There was a tremendous splash from the rear of the craft. Water splattered them both. Moxey hissed and spat. Her claws sunk into Henry’s thigh. Her attention was focused behind them. Henry pulled the oar from the water and glanced over his shoulder. A black, wheelbarrow-sized dorsal fin glided toward the raft.
Henry had time to think, There aren’t any sharks in the Greenbrier River…
Then the creature leapt from the water and he saw that it wasn’t a shark at all. It was something much worse.
CHAPTER 19
The thing that erupted from the water was over ten feet long. Henry guessed that it must have weighed several hundred pounds. It was an impossibility—half-man and half-shark. The creature’s neck, arms and legs were those of a human being, but it had the head, upper body, dorsal fin, and tail of a Great White shark.
When Henry was little, his parents had let him watch Jaws with them once. The movie had given him nightmares for weeks after. As he watched the man-shark soar through the air, a crazy thought went through his mind.
We’re gonna need a bigger raft…
The beast must have misjudged its leap, because it soared over the raft and splashed into the water on the other side. Plumes of water smashed down on Henry and Moxey, almost pressing them flat. The cat yowled and struggled, but Henry managed to keep a firm grip on her with one hand. With his other hand, he drew in the wooden plank that had served as his makeshift oar and opened his pocketknife. The weapon seemed absurdly small, and did nothing to boost his confidence or make him feel better. If anything, it merely increased his despair.
The massive dorsal fin emerged from the water again and cleaved the water as it slowly glided towards them. The pocketknife shook in Henry’s trembling hand as he watched the creature approach. He had no idea how far away they still were from shore. The fog was too thick. The beast drew closer, nudging corpses, tires, and other flotsam out of the way. It began circling the raft, almost as if it were toying with them. Henry watched it pass beneath the surface—a long, gray shadow. He noticed that the thing was using both its tail and its arms and legs to propel it through the water.
It circled again and again. With each concentric pass, it narrowed the space between them. Moxey hissed and spat, her wet fur sticking up like someone had stuck her tail into an electrical socket.
Henry thought back to High School. Specifically, Mr. Young’s biology class. They’d studied sharks, hadn’t they? It was hard to remember, because Henry had spent more time sneaking glimpses at Jean Pearcy’s boobs and playing Jewel Quest II on his cell phone than he had paying attention to the curriculum. What did he know about sharks? They had extra-sensitive hearing, right? Something about an organ called the lateral line? Yes, he remembered that now. Sharks could detect sounds and vibrations from hundreds of feet away. Their sense of smell was extra-sensitive, as well. They could smell a drop of blood for miles.
The shark completed another circle. It was close enough now that Henry could have struck it with the plank.
What else, goddamn it? Think!
Their eyes were a weak spot. So was the snout. If you hit a shark in the snout, it was supposed to hurt them. Sort of like kicking a man in the balls. That wouldn’t kill them, but it would make them think twice about eating you. If he remembered correctly, you could kill a shark by stopping it from swimming. If a shark stopped swimming, it died. Henry didn’t know if that rule applied to man-sharks, as well—and even if it did, this one didn’t look inclined to stop anytime soon.
As if reading his thoughts, the monster’s bullet-shaped head emerged from the water, stretching towards him on a thick, human neck. The man-shark regarded Henry and Moxey with black, soulless eyes. Then it opened its mouth, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. Henry was sure that the creature was grinning.
Then it attacked, leaping once more from the foul water and grasping at the edge of the raft with its hands. The powerful jaws snapped shut, then opened again in anticipation of the weakened morsels aboard the raft. Foam and drool dripped from the corners of the creature’s mouth. It pulled itself onto the silo door, and the craft tilted dangerously to one side. Henry and Moxey slid towards the open jaws. The stench wafting from the shark’s mouth was revolting. It made Henry’s eyes burn. He was reminded of the slaughterhouse at the nearby turkey farm.
Not nearby, you dummy. It’s underwater now, like everything else. Focus on not getting eaten.
Henry slashed at the beast with his pocketknife. The blade barely grazed the creature’s flesh. Moxey dug her claws into Henry’s thighs and held tight. Screaming, Henry dropped the pocketknife and grabbed the claw hammer. The shark pressed down harder on the raft, trying to capsize the vessel with its weight. Henry and Moxey slid within inches of the mouth. Still shrieking, Henry swung the hammer and hit the man-shark directly under the nose. It uttered a deep, booming cry. Its breath was like a hot, foul wind. The thing released its hold on the raft. Then, roaring, it bumped the craft with its head. The raft shuddered and groaned, threatening to come apart. The floorboard that Henry had been using as an oar slipped into the water and floated out of reach. His pocketknife plunked into the depths. Henry leaned forward and struck again, this time, using the claw end of the hammer. The dull blades bit deep into the monstrosity’s bulging, black eye. Pink and gray pulp squirted into the water. Blood flowed from the wound. Henry swung a third time, knocking several of the half-dollar sized teeth from the creature’s mouth.
The great tail thrashed, slapping at the water, and the man-shark dove, vanishing beneath the raft. Henry held his breath and gripped Moxey tight, expecting at any moment for the creature to emerge from beneath them and smash the silo door to bits. But it didn’t. Instead, the water’s surface fell calm again. The waves died down. Silence returned. Moxey lay stiff and sodden in his lap, her claws still embedded in his thighs. Henry became aware once more of the rain, falling incessantly, providing background music to everything that had just occurred.
Minutes passed. Henry glanced behind them, but could no longer see the grain silo. He couldn’t see much of anything. The entire landscape was enshrouded in mist. Then the raft came to a sudden, jarring halt. Henry shouted again, believing that they’d run into the shark. But then he realized that they’d run aground of something—the top of an oak tree. Its upper branches barely jutted from the water. The raft had snagged on them. He snapped one off and used it to push off from the tree and then paddle. The branch wasn’t very effective, but it was better than nothing. Moxey began to relax. Henry focused on remaining alert.
They bumped over a few more trees and scraped across the roof of a barn. Then, a few minutes later, Henry noticed that the water was getting shallow. The trees and other obstructions stuck up further. The fog parted and Henry shouted with relief when he spied dry land—although dry wasn’t really accurate. More like muddy land. At this point, however, Henry didn’t care.
The mountaintop rose out of the water. The raft bumped into a large rock clinging precariously to the earth behind it. After glimpsing the graffiti that had been spray-painted on the rock, Henry recognized it as the boulder that had overlooked Lil’ Devil’s Hole—a small cave located halfway up the mountain. Could the water really be so deep that the cavern was now at sea level? It seemed impossible.