I wish I’d brought my camera, she thought then. The images in front of her face were truly incredible.
Still, there’d be time enough for that. She had a week at the Club Noah resort before she’d be forced to return to the hustle and bustle of her daily existence.
That was seven days away, though. And she didn’t want to spend her time thinking of what the return to her world would do to her outlook on life.
No, she was here now and that was what was most important.
She turned back toward where she’d been watching the clown fish. But the little guys were gone.
She drew closer to the sea grass and peered inside.
She spotted a clown fish huddled farther back, closer to the wall of coral that was behind it.
Annja frowned. Is it me that’s got him spooked?
The answer to her question came a moment later as a jackfish shot past her face mask, through the sea grass and gobbled up the poor clown fish. Annja saw the blur of movement, but had hardly enough time to register the effect.
One second, the clown fish was there; the next, it was simply gone.
The jackfish didn’t hang around, either.
Life on the reef, she thought. Everyone’s got to eat.
Annja looked around again. She realized the motor noise had stopped, but she didn’t see any other anchors leading down to the bottom. Just hers. So there was no one else in the area.
She felt a sense of unease she couldn’t explain. She checked her oxygen gauge and saw she still had plenty left.
A moment later she felt herself torpedoed from behind and thrust into the sharp coral face itself.
2
The impact of the blow from behind sent Annja into the coral face-first. Her mask came loose and slipped off.
Annja slammed her eyes shut and took a breath.
What the hell hit me?
She flailed about in the water, feeling around for her mask. Calm down, she told herself, it’s here somewhere. She felt to the right and found the mask.
Bringing it over her head, she started purging the water from it by sucking in air through her regulator and then blowing out through her nose, hoping she could get the water level down so she could at least open her eyes.
She sensed the movement around her and fought to keep herself from panicking; her heart thundered in her chest as she kept purging the mask.
And then she felt the water level drop below her lids and she risked opening her eyes.
A dark maw of razor-sharp teeth filled her view.
Annja jerked herself to the side as the giant body shot past her. In her periphery, she saw the dark vertical stripes and now her pulse raced.
A tiger shark.
They called them the garbage cans of the deep. Annja’s brain ran down the laundry list of facts she knew about them. Galeocerdo cuvier in Latin, they were one of the most dangerous sharks in the ocean, second only to the great white. They were predators, and dozens of human deaths had been attributed to them over the years. They were well known in the South Pacific and the waters of the Philippines, although Annja hadn’t thought there’d be much chance of one being here near the reef.
That would account for the lack of other sharks around the reef, though, she thought. Normally, there’d be other species—especially reef sharks, blacktips and others more at home near the coral.
This guy must have frightened them off.
And now, getting some distance from her pursuer, Annja could see why. The shark was massive, at least fourteen feet running from the tip of its blunt snout to the notch in its tail.
She took another breath and kept blowing out through her nose, clearing more of the water from her mask. She’d need her eyesight in order to get out of this scrape unscathed.
The tiger shark swam in lazy circles around the reef, but always kept Annja in his vision.
She ran her hand down her right leg and freed the knife from its sheath. The serrated edge could cut into the tough shark hide without much problem. But in order to do that, Annja would have to get close.
Really close.
She took another few breaths and then watched as the shark suddenly turned and shot away from the reef, its dark striped form vanishing as it gained distance from the reef.
Was it gone?
Annja frowned. She’d heard about this particular tactic before. The tiger shark would sometimes leave, hoping to entice its target into the open only to return and attack more violently than before.
I’ve got time, Annja thought. And I won’t fall for that move.
She kept her back to the coral and the knife up in front of her. After two minutes of bobbing in the water, she was forced to confront the idea that maybe the shark had grown bored and left.
Annja looked around the reef. Some of the smaller fish had returned. But the jacks and grouper were nowhere to be seen. And there were no turtles anywhere close by, either.
A dark shape shot past her and she knew the tiger shark was back. It had gone overhead, close, and Annja had ducked down to avoid it.
It turned itself around and she marveled at how perfectly streamlined its body was. It looked like a banking fighter jet as it came in closer again. Its eyes never left her, but Annja had found a reasonable spot from which she could defend herself, if necessary.
If you’re going to attack me, she thought, you’ll have to commit and come in.
That would give her the opening she’d need to take it on.
But fourteen feet worth of apex predator wasn’t an even match, she decided. The tiger shark could cut her in half without much effort.
Suddenly the knife looked pitifully small in her hand.
Annja sensed the attack instead of seeing it. The shark shot straight at her, coming in hard and fast, seemingly unconcerned about the coral.
Or the knife.
Annja shot up and brought the knife down, embedding it on the top of the shark’s snout. It jerked once, wrenched the knife free from Annja’s hand and then swam away, a thin tendril of blood trailing behind.
Annja sucked in air and tried to still her hammering heart.
She glanced down and more worry seeped into her as her oxygen gauge showed that she’d have to surface soon.
That would mean leaving the relative protection of the reef.
Overhead, her boat looked far away.
And small.
Annja looked around, but the shark had vanished again. I hope that knife hurts like hell, she thought.
The level on her gauge continued to drop.
Annja was going to have to make a run for it.
I’m not doing this alone, she thought.
She summoned the mystical sword she’d somehow inherited from Joan of Arc, and the gleaming blade was snug in her hands, right where she wanted it to be.
She looked around but couldn’t see the tiger shark anywhere.
It was time to go but the problem was that on the ascent she’d have to rise no faster than her air bubbles. To rush it, she’d be risking the bends—when her body couldn’t get rid of the nitrogen in her blood. That could be as fatal as being attacked by the shark. She was only in about fifty feet of water, but she still had to maintain