Chapter Fifteen

Day Seven, Morning

Terror stole Kate's ability to scream. Everything inside her rebelled at what was happening. She pulled herself frantically along the rail to where Ryan had gone overboard. She saw Ryan, her wet hair covering her face, wildly looking at the water around her while her arms flailed. Kate's voice returned.

"Don't thrash," she yelled.

Ryan instantly went still, her eyes desperately seeking help from her mother, and slowly she sank below the surface. Her hair floated for about ten seconds. Kate grabbed the rail and half lifted herself from the wheelchair, the adrenaline rush giving her strength.

Ryan had disappeared entirely and the water remained still. Kate frantically positioned herself on the rail so she could jump. A small splash came from the stern of the yacht at the platform the shark had just mauled. Ryan, soaking wet, scrambled onboard. At the same time, large jaws pitched from the water and closed ferociously around nothing but air, missing Ryan's feet by inches. It disappeared below the surface. Ryan scrambled away from the edge and launched herself toward Kate who had crawled back in her chair.

"I, I," Ryan said through chattering teeth. "It didn't catch me."

Kate had trouble believing Ryan was safe in her arms. The sight of the shark grabbing at her would stay with Kate for the rest of her life.

The underside of the yacht took a heavy hit from the shark again.

"Will it sink our boat?" Ryan whispered, holding onto her mother for dear life.

"No, I won't let it," Kate promised and realized for the first time that the shark wouldn't give up. It could have easily gone searching for food in another more plentiful area. The shark's mission was to take out the yacht. The only solution Kate had was to kill the shark.

The "how" was the problem. Holding Ryan, her thoughts became clear and she began putting together a plan. They had spearfishing gear left by the previous yacht's owner. They were in the larger of the two deck storage bins.

Before she tackled the spearguns, she gently pushed Ryan's wet body from her lap so she was standing on deck. Kate examined her from head to foot to ensure she was in one piece.

"I'm okay, Mommy," Ryan said, the trembling in her voice almost gone.

"I love you. Don't scare me like that again." Kate placed her arms out. "I need your help," Kate said after giving her another long hug.

With Ryan back on her lap, Kate wheeled to the safety lines attached to the deck. She circled one around Ryan's waist and clipped it. She then attached one to her wheelchair.

"This will keep us from falling in the water," she told Ryan while she worked. "When we're on deck, we need to stay safe. Understood?"

Ryan's small chin moved up and down as her gaze traveled to the ocean, her fear still evident.

What if she hadn't made it? The thought added to Kate's determination that she would find a way to stop the shark. She wheeled to the largest container. It stood beside the one with the diving equipment. Both containers were held in place by a metal rack. She unlatched and lifted the watertight lid. Inside, she found large hooks and braided line used for deep-sea fishing. It also held a nylon bag with a net. She handed the items to Ryan while she searched deeper inside. The spearfishing gear was at the very bottom.

There were two spearguns, which Kate examined closely. One was marked 90 centimeters, and the other 120. There were assorted spears and blue rubber tubing. Unfortunately, there were no directions. Kate had never used a speargun, but she would figure it out.

"Are you going to shoot the shark?" Ryan asked.

"Maybe. It's a backup plan, and it makes us safer if we're prepared."

"You sound just like Grandpops."

"He taught me everything I know," Kate replied with a smile, still in disbelief that Ryan had survived. "Let's check on your dad before we figure this out."

Sam continued sleeping. His face was unnaturally flushed, so Kate checked his forehead. He was burning up, even after the Tylenol had had plenty of time to work.

"We need another bucket of water," she told Ryan.

They hauled the water to the galley, and Ryan wiped her father's head and face with a washcloth while Kate tackled his arms, chest, and good leg. He mumbled but didn't wake up.

"Sam," she said at one point. He barely opened his eyes. "Drink," she told him.

"Don't feel good," he mumbled.

"Do you need a pain pill?" she asked.

He didn't respond, and his eyes closed. When she washed his good leg, she didn't like the smell coming from the injured one. Could the infection travel with a tourniquet on? She felt overwhelmed by what she didn't know. Would she need to amputate his leg? Could she if it was his only hope?

Again, she wanted to scream. Ryan held her together. She refused to let her daughter see her fear. She coaxed Sam awake and added another Tylenol to the two she had given him earlier. She wouldn't be able to give him more for six hours. Sam managed to swallow the pill and take two sips of sports drink before he fell asleep again. He hadn't taken a pain pill and she had no idea how long his rest would last.

"Let's figure out how the spearguns work," Kate said, to take her mind off Sam. If she wasn't being proactive, she would go insane.