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Chapter 1: What triggers Gabe's obsession with sharks?
Look, someone called from the side of the catamaran.
There's a shark.
Captain Ron, a man who didn't have an eye patch and looked nothing like Kurt Russell, came over and peered into the water.
That's a blacktip shark, he said, nodding. There's a few.
Sure enough, I spotted three sharks swimming lazily 30 yards from the boat. Captain Ron had just stopped the tour boat so we could snorkel. My girlfriend, Nikki, and I were looking forward to getting into the water and peeping some fish. But I wasn't crazy about swimming with sharks.
Probably a good idea to stay out of the water while they're around, Ron said. But we can go to a different spot about 20 minutes away. What does everyone think?
A chorus of yes sounded for most of the 15 people aboard the boat. Ron and his teenage son headed off to start the motors. Nicky stepped away from the railing to take a seat under the awning, along with most of the others. I stayed, along with a couple of kids, all of us watching the blacktip sharks. They were majestic creatures, if a little intimidating.
It had been far too long since I'd been on vacation and I couldn't help but smile. All the frustrations I didn't even know I was carrying were melting away. My smile faltered as my mind jumped back to an argument Nikki and I had while packing. Well, not really an argument. an observation she had made.
I was trying to set up a waterproof GoPro, thinking I would get some footage, put it up on YouTube just for the heck of it. In reality, the foundation kept me too busy for anything like that, but it was fun to dream. The only problem was that I couldn't figure out the camera. The setup screen was in Mandarin, and I couldn't figure out how to change it.
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Chapter 2: How does the mutated shark affect Gabe's emotions?
Cool song, man. Ensorcelled by its massive size, I stared as the shark grew closer and closer. Soon, I could make out details along its body. My brow furrowed. Were those extra eyes dotting its sides? Was that a lipless human mouth on top of its head, teeth pressed together in a grimace?
I wanted to look away, to ask if the kids were seeing the same thing, but I couldn't pull my gaze from the creature. And then the pulse came. It originated from the great white, although there was no physical evidence of this. It didn't affect the water and it wasn't like a gust of wind slamming into me, but I felt it coming from the shark.
My legs buckled and I fell to my knees on the textured fiberglass. I heard Nikki exclaim behind me, but the things I was feeling consumed the rest of my awareness. Visions accompanied the feelings. Flashing images, shark's eyes, and the quote from Jaws about them being lifeless like a doll's eyes until the shark bites you and they roll over white.
Images of a world in chaos raced through my head. Recent news headlines about wars and government corruption and murders and robberies and corporations stealing expensive LEGO sets from dying old men. I only later realized it was strange that none of the horrific stuff I'd witnessed while working for the Foundation came to mind then.
As Nikki grabbed my shoulders and crouched next to me, asking if I was okay, I looked over at the three blacktip sharks, still visible behind the boat. My hands formed fists. Shrugging Nikki off, I lunged to my feet, ran to the back of the boat, and dove into the water. I still had my phone in my bathing suit pocket. I didn't care. I wanted to do one thing and one thing only.
Two of the blackfin sharks swam away from me, but the third seemed to be curious. It was maybe six feet long, a lithe predator with sharp teeth and soulless eyes.
You bastard!
I screamed into the water, the words coming out as a rush of bubbles. I cocked my fist, still kicking with my legs. And when I was in range of the shark, I punched it. I punched it with all I had, which wasn't much, considering I was underwater. Its sandpapery skin scraped my knuckles as they met its nose. But I was already bringing my left fist in for a piece of the action.
The shark jerked its head and opened its mouth. My fist went straight inside. The shark clamped down, teeth slicing through skin and muscle, powerful jaw shattering bone. Its black eyes rolled up, turning white. Blood clouded the water as the shark jerked its head back and forth, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket. I screamed out the last of my oxygen, but the pain only made me angrier.
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Chapter 3: What memories haunt Gabe during his vacation?
The memory stalks me down the short trail from my camping spot toward the beach, just as it had stalked me for the last seven months, causing my life to fall apart. As I come to the edge of the woods, I squint my bleary eyes in search of a place to relieve myself. The sun is just peeking up over the flat ocean horizon, like a shark's fin or LL Cool J's hat.
I can just see it through the winter barren tree branches between me and the beach. Struggling to free Willy, I focus on the task at hand, using my stump to hold my boxers down while coaxing the snake out with my right hand. A gust of wind reminds me I'm dressed only in boxers. Finally relieving my swollen bladder, I glance through the barren branches again.
Only this time, I see people on the beach. A group of them. Don't get your hopes up, I tell myself. People on a beach at dawn doesn't mean anything. I count eight people. Five men and three women. All in their late 30s or older, but none older than 70, and they're all wearing wetsuits. Maybe it's an exercise group, staying fit during the winter by swimming in the frigid ocean.
As the remainder of last night's wine empties to the sandy soil, I watch the eight of them pair off and take turns punching each other's palms like they're training at a boxing gym. Hope emerges from the inky depths of my blackened soul. This can't be a coincidence, which means I'm not the only one. I'm not crazy.
After the shark punching incident, no one believed that I had been compelled to do it. Nikki chalked it up to my anger issues, and if I had just let it go, we might still be together. But I couldn't let it go. I kept trying to convince her that it wasn't my suppressed rage or unhealthy coping mechanisms that had caused it.
Of course, I got angry when she didn't believe me, raising my voice or tearing at my hair or punching at the shower curtain when I went into the bathroom to try and gather myself. After two months of this, she left me. Even the people at work didn't believe me, although they gave me a fair shot.
My supervisor allowed me to use some of the Foundation's resources in my quest to uncover the anomaly that had made me want to punch a shark. I knew it had something to do with that freaky-looking great white. What I didn't know was why I had been the only one affected. I searched for answers and chased down leads, only ending up at dead ends.
I would have kept searching forever, but I was eventually told I had to stop, get back to work. Well, not back to work exactly, because I only had one hand, which barred me from working my old job as a guard. Knowing I couldn't drop the investigation, I went on disability leave.
I've been camping on various East Coast beaches since then, looking for some sign that I'm not a complete psycho who lost one of his hands just because he was angry. In the last couple of months, I've been hearing whispers, though. Stories told in salty bars about people who gather on secluded beaches to punch sharks.
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Chapter 4: How does Gabe's encounter with the great white shark unfold?
I suddenly remember I'm only wearing boxers. I suck in my wine belly and hope my breath doesn't smell as bad as it tastes. The others gather around, eyes on me. I'm Paz, the woman says, offering a right hand with lightly bleeding knuckles. I shake her hand. Gabe. You know why you weren't out there with us, Gabe? Before I can answer, she says. Because you're not angry enough. Anger is a gift.
I cock an eyebrow. Isn't that a Rage Against the Machine lyric?
So what if it is?
Lucero says. Does that make it any less true? I shrug. Guess not, but what about? I search for the words. I saw a great white, crazy looking thing, like mutated or something, but it did something to me, changed me. Is that what happened to all of you? Yes, Baz says, nodding. He showed us the truth, removed the blindfold from our eyes. The others nod along.
We are among the chosen few who have had direct contact with him. Baz continues with a faraway smile. But once we reached a certain threshold, there was no further need for that. The truth spreads through us now. And the time we've been waiting for is fast approaching. We've got to get ready and tell the others. There's others? Oh yeah, Baz says, smiling. Lots. Can I join you?
She studies me for a long moment, considering... I don't know why you weren't out there with us just now, but he chose you for a reason. He must have a plan for you. Join us and witness our triumph. I stay next to Paz as we walk down the beach. You said no one can stop what's coming. What does that mean, what's coming? Paz's smile grows even bigger. You're gonna love it.
Early afternoon, a cloudy winter day. The temperature is in the low 50s, but you wouldn't know it by all the people on the beach. I've lost count, but there must be over a hundred. No one gets in the water though. Most people eye the ocean like Clint Eastwood right before he draws his six-shooter and blasts the bad guy away.
There are coolers with snacks and drinks, yes, but no fun beach activities and no booze. This is serious business. All morning, since joining up with Paz and her group, I've been debating whether I should call the foundation about this. And every mental debate has ended the same. An angry inner voice says, fuck the foundation. They didn't believe you. They didn't want you. These are your people.
They understand your anger. They know it's a gift. Now, I finally put that debate to bed. I'm with my people, and I'm going to witness their triumph, whatever that means. I still can't get a straight answer from anyone, but it seems like it's going to be just a big shark punching session. Dozens of people punching dozens of sharks. I can get behind that.
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Chapter 5: What drives Gabe to punch the shark?
The beach in both directions is now packed with people. They march down to the waterline, pushing me along as they come. I'm still trying to find the stream. Frustration building. Everyone stops, glaring out at the constantly moving dorsal fins.
And to top it all off, the big rim isn't available year-round.
As says with disgust.
Yes, we're angry. Yes, we're being screwed over every which way we turn. But there's good news, friends. There's something we can do about it. Because we now know the cause of all our problems.
She pauses for a long moment.
Sharks! They're to blame! They've been pulling the strings for too long! And it's time we take back our world!
A cheer sweeps along the beach, Paz's rousing words, and their accompanying pulse driving everyone into action. Phones are discarded, having served their purpose, as everyone rushes into the water to meet the sharks. Once again, the pulse tries to take control of me, but I'm too preoccupied with my own breed of anger.
Great! I missed the whole damn thing!
I shout, throwing my phone down in frustration as people jostle me on their way into the water. Realizing what's happening, I start forward, fist clenched, ready to take my revenge. The water is up to my knees when I stop, a memory distracting me from my task. It was before the vacation. I was messing with that waterproof GoPro when I got frustrated and threw it down, breaking it.
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