He was drifting along just above the sea bottom about hah* a mile from the boat. His camera had lined on a gorgeous black and yellow sea worm, flowerlike body fully extended. It was the first really unusual thing he’d seen since they’d arrived. A perfect picture … his light meter shrank by half.
Damn and hell, that was the last straw! Poplar whirled angrily, expecting to see a playful Elaine floating just above and behind him. He’d warned her at least half a dozen times to stay out of the light when he was taking pictures. She’d seemed to think it was fun.
But something else had swallowed the sun.
For a second Poplar, training, degrees, and experience notwithstanding, stopped thinking. He went back to his childhood. When he’d lain in bed at night, the covers up around his chin, staring at where his clothes lay draped over the back of his chair. You wouldn’t know the kind of terrifying shapes clothes and chair and night can combine to make in a child’s mind. Fear squeezed his spine and his heart pumped madly.
Above him, Carcharodon megalodon glided majestically through the clear water, its seemingly unending tail beating hypnotically from side to side, the great pectoral fins cutting the current like hydrofoils.
He turned, saw Elaine drifting alongside. He tugged at her arm. She ignored it. He tugged harder. As though in a dream, she turned to face him. He pointed in the direction of the boat. She nodded, sluggishly following him, half swimming, half towed.
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WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE …