This story originally appeared on the Secret Garden website and is archived here at the request of author Doug Rogers.
The white reef shark was circling.
Billy knew he was in danger there near the surface, but if he tried to dive
deeper he might draw the creature's attention even more. Then too, if he decided
to dive, the boat would never find him. Here his blond hair stood out as a
marker of his position in the water. He heard to motor start. Ed had heard his
cry of "Shark!" Help was on the way. All he had to do was wait it out and hope
the boat would get close enough to frighten the denizen before hunger caused it
to attack.
His luck ran out. The shark lunged toward his flipper-clad foot. Pain shot up
his leg as the powerful jaws made a "tasting" bite, trying to decide of the
object was edible. The blood that flowed from the wounds answered that question
very efficiently. Smelling the blood, the shark opened its massive jaws and
clamped down on the leg mid-calf. The razor-sharp teeth sliced through the
rubber wetsuit and tore into the muscled flash below.
Billy Townsend woke up, sweating. Yes, he had suffered through the dream
again. His psychologist had assured him that, in time, it would go away. But,
Jesus! It had been six months since that nightmare in the sea. He maneuvered to
a sitting position and began to rub the stumps of his legs. They always seemed
to itch a little after he had slept. He looked at them. The doctor had done a
good job. They were identical: nine inch nubs extending below his knees. The
shark had not actually bitten them off, and Ed had thought he was going to be OK
when he had pulled his friend from the bloody ocean waters. However, the time it
took to get him to the hospital ashore had been too great. The lack of blood
flow had taken its toll, and there really had been little else to do.
