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Such a shame you're made of meat
Don't call it a midlife crisis. A boat is a perfectly sound investment, and this was a real beauty. Thirty-six feet of pure white fibreglass hull with an interior flooring of varnished teak and a closed loop fuel system feeding 400 horses all at once. Whole setup running so smooth, it was like a *cat* purring at you. And all amenities included, for two lucky lovebirds to travel in style.
Sure, there was only me at the moment. Charlotte had left a while ago, taking the kids with her. Fuck her. I'd put myself out there, find someone else. I'd just work on my tan for a while, first. Maybe drop a few pounds. Plenty of time for that. What I *couldn't* wait to do was to take my new baby out for a spin.
I knew boats. We'd had one when I was a kid. Fine memories of family vacations, sun beating down as I dried out on deck after my third swim of the day. Great stuff. And I got to steer the thing too, sometimes. That's how I knew this was not gonna be a problem. So easy, a kid could do it!
I didn't get lost, exactly. I had the GPS, it told me which way was which, and how to get back home. Even though it did insist there was an island right next to me, and there wasn't. And I had the radio. I could call for help. No worries.
Since everything was obviously all good, I decided to enjoy myself. Nothing but open ocean meant perfect privacy, and maybe this was just what I needed. A little R&R. In any case, the boat was fully stocked. No time like the present to take advantage of it.
I went below deck to get a Bollinger out of the fridge. I considered filling a bucket with ice and getting out a glass, but then I thought: who cares*.* Salt Life, baby!
Popping the cork, I took a big swig. Who says money can't buy happiness? Going back out on deck I admired the view. Life was so good! Clad in nothing but my bathing shorts, I was on a beautiful boat with cool blue water lapping against the hull, and gulping down champagne like it was nothing. Anyone out there who wouldn't want to be me right now? That's what I'd like to know.
I sat down in the captain's seat, putting my feet up on the dash. I took another swig. I tapped my fingers on my leg. I got bored.
This sucked. The sun was too hot.
I was getting hungry, too. Of course there was plenty of food on board, but I didn't feel like cooking anything. I remembered there was an all-day buffet back at the marina, and that realization tore it. Sitting up in the chair and tucking the still cool bottle between my thighs, I flipped the key in the ignition.
It spectacularly failed to achieve anything. I turned the key back. I flipped it again. Same result.
“Goddammit!” I swore, then glanced vaguely upwards and muttered a quick “sorry” while crossing myself. Old habits from Catholic School die hard, and if Sister Agnes had been here now, a busted engine would have been the least of my problems. I stood up, clasping the bottle, not knowing what to do.
I was no mechanic! Were there even any tools on board? I had a sinking feeling that the only way I'd be getting my hands on a screwdriver was by mixing vodka with some orange juice.
I took another drink. All the joy of it had vanished now, and the bubbles only tasted sour.
Petulantly, I spun around and hurled the bottle away from me in the same motion. My eyes going wide, I watched in horror as it perfectly struck the forehead of the young woman who had just been hauling herself over the gunwale. Half in the boat and half out, she clung there with a dazed expression that slowly went cross eyed. Then, grip slackening as her body went limp, she began to slide back towards the water.
Instinct made me leap forward to grab hold of her. I got her just in time, and grasping her under the arms, managed to flop her onto the deck. “Jesus,” I was muttering. “Jesus, Jesus.” This didn't count as blasphemy, right? I was asking for help more than anything else.
Her head was bleeding freely. I still carried some muscle from my football days, and I'd gotten her *really* good. Was she dead? Please dear God, don't let her be dead. I put a hand to her throat to feel for a pulse, and a warm sense of pure relief flowed through me when I felt a beat. Slow, but steady.
Picking her up like a child, I began carrying her below deck. No way could I leave her out there in the baking sun, so the bed would be the best place for her. It did occur to me now that she was completely naked. Dripping wet, and naked. Where the hell had she come from? Was there another boat? I put her gently down and draped a sheet over her for the sake of modesty.
Then I hurried back out and scanned the horizon in every direction. Nothing. I wished I'd brought a pair of binoculars, but probably it wouldn't have made any difference. Laser eye surgery had left me with 20/20 vision, and everywhere I looked there was nothing but the sea. I shook my head. This was too much. First my boat had broken down, and now a skinny-dipper appeared out of nowhere to bleed all over my Egyptian cotton. I had to get on the radio and call for help.
The one smart thing I'd done before heading out was to familiarize myself with the handheld VHF. The thing had a built in GPS that would automatically transmit my position, and it didn't take me long to get in contact with a rescue vessel. It was a stroke of pure luck, but they were returning from what had proved to be a false alarm, and had no problem redirecting themselves to pick us up. When I explained about the presence of an unconscious woman with a head wound, it really seemed to light a fire under their asses too.
When I turned around, the unconscious woman in question was sitting up in the bed. I froze, looking at her. She looked back. Her eyes were shockingly dark, as if the pupils had fully dilated. She fixed me with a gaze of such intensity I wanted to look away, yet I didn't dare to break eye contact for a second.
You see, the sheet had slipped down around her waist, and her small breasts were on full display.
It shouldn't have mattered. I'd seen all there was to see out there on the deck, and touched her too, when I carried her down here. But somehow the sheen of the purple bedclothes around her were emphasizing her nakedness, turning it from a natural state and into something lecherous. I wished I'd gotten the plain white sheets now, I realized. Who did I even think I was? Some porn star?
“Are you alright?” I finally managed.
She touched her forehead, licked blood from her fingers. “My head hurts,” she said slowly. Her accent was unfamiliar to me. Russian, I thought? Eastern Europe somewhere? Long way from home, if so.
“Yeah,” I said. “I'm real sorry about that. I didn't see you.” I chuckled nervously. “I mean, where did you even come from?”
She sniffed, looking around at the interior of the cabin without seeming much impressed. “I swam, because...boats always...”
She was making no sense, trailing off in the middle of her sentence. The blow to the head must have really done a number on her. I silently prayed there would be no brain damage, and offered to attend Church every Sunday for a full year as payment for it.
“You should let me look at that cut there.” I said. “I'll clean it up.” I was already scrambling for the first aid kit. Something had cracked when I hit her, but was it her head or was it the bottle? I knew more or less what I was doing when it came to the basics, but I was worried this would be beyond me.
Didn't matter. I'd do what I could, and the rest would just have to wait.
Sitting down on the bed, I put the little red and white satchel next to me and began getting out some gauze and a small bottle of saline solution.
“This might -” I began. I was going to say *sting a little*, when her hand snaked out to grab my wrist. I instinctively tried to pull away, and found I couldn't. God, but she was strong!
She leaned into me. I saw her nostrils flare. Was she...smelling me? “H-hey,” I said. I was stammering a bit. Gently, I tried to extricate myself, but it was no use. Instead I found myself being pulled forward. I noticed for the first time that her teeth were surprisingly bad. Snaggly and yellowish. Cute otherwise, and not as young as I'd thought at first. Late twenties perhaps, just very skinny.
And acting weird. Concussion, I decided. Had to be. What was the procedure with that? Keep them awake? Play along?
“Like my cologne?” I asked.“You smell nice, too. Driftwood and Kelp! The bold new scent by Saint Laurent!” I realized I was babbling. My wrist was starting to hurt.
She seemed intent on planting a kiss on my shoulder. Despite my attempts at dissuading her, she'd almost put her mouth to the trembling flesh when she winced, her hand releasing me to gingerly prod at her forehead again.
She looked at me. “You would...mend me?”
I'd pulled myself back a little as soon as she let go. I was entirely in two minds about things.
Part of me thought the cabin seemed suddenly very cramped. It wanted to place itself out of reach of those slender arms with their viselike grip.
Another part wanted only to help her. It was so clear she needed me. What kind of shithead would I be if I just ignored that? This *was* kinda my fault.
"Sure...” I said. “I'll take care of it. Just, stay still now. Don't grab.”
Slowly, I dabbed away most of the blood, and cleaned the wound out as best I could. It wasn't all that bad, I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it had almost begun to heal already. Head wounds were *supposed* to bleed a lot too, weren't they? Maybe I'd gotten worked up over nothing.
Though she *had* passed out for a moment, and that probably wasn't good. Carefully, carefully, I slightly increased the pressure on her brow, just to feel for any sign of something being broken. No, everything still felt fine. It was just the first momentary panic that had made me think otherwise.
Alright. There was also some Aloe gel in the kit. That was good for wounds, right? Couldn't hurt. I squeezed a small dollop onto my fingers, and very gently began to massage it into her forehead.
She had closed her eyes halfway through my ministrations, and now she was sighing contently. Her mouth curved slightly. “That's nice...” She said. “I like that.”
“Good, great. I'm gonna put a bandage on you now, okay?”
Before I could get that far, the handheld crackled into life.
“Cherry Bomb? Come in, Cherry Bomb. This is Sunbeam. We are approaching your location now. Please respond, over.”
(Yeah, I named my boat *Cherry Bomb,* so what? Sue me for liking The Runaways)
“You stay here, okay?” I told my guest. “Rest. I'm going up on deck, but I'll be right back.” I grabbed the handheld and hurried out.
Out on the deck, the ocean breeze did wonders for clearing my head. I hadn't realized just how on edge I was. Shading my eyes against the sun, I could see the shape of a boat out there now, rapidly approaching.
“Sunbeam, this is Cherry Bomb. We are, uh, standing by? For rescue? Over.”
“Roger that, Cherry Bomb. We are prepared to offer immediate medical assistance. Is the patient capable of being moved? Over.”
“Actually,” I said. “I don't think we'll need -”
There were footsteps behind me. I turned to look, and let go of the call button.
“I feel better now,” she said. She stood there, naked and completely unashamed. “I remember why I came here.”
She moved towards me, slowly. Her lips were parted slightly, and I thought her tongue darted quickly out to lick them. Then her eyes shifted to a point above my shoulder.
“Boat,” she said. “Coming to get you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Us. It's all gonna be okay. Now.” I had taken a step backwards, I realized. The way she'd been looking at me.
She seemed to considered something.
“Made me feel good,” she murmured. “When you touched me.”
She'd come so close we could almost have kissed. Gently, she placed her hands on my chest.
“But,” she said. “I am also hungry.”
She gave me a shove so hard and fast I didn't even have time to yell before going over the side. The water slapped my back like a giants hand and I went under, then came back up, spluttering.
From the deck, she looked down at me.
“I like you!” She shouted. “I will give you a head start, okay? If you make it to the other boat, you can leave!”
I was about to ask her what the hell she was playing at, but she had already leapt from the deck, curving forward to perform a perfect dive. She knifed into the water and -
- *changed.*
Her speed had carried her deep beneath the surface, but I could still see her well enough to know it wasn't her any more. Scales glittered on a blue-grey and sinuous body that snaked around and coiled upon itself. A woman's torso grew from the lower body of a giant eel. A pair of eyes like dark marbles blinked as a nightmare mouth split open.
Screaming, I thrashed and flailed, made for the ladder of my boat. I had to get out of the water! The shape came shooting up so quickly it almost seemed to simply appear before me. It cut me off, pushed me back, herding me away. A webbed hand slid across my belly in passing, grating like sandpaper against my skin. A message delivered. Don't go that way.
I reversed, kicking, threw myself around and turning my momentum into a desperate and inelegant crawl as I began to swim for my life in the direction of the approaching rescue vessel.
This wasn't happening. This wasn't possible. She wasn't -
- a stab of pain in my left thigh. Something flashed past me in the water, circled 'round and came up again from behind me. I whimpered, swallowed seawater, floundered, threw myself forward again. It was below me now, I could feel it, caught flashes of reflected light.
At first I'd been been praying, begging *please please please don't let it get me, God and Sister Agnes help me now and I will always be so good forever I promise*, but even that babble of childish fear and pleading had stilled, displaced by a deeper terror, some atavistic instinct that screamed at me s*hark, shark,* and beneath that, even purer and more thoroughly imprinted in the memory of my DNA was simply the image of *teeth.*
I wasn't a man. I was prey. Like prey, I fled.
A touch of ice against my foot. A red line drawn across my chest. A nip, a prod, a cut and something vital leaking out of me. Then nothing. I crashed on through the waves, heedless of anything but the need to escape.
A wall loomed in front of me. Trapped! Trapped! Gibbering with panic, I tried to turn but strong arms were already gripping me. Hauling me up.
Out of the water.
I became aware of frantic voices surrounding me on all sides.
“*Got you buddy! Hang on!”*
“*Shit, what was that!?”*
“*Jesus you're torn up!”*
“*Why the hell did you jump? We were coming right to you!”*
“*The girl! Where's the girl? Anyone see the girl?!”*
I couldn't give them any answers. Already I was slipping into unconsciousness.
As it was, the paramedic they had standing by on the Sunbeam came in pretty handy after all. I was missing three toes on my left foot, and bleeding from a dozen other wounds. The cut across my chest had sliced away a nipple, and otherwise left a long and ugly scar that swelled up purple and never really flattened out.
They looked for her for as long as they could, but of course there was no sign of anyone else. "Shark" must have gotten her. Weren't supposed to be any man eaters around here, but sometimes they travel and end up in unexpected places. So I was assured, anyway.
Of course there were other questions. Who was she? What had happened between us on my boat? I could have gotten in some pretty bad trouble over that, but it all worked out in the end.
After all, the crew of the Sunbeam had been watching through binoculars, had caught me going into the water. Then they'd seen the girl jump in after me, all of her own free will. After that things did get somewhat confused, but I knew to keep my mouth shut about it until I had several very expensive lawyers by my side.
Money, money, money. What can't it do?
Well, it can't get rid of the nightmares. I drink myself to sleep now, most nights. It's not the pain of my missing pieces or the jumbled images from my panicked swim that go through my head, but something else that happened afterwards, when we'd given up the search. Everyone else were busy, one man working to stitch up my leg, but I was awake and looking back, sitting propped up against an equipment chest.
I saw her, out in the sea. She was bobbing very peacefully, only the human-ish part of her torso visible above water. Our eyes met. Flashing me a needle grin, she cheerfully waved a webbed hand in goodbye.
Then she dove and disappeared beneath the surface.
#entertainment
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Don't call it a midlife crisis. A boat is a perfectly sound investment, and this was a real beauty. Thirty-six feet of pure white fibreglass hull with an interior flooring of varnished teak and a closed loop fuel system feeding 400 horses all at once. Whole setup running so smooth, it was like a *cat* purring at you. And all amenities included, for two lucky lovebirds to travel in style.
Sure, there was only me at the moment. Charlotte had left a while ago, taking the kids with her. Fuck her. I'd put myself out there, find someone else. I'd just work on my tan for a while, first. Maybe drop a few pounds. Plenty of time for that. What I *couldn't* wait to do was to take my new baby out for a spin.
I knew boats. We'd had one when I was a kid. Fine memories of family vacations, sun beating down as I dried out on deck after my third swim of the day. Great stuff. And I got to steer the thing too, sometimes. That's how I knew this was not gonna be a problem. So easy, a kid could do it!
I didn't get lost, exactly. I had the GPS, it told me which way was which, and how to get back home. Even though it did insist there was an island right next to me, and there wasn't. And I had the radio. I could call for help. No worries.
Since everything was obviously all good, I decided to enjoy myself. Nothing but open ocean meant perfect privacy, and maybe this was just what I needed. A little R&R. In any case, the boat was fully stocked. No time like the present to take advantage of it.
I went below deck to get a Bollinger out of the fridge. I considered filling a bucket with ice and getting out a glass, but then I thought: who cares*.* Salt Life, baby!
Popping the cork, I took a big swig. Who says money can't buy happiness? Going back out on deck I admired the view. Life was so good! Clad in nothing but my bathing shorts, I was on a beautiful boat with cool blue water lapping against the hull, and gulping down champagne like it was nothing. Anyone out there who wouldn't want to be me right now? That's what I'd like to know.
I sat down in the captain's seat, putting my feet up on the dash. I took another swig. I tapped my fingers on my leg. I got bored.
This sucked. The sun was too hot.
I was getting hungry, too. Of course there was plenty of food on board, but I didn't feel like cooking anything. I remembered there was an all-day buffet back at the marina, and that realization tore it. Sitting up in the chair and tucking the still cool bottle between my thighs, I flipped the key in the ignition.
It spectacularly failed to achieve anything. I turned the key back. I flipped it again. Same result.
“Goddammit!” I swore, then glanced vaguely upwards and muttered a quick “sorry” while crossing myself. Old habits from Catholic School die hard, and if Sister Agnes had been here now, a busted engine would have been the least of my problems. I stood up, clasping the bottle, not knowing what to do.
I was no mechanic! Were there even any tools on board? I had a sinking feeling that the only way I'd be getting my hands on a screwdriver was by mixing vodka with some orange juice.
I took another drink. All the joy of it had vanished now, and the bubbles only tasted sour.
Petulantly, I spun around and hurled the bottle away from me in the same motion. My eyes going wide, I watched in horror as it perfectly struck the forehead of the young woman who had just been hauling herself over the gunwale. Half in the boat and half out, she clung there with a dazed expression that slowly went cross eyed. Then, grip slackening as her body went limp, she began to slide back towards the water.
Instinct made me leap forward to grab hold of her. I got her just in time, and grasping her under the arms, managed to flop her onto the deck. “Jesus,” I was muttering. “Jesus, Jesus.” This didn't count as blasphemy, right? I was asking for help more than anything else.
Her head was bleeding freely. I still carried some muscle from my football days, and I'd gotten her *really* good. Was she dead? Please dear God, don't let her be dead. I put a hand to her throat to feel for a pulse, and a warm sense of pure relief flowed through me when I felt a beat. Slow, but steady.
Picking her up like a child, I began carrying her below deck. No way could I leave her out there in the baking sun, so the bed would be the best place for her. It did occur to me now that she was completely naked. Dripping wet, and naked. Where the hell had she come from? Was there another boat? I put her gently down and draped a sheet over her for the sake of modesty.
Then I hurried back out and scanned the horizon in every direction. Nothing. I wished I'd brought a pair of binoculars, but probably it wouldn't have made any difference. Laser eye surgery had left me with 20/20 vision, and everywhere I looked there was nothing but the sea. I shook my head. This was too much. First my boat had broken down, and now a skinny-dipper appeared out of nowhere to bleed all over my Egyptian cotton. I had to get on the radio and call for help.
The one smart thing I'd done before heading out was to familiarize myself with the handheld VHF. The thing had a built in GPS that would automatically transmit my position, and it didn't take me long to get in contact with a rescue vessel. It was a stroke of pure luck, but they were returning from what had proved to be a false alarm, and had no problem redirecting themselves to pick us up. When I explained about the presence of an unconscious woman with a head wound, it really seemed to light a fire under their asses too.
When I turned around, the unconscious woman in question was sitting up in the bed. I froze, looking at her. She looked back. Her eyes were shockingly dark, as if the pupils had fully dilated. She fixed me with a gaze of such intensity I wanted to look away, yet I didn't dare to break eye contact for a second.
You see, the sheet had slipped down around her waist, and her small breasts were on full display.
It shouldn't have mattered. I'd seen all there was to see out there on the deck, and touched her too, when I carried her down here. But somehow the sheen of the purple bedclothes around her were emphasizing her nakedness, turning it from a natural state and into something lecherous. I wished I'd gotten the plain white sheets now, I realized. Who did I even think I was? Some porn star?
“Are you alright?” I finally managed.
She touched her forehead, licked blood from her fingers. “My head hurts,” she said slowly. Her accent was unfamiliar to me. Russian, I thought? Eastern Europe somewhere? Long way from home, if so.
“Yeah,” I said. “I'm real sorry about that. I didn't see you.” I chuckled nervously. “I mean, where did you even come from?”
She sniffed, looking around at the interior of the cabin without seeming much impressed. “I swam, because...boats always...”
She was making no sense, trailing off in the middle of her sentence. The blow to the head must have really done a number on her. I silently prayed there would be no brain damage, and offered to attend Church every Sunday for a full year as payment for it.
“You should let me look at that cut there.” I said. “I'll clean it up.” I was already scrambling for the first aid kit. Something had cracked when I hit her, but was it her head or was it the bottle? I knew more or less what I was doing when it came to the basics, but I was worried this would be beyond me.
Didn't matter. I'd do what I could, and the rest would just have to wait.
Sitting down on the bed, I put the little red and white satchel next to me and began getting out some gauze and a small bottle of saline solution.
“This might -” I began. I was going to say *sting a little*, when her hand snaked out to grab my wrist. I instinctively tried to pull away, and found I couldn't. God, but she was strong!
She leaned into me. I saw her nostrils flare. Was she...smelling me? “H-hey,” I said. I was stammering a bit. Gently, I tried to extricate myself, but it was no use. Instead I found myself being pulled forward. I noticed for the first time that her teeth were surprisingly bad. Snaggly and yellowish. Cute otherwise, and not as young as I'd thought at first. Late twenties perhaps, just very skinny.
And acting weird. Concussion, I decided. Had to be. What was the procedure with that? Keep them awake? Play along?
“Like my cologne?” I asked.“You smell nice, too. Driftwood and Kelp! The bold new scent by Saint Laurent!” I realized I was babbling. My wrist was starting to hurt.
She seemed intent on planting a kiss on my shoulder. Despite my attempts at dissuading her, she'd almost put her mouth to the trembling flesh when she winced, her hand releasing me to gingerly prod at her forehead again.
She looked at me. “You would...mend me?”
I'd pulled myself back a little as soon as she let go. I was entirely in two minds about things.
Part of me thought the cabin seemed suddenly very cramped. It wanted to place itself out of reach of those slender arms with their viselike grip.
Another part wanted only to help her. It was so clear she needed me. What kind of shithead would I be if I just ignored that? This *was* kinda my fault.
"Sure...” I said. “I'll take care of it. Just, stay still now. Don't grab.”
Slowly, I dabbed away most of the blood, and cleaned the wound out as best I could. It wasn't all that bad, I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it had almost begun to heal already. Head wounds were *supposed* to bleed a lot too, weren't they? Maybe I'd gotten worked up over nothing.
Though she *had* passed out for a moment, and that probably wasn't good. Carefully, carefully, I slightly increased the pressure on her brow, just to feel for any sign of something being broken. No, everything still felt fine. It was just the first momentary panic that had made me think otherwise.
Alright. There was also some Aloe gel in the kit. That was good for wounds, right? Couldn't hurt. I squeezed a small dollop onto my fingers, and very gently began to massage it into her forehead.
She had closed her eyes halfway through my ministrations, and now she was sighing contently. Her mouth curved slightly. “That's nice...” She said. “I like that.”
“Good, great. I'm gonna put a bandage on you now, okay?”
Before I could get that far, the handheld crackled into life.
“Cherry Bomb? Come in, Cherry Bomb. This is Sunbeam. We are approaching your location now. Please respond, over.”
(Yeah, I named my boat *Cherry Bomb,* so what? Sue me for liking The Runaways)
“You stay here, okay?” I told my guest. “Rest. I'm going up on deck, but I'll be right back.” I grabbed the handheld and hurried out.
Out on the deck, the ocean breeze did wonders for clearing my head. I hadn't realized just how on edge I was. Shading my eyes against the sun, I could see the shape of a boat out there now, rapidly approaching.
“Sunbeam, this is Cherry Bomb. We are, uh, standing by? For rescue? Over.”
“Roger that, Cherry Bomb. We are prepared to offer immediate medical assistance. Is the patient capable of being moved? Over.”
“Actually,” I said. “I don't think we'll need -”
There were footsteps behind me. I turned to look, and let go of the call button.
“I feel better now,” she said. She stood there, naked and completely unashamed. “I remember why I came here.”
She moved towards me, slowly. Her lips were parted slightly, and I thought her tongue darted quickly out to lick them. Then her eyes shifted to a point above my shoulder.
“Boat,” she said. “Coming to get you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Us. It's all gonna be okay. Now.” I had taken a step backwards, I realized. The way she'd been looking at me.
She seemed to considered something.
“Made me feel good,” she murmured. “When you touched me.”
She'd come so close we could almost have kissed. Gently, she placed her hands on my chest.
“But,” she said. “I am also hungry.”
She gave me a shove so hard and fast I didn't even have time to yell before going over the side. The water slapped my back like a giants hand and I went under, then came back up, spluttering.
From the deck, she looked down at me.
“I like you!” She shouted. “I will give you a head start, okay? If you make it to the other boat, you can leave!”
I was about to ask her what the hell she was playing at, but she had already leapt from the deck, curving forward to perform a perfect dive. She knifed into the water and -
- *changed.*
Her speed had carried her deep beneath the surface, but I could still see her well enough to know it wasn't her any more. Scales glittered on a blue-grey and sinuous body that snaked around and coiled upon itself. A woman's torso grew from the lower body of a giant eel. A pair of eyes like dark marbles blinked as a nightmare mouth split open.
Screaming, I thrashed and flailed, made for the ladder of my boat. I had to get out of the water! The shape came shooting up so quickly it almost seemed to simply appear before me. It cut me off, pushed me back, herding me away. A webbed hand slid across my belly in passing, grating like sandpaper against my skin. A message delivered. Don't go that way.
I reversed, kicking, threw myself around and turning my momentum into a desperate and inelegant crawl as I began to swim for my life in the direction of the approaching rescue vessel.
This wasn't happening. This wasn't possible. She wasn't -
- a stab of pain in my left thigh. Something flashed past me in the water, circled 'round and came up again from behind me. I whimpered, swallowed seawater, floundered, threw myself forward again. It was below me now, I could feel it, caught flashes of reflected light.
At first I'd been been praying, begging *please please please don't let it get me, God and Sister Agnes help me now and I will always be so good forever I promise*, but even that babble of childish fear and pleading had stilled, displaced by a deeper terror, some atavistic instinct that screamed at me s*hark, shark,* and beneath that, even purer and more thoroughly imprinted in the memory of my DNA was simply the image of *teeth.*
I wasn't a man. I was prey. Like prey, I fled.
A touch of ice against my foot. A red line drawn across my chest. A nip, a prod, a cut and something vital leaking out of me. Then nothing. I crashed on through the waves, heedless of anything but the need to escape.
A wall loomed in front of me. Trapped! Trapped! Gibbering with panic, I tried to turn but strong arms were already gripping me. Hauling me up.
Out of the water.
I became aware of frantic voices surrounding me on all sides.
“*Got you buddy! Hang on!”*
“*Shit, what was that!?”*
“*Jesus you're torn up!”*
“*Why the hell did you jump? We were coming right to you!”*
“*The girl! Where's the girl? Anyone see the girl?!”*
I couldn't give them any answers. Already I was slipping into unconsciousness.
As it was, the paramedic they had standing by on the Sunbeam came in pretty handy after all. I was missing three toes on my left foot, and bleeding from a dozen other wounds. The cut across my chest had sliced away a nipple, and otherwise left a long and ugly scar that swelled up purple and never really flattened out.
They looked for her for as long as they could, but of course there was no sign of anyone else. "Shark" must have gotten her. Weren't supposed to be any man eaters around here, but sometimes they travel and end up in unexpected places. So I was assured, anyway.
Of course there were other questions. Who was she? What had happened between us on my boat? I could have gotten in some pretty bad trouble over that, but it all worked out in the end.
After all, the crew of the Sunbeam had been watching through binoculars, had caught me going into the water. Then they'd seen the girl jump in after me, all of her own free will. After that things did get somewhat confused, but I knew to keep my mouth shut about it until I had several very expensive lawyers by my side.
Money, money, money. What can't it do?
Well, it can't get rid of the nightmares. I drink myself to sleep now, most nights. It's not the pain of my missing pieces or the jumbled images from my panicked swim that go through my head, but something else that happened afterwards, when we'd given up the search. Everyone else were busy, one man working to stitch up my leg, but I was awake and looking back, sitting propped up against an equipment chest.
I saw her, out in the sea. She was bobbing very peacefully, only the human-ish part of her torso visible above water. Our eyes met. Flashing me a needle grin, she cheerfully waved a webbed hand in goodbye.
Then she dove and disappeared beneath the surface.
#entertainment
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