throttle forward again, turning the wheel at the same time. The boat tilted on its side and turned in a sharp arc. Leonard straightened the craft toward the dim lights of Biloxi and hit the throttle with the heel of his hand, but it wouldn’t go any farther forward.
His eyes still wide with terror, his heart racing like a machine gun, he looked over his shoulder at the island quickly starting to fall away. The bow hit crossways on a wave, causing the boat to yaw left and back sharply to the right, slamming his side into the hard fiberglass, nearly throwing him out of the craft into the water. He hung onto the wheel so hard his hands instantly cramped.
* * *
The creature finished its run along the Gulf side of Ship Island and turned into Camille Cut. It moved quickly at first, then shuddered to a stop as it grounded on its belly. With a mighty sweep of its crescent tail, it lunged forward, scraping off the sandy bottom into deeper water.
In seconds, its body never dropping low enough for its dorsal fin to submerge, it raced after the small boat in the distance.
* * *
Leonard’s hands, cramping, clasped the twenty-footer’s steering wheel as if it was a rope to salvation. He wouldn’t let go until he ran the boat up on the beach at Biloxi and sprinted over its bow onto the sand. He looked back across his shoulder. The stretch of water between him and Ship Island was bright now, with the moon totally free of the obstructing cloud. With his path directly behind Ship Island and the island’s long bulk preventing any of the waves from the Gulf to come farther, the water was perfectly smooth.
He saw the fin.
Two hundred feet back, like the tall, thick periscope of a submarine, it split the surface, throwing a shower of water reflecting in the moonlight to each side. Leonard didn’t realize how much his heart had slowed until he felt the blood rushing through his veins again. He looked at the speedometer. He was at thirty-eight knots. He pressed hard on the throttle, then jerked his hand away, suddenly afraid that any more strain on it might break the cable. He looked forward past the bow at the lights of Biloxi, growing brighter—but still so far away. He looked past the stern again. Saw nothing but the smooth water.
There it was.
Off to the side of where he had first seen the fin.
The shower of water was higher now.
He looked at the speedometer. He looked back at the fin. He felt again like he was going to pass out. There was no doubt it was gaining. But it couldn’t be. He closed his eyes, looked at the mirrorlike surface of the water ahead of him, the lights still miles away. He looked back at Ship Island—much closer. He bit his lip, felt the whipping of the wind freezing the sweat running down his round face and dripping off his chin to be blown backwards toward the wide wake trailing the boat.
He looked at Biloxi again. He looked back at Ship Island again. My God, he thought, what did I ever leave the island for? He could have huddled in the center of the sand until the bright morning when he could be seen. Somebody would have come to help. Somebody in something much bigger than a twenty-foot boat setting so low in the water. The terrible picture had never fully left his mind—the great wide head of the creature. The body had to be fifty feet long. At that, another thought nearly caused his heart to stop. A determined effort of a creature that big swimming hard into the side of the boat, even a bump at this speed, he thought, and the boat could flip, flying upside down into the water. Sending him into the water.
He started shuddering so hard he was afraid the vibration of his hands was going to cause the wheel to break. He looked back across his shoulder.
* * *
The creature, with great steady swipes of its huge crescent tail, continued to close the distance. Its head completely underwater, its eyes unable to see far in the murky darkness, it nevertheless knew exactly where
His eyes still wide with terror, his heart racing like a machine gun, he looked over his shoulder at the island quickly starting to fall away. The bow hit crossways on a wave, causing the boat to yaw left and back sharply to the right, slamming his side into the hard fiberglass, nearly throwing him out of the craft into the water. He hung onto the wheel so hard his hands instantly cramped.
* * *
The creature finished its run along the Gulf side of Ship Island and turned into Camille Cut. It moved quickly at first, then shuddered to a stop as it grounded on its belly. With a mighty sweep of its crescent tail, it lunged forward, scraping off the sandy bottom into deeper water.
In seconds, its body never dropping low enough for its dorsal fin to submerge, it raced after the small boat in the distance.
* * *
Leonard’s hands, cramping, clasped the twenty-footer’s steering wheel as if it was a rope to salvation. He wouldn’t let go until he ran the boat up on the beach at Biloxi and sprinted over its bow onto the sand. He looked back across his shoulder. The stretch of water between him and Ship Island was bright now, with the moon totally free of the obstructing cloud. With his path directly behind Ship Island and the island’s long bulk preventing any of the waves from the Gulf to come farther, the water was perfectly smooth.
He saw the fin.
Two hundred feet back, like the tall, thick periscope of a submarine, it split the surface, throwing a shower of water reflecting in the moonlight to each side. Leonard didn’t realize how much his heart had slowed until he felt the blood rushing through his veins again. He looked at the speedometer. He was at thirty-eight knots. He pressed hard on the throttle, then jerked his hand away, suddenly afraid that any more strain on it might break the cable. He looked forward past the bow at the lights of Biloxi, growing brighter—but still so far away. He looked past the stern again. Saw nothing but the smooth water.
There it was.
Off to the side of where he had first seen the fin.
The shower of water was higher now.
He looked at the speedometer. He looked back at the fin. He felt again like he was going to pass out. There was no doubt it was gaining. But it couldn’t be. He closed his eyes, looked at the mirrorlike surface of the water ahead of him, the lights still miles away. He looked back at Ship Island—much closer. He bit his lip, felt the whipping of the wind freezing the sweat running down his round face and dripping off his chin to be blown backwards toward the wide wake trailing the boat.
He looked at Biloxi again. He looked back at Ship Island again. My God, he thought, what did I ever leave the island for? He could have huddled in the center of the sand until the bright morning when he could be seen. Somebody would have come to help. Somebody in something much bigger than a twenty-foot boat setting so low in the water. The terrible picture had never fully left his mind—the great wide head of the creature. The body had to be fifty feet long. At that, another thought nearly caused his heart to stop. A determined effort of a creature that big swimming hard into the side of the boat, even a bump at this speed, he thought, and the boat could flip, flying upside down into the water. Sending him into the water.
He started shuddering so hard he was afraid the vibration of his hands was going to cause the wheel to break. He looked back across his shoulder.
* * *
The creature, with great steady swipes of its huge crescent tail, continued to close the distance. Its head completely underwater, its eyes unable to see far in the murky darkness, it nevertheless knew exactly where
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