Furious by Jeffrey James Higgins

Author:Jeffrey James Higgins [Higgins, Jeffrey James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2021-05-19T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Perspiration coated my skin in the sweltering heat. The wind had vanished, and the yacht lay motionless on the flat surface. I removed my tee shirt and used the soft fabric to wipe the sweat off my forehead. I dropped the damp shirt on the cushion beside me. Even in a bikini, the still air clawed at my skin.

The wind had been absent for days, and with a limited amount of diesel fuel, we were at its mercy. The breeze would increase eventually, but I did not want to think about having to sail without Brad. I had checked on him every hour, hoping he would get better. I needed him to deliver us to the Maldives.

The ocean sparkled, a rich blue—cool and inviting—but the thought of going in the water still terrified me. I had not swum since I was ten years old and there were thousands of feet of saltwater beneath us. My fear was genuine, and that was before I had seen the shark. The image of a jagged-toothed monster stalking the depths below—unseen and hungry—sent a cold jolt through my stomach.

Splashing water over my face and body would feel refreshing but jumping into the shower would disturb Brad. I opened the instrument panel and flipped to the screen controlling the swimming platform. It appeared simple enough, with buttons to raise and lower it. A drop of sweat dripped off my forehead onto the screen. I pressed the button, and the stern opened with an electrical hum. The platform unfolded outward and descended on its hydraulics until it extended parallel with the surface. The teak deck hovered a few inches over the water.

I searched for the shark before I descended the wooden steps. My eyes swept the surface one last time, and I stepped onto the sturdy deck. The ocean remained flat, with no wind or noticeable current, and the platform felt stable. I relaxed and knelt along the edge of the dock. I stared into the depths, but my face reflected off the glassy surface.

I leaned over, cupped my hands in the water and splashed my face. It was not as cold as I had hoped, but still cooler than the air.

The ocean did not scare me as long as my feet remained on solid ground, and spending weeks on the yacht had dulled my fear. I should have done this years ago. I dunked my hands again and splashed a handful of saltwater over my chest. It dribbled down my torso and onto my legs, cooling me.

The shark broke the surface ten feet in front of me, its gray nose sticking out of the water.

I threw my body back from the edge and fell onto the center of the dock.

The shark rolled its head over and stared at me with a black eye—the face of a devil.

I leapt to my feet and scrambled up the steps. My heart raced, and my head spun.

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