The Reef

bubbling with laughter when she let the camera drop by its strap.
    And then she noticed the stillness.
    It was odd, she thought absently. All the fish were gone. Even Smiley seemed to have whisked himself away. Nothing stirred in the water, and the silence was suddenly and eerily heavy.
    She glanced up through the murk and saw the shadow of Matthew and Buck as they carried their rich burden to the surface.
    And then she saw the nightmare.
    It came so fast, so quiet, that her mind rejected it. First there was nothing but the figures of the men swimming through the cloudy water, the sun fighting through it in thin misty streams. Then the shadow bulleted out of nowhere.
    Someone screamed. Later her father would tell her thesound had come from her, and had alerted him. But by that time she was already clawing her way up.
    The shark was longer than a man, perhaps ten feet. In her horror, she could see that its jaw was already open for the kill. She saw the moment they understood the danger and screamed again because she knew it was too late.
    The men broke apart, as if propelled. Gold poured down through the water like dazzling rain. With terror digging talons into her throat, Tate watched the shark take Buck in his vicious mouth, shake him like a dog shakes a rat. The force of the attack ripped off his mask and mouthpiece as the shark tore him through the blood-smeared water. Somehow her knife was in her hand.
    The shark dived, still thrashing as Matthew plunged his blade into its flesh, aiming for and missing the brain. The desperate jab left a gash, but the fish, frenzied on blood, held on to its prey and rammed his attacker.
    Lips peeled back from his teeth, Matthew stabbed and hacked. Buck was dead. He knew Buck was dead. And his only thought was to kill. The shark’s black, glasslike eye fixed on him, rolled back white. Buck’s body drifted free in the swirling blood as the fish sought fresh prey and mindless revenge.
    Matthew braced himself, prepared to kill or die. And Tate burst through the hideous murk like a warrior angel, an ancient dagger in one hand, a diver’s knife in the other.
    He thought his fear had reached his limit. But it doubled then, almost paralyzed him, as the shark turned toward the movement and charged her. Blind with terror, he kicked forward through the curtain of blood, rammed hard against the wounded shark to impede its progress. With a strength born of hot panic, Matthew plunged his knife into its back to the hilt.
    And prayed as he had never known he could.
    Grimly, he held on while the shark rolled and thrashed. He saw that while his blade had found its mark, so had hers. She’d ripped open its belly.
    Matthew let the carcass go and saw that Ray was struggling toward them with his knife freed in one hand while he hauled Buck’s limp body. Knowing what the bloodywater could bring, Matthew dragged Tate toward the surface.
    “Get in the boat,” he ordered. But her face was chalk white, her eyes beginning to roll back. He slapped her once, twice, until she focused. “Get in the fucking boat. Haul anchor. Do it.”
    She nodded, breath sobbing, and struck out in awkward strokes as he dived again. Her hands kept slipping on the ladder, and she’d forgotten to pull off her flippers. She couldn’t find the air to call out. Her mother had turned on the radio, and Madonna was slyly claiming to be just like a virgin.
    Her tanks clattered on deck, and the noise had Marla strolling over from the starboard side. In an instant, she was crouched beside Tate.
    “Mama. Shark.” Tate rolled over to her hands and knees and choked up water. “Buck. Oh God.”
    “You’re all right.” Marla’s voice was high and thin. “Oh, baby, are you all right?”
    “It’s Buck. Hospital. He needs a hospital. Pull up the anchor. Hurry.”
    “Ray. Tate. Your father?”
    “He’s all right. Hurry. Radio the island.”
    As Marla raced off, Tate pushed herself up; she dragged off her belt, turning her eyes away from the blood on her hands. She stood, swayed, bit her lip hard to keep from passing out. As she ran to the side, she dragged off her tanks.
    “He’s alive.” Ray grabbed for the ladder. Between them, he and Matthew supported Buck’s body. “Help us get him onboard.” His eyes, full of horror and pain, met hers. “Hold on to yourself, baby.”
    As they lifted Buck’s unconscious form into the boat, she saw why he had warned her. The shark had taken his leg below the knee.
    Bile rose to her