by L. E. Horn
Closer to the bay, the highway hugged the shore. Lianndra admired the sandy beaches and the wild dune ecosystem while she drove. In preparation for her trip, she’d read about plants uniquely adapted to survive the ocean winds, the heat of the dry summers, and the drifting sands. The wildflowers were spectacular, vivid dots of color among the sparse foliage. The air smelled of the fishy, salty scent unique to the ocean.
As she arrived at Bodega Bay, the land rose to form tall grassy bluffs between her and the water. She found her little inn easily at the bay’s northern end, an elegant place with historical charm.
The desk clerk helped her to her room. Antique furnishings gave it a nostalgic charm. With her spirits high, she pulled the brocade curtains as wide as possible, drinking in the view. The inn perched on the bluffs overlooking the bay so she could see the ocean.
As she adjusted her watch to local time, Lianndra noticed there were only a couple of hours until dark. She placed her suitcase on the ancient table as she considered using her phone to find a nice restaurant. Thumbing it revealed five texts and a voicemail awaiting her attention. With a grimace, she turned it off before tossing it on the bed and heading out unaided in search of supper. Freedom meant removing all chains, especially her phone.
I’m going offline this vacation.
The pleasant woman behind the desk recommended a restaurant a short drive south. Lianndra hopped in the car and in moments found herself near a large expanse of windows with a nice view of a golf course and the ocean. Tonight, she only saw one couple seated for supper. This place is likely packed during the summer months.
While waiting, she watched another couple strolling along the beach with their two dogs. The man laughed, and reached out to pull the woman close. Lianndra looked away, toward waves that now appeared leaden.
Her food arrived, and she admired the water below as she ate. She’d optimistically brought her swimsuit. Perhaps renting a kayak is more sensible. The water might be too cold for a swim. As long as I can get out in the bay, alone, I’ll be happy.
Hmm . . . kayaking. Tomorrow. Definitely.
THE TWO MEN WATCHED THE small plane taxi into the gathering darkness.
“Glad that’s over with,” the smaller man said in disgust. “I’m still not sure that one’s worth the trouble.”
“He’s on the list.” His burly companion shrugged as he headed for the vehicle. “But we’ll have to dry dock him before he goes in with the group, and that’ll be more work than I have time for. We’ve got to get moving because we need to be stalking the prairie girl in Bodega Bay by sunset tomorrow.”
“Maybe we should’ve hitched a ride with Dan.” The smaller man shivered and rubbed his hands together. Spring had not yet arrived in Wyoming.
“We have to check on another candidate on the way back, so we need a vehicle,” his big comrade replied. “Besides, I don’t want to come back here to collect it.” He slid into the passenger side of the SUV. “You take first shift. Wake me in two hours.”
His smaller companion sighed as he started the vehicle. The moment his associate began to snore, he turned up the heat.
LIANNDRA SPENT THE NEXT DAY scouting near her inn, deciding what to explore during her holiday. She walked to the marina, admired the sleek yachts, and noticed a local outfit that rented small crafts. There were a few tourists walking the beaches despite the earliness of the season. After exploring the area, she headed back to rent a kayak. Land virtually enclosed the bay, making it safe. The man at the hut advised her to stick to the shoreline if she chose to leave the bay. He showed her a map, pointing to the harbor entrance near Doran Park.
“Past the flashing buoy the currents can get you into trouble if you don’t have a motor,” he said, pointing until her eyes locked on it. He gestured elsewhere on the map. “Farther out, you’ll run into the surf zone, and that’s trouble too. Within the bay, the water stays quiet, plus there’s lots to see.” He glanced at the clock. “Have the boat back in three hours as it will be dark soon afterward.” He fit her with a life jacket and found her a paddle.
Twenty minutes after arriving at the hut she pushed off from the small dock in a plastic kayak that had seen better days. It had been a few years since she last kayaked, and Lianndra had never been on the open ocean in one, only on lakes and rivers. Following directions, she headed south, familiarizing herself with the small craft.
The cool water permeated the thin hull. Definitely too chilly for swimming. She peered over the kayak’s side. In places, she spotted small crabs going about their business while darting fish flashed where the evening light penetrated the shallow water. In response to the recent rains, the plants were in riotous bloom. The scenery mesmerized her.
As she paddled, the life jacket became hot and uncomfortable. Glancing to see if she could still spot the rental shack, Lianndra removed it.
I’ll just keep it on my lap, she thought. I can grab it if I need it.
Although she heard motorized craft in the distance, the bay remained peaceful. The occasional sailboat cruised by on its way back to the marina, and even those disappeared as the sun sank lower on the horizon. The round heads of seals popped up out of the water to stare at her with huge liquid eyes as she went by. Enjoying herself, Lianndra lost track of time until she noticed the light fading. She glanced at her watch and decided, with under an hour of daylight left, that she wanted to explore the other side of Doran Park before heading back.
She neared the harbor entrance. Paddling through, she saw the buoy the rental attendant mentioned was anchored just past the harbor mouth between her and the larger landmass forming the western boundary of the bay. As she left the protected area, the current’s power pushed against her. The wind increased, creating waves that bobbed her like a cork.
Not too bad—I can manage, she thought.
Being raised on a farm, her muscles were no stranger to hard work. Her father had likely hoped for sons. It made for strong daughters. Still, she lacked endurance after a long winter at school.
Doran Beach extended on her left. It offered nice picnic spots to explore in the next couple of days. If the weather holds. Another glance at her watch showed she neared the time that the kayak needed to be returned. She’d gone farther than she intended. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but it sure feels good now. Time to head back. Once she turned the craft around, she became aware the wind had picked up, with dark clouds lining the horizon. The buoy bobbed ahead of her as she paddled back toward the harbor mouth. The gusting wind carried the whine of a high-pitched engine above the sound of the waves. Not a boat, something smaller—maybe a Jet Ski? Kayaking is so much more relaxing. Plus, you get to see the wildlife.
Halfway to the buoy she paused to catch her breath. Doran Beach appeared deserted, and the peninsula of Doran State Park hid the marina from her view. She dared not stop paddling as the wind pushed her kayak sideways. Luckily the harbor mouth hovered near.
Looks like stormy weather for tonight. Lianndra glanced again at her watch. I might be late getting back.
At that moment, something bumped the kayak.
Although the craft barely lifted out of the water, a substantial vibration ran through the hull. The bump upset her balance. She flung a hand to grab the kayak’s side, pinching her fingers between the paddle and the craft. Holding the paddle under her arm, she shook her injured hand, sending drops of blood flying.
Lianndra examined the small cut. Nothing a future veterinarian can’t handle. But what the heck bumped me?
Something broke the water twenty feet away, a rapid swirl of dark motion vanishing into the crest of a wave. Her stomach sank and the hair on the back of her neck rose. Then the adrenaline kicked in. Lianndra dug her paddle deep into the water, sprinting the kayak forward.
The second hit came before she completed three strokes. It lifted the kayak’s stern clear of the water and flipped it in a twisting motion that spilled her into the cold ocean.
Lianndra struggled in the water’s depths before
she surfaced, gasping. Even with the surge of adrenaline flooding her system, the intense cold felt like it would stop her heart. She blinked salt water from her eyes just in time to see a triangular dorsal fin slide under the water from the far side of her flipped boat, followed by a long stretch of flank and a huge tail fin.
Faint vertical stripes along its sides caught the evening light as the tail fin disappeared.
Oh my God. Her mind raced in panic. She’d seen enough shark specials on television to recognize her attacker—a tiger shark. Her mind, always an information sponge, now raced with adrenaline-fueled possibilities. Great white sharks often bite people by accident, spitting them out when they realize they’re a bony human and not a fat seal. But tiger sharks and bull sharks eat anything and everything they think looks tasty. Which, right now, is me!
Treading water, she scanned the waves for her life jacket. Her paddle floated beside her, so she grabbed it, realizing her arms were already sluggish from the cold. Lianndra knew she needed to get out of the water if she was to have any chance. Her water-laden clothing dragged her downward. She kicked off her runners in an attempt to lessen the weight, but the jeans clung to her, and she couldn’t peel them off. Gritting her teeth, she headed for her flipped kayak, dragging the paddle behind her.
The water beneath her swelled and receded as something large passed. Not a wave, Lianndra! Trying not to panic, she attempted to keep her movements smooth, and splashing to a minimum. The last thing I need is to mimic an injured animal by panicking. The shark must still be in test mode or it would’ve attacked me already. Cautious by nature, all predators must avoid injury for even something minor could affect their ability to survive. More nature documentary facts popped into Lianndra’s head as she stroked toward the kayak. Tiger sharks often eat sea turtles. Their powerful jaws can penetrate the tough outer shell.
Lianndra paused, treading water again. The arm holding the paddle threatened to cramp. Even from her limited perspective, the overturned kayak resembled a turtle. Sprawled on top, her hanging limbs would make it look even more like one with tasty flippers dangling.
Damn! She turned, pushing herself out of the water, trying to see above the waves. The wind whipped foam off their tops as she bobbed. The land appeared within reach but the shark swam between her and it. When she spun around, the next lift of a wave revealed a blinking light—the buoy might be nearer than she thought. The beacon flashed against the fading daylight. Lianndra noticed its large size, with openings between the lower spars.
I might be able to climb up on it if I can reach it, she thought. Maybe I can wave someone down from there.
The kayak thumped again as the shark jarred it. Floating on the crest of a wave, she saw the broad snout come out of the water. Clutching the paddle as a potential weapon or sacrificial limb, she struck out for the buoy, trying to keep her strokes smooth. Lianndra could barely feel her legs, and her arms were leaden.
The buoy appeared closer with each stroke. Lianndra shivered and clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. She used great effort to keep her mind off the huge predator, who might soon suspect her soft, juicy body would be a better snack than the kayak.
There’s also the blood, she reminded herself, hoping the cut on her hand wouldn’t lead the creature straight to her.
Lianndra felt the current from the outgoing tide. At that moment the ocean gave her a huge break—it pushed her toward the buoy. Lianndra lengthened her strokes and kicked harder to keep in line with her target. She thrashed with one hand, grabbing a support spar. A wave lifted her body and crashed it hard up against sharp barnacles, shredding clothing and skin alike.
More blood in the water. Any pretense of calm deserted her. It will attract the shark! Lianndra tried heaving herself onto the buoy, the barnacles ripping her jeans and the skin of her toes straight through her socks as she scrambled for a toehold. The paddle went flying, splashing down a few feet away. Even as she struggled, inane thoughts ran through her head. Isn’t this like a scene out of a movie? Her other hand connected with the spar and she gained a precious few inches up the buoy’s side. A girl, a buoy, and a shark . . . She wiped the thought from her head. The movie hadn’t ended well for the girl. That will not happen to me! The thought spurred her onward, and with a final heave she pulled her body from the water. The buoy lurched to one side, and the next lift of a wave almost spilled her off again. Gritting her teeth, Lianndra pushed across the buoy until her body stretched between the spars.
This far from the harbor mouth the waves and ocean currents seemed more turbulent. The buoy didn’t just bob but swayed on its tether. Lianndra nervously scanned the water; she lay not far above the surface. If the shark became more committed to this project, who knew what it would do. She craned her neck over her shoulder, looking out to sea.
Nothing.
Where is the Jet Ski I heard earlier? With the sun barely over the horizon, the rise and fall of the waves could hide such a small craft.
Looking landward again, Lianndra scanned the deserted beach and vacant picnic tables. The Coast Guard station resided out of sight on the other side of the Doran Park peninsula. What were the chances someone would see her?
The buoy’s solid upper frame prohibited her from standing upright. I need something to wave, she thought.
Letting go of a spar with one trembling hand, she peeled off her soaked T-shirt. She tried waving the shirt, hoping to attract someone’s attention with the unusual motion. After a few minutes, she lowered her aching arm. She needed more reach.
Nothing on the buoy was loose enough to pry off as a staff. She startled as something banged against the base—the paddle, pitching with the water against the buoy’s side.
Lianndra squirmed on the rocking buoy until she could grab the paddle. She squinted into the ocean depths, wondering if the shark had given up or if it still cruised somewhere beneath the surface. Right on cue, she spotted the briefest glimpse of the dorsal fin above the water, skimming away from the buoy.
He was right here, beneath me. Her pounding heart threatened to leap out of her chest.
She grabbed for the paddle, splashing in her hurry. The fin changed course before it disappeared. Had it turned back this way? Heart in her throat, her fingers locked on the paddle and she swung it up out of the water before backing her body as far into the buoy’s center as possible.
Lianndra shook as she hunched into herself, worried the shark would make a try for her. She knew killer whales washed seals off ice floes by generating waves to cascade over the ice. It’s a shark, not an orca. Get a grip. Wrapping an arm around a spar, she tied her shirt to one end of the paddle before sitting up to wave the makeshift flag. It extended past the buoy.
Eyeing the beach, she signaled, her arm quivering like Jell-O. The wind helped her flag wave but its howl drowned her cries for help. Her entire body shivered as her fingers cramped around the paddle’s shaft. When her arm muscles seized as well, she collapsed back on the buoy and laid her head on the base. The crash of the waves against the metal echoed beneath her ear. The flashing beacon’s electronic hum penetrated the surf’s roar, a hum rising in pitch until it became a whine loud enough to drown out the wind.
Her exhausted mind struggled to process the sound’s significance. When the buoy lurched, visions of sharks rearing out of the water flashed through her brain. Lianndra screamed, clutching at the spars while dropping her precious flag.
From the side of the buoy nearest her feet, the whine dropped to a gurgling rumble. A human voice shouted above the wind and waves. “You look like you need help. What on earth are you doing way out here?”
Lianndra twisted to see a dark-haired man sitting on a sleek Jet Ski. He wore a skintight wet suit that did little to hide his lanky frame. The young man had difficulty holding his position along the lurching buoy. He gave the craft a boost of power, moving it so the current kept it pinned against the base. The grating sound of the barnacles scraping the Jet Ski made him wince.
; Stiff with cold, she disentangled herself from the spars and grabbed his hand. He stood up on the foot wells to balance, and with a strong heave, pulled her onto the seat behind him. Although the small craft bucked a little, he kept it stable by expertly shifting his weight to compensate.
Fortunately for all concerned, it seated two. Shaking, Lianndra could only stammer one word: “Sh-shar-k.”
He obviously heard her since he scanned the ocean’s surface before kicking the craft into gear. She grabbed at his waist as he accelerated, wrapping her arms tight. His spine pressed up through the neoprene suit, and she couldn’t see past his broad shoulders.
He steered around the peninsula and headed into the bay. They passed the Coast Guard station, which looked deserted. She noticed him glance that way before arrowing straight for the marina.
Lianndra took in the Jet Ski. This little beauty is likely a rental. He’s good at piloting this thing. Glancing at the water rushing below, she wondered what he’d been doing with such a small craft on the open ocean, and whether they still looked like a turtle from underneath. Lianndra shivered. He slowed as they approached the dock and nestled the craft between the platform and a small rowboat. Balancing again, he offered his arm to help her step off.
Lianndra could barely untangle her fingers from the grip around his waist. When he saw how much she trembled, he stepped off first, reaching over to interlock his arm with hers and lift her onto the dock.
The deserted marina seemed tranquil this far from the surf. Standing shivering on the dock, Lianndra became aware she was topless except for her soaking wet, rather transparent bra. Her frozen condition also presented certain embarrassing side effects.
He finished tying the craft and regarded her with concern. He seemed determined to ignore her near topless condition but appeared both relieved and disappointed when she crossed her arms over her chest. He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the wind along a small fishing vessel. Stripping off the top part of his two-piece wet suit, he helped her feed first one shaking arm, and then the other, into the sleeves.