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Mike Dixon

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The shore was only a mile or so away. That was no great<br />

distance. If the sharks got him that was his karma. If they<br />

didn‟t, he‟d wade to shore and find a track that led some-<br />

where. After that it would be just a matter of time before he<br />

reached safety.<br />

He slipped into the water and started to swim, glancing<br />

up every so often to check his position. Visions of a sandy<br />

beach spurred him on. He kept telling himself it was only a<br />

matter of time before he got there. A tree appeared. He<br />

swam towards it and recognized a mangrove. More appeared.<br />

Then more. To his horror, they increased in number<br />

until they formed a dense thicket.<br />

He had arrived at a most terrible place. David knew<br />

about mangrove swamps. He‟d seen them from the air. They<br />

were vast and impenetrable expanses of tangled vegetation<br />

cut by meandering waterways. He had entered crocodile<br />

country and the risk from sharks hadn‟t gone away.<br />

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