The small old boat jerked suddenly, a warning that almost went unheeded by the two teens absorbed in their laughter. As one teetered dangerously close to the edge, his friend’s quick reflexes saved him from a plunge into the cold ocean.

 

Earlier that day, they had encountered a school of surfperch and effortlessly reached their fishing limit. Tossing their stringer of fish over the side to keep for their journey home, they spent the rest of their time relaxing, exchanging bad jokes, and planning their impending senior year dominance at high school. They had set out on their pre-summer fishing expedition as the sun graced the horizon, armed with bait, fishing gear, sandwiches, and a six-pack of beer pilfered by the younger teen from his father.

 

The unseasonably warm day with low clouds had promised early morning rain that never materialized. Having finished the beer and their overabundance of crude jokes, the boys were preparing for their return to shore about two hundred yards away. The setting sun glowed with a kaleidoscope of colors, but it was an unseen beauty because the teens’ focus was now on the water. Realization struck that they should have moved closer to land at least an hour ago.

 

Neither was aware the delay would prove fatal.

 

“What the hell was that?” the older of the two by a few months demanded, his gaze scanning the now menacing waters. He was the serious one, good in school, always on time for football practice, and took out the garbage for his mom without being told. His friend was the exact opposite and could be counted on to be late and find sick humor in any mishap.

 

The boat jolted again and water poured through a weakened metal seam at the bottom.

 

The older teen’s thoughts weren’t dwelling on his brother, who had worked hard for three years before leaving for college to buy the seawater fishing boat. It didn’t matter that the vessel was aged or relatively small for ocean fishing; it had still cost over ten grand.

 

No, his mind was fixated on what lurked beneath them. As the boat rocked, his eyes scanned the dark water with terror creeping into his thoughts. Panic set in as a massive gray fin sliced through the water, the unmistakable sign of a predator.

 

“Shark!” The cry, tinged with fear, marked a chilling realization of their vulnerability.

 

His friend pointed to the large gray fin emerging six feet off the starboard side that he had already seen. Even in the water’s murky darkness, the shark’s colossal size was clear—easily fifteen feet or larger.

 

“Great White,” the older boy muttered as his brain kicked into gear.

 

“Look!” the other teen pointed again; his body now facing the opposite direction.

 

A similar fin surfaced on the port side. The older boy’s gaze darted sharply from side to side, questioning whether there were two sharks or if the one had moved with astonishing speed.

He started the motor while assessing the distance to shore. The engine cranked over immediately, offering a glimmer of hope. When they had embarked on their adventure that morning, the engine had struggled until it warmed up. It was their first fishing trip of the season, a tradition to mark the end of their high school year two weeks before summer officially began. The uncertain weather forecast had kept most recreational boats ashore, providing them with the solitude they looked for.

 

With the next hit, directly below the boat, the bow lifted, and the twelve-foot craft took on more water.

 

“Hold on,” the older boy urged. He hit the throttle, propelling them forward.

 

“Wahoo!” his friend exclaimed in excitement as they gained speed, heading toward the shoreline.

 

“We showed that bitch who’s boss.”

 

The older teen took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as the tension melted from his shoulders, allowing a tentative smile. Saltwater spray kissed his face, and nothing had ever felt so invigorating. This would be the fishing story that defined their senior year.

 

The boat went airborne and flipped.

 

Their screams were cut short. The water churned and the blood dissipated within minutes.

 

The sharks moved on.

 

This is the prologue and a short story for my 2024 summer thriller BREACH