Deadly Waters by Gloria Skurzynski Page A

hair so that drops flew in an arc around his head like beads of glass. “We’re OK,” he gasped. “I got a good look—the propeller just cut through skin and blubber on her back. Didn’t go too deep.”
    â€œIs she moving?” Jack saw the ripples swirling only feet away from him. The manatee must be there, hidden by the murkiness.
    â€œShe’s pretty much staying put. I think she’s still stunned. The boat hit her hard.”
    â€œHow bad is she bleeding?” Ashley asked.
    â€œNot that much.” Bridger pinched his nose, squeezing water out of his nostrils, then rubbed his eyes to clear them. “I think some of the blood’s from giving birth. Looks like that baby was just born. Probably right before the big one got hit.”
    â€œI hope you’re right—that she’s OK,” Jack told him. “When Frankie gets back, she can radio the park rangers. They might want to take the manatee someplace to heal.”
    Ashley bit the edge of her lip. “Except, how will the park people find her? She might swim away from here. Frankie said the pelican would get infected from just having a torn place in its beak. What’ll happen with all those cuts the manatee has?” Jack didn’t have an answer, but Ashley’s face quickly cleared as she hit on her own plan. “I know. We’ll circle her, the three of us, standing around her so she can’t get away. We’ll use our bodies to keep her close to the shore.”
    â€œThat’s insane,” Jack argued. “We can’t stand here in the water for hours, waiting for Frankie and then for animal rescue people to come.” Anyway, he thought, three kids weren’t going to make a half-ton manatee stay where it didn’t want to be. He wiped the lens of his waterproof watch with his thumb. Ten forty-five. Frankie ought to be getting back soon. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he searched the waterway, looking for any sign of the Pescadillo . The glassy river was empty as far as he could see, shimmering in the sun as though it had been sprinkled with bits of mirror. Then a movement, barely breaking the water’s skin, caught his eye. Twenty feet away something skimmed the surface. Immediately he remembered the big alligator that had been sunning itself on the sand-covered tangle of mangrove roots.
    â€œWe’d better get back on the dock,” he said. “There’s gators around here.”
    â€œBut what about the manatee?” Ashley asked.
    Squinting, Jack tried to understand the shape as it glided closer. The shape didn’t look anything like an alligator. A fin, silver in the sun, sliced the water like a razor. A dolphin?
    No! Suddenly, Jack realized what it was, out there in the water, and it made his throat clamp tight. “Ashley,” he croaked. “Get out!”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œShark! Bridger, right behind you!”
    With a splash, Bridger whipped around, his eyes widening with fear when he saw the fin, now only five feet away from him.
    â€œ Ashley, get out! ” Jack screamed again.
    He felt as though he were in one of his nightmares, the kind where he tried to run but his legs felt as heavy and unwieldy as lead. Right, left, right, left—with every step he could almost feel teeth slice into his extended leg. Jack pushed through the water, holding his arms out as he pumped toward his sister, reaching for her. Why did she seem so far away? Why was it taking so long to get to her? Faster and faster he went until he grabbed her outstretched hand. Pulling her behind him, he reached the dock and heaved himself onto it, then leaned down and yanked Ashley straight up out of the water. Her shins scraped against the rough wood as she fell to her knees.
    Bridger catapulted himself onto the dock, a sheet of water tumbling off his torso like a waterfall. “Did you see it?” he asked.
    Ashley couldn’t speak; she could only