PoraBora

Chapter Fourteen

The sharks circled. Spears began to poke over the gunnel. A storm was coming and the ship had to be on its way. Pora had to be peeled off, whatever it took.

The spears would be enough. They poised like eels, wavering with weight, warriors patient or unsure whether they needed to do more than posture. One jabbed, clanging off steel, but it did what it had to do. Pora pulled his arm away, wiggling out of the bars. They jabbed again, and then they all jabbed, in and out, closer and closer, sharks in the air to join the sharks in the sea, all teeth to kill him.

The next swell took Pora from the cage. It dragged him into the water, and he dove, because I'm going to die wasn't I'm going to let it happen.

The first shark bumped into him on accident, as likely as anything, bouncing back as if in shock. Everything else was a mess of toiling shapes and knotted bodies. Sharks squeezed between sharks to get a bite of the next morsel from the sky. Pora was caught in the middle of them, breath squeezed out, but he couldn't get it back. Bubbles churned as if from a boiling pot, racing in packs to the surface. White trails of fish remains flurried through the agitated waters, only to escape in a drift beyond the frenzy.

Never for long. The lurkers, small sharks and pilot fish, slurped them up.

The sharks broke apart, the latest fish left of nothing, and there was a moment where they assessed, silver shapes stripes of shadows from the surface, like a painting of ripples. They noticed. There was something in the water.

It was Pora.

The largest sharks shouldered in front of the rest, snaking towards him, their enormous caudal fins propelling them through the water.

Another slab of fish hit the surface with a slap. They shot for it instantly, bubbles and flesh and bodies writhing again. Pora kicked for the surface, because before he could try and get away, before he could get untangled, he had to breathe.

It hit him from behind. A shark from the edges, snout shut, nine feet long and ravenous. It shoved Pora's legs, and he could feel it before he saw it, the jaws opening as it decided he was meat. Its great snout pushed upwards, and there was its white face, eyes on either side, and its great throat, pulled open by flowing water, and its teeth, in rows and series, saws to rake and tear and never chew. Sharks tore, and swallowed, and circled for another bite.

Pora pushed the shark's snout. There was nothing else to try.

A tiger shark rammed the smaller shark full-on, bowling through.

Pora's leg was only scratched as the bull shark's mouth slammed shut and was snapped away, and he toiled in the waters to try and see. A fin, almost brown, ragged, scarred, and torn.

It was Bora.

Bora twisted off the bull shark, which, aggressive as it was, understood the enormity of Bora's thirteen feet.

And Pora was afforded the chance to scramble for air. He found it and sucked it in, lungs pining, heartbeat all but exploding in his head. The surface was worse than underneath, all fins and waves and white bodies rolling over each other. And then he was back under, and there were Bora's teeth and white throat, and hints of the ocean through his gills.

At least it's Bora, Pora thought, and he almost closed his eyes, but he had seen, in just a moment, a speck, something on Bora's teeth, and he reached his arm to clean it--

The shark swam through him, swinging its enormous head and tail, from one to the other, like a wave crashes along a beach. His teeth sank into Pora's arm, yanking him forward, angled points digging and tearing through Pora's flesh.

Pora spat bubbles, grabbing at Bora's pectoral fin with his other arm. The teeth sunk, and sunk, and Pora dangled as he was dragged, his own blood trailing behind.

They cleared the others, and the patient lurkers saw an opportunity. They darted after Bora and his prize, but the tiger shark snapped Pora out of reach, slamming them with his tail.

Pora's nose filled with water, and then his throat, and he coughed. Water came pouring in. He flailed, trying to pull himself free, trying to find the surface, but he couldn't, his legs finding empty seas, his back the back of the shark. He bounced. His lungs contorted. He tried to find more air, but there was only more water, and Pora couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't—couldn't—