Jack sipped some water, and then dabbed at his mouth, ensuring any remaining drops were smeared on his lips and not wiped away. “Okay everyone, here’s where we row again – do I need to beat the drums so we all stay in rhythm?” He grinned.

“Sure, as long as you avoid ramming speed; I’m beat already,” Greg said, lifting an oar but then jerking his hand away to look at his palm. “Shit. Blisters.”

“Welcome to the club.” Cate held up her hand showing Greg the dime sized holes in the skin, before going back to putting the remaining empty tins into the plastic bag they came from. She spotted the one Greg had flung over the side. It still bobbed lazily, now just half a dozen feet from the boat. She reached out with her paddle.

Greg scoffed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. This is pristine water, and suddenly one of the first people to explore it decides to throw his trash in it.”

Greg gave her a lopsided grin. “Ah, you did see that crane wreckage a few miles back, huh?”

Cate ignored him, and dipped the paddle in the water, pulling it back towards her, and causing the can to spin and bob closer. She reached out again, extending her arm, just able to hold the oar straight as it suddenly dropped to tip the edge of the tin, filling it, and causing it to sink.

“Damn.” She leant over, holding her flashlight up and watching the silver tin sink, its inside reflecting her light back as it got smaller and less distinct the lower it went. It surprised her, as even though the water was oil dark, it must have been clear as glass, as she could still see the glinting dot of the tin, now a good fifty feet down.

The huge shadow torpedoed past underneath them, causing her to jerk back so fast she fell into the bottom of the raft, with her heart hammering.

“Easy back there, you’ll tip us over,” Jack said from over his shoulder.

Cate tried to speak, but she felt light-headed from the shock, and all she could do is point.

Abby rose slightly, staring at her. “Ja... Jack…”

Jack turned just as the raft gently lifted from the surge beneath them. His lips were pressed tight as his gaze went from Cate to the dark water. He sat higher, spinning left and right, and then pointed with his paddle.

“To the shoreline, there, quickly now.”

“What is it?” Greg started to paddle slowly, but then looked back to see Cate’s waxen face.

Cate jumped to her knees and began to paddle furiously. “Down there… big.”

Greg looked over the side, and frowned. “There’s noth…”

As Cate watched, his mouth dropped open and he pointed. She followed his arm. A dorsal fin rose from the water. Higher and higher, until it topped out at about ten feet.