The Shark Rider (22 page)

Fish came pouring out. Some shot out like small rockets; others cruised slowly away, a little wobbly. The big grouper exited and stopped in front of the teens. Tristan couldn't tell what it was saying or thinking, but he could swear the fish was smiling. Soon the trap was empty.

Meg pointed to a small boat cruising along the reef to their south.

“I think we'd better move on, just in case. Let's go north and then release a couple of those robo-jellies.”

After a short swim, Meg stopped and turned to the teens. “This looks like as good a spot as any. Sam, if you would, reach into the bag and get a robo-jelly. Rosina, how about you release another?”

The girls each took a plastic blue egg from the yellow mesh bag.

“Like, squeeze the ends,” Ryder told them.

“Yeah,
like
, I know,” Rosina replied sarcastically.

They squeezed, and the eggs popped open. Each girl removed the rubbery, robotic jellyfish from its case, giving the case back to the scientist.

“Where should we let them go?” Sam asked.

Meg pointed into deeper water. “Swim a little way out and then, Rosina, why don't you release yours on the surface. Sam, you dive down a few feet and release yours there.”

The girls nodded before swimming out into the open, blue water. Tristan floated on his stomach,
watching them go. Something bumped his feet. He thought it was Hugh, but then realized his friend was floating right in front of him. He hesitated before turning around. A large black manta ray was just swimming past. Its bright white underside flashed as it flapped its wide fins.

There you are, chap. Do you want some info or not?

Excited that the manta had finally shown up, Tristan turned to tell the others. But before he could get a single word out, Sam came racing back. Rosina was right behind her.

“Uh, I think there's something out there,” Sam said shakily. “I was echolocating after I released the robo-jelly. I . . . I think it's big.”

“What is it?” Hugh asked, going a little green.

“Shark, I think, maybe two.”

Tristan turned to the manta ray. It flicked its fins.
Gotta go!

“Hey, wait,” Tristan yelled out, but it was too late; the manta ray was gone.

Tristan had a weird feeling, and not the one he usually got when sharks or rays were around—it was as if the hair all over his body was standing straight up.
These sharks might not be the kind to chitchat with.

Meg and the others turned to Tristan. He was about to say, “Let's get the heck out of here,” when two huge, dark gray dorsal fins broke the surface about forty feet away. One began heading to their right, the other to their left. The group moved closer together.

“Okay, stay calm,” Meg told them. “We've never had a shark attack in the British Virgin Islands.”

“There's always a first time,” Hugh moaned.

Tristan ducked nervously underwater to look at the sharks. They were enormous, fat, and gray on top, white underneath.
And
they were circling. Then Tristan noticed something strange—an unusual hump just in front of their dorsal fins.

Curiosity won out over fear or even common sense. Tristan floated away from the group and closer to the sharks. They were bull sharks, like the one he saved on the beach. That could be good, he thought. Then one of the sharks turned toward him.
Or maybe not so good
. The shark swam directly at him. Tristan tried to simultaneously backpedal and communicate with it.
We're friends, good humans, not very tasty
. The shark was silent, and its eyes looked weird—sort of cloudy and unfocused, like it was looking at him but not actually seeing him. When the shark was just two feet from Tristan, it stopped. Then it hung perfectly still and just sat there. Tristan stared at the shark, barely moving, or breathing, for that matter. He knew he should probably be scared, if not terrified. But Tristan was intrigued and confused by the shark's odd behavior. Why was it acting so strangely? The big bull shark then simply turned and rejoined the other shark still circling the group.

Tristan had seen what the bump in front of its dorsal fin was. Now he was really confused. He swam back to the others. “They're not saying anything, and they've got something on their backs. I . . . I think it's a camera.”

“A camera?” Sam asked.

Tristan nodded.

“Okay, let's worry about that later,” Meg told them. “For now, let's try moving slowly back to the ship. Keep together.”

The teens began sculling gently, moving toward the ship in the distance. The sharks made a closer pass and then began swimming back and forth, blocking their path. The group stopped moving.

“Uh, how 'bout we just go to shore?” Hugh suggested, clearly trying hard to stay calm.

“Yes, Hugh. Let's try that,” Meg agreed.

When they tried moving toward shore, the sharks again got in their way. Tristan attempted once more to communicate with the sharks. Nothing. Their pointy-finned friends then began making passes closer to the campers, opening and closing their mouths threateningly and showing off hundreds of razor-sharp teeth. Backing away, the group headed offshore. The sharks again blocked the way. Tristan realized what they were doing.

“They want us to go that way.” He pointed to the one direction they had not tried. “And I don't think they're going to give us much choice.”

“Like, let's go that way,” Ryder said.

The others nodded enthusiastically.

They swam northeast away from Mosquito Island and the research vessel. The sharks stayed close behind, making sure no one went even the slightest bit off course. They were being driven, herded like cattle.

Tristan saw an island not too far away. He recognized it—Prickly Pear. He and the others swam for the shore. The sharks quickly cut them off, forcing them to bypass Prickly Pear and continue swimming.

After what seemed like forever, another island came into view. Again, the group headed for it. This time, the sharks didn't block their path but instead stayed close behind, snapping their toothy jaws, egging them on. When they reached the tip of Eustatia Island, all Tristan wanted was to get out of the water and
away
from the sharks. That, however, presented another problem—the rocks on this part of Eustatia were covered with sharp, hard little spikes. The teens stared at the rocks and then back at the two giant fins circling nearby.

Rosina cursed as she climbed out of the water. Sam tried to swim along the shore, but the sharks drove her back. She joined the others as they scrambled painfully over the sharp rocks toward the beach on the island's eastern side. “Ouch! Ouch! Crap! Double crap!” Their feet got cut up and bloody.

Trying to avoid a particularly wicked-looking rock, Meg stepped into an adjacent water-filled crack.

“Damn it!” the scientist exclaimed as she leapt out of the water with one foot raised. Tristan and the others gathered around. He didn't have to ask what was wrong. Her foot was swelling up like a balloon. It was also heavily polka-dotted with tiny black spots.

The teens helped her over the last set of spiky rocks and onto the sand. She sat down, holding her foot up. “Stepped on one of those bloody sea urchins.”

“Uh, Meg,” Hugh said shyly. “I read that you're supposed to, well, you know, pee on it.”

“No, no,” Meg replied quickly. “Nobody's going to urinate on my foot.”

“Thank god,” Hugh sighed.

“Just help me down the beach,” she said. “Oh, no, look at
your
feet.”

Tristan stared at his feet. Like the others, blood was seeping out of numerous small but deep cuts. He shook his head. “Don't worry; these will go away once we get back in the water.”

They helped Meg hobble a short way farther down the beach. Her foot had become even bigger and redder than before. Blood ran in rivulets from cuts. It looked horribly painful. They helped her sit down and looked around for help. The beach was deserted.

“Can you see the
Reef Runner
or any other boats to wave down?” Meg asked.

They shook their heads. Invisible Bay was now truly invisible behind the tip of Eustatia Island and Prickly Pear. And Saba Rock, off in the distance, blocked the view to the busy waterfront at the Bitter End Yacht Club.

“But, like, I don't see the sharks anymore,” Ryder said, peering into the water.

“I . . . I think they're gone,” Rosina added nervously.

The campers walked cautiously into the water up to their knees to let their cuts heal. Sam then lay down and made some clicking noises.

“Hard to tell what's past that coral reef,” she told
them, pointing to a narrow channel of water and a long stretch of reef. It ran nearly the entire length of Eustatia Island. At the reef's top, rubble, a few corals, and the tips of more black spiny sea urchins stuck out of the water. Tristan realized it was the reef they'd seen from the cottages at the Bitter End.

“Maybe I could jump over the reef and swim to the Bitter End,” Ryder offered.

“Or I could swim around it,” Tristan added.

“No, if you misjudge it, you'll be worse off than me,” Meg said, wincing with pain. “Besides, I think we should all stay together, and Coach is expecting us back anytime now. Once he realizes we're missing, they'll start looking for us.”

Sam played with her black rubber tracking bracelet. “Yeah, glad we still have these on.”

Tristan noticed a trail through the scrub. It went up the hill behind the beach. “What about going up there? Maybe there's a house or something.” After he spoke, he thought:
Could that be why the sharks drove us to the island?

“Worth a try,” Meg said. “Why don't you and Ryder hike up the trail a little way and see what's up there.”

Tristan looked at her horribly swollen, black-dotted foot and decided not to say anything about wondering why the sharks had driven them to the island. Right now they just needed to find help.

Just as the two boys started up the path, the drone of powerful outboard engines drew their attention back to the water. A speedboat was rounding the northern
tip of Eustatia heading into the deep water on the opposite side of the reef. It seemed to be going to Saba Rock or the Bitter End.

Rosina jumped up and down, waving at the boat and screaming for help. The others joined in. The boat slowed, did a U-turn, and sped back the way it had come.

“Hey, where are they going?” Rosina groaned.

The boat turned, swinging in toward the island.

“Had to go around the reef,” Meg sighed.

The boat's deep, V-shaped hull and big twin outboard engines prevented the driver from pulling up to the beach. Instead, the man stopped the boat just offshore. Another man hopped out and waded over to the group. He was middle aged and wore khaki shorts, a buttercup-yellow polo shirt, and a matching baseball hat. He was also unusually large, overly muscled, and had a weird look on his face. He was smiling, but Tristan thought it looked kinda fake. He decided the guy resembled an ex-pro-wrestler gone preppy who wasn't very happy about it.

“You folks need some help?”

“Yes,” Meg answered. “Stepped on a sea urchin in the rocks. We could use a lift back to our ship in Invisible Bay.”

The man leaned over to examine Meg's injured foot. “We've got a doctor back at the island. I suggest we go there instead and get that treated. It'll be much worse if it gets infected.”

Tristan wondered what island he was referring to.

“That's fine—in fact, sounds like a great idea,” Meg replied. “But could you radio our ship, the
Reef Runner
, and let them know what happened and where we're going?”

“Ma'am that's not a problem. We'll be happy to.”

The man lifted Meg up as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the waiting boat. The teens followed. He helped them in as well. Tristan gazed worriedly at his feet as he climbed aboard. The cuts were healed, but he still had webbing. He hoped the strangers were too busy to notice. Meg sat on the deck with her foot raised. The man who helped them into the boat wrapped her foot in a towel and told the huge, similarly dressed driver to radio their ship.

“
Reef Runner
,
Reef Runner
, come in?”

The driver started the boat's twin engines. Tristan sat on a padded bench at the boat's stern. The roar of the big outboards was ear blasting. He saw the driver talking on the radio, but could only assume the man was speaking with someone on their ship.

17

THE PSYCHO SPA

T
HE SPEEDBOAT RACED ACROSS THE WATER
, rounding the northern tip of Eustatia Island. Necker Island came into view. They turned right toward another more distant landmass. With the twin engines at full throttle, it took little time to reach the island. The driver slowed as they approached a long but empty dock. To the right were several small finger piers with more speedboats tied up alongside.