Mike Dixon

Daryl reached for the gun.
„I‟ll soon put an end to the bastard.‟
David compared the creature‟s length to that of the dinghy
and judged the shark to be twice as big. He‟d seen one take a
seal and knew how powerful they were.
„Hold still,‟ he cautioned. „Or we‟ll end up in the water.‟
He spoke slowly and calmly with the tone he used when
talking to dive students in difficult situations. Daryl wasn‟t impressed.
„Gimme the gun!‟
„Sit down!‟
David glared at him. „I know what a big tiger can do. It
would only have to rub up against you and it would cut you to
bits with its skin. It could break your back with a swipe from
its tail. If it didn‟t have that hook in its mouth it would bite
you in half.‟
A red haze enveloped him. He had visions of Tim floating in
the sea, surrounded by blood. Then, the haze cleared and he
saw Daryl huddled at the end of the boat. To his embarrass-
ment, the rifle was pointing at him. David almost apologized.
Then he decided that would stupid.
„Stay there!‟
He loaded the gun and waited for the shark to come near.
It was only a matter of time before it presented itself for an
easy shot. He steadied himself as the stricken animal made a
predictable turn – and fired.
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