What do you think Chris is?
My friend.
A dorsal fin circles methodically, watching, waiting. I can’t move.
I don’t fight. I don’t flight. I just freeze, and yes, I hate myself for it.
I think of the last fight with Oliver where he was standing over me, screaming. And I just stood there, lips numb, andtookit. Took everything.
The boat lurches sharply as a shark strikes again, sending a violent tremor through the boat.Move. Move.
But it’s Luke who moves. Luke who drags me across the hull, forearm at my throat as he rips the tarp off Chris. He’s crumpled on the ground, eyes wide and distant. His face is pale, streaked with blood and dirt, and his body’s twisted at an odd angle. His bloodied hands curl weakly, reaching for nothing. Or maybe he’s reaching for me.
“Chris!”
His eyes flutter, straining to focus. I reach for him desperately, but Luke pivots, moving me bodily to the gunwale as he loops his free arm under Chris’s shoulders. With a strained grunt, he lifts him, and Chris’s head lolls against his chest.
Fins cut the water, one after another, steady and deliberate. Waiting for something or someone to be thrown in.
“Minnows. They’re not just little fish,” Luke pants. “They’rebaitfish.”
A memory comes to me. Heath and I splashing about in the shallows, eyes on the minnows darting through the water. So quick, so quick. How many times did we snatch for them only to come up empty-handed?
I don’t fight. I don’t flight. I just freeze.
No. Not anymore.
You’ll have to catch me first.
I reel backward, smashing the back of my head into Luke’s nose. His hand drops from my throat, and the one holding Chris in place falls to his side with a smack.
Chris crumples to the floor with a grunt, and pain ricochets through my skull.
Quick!
Luke is half bent over, hand cupped to his mouth, hot blood spilling down his fingers. With a roar of anger, he flings the blood over the side of the boat, straight into the water.
A splash.They come in hard, and they come in…
God,I think,they’re waiting.
“Chris!” I scream. “Get up!”
Quick, quick, quick!Adrenaline swims through my body. I reach down to my ankle, fingers closing around the knife handle. With a roar, Luke charges forward, bloodied hands thrust out. He throws himself against me, knocking me off-balance, and I collide hard with the helm. My knee buckles, my cheek slamming into the wheel.
“Chris,” I yell, blood filling my mouth. “Chris!”
Weakly, Chris lifts his head, eyes dull and unfocused. His lips part, a shallow breath catching in his chest. Even the effort of raising his head seems to cost him everything. There’s a flicker of recognition as his eyes stare into mine. I keep calling, voice cracking. “Get up! Get up!”
Luke’s on me again, swearing, panting, hauling me to my feet, both hands cupping my underarms. He drags me back, grunting with effort.
I spin around, strike out, and slam the knife into his shoulder. He lets out a strangled yell and I wrench the knife out, raising it again, forcing all my body weight behind the next blow.
But before I can strike, it feels like an earthquake hits the boat. There’s a hugebangso loud, it rattles in my ears and teeth. I hear Chris call out in pain as I’m knocked off my feet. And then I’m just falling.
Desperately, I grip the knife as I fall backward, groaning in pain as I land hard on my elbows. For a moment, I’m stunned, lying on my back, staring up at the dark sky. And then, splashing all around me, spray hitting my hair, my face.
The sharks, I realize. They’re bumping the boat. Frantic and angry. My vision is murky, fading in and out. I can’t see Chris but I can hear Luke. Laughing.
