Motorcycles reach river. I glance back and see hideous forms massing on the bank. Rabid red eyes search the surface. Flared nostrils sniff for our scent. Sharp teeth glint in the moonlight. Genetically manipulated mutants and hellishly engineered cyborgs from a future gone mad.

Some of them shine spotlights over the dark waves and eddies. Others plunge into the water and swim blindly into the darkness after us. Still others are busy launching what looks like a racing boat.

I’m fifty feet from shore. Fighting the current with every stroke. The cold saps my strength.

Just a little farther Gisco is waiting for me, treading water around a dilapidated yellow dinghy.

That’s your boat?

Yes, help me in. Dogs can’t climb.

What good will getting on board do us? They’re coming in a speedboat. How are we going to escape them by trying to row away in that pathetic wreck?

You ask too many questions. It’s always been one of your problems. Now shut up and help me in.

I heave dog into boat. Not an easy thing to do. He weighs a ton, and his wet coat doesn’t exactly help.

I grab the side of the boat and clamber up and over. Tumble to floor of dinghy. Shivering. Exhausted. But none of that will matter. Because I can see the speedboat setting off from shore. Powerful engine launches them forward like a rocket. Searchlight flickers over river. Shadowy shapes are hunched near the front, weapons at the ready.

Gisco, we should dive back into the river. Swim for shore. It’s our only chance.

It’s no chance. We’ll never make it.

But they’ve seen us. They’re coming! They’re much faster than we are!

So what? Let them come. Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead. Dog stands at prow of boat and raises one paw, striking a heroic pose, like Nelson at Trafalgar. Right foreleg waves in the air, as if wielding an invisible sword.

No, Gisco’s not fencing with shadows. He’s operating what looks like a miniature control panel! Using his paws and when necessary his nose.

There’s a strange sound, like a long zipper opening.

A transparent bubble encircles the top of our dinghy. Don’t ask me where it came from. It appears overhead and clicks tightly shut.

I can see through it, to the stars above. This glass dome is nifty, but I very much doubt that it’s going to save us from a laser attack.

And that’s exactly what’s coming. Because they’ve spotted us! The speedboat’s spotlight pinions us. We’re bathed in brilliant white-silver.

The sleek racing craft roars in our direction.

Gisco! You’ve trapped us in our own pathetic wreck of a boat. Now we can’t even swim for it. There’s no possible way out of this.

Oh yes there is. One very good way.