Black Tide by Del Stone

exactly a candidate for the rocking chair,’ she said, and I felt a little better. Then she continued, ‘Maybe for one of those three-toed canes, but definitely not a rocker.’ She snickered and winked at me.
    In the distance, over the burble of the Evinrude, I heard DeVries call out, ‘DOCTOR MILLERRRRR! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?’
    I stood up and got a shot of his searchlight, right in the eyes, which momentarily blinded me. That’s why I wasn’t able to see what happened next. I heard it first, but only after the spots cleared and my sight returned was I able to make out what was going on. I might have chosen to remain blind the rest of my life had I known what I would see.
    I heard a loud knocking sound, as if a piece of timber had been dropped inside the boat. It was a loud thunk against the fibreglass bottom. I heard DeVries shout, ‘Hey –’ and his voice cut off abruptly. Then I could hear him shouting, ‘No! No! No!’ and at the same time Scotty exclaiming, ‘What the hell!’ and then DeVries began to scream. It was a high, ululating wail of panic and pain, the scream of somebody whose life was about to end. The Evinrude suddenly howled and there was a loud splashing, and another thunk. The spotlight spun away from me, out of my sight, and for a moment I couldn’t see anything – just purplish, flickering blotches as my eyes readjusted to the dark. Scotty came scrambling back to us and snatched the flashlight from Heather. He whispered hoarsely, ‘Something’s got him!’ and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, the way it would if lightning were about to strike.
    Something. Not someone. Something .
    I stumbled down the beach. Scotty had gone ahead of me at a dead run. The boat was spinning in a tight circle, its engine screaming, the throttle wide open. A plume of spray fanned out behind it, glowing a sickish tobacco brown in the gyrating light of the searchlight. Off to the side I could see two figures struggling.
    It was DeVries, and what looked like a man. Why had Scotty used the word something ? an inner voice questioned. It was clearly a man. Perhaps he was a fellow survivor, like us, clinging to some of the flotsam drifting down to the sound. He’d heard the boat and had swum to the sound. Scotty was in the water, up to his calves, when I caught up to him. I yelled, ‘You get DeVries! I’ll see if I can get the boat!’
    I had no idea how I’d accomplish that – the boat was spinning at a maddening speed. Behind us I could hear Heather screaming, ‘Watch the prop! Don’t get near the prop!’ She didn’t have to tell me that. I’d seen what a prop could do to a man’s leg and had no intention of being chopped to bits. Maybe if I could get inside the circle and chop the throttle on one of the boat’s passes …
    Scotty was wading out to DeVries, who was screaming, ‘GET OFF! GET OFF!’ A sweep of the searchlight revealed a hideous indigo stain in the water around the two as they struggled – what was the maniac doing to him? He appeared to be clinging to DeVries, his face buried in the crook between DeVries’ shoulder and neck; I could see only that. The froth they were throwing up concealed everything else.
    The boat’s arc began to widen, and it headed for DeVries and his attacker. Scotty hesitated. Heather was at the beach now, and she screamed, ‘Scotteee! Get out of the way!’ just as the boat struck the two men. You could hear the awful, meaty burr of the prop as it ripped into flesh. The boat jerked to the right with a loud BRRRWAP , straightened, and charged toward the middle of the sound, out into the night. Scotty shouted, ‘Son of a bitch!’ and began jumping in the water after the boat, then saw the futility of the chase and stopped.
    The man struggling with DeVries had stood up. His back was arched, and his mouth was open. No sound came