The Shark Whisperer (26 page)

“Nice job,
Tristan
,” Ryder said.

“Hey, not my fault. Look if I remember the map
correctly, we could go around the channel by going west, cut through The Quicksands, and then go south.”

“I don't know. Director Davis said to avoid The Quicksands,” Hugh noted.

“I'd rather take my chances there than get swept out to sea and drown,” Rosina said.

Tristan sensed rather than heard the water movement nearby. He turned to see two pointy fins sticking up, moving toward them. The other teens turned to see what he was looking at.

“Shark?” Hugh asked nervously, moving behind Tristan. “Hope it knows we're the good guys.”

“I don't think that's a shark,” Tristan said. He lay down and floated toward the fins. A diamond-shaped ray at least four feet wide was swimming just below the surface. Its two wing-like fins periodically rose up so that the tips were sticking out of the water—making it look very shark-like from above. It had a cute little snout and pale belly. The ray dove down, displaying its dark purple back with white-ringed polka dots and a long whip-like tail. It banked to the right in a spiraling turn and swam back toward Tristan. The ray flew effortlessly through the water, slowly waving its fins up and down like broad powerful wings. Tristan marveled at its grace and ease. Then, much like a shark, he could tell what it was thinking. He swam back to the others.

“It's a spotted eagle ray, like the one at the Rehab Center. Only this one still has its spots. It's amazing. It saw us trying to swim across the channel and wants to know if we want help going around the current and through The Quicksands.”

“Of course,” Hugh said. “Rays are related to sharks so you're probably good with them too.”

“And yes, tell it we'd love its help,” Sam added.

The competitive silver fish and inquisitive squid were long gone, but now the group of swimming teens was being led by a large spotted eagle ray. They followed its graceful flight around the southern tip of the island into the channel. The ray turned right, staying where the current was the weakest. Tristan followed right behind. It was encouraging them on:
Just follow me, this way, easy does it, hang a right here, straighten out
.

Tristan watched the eagle ray's languid motion. It was hypnotizing. He popped his head up to catch a breath, but didn't worry about which direction he was going. He just stayed with the eagle ray, mesmerized by the flowing up and down of its fins. Tristan checked behind him to be sure the others were still there. Ryder was at the rear of the group, though every once in a while he'd swim to the front to show off.

Tristan glanced ahead. There was something underwater in the distance. It looked almost like a high white wall. Tristan shook his head, thinking he must be seeing things. The eagle ray made a sharp left turn before they got too close to it, whatever
it
was. Tristan couldn't resist taking a closer look. He swam ahead. In front of him was the steep side of a huge underwater sand wave, like the slope of a tall white dune completely submerged in the ocean. He swam up and over the slope coming to the top of the sand wave. The water was about a foot deep. Tristan floated like he was
doing a pushup, his hands resting lightly on the sand at the peak of the wave. He forgot that the others were following him until they were all right next to him floating on their bellies over the pale undersea dune. The eagle ray circled lazily nearby in deeper water.

Tristan popped his head up. “Guess this is one of those giant sand waves the director was talking about.” He picked up a handful of sand. Grains spilled from his grasp. They were perfectly round, miniature shiny white beads.

“And these must be ooids,” Hugh said also picking up and staring at a handful of the strange white sand. “It's like we're in one of those plastic ball pits you can jump in. Only here the pit contains a gazillion ooids.”

Ryder scooped up some of the ooid sand as well. “Cool.” He then put his feet down about to stand up.

“I don't know if I'd do that,” Sam warned. “I think we're in The Quicksands.”

Ryder stood up anyways. “I can handle it. No problem. Been on like a ton of soft sand beaches.”

That's when the sinking started. Ryder was soon past his knees in ooids. He wiggled his legs in a panic. “Hey, help me out of here!”

Tristan grabbed Ryder's hand. He finned with one hand, kicking hard with his feet. With Ryder squirming and Tristan pulling they were able to release him from the grip of the ooid sand.

“Not that bad really,” Ryder said. “I think I had stopped sinking.”

“Let's not test it any further,” Sam said, turning to Rosina and rolling her eyes. “
Boys
.”

Just then they heard a noise that made everyone swivel around. They'd been so mesmerized by the eagle ray and ooid sand—they'd completely forgotten about Rickerton's goon.

Sam ducked underwater to echolocate. Popping back up she said, “Think it's the Jet Ski guy again, but I'm not sure exactly where he is.”

“I am,” Hugh said, pointing toward the boomerang-shaped island to their south.

They could just make out a man on a Jet Ski in the distance. He was headed straight for them.

“Now what?” Rosina asked. “There's nowhere to hide out here.”

Tristan scanned the area. She was right. They were out in the open, just giant underwater ooid sand waves with channels of water between them. Maybe swimming this way wasn't such a good idea.

“Any dolphins or even sharks around to help?” Hugh asked Sam and Tristan.

They both shook their heads. Sam added, “I bet they're all still back where the yacht sunk.”

The sound of the Jet Ski was getting louder and the man closer.

“We could swim for it,” Ryder suggested.

“No way, we can't outswim a Jet Ski,” Rosina groaned.

“I've got an idea,” Tristan said. “It's a little crazy and definitely dangerous, but it might work.”

Rickerton's man on the Jet Ski was closing in on the teens. He had reported the group to his boss over the radio and had been ordered to check them out. Rickerton had told him in not-so-subtle terms, “Other than the brats from the yacht, who else would be out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Several of the teens suddenly started waving their arms at him. As the Jet Skier got closer, he could see that two of them were holding another kid up like he or she was hurt. Rickerton's man increased his speed just a little.

“Help! Help!” Sam shouted.

Rosina waved her arms madly. “Over here!”

Tristan ducked to avoid being splattered with mucus flying from Rosina's fingers. “Hey, maybe you should let Sam do the waving.”

Rosina glared at him and then shrugged, waving her arms a little less enthusiastically. Ryder and Tristan were now floating atop the ooid sand wave, squatting on their knees and paddling gently. They held Hugh's head up out of the water as if he was unconscious.

“Keep it up,” Tristan said quietly. “Once he gets a little closer start moving back off the sand wave.”

Tristan made it sound easy, but he was struggling. It was awkward holding Hugh's head up, floating, trying not to stand up, and paddling backward all at the same time. “Hugh, give us a little help here,” he whispered.

“Hey, I'm supposed to be unconscious,” Hugh replied quietly.

“Yeah, but you're not dead,” Ryder said. “At least, not yet.”

They all continued to wiggle and ever-so-slowly fin their way backward off the giant wave of ooids. The Jet Ski was now only about thirty feet away. The man eyed them suspiciously, fingering the strap of the weapon slung across his back. “Hey, what are you kids doing out here?”

“We went for a quick swim and our boat drifted away,” Tristan yelled trying to sound super innocent. “Our friend passed out. Can you help us?”

“Where's the boat now?”

“If we knew that we wouldn't need your help!” Ryder yelled.

Tristan kicked Ryder underwater. The movement threw him off balance and, instinctively, he put his feet down to stand up. Tristan immediately began to sink and he had to let it happen. If he pulled his legs out now, it would give them away. He sank deeper into the ooids. The other teens continued to move off the sand wave. Tristan was now thigh-deep and Hugh was slipping from his grip as Ryder backed away.

“Come on, I think our friend is really hurt,” Sam pleaded. “You could take him to Great Exuma and tell them where we are.”

“I don't know. Seems odd that you're out here.”

Sam tried to look as pathetic and innocent as possible. “But we're just a bunch of kids. We really need your help.” She pretended to cry.

“Okay, okay. Hang on. Don't cry. I hate crying. I'll drive over so you can get your friend on the Jet Ski. Is he still breathing?”

By now Tristan was buried in ooids nearly up to
his hips. He was starting to panic and only had hold of a few strands of Hugh's hair. Suddenly his foot hit something hard buried in the ooid sand. He stepped onto it hoping it would keep him from sinking any further. Curious, he crouched down and reached through the ooids with his non-Hugh-holding hand. Whatever it was, it felt stiff and crusty. A piece broke off in his fingers, but he had no time to look at it. The guy on the Jet Ski was almost there.

The other teens, including Hugh, kicked hard away from the ooid sand wave. Tristan prayed that the hard surface at his feet would hold. He bent his legs and pushed off. The stiff crust gave way. Tristan sprang up, but not as much as he'd hoped. Luckily, it was just enough to get loose. He kicked free of the ooid sand and quickly caught up with the others.

“What the . . . !” the man on the Jet Ski yelled, but it was too late to stop his forward momentum. He swore loudly, realizing it was a trick. The water over the top of the ooid sand wave was too shallow for the heavy Jet Ski. It hit the sand and stopped with a tremendous jolt. Somehow the man was able to stay aboard and upright on his machine. He reached for his gun. Just as he was about to swing his weapon around, a heavy weight rammed him from behind. The man flew off the Jet Ski as if he'd been hit by a dump truck.

Rickerton's goon lay dazed in the water, grimacing in pain. He grabbed his leg, looking down. A thin white barb was sticking out of his right thigh. Just then, a large spotted eagle ray jumped high out of the water
about ten feet away. It twirled and landed on its back with the enthusiasm of a football player spiking a ball after a touchdown. In its mouth was the man's radio headset.

The teens cheered the eagle ray's knockdown and watched with glee as the Jet Ski sank deeper into the ooids. Rickerton's man was holding his leg, trying to pull the sinking Jet Ski out of the sand wave and cursing them. They high-fived and swam toward the island to their south. Tristan looked past the island, straining to see Lee Stocking Island and the marine lab where he hoped they'd soon be safe.

19

THE FLYING IGUANA