They panic was reaching heart-stopping momentum now. Jake was sure that at any second his body would give up, surrender, break apart or explode or melt away into the once beautiful sea. It wasn’t beautiful any more. The fear had seen to that.
One minute having the time of their lives, the next…

“Shark!”

That one word was enough to instil panic into the entire group, even the captain, the tour guide. Everyone. And no one had known what to do – it hadn’t been covered in the onboard safety announcements at the beginning of the day, so many long, safe hours ago. Life jackets, check. Flares, check. Sharks? Well there had been that little joke of the guide’s, that little thing about giving the creatures indigestion, but that was it.

And now it was here, it was real.

It was after them.

Jake and his brother, Mike, swam. They didn’t know what else to do and they were too far from the boat when the shout came up to get back on. They’ll come and get us, save us, Jake had thought as he’d started to swim, screaming at Mike to do the same. But they hadn’t. The boat hadn’t moved.

Jake could hear laughter. He could hear the guide. “Come back, guys! Just a little joke!”

Mike looked over at him, flushed with the swim and the embarrassment, smiled a little, relief more than amusement. But Jake felt a tug at his leg. A sharp pain, searing, growing deeper.

And he saw the blood.