The others are doing the same thing as I am, watching the shark move around us, all incredibly still so as not to attract attention. At this moment, I’d rather face the guards than this beast, but if we want to live, we can’t give up our position. It’ll all be for nothing if we die now. But I don’t know which death is worse. Death by gunshot or death by shark teeth?

I can see Row trembling as he watches it move, as it seems to circle him more than any of us. He won’t be able to punch at this one gently and get it to go away. This monster sees a meal and decides if he wants it. Once he does, nothing will stop him. As the light circles around the rafts once more, the shark turns and starts moving directly toward Row.

The spotlight redirects, turns off, and plunges us back into the dark water with only the moonlight barely penetrating the surface.

Oh fuck!

We can’t move yet, not without the guards seeing us. We have to wait for them to go away. I can’t see the shark anymore. I can’t see any of them, so I just tremble beneath my raft, praying to any god that could be listening that the shark lingers a little longer, that it doesn’t attack yet. Slow down time so I don’t come up and find Row missing. Nothing could be more terrifying to me than going back to the surface and waiting for him to appear only for him to never break the surface again. I can’t do that. I won’t survive it. I’ve given them all my heart and if they die on me, so help me I’ll—

The boat starts up above us, the motor raising in crescendo before it starts to pull away. The wake of it pushes our rafts roughly, probably off course, but I’m not focused on that. I’m focused on the sight of the shadow I catch every now and then, on the movement I think I see but I’m not certain. I might be seeing things now. My brain could be creating monsters where there are none.

As the sound of the boat starts to fade, I start to count to three slowly, the required number of seconds for us to wait before getting out. At their speed, three long seconds should be long enough they won’t hear us or be able to see us from the distance in the dark.

One Mississippi.

My hands are shaking so bad, I’m having a hard time keeping ahold of the raft. The moonlight is shit for seeing through the ocean.

Two Mississippi.

I take a deep breath in, slow and too little through the reed, and pull away from the reed to push it out as slow bubbles. My lungs protest violently.

Three Mississippi.