The skiff lurched so violently that Erik dropped to his knees, knuckles white against the side railing of the boat as cold spray slapped his face. For a heartbeat the boat seemed to hang on its edge, ready to spill him into the black water. Beneath him, something vast moved with terrifying purpose, the sea heaving in its wake.
Then came the sound; low, steady, unnatural. It thrummed through the wood, into his chest, deeper than any whale’s call. Erik yanked at the starter cord with frantic jerks, but the engine only coughed and died. Another swell rose under him, lifting the skiff high, tilting so far his boots filled with seawater. He was certain this was how it would end.
On the third pull, the motor roared awake. He slammed the throttle wide, the skiff leaping forward across the dark, spray burning his eyes. Behind him the water bulged again, as though something chased just beneath the surface. Erik didn’t look back. He gripped the tiller with shaking hands and drove for the faint lights of the village, convinced each second might be his last.