Shark Beach

by Chris Jameson

  Kevin cocked his head and frowned. He hadn’t heard a thing … or had he?

  Yes, those were voices. Mangrove branches rustled as Kevin shifted them out of the way. A tree crab scuttled up his arm but he ignored it. Others fell to plunk into the water beneath them.

  “Be careful,” Tyler said. “You’re hanging out too far. We should go inland. Cross on stable ground.”

  It was a good thought, although deeper into the mangroves meant forging a path through a thicker tangle of trees. And now wasn’t the time, not as those voices grew louder. He hung out over the water, watching for any sign of the shark, and got a glimpse of the kayak coming their way. A scraped-up yellow skiff with two passengers, a middle-aged couple who babbled to each other with the easy familiarity of years between them. Silly voices, splashing with paddles, the woman admonished the man for steering them into the mangroves, and they flailed as they tried to point the nose of their kayak in the right direction. She wore a Chicago Cubs baseball cap and the most enormous sunglasses Kevin had seen on an actual human face. The guy had a bushy gray beard and the sort of beet-red suntan that had clearly started out as a burn.

  The ripple on the water turned toward them and then vanished altogether.

  Kevin cursed under his breath. “Hey!” he shouted. “Get over here!”

  The couple slowed their paddling. The Cubs fan glanced around, trying to figure out where his voice had come from. Her boyfriend or husband, whatever he was, lifted his paddle out of the water.

  “Hello?” the guy called.

  Tyler took Kevin by the arm, nearly toppling him from his perch in the mangroves. “You’re going to scare the shit out of—”

  Kevin ignored him, hanging farther out of the trees. He shook the branches. “Hey, people! Cubs fans! Whoever the fuck you are, get into the trees. Get out of the kayak right now!”

  They spotted him. The woman started paddling again, trying to turn so they could pass by while keeping as far away from Kevin as possible.

  “Go,” she said to the man. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Their paddling was off rhythm again and the kayak began to turn, gliding beneath a fallen tree and into a small inlet. The woman swore and reached out her paddle to push off the trees. Kevin’s heart sped up as he stared at the water behind them, watching for a fin, for any sign of the shark.

  “Listen to me,” he said, and he began to scramble through the mangroves, moving toward them. “There are sharks in the water. We were kayaking, too. We were attacked. Now we’re stuck here.”

  “What are you doing?” Tyler rasped from behind him. “Stop. You’ll fall.”

  Kevin ignored him. He moved as swiftly as he could while still being careful about his footing. His shoe slipped off and his leg plunged into the water up to the knee. His foot wedged between two mangroves but he pulled it up immediately, dripping, and kept moving, bracing himself. He spotted a clump of solid ground tufted with undergrowth and stood on it. In front of him there was an opening in the mangroves that gave the kayakers a full view of him, and he saw the way they stared as they tried to adjust their course.

  “I don’t see any shark,” the Cubs fan said.

  “There sure as hell isn’t any room in our kayak,” added her man.

  “We don’t want to get in. Aren’t you listening?” Kevin said, glancing back and forth between the kayakers and the water. “A shark attacked us in our kayaks. We had to get off the water.”

  “Look,” the guy said, “we’ll tell someone as soon as we’re back at the dock. They’ll come out and get you, I’m sure.”

  Tyler appeared suddenly, hanging halfway out of a clump of mangroves to Kevin’s left, farther from the kayakers. He looked comical, and Kevin smiled.

  “Hi, folks,” he said cheerily, and maybe a bit maniacally. “Look, we’re trying to help you here. But by all means, stay in your kayak and get eaten.” He shot a grim look at Kevin. “Now can you back the hell up and we’ll go back to our plan? Let’s not—”

  Kevin saw the ripple beneath him, then the fin broke the surface. The kayakers shouted in shock. Tyler spotted the shark and sprang back into the mangroves, but it smashed through the roots and branches, still mostly underwater, thrashing the tree as if to shake him loose. Both feet slipped and plunged into the water beneath the trees and Kevin screamed, hurling himself through the mangroves. Branches whipped his face and arms and snagged him, trapping him as if in a spider’s web.

  He broke free just as the shark made a second try, but Tyler had thrown himself forward, onto a patch of scrubby but solid ground in the midst of the tangle. Kevin reached him, practically fell on top of him, and a moment later they were sitting together, cradling each other. Kevin felt Tyler’s heart beating against his chest and held him even tighter, more determined than ever to get them both out of there.

  They sat and listened to the kayakers screaming. Kevin could imagine them frantically trying to paddle together, to coordinate well enough so they could get out of there. Then there came a thump and a crack, followed by a splash and then screaming. In his mind’s eye, he could see what had happened without even looking. The Cubs fan had been knocked into the water. Her mate shrieked, watching her die.

  Tyler tried to turn and look, but Kevin cupped his face and they focused on each other as they heard the sound of the guy trying to paddle, maybe trying to hit the shark with the oar. Did he try to jump into the mangroves at the last second? Maybe he did, but it didn’t matter. They heard a terrible crunch and a scream and then silence, except for the sound of water being pushed aside.

  When it had been quiet for several minutes, Kevin stood and helped Tyler to his feet. They moved carefully, watching for the shark, until they spotted half of the yellow kayak floating on the water, drifting away. The mangroves were quiet except for the birds and the shush of wind through the leaves.

  “What do we do?” Tyler whispered.

  Kevin started to reply, but a new sound filtered through the trees. He grabbed a branch and pulled himself up, turning toward the unmistakable roar. Tyler rose behind him, grabbing hold of his arm.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Helicopter,” Kevin replied. “Looking for something.”

  “Us?”

  “Too soon. Nobody knows we’re missing yet. But they’re looking for something,” Kevin said. “We stick with the plan. Let’s get over to the open bayside. There’s more open sunlight there, more chance of being spotted by a boat or that helicopter, if it’s making more than one pass.”

  “Anywhere’s better than here,” Tyler said, glancing toward the place where the kayakers had been killed.

  Kevin agreed. Together, they began to move through the mangroves again, swiftly but carefully. He thought about Nadia, and wished he had hated her just a little bit more, enough for him to have ignored his desire to get to know Tyler’s friends better, and to keep from hurting his boyfriend’s feelings.

  He guessed it was love, after all. He was just glad it hadn’t gotten them killed.

  CHAPTER 15

  Emma wished she could just break down. She wanted to stop, to turn invisible, to pinch herself and wake up from a nightmare in her bed. Instead, she stared at the hand holding hers, then looked into Marianna’s eyes.

  “Pull!” Marianna screamed. “Pull me up!”

  No point. Emma knew that. She had her right arm hooked inside a doorway, keeping herself from sliding down the corridor into the water that rushed to fill the empty spaces on board the wreck. The water would reach her in seconds and then the shark could get her, like it had already gotten Marianna.

  The girl began to scream. Some of it came out as words, but most of the noise was pure pain and panic. Marianna tried to pull Emma down after her, but she had little strength left as the water rose around her and her blood bubbled up in the foam. The shark had turned away for a moment and taken a piece of Marianna with it, one of her legs, Emma figured. Or most of one.

  Emma cried, her lips quiveri
ng. She gripped Marianna’s hand more tightly and tried to pull her up, as she’d pleaded, but she wasn’t strong enough. She watched the other girl’s eyes glaze over with shock and studied her face as the terror leeched away, all expression vanishing.

  For a moment, Emma thought Marianna was already dead. Then the shark rushed up again. Emma saw its black eyes staring as its jaws clamped around Marianna’s torso, those eyes gleaming with a promise: I’ll be back for you.

  Marianna cried out one last time, weakly, just a bleat. Emma let go of her hand, startled. Terrified. The shark yanked and Marianna vanished down the gullet of that flooded ship’s corridor, and Emma felt a wave of relief and guilt come over her.

  The water kept rising.

  Emma hauled herself up by the doorframe, managing the strange angle in that upside-down, tilted, sinking wreck. Through the door was some kind of galley kitchen, its furniture rotted after a century and a half on the Gulf floor, floating in pieces as the room filled up with water again.

  A huge portion of the outer wall was gone, ripped outward by years of pressure on the paddle wheel on the side of the wreck. The mooring of the wheel had cracked a hole in the hull. Water rushed in through that rift, but she could see daylight, see blue sky and open sea, and though she would have nowhere to run out there, she would drown or be chum if she stayed here. The water rising in the corridor spilled over the lip of the doorframe, along with traces of Marianna’s blood, and she knew that she had no choice. The shark would be back. Her only chance was to hope they had not drifted so far from the beach that she couldn’t swim to the shore. And that the sharks would not get her first.

  Emma pushed off from the doorframe, jumping as far as she could. She splashed into the galley room and began to swim, shoving aside the floating debris. A wave pushed in through the hole, lifted her, and pushed her backward, and she cried out in fear that it would hurl her back through the door, but then it reversed direction and carried her forward instead, out into the open Gulf.

  Another wave caught her but she swam against it, kicking her legs and shifting to one side. The water threw her against the hull, but she was outside, away from the shark. Her heart pounding, her skin prickling with the sensation that shark teeth might tear into her at any moment, she glanced around for anything that might save her. The shipwreck blocked her view of the beach and, looking out over the Gulf, she saw a distant buoy and several boats on the horizon, but no hope of rescue. She had to get around the wreck and swim to shore, but that certainty felt like a dagger in her heart. Emma wanted to cry out, certain that she had escaped the wreck only to die in open water.

  To the north, the torn-open end of the ship had submerged completely. To the south, the tip of its bow jutted from the water and the ship canted to one side. She could see the railing, dripping water. The hull faced the sky. If she wanted to try to climb, the railing would get her there, but scrambling on top of the sinking ship would only delay the inevitable.

  Time, she thought. It would buy her time.

  Emma swam along the sunken ship, kicking toward the spokes of the paddle wheel that would allow her to scramble over to the exposed railing. She heard a cheer and glanced up to see Rashad watching her from atop the inverted vessel. He clapped his hands and then shot them into the air like she’d just scored a touchdown, urging her on. Emma felt lighter, a flicker of hope growing inside her. The horror of watching Marianna die would stay with her. She doubted she would ever forget the feel of the girl’s hand slipping from her own. But she wanted to live, needed to hug her mother and father, needed to laugh with Kelsey again. She was going to live.

  When Rashad screamed her name, at first she thought he was cheering her on again. Then she recognized the fear in his voice, the panic, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the enormous fin slice the surface back toward the sunken end of the wreck. The shark that had killed Marianna might still be inside the ship, but this one seemed even bigger. Its back shed water as it picked up speed, and she could picture its black eyes even if she could not see them. Staring at her, filled with numb hunger.

  Emma swam. She thought again of laughing with Kelsey, of all the times she had teased her little sister, of all the walks they’d taken and times they’d watched TV in their parents’ bed, nested together with the familiar scents of their mother and father. As she swam, her body thrumming with the thunderous drum of her heart, it was a shock for her to realize it would be Kelsey she missed the most, not her mom or dad. As much as she had teased Kelsey, Emma had wanted to be a good big sister, wanted to give out all of the advice their mother had never given her.

  Part of her broke, deep inside. She bottled up a scream that wanted to rip free, to paralyze her. Instead, she swam harder.

  Her hand banged against the paddle wheel. Emma wrapped both hands around a thick spoke and dragged herself out of the water. She scrambled into the architecture of the paddle wheel and lay against the hull. After a moment, she got her feet on top of the spoke, then climbed along the metal, moving higher above the waves. Her feet were six inches above the water. Twelve. Twenty.

  She reached the deck railing and began to slide along it, shuffling on the hull, face and belly against the rusted, pitted metal. Over her head, she heard Rashad shouting, and she glanced north and saw the shark’s fin vanish, blue-white surf roiling in its wake. For a moment she felt relief.

  “Emma, climb!” Rashad shouted. “You’ve got to get higher! Climb!”

  She glanced up, saw the desperation in his eyes as he edged toward her on the curving hull, and she understood. The hull hadn’t been smooth for a century, so she might drag herself up along it, but the slope remained too steep. She shuffled closer to the bow, moving along the upside-down railing, and started to drag herself up.

  Rashad shouted a warning.

  Emma threw herself sideways just as the shark burst from the water and struck the underside of the railing with a crunch of metal. Above her, Rashad lost his footing. He toppled backward, thumped his head on the hull, and began to slide. Swearing, he turned and scrabbled against the hull, his feet trying to find purchase even as the shark splashed down into the water and vanished again.

  Rashad hit the railing with one foot. The other slipped through and he tumbled sideways to land on the railing, dangling over the waves like bait. Emma scrambled to get a better position, knowing all the while that the shark would come back. She could feel the seconds ticking by in her head.

  “Let’s go!” she said. “Please!”

  She grabbed Rashad’s arm, helped him extricate himself from the railing, and then the two of them were crawling like spiders up the pitted, rusted hull. Rashad nearly skidded down again but managed to keep going. Emma skinned her knees and scraped her hands, but she didn’t care.

  Something bumped the wreck. The shark, down below, gliding its bulk against the railing where it went underwater. Her pulse raced, but she kept her grip.

  They reached the top together. Rashad slumped down, whispering profanity and prayers. The wreck continued to drift and to sink. Emma and Rashad were safe for the moment, but that wouldn’t last for very long. She sat up, drew her knees beneath her, and turned to look at the beach, knowing that even fifty feet might be too far for her to swim with the sharks down there. And it wasn’t fifty feet—it was closer to two hundred and fifty.

  There were people on the beach.

  “Rashad,” she said quietly, scrambling to her feet. She nearly slipped, but widened her stance and began to wave her arms and shout for help. Her mom was there, and Mrs. Hautala. Emma wondered if they could hear her, if they could see her.

  “Oh shit,” Rashad said. “Maybe we’re not going to die.”

  He stayed on his knees, nervous now about falling off again, but he waved his arms and shouted.

  Emma didn’t look back out to sea. She knew the sharks were still there, and still hungry.

  * * *

  Corinne began to scream her daughter’s name. She waved her arms back and forth ju
st like Emma was doing, her whole body trembling. It felt like a nightmare, like the breathless terror of being trapped in an impossible dream, unable to wake. But she knew this wasn’t a dream, knew that she had to act. If Emma fell …

  No. Corinne rushed into the water, every muscle striving to reach her daughter.

  “I’m here!” she shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “We’ll get you! We’ll come get you!”

  She plunged into the water up to her waist, all else forgotten. Corinne had been worried about Rick and Kelsey, but she could not help them right now. Deputy Hayes had put out a call, and someone would be looking for their sightseeing boat. Kelsey was with her father, out of reach, but Corinne had Emma right here—a hundred yards away—and the power to get her to safety.

  She took another step, prepared to dive in, and then Jenn Hautala grabbed her around the waist and spun her back toward shore.

  Corinne turned on her, anger flaring. “What the fuck are you—”

  Jenn stumbled toward the sand, picking up her knees as she ran. She grabbed Corinne with one hand, shoved her with the other, and though Corinne protested, Jenn maneuvered her back into the shallow surf. Jenn tripped, swore, and went sprawling on her hands and knees as a foaming wave rippled around her.

  “What is wrong with you?” Corinne asked, hearing the brittle panic in her own voice.

  Jenn rose, dusting off her knees. “What is wrong with you, woman? Take a look!” She pointed at the water.

  Corinne turned to see two sharks cruising in opposite directions, crossing paths in the undulating waters that separated the sinking, drifting wreck from the beach. For the first time she noticed that Emma had stopped flagging them for help and instead seemed to be pushing her hands out, as if to keep her mother on the shore.

  The wind shifted and she caught a snippet of Emma’s voice. “—boat! Get a boat, Mom!”

  Deputy Hayes came up beside the two women. “She’s right, Mrs. Scully. Even if you had the luck to make it out to them, you’d never all make it back safely.”