had never been the strong one, not in the small moments. His mother had been the disciplinarian, the foundation the family had been built on, but Rashad knew what he meant to her. He knew that when they got the call and someone told them he had died …
Oh, God, please let them find out from a friend, or at least from the police. Not from the news. Don’t let them find out from the fucking Internet, from some well-meaning asshole who gets it off Twitter.
His father would have to be strong then, because his mother would break.
Rashad banged on the wall. “Marianna! Emma!”
He didn’t know why he was bothering. Thus far he’d heard nothing, and he’d been walking and stumbling and half-crawling his way through the corridors for ten minutes. The temptation to surrender became physical. His body flagged, all the energy leaving him, and he wanted to just sit down and let the water pour in, as it inevitably would. He could hear the ocean filling the spaces in the ship, hear burbling and pouring and shifting along with the creaks and buckling of walls and floors as the blockade runner sank for a second time. The hurricane had stolen the wreck from the sea floor, but the sea would now have it back.
“Marianna!” he screamed, one last time.
Rashad felt a strange cold descend around him. Within him. He would not let his mother break, would not give in to the temptation to surrender. He sucked in a breath and trudged onward, up a sloping corridor, walking on what had once been the ceiling as the wreck sank further, knowing he was going the wrong way—that the hull would be the least likely place to find an exit.
He reached an open hatch and stepped through. To his right and down, the water had filled a narrow, steep staircase, barely more than a ladder in a hole. But down that ladder, where water had flooded in, he saw daylight. Through the water, there had to be a hole.
In the upside-down wreck, Rashad hesitated only a second before going down that ladder. He took a deep breath and plunged into the water. The salt stung his eyes but he had to keep them open to find the way out. The light brought him to a hole, open to the outside, and the sun shone through. He had to go down to go up. Careful not to touch the edges of the hole, he pushed off the wall inside the submerged corridor and swam out.
The sharks would be there, but he didn’t know how quickly, and he had to take the risk. His other choice was drowning, or suffocating when the air trapped inside the wreck ran out.
Rashad followed the sunlight, swam for the surface, burst into the air, and inhaled greedy gulps of oxygen. By instinct he grabbed hold of a cleat on what had been the deck of the ship, and began to pull himself up. The wreck had canted so badly now that he managed to climb at an angle, scrambling along the pitted surface that had once been the ship’s hull. His heart thundered and his chest ached, but moments later when he dragged himself into a sitting position, he realized he had made his way on top of the wreck.
He stood, carefully, arms out for balance, as he turned to study his surroundings. The ship had grown smaller, the wreck shrinking on the surface as more and more of it sank. The aft section jutted out of the water. Half a wrecked paddle wheel stuck out at a strange angle on the starboard side. Rashad spun around and felt relief wash over him. The wreck rocked back and forth beneath him, but he was not nearly as far from shore as he had expected. A couple of hundred feet, that was all—at least for now.
There were several people on the beach. He waved his hands, cupped them, shouting for help, but they did not seem to hear him. The wind kicked up, a northerly gust that stole his voice. They wouldn’t be able to hear him, but he kept shouting and trying to draw their attention anyway.
Glancing around at the water surrounding the wreck, he saw no sign of the girls, but he forced his grief down deep inside and gauged the distance to the shore. He could jump in and easily swim it, but how long would it take him to reach the beach? That might have been the most important question he had ever asked himself, because though he saw no sign of Marianna, he saw a shark cutting cleanly through the water, passing through the space between the wreck and the shore.
Rashad had no choice but to stay put, there on the sinking wreck.
Soon, though, that would change. When it did, his only choice would be to do the thing he did not yet dare to do. He would have to swim, and pray the girls would do the same.
* * *
Kevin Li had never been certain he understood love. He knew how the people who made movies and TV shows wanted him to see it, as something people felt deeply and with a staggering certainty. Mostly straight people, of course, but even most of the films he’d seen from LGBT writers and directors presented love as something concrete, something that people recognized when they felt it. By those criteria, Kevin had never been in love. He had met Tyler Follin at a bookstore reading by Eleanor Babineau, whose work they both adored, and they had found one another instantly fascinating. Drinks had followed, and drinks had led to a predictable finale. Seven months later, they were still together. Tyler talked about being in love with him, and Kevin returned the sentiment, but it felt hollow every time he said it. Each use of the famous three little words seemed like a betrayal, because he wasn’t sure he meant it.
What the hell was love, anyway?
Only when they had agreed to come on this vacation did Kevin begin to think he might actually understand love—and might actually love Tyler. He really liked Simone and Marianna, and he felt fairly neutral about Rashad, but he found Nadia insufferable. Just being around her and her feigned stupidity made him
want to scream. He could not stand intelligent people who pretended to be dumb just to get attention, and he was sure that was half of Nadia’s daily life. She had spent way too many hours of her existence watching idiotic reality shows and did not seem aware that the behavior of the nasty women on those shows was not something to which she ought to aspire.
Kevin hated breathing the same air as Nadia, but he had come on this trip anyway. He figured that had to be love. A week in the same house with Nadia, just so he could get to know Tyler’s friends better, blend in with the group, all to help build his relationship.
Even if that only hinted at love, it had given him an inkling of what this feeling in his chest might be.
Now, he understood even better than before.
He crouched in the mangrove trees, the twisted and tangled branches so thick that only slivers of sunlight made it through the shadows. Little tree crabs crawled up and down the mangroves, and tropical birds cawed. The water flowed by at the edge of the mangroves—only half a dozen feet from where he crouched—and Kevin held on to the trees and leaned forward as far as he could to get a look out at the little inlet.
“See anything?” Tyler asked.
“No,” he lied.
A ripple on the water gave away just the tip of the shark’s fin, but enough for him to know it had not left them alone.
“We’ll need to move around to the west, try to flag someone down in the channel,” Kevin said.
Tyler looked down at the sodden tufts of undergrowth, but he did not put his feet down. Instead, he stood on the strangely angled mangrove trunks and hung on like some lower primate. He looked ridiculous, but Kevin felt a pang in his heart. This guy had become his comfort, his home, and he would not allow anything to happen to him, even if that meant putting himself in harm’s way. This was how Kevin finally understood what it meant to be in love. If that shark came for them again, he would do anything to make sure that Tyler was safe.
“Do you hear that?” Tyler asked.
Shark Beach Page 19
