***
Chapter One
The cold waters off Fear Point shivered in the gloom.
Tracey Folder swam with her boyfriend, James Gordon.
'Come in!', she laughed.
James felt numb.
'It's freezing!'.
'Don't be a baby'.
He nodded, as he swam towards the Mooreland Lighthouse. The lightkeeper, Davis Kemper, III, was old now. He was sixty-five, and on the verge of retirement. The shallow rips had dragged swimmers to their untimely deaths. James smiled at her. 'Hey, there's nothing here'.
'What's new?', Tracey asked him.
'I have the summer job for the Old Man', James answered.
'Oh, I see'.
'It's a drag', James admitted.
'What about the law career'.
'Medicine, you mean'.
'Yeah'.
'Maybe...Hey, what's that?', James asked her.
Before he could scream, the thirty meter long Great White Shark opened it's huge mouth; it's fin was in the deep, Atlantic Ocean.
James felt the teeth bit into his right thigh.
'No!!!'.
Blood spilled in the water, and his body was dragged underneath the abyss.
Tracey yelled in horror, and swam away to get help.
****
Edward Powell, a diver, swam in the cold water.
He had imagined that there was nothing wrong in town.
'It's late in the morning', Jessie Powell, his wife, said.
'I slept in. It was Simpkins' fault'.
'Tad Simpkins thinks that we're going to Hell'.
'Maybe. John and Amie are dressed, and having breakfast in the kitchen'.
'That's good. The surf is raging'.
'You can't surf. Mayor Graham has cancelled all diving. It was on the news'.
'Cancelled, why?'.
'Because two teenagers were attacked by a shark. The boy, James Gordon, died; Tracey Folder, the girlfriend, contacted Sheriff Gates, and reported the death. She's in shock, and her parents, Thad and Martina Gordon, are in mourning. The funeral is tomorrow at 9:00 AM'.
'Jesus!', Edward shivered, and he hoped that the season wasn't over before it had begun.
****
On board The Roaming Angel ship
Captain Robert Harris was at the bow-side.
'Any reports of the shark?', he asked Charlie Thomas, the Second-In-Charge.
'No. It's too early to know where it is', Charlie answered.
There was a beeping noise from the computer.
On the green colored screen the Atlantic Ocean.
Ellis Island was to the left; to the right was the beach.
'Go to the Lighthouse. Davis is on patrol tonight', the Captain said.
'Okay, thanks for letting me know', Charlie said.
****
Jake Mooreland was on the beach. He was looking at the deep water. The shadows of the early evening sky was dark; the red towel was near his small feet. The sign read: FEAR POINT-4 MILES TO THE LEFT. He walked towards the water. As he went in, it was cold.
He splashed with his feet.
The silence was quiet.
The Lighthouse was built in 1869.
Jake was thinking about dinner.
Ten more minutes, he thought to himself.
Before he could utter a sound, the shark's black eyes opened. Jake screamed, as the teeth chomped on his tibia bone. Blood fell down the left leg. Bone broke. Jake went into a deep spasm. Then his body slumped into the water off Fear Point. The sign swayed in the evening breeze.
It was 6:00 PM.
***
Chapter Two
Thorsten Krieg, the Swedish shark hunter, smoked a cigarette. He had thought about the darkness of the evening. The on-line reports of several deaths created a sense of horror in his blood, and bones. He had his laptop computer with him. The sensors on the machine whirred and whirred.
Then he saw a huge shadow.
It was the shark.
'My God!', he yelled in Swedish.
And he grabbed the phone, and related the news to Professor Ivan Fredericks, the Head of Cryptozoology.
****
Chapter Three
Edward Powell saw Sheriff Gates.
'Where's Anderson?', he asked him.
'At the Morgue. He's angry', the Sheriff answered.
Anderson Fraser, the Mayor of Fear Point, was someone who didn't need trouble. But, according to Edward, it was a town that fed on tourism. The summer was on; the money would come in on time.
It had to.
Otherwise, Fear Point was going to close.
Forever.
***
The shark swam in the deep ocean off Fear Point.
Its black eyes focused on the Lighthouse.
Then it opened its eyes, and swam to the place that was full of boats, private yachts, and swimmers.
It was tired.
It would wait until tomorrow morning, before it would strike again.
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