Three Fins | Pt. 1

State Beach | MV

Blood-curdling screams rode in on the misty brine of crimson waves, and crashed hard against the hot sand. The two teenage lifeguards on duty began to pierce through the unraveling chaos with their Kiefer Pealess whistles, alerting any lingering swimmers that there was a shark in the water.

Hundreds of peaceful beach goers of all ages quickly transformed into a frantic horde of buzzing bees as they rushed to gather their scattered friends, and family members, in desperate attempts to retreat to the safety of their land vehicles.

Just beyond the red buoys, which marked the recommended safety boundary for all swimmers, Bree scanned the horizon with her Marine Rescue binoculars. From her high perch on the lifeguard tower, she saw three gray dorsal fins breach the roiling water. Her stomach knotted, and her nerve endings ruptured from crippling fear at the harrowing realization. These waters were now hunting grounds.

The dark fins were tactically circling a lone sloop, which thankfully didn’t appear to have anyone on board. But the mist was thickening, and the wind from the encroaching storm was intensifying, making the hot sand feel like sharp pellets against her skin. She found it difficult to think. The cerulean sky was slowly being consumed by smoky clouds, and relentless honking from panicked vacationers on the road behind her sent serrated icicles down her spine. Her heart couldn’t help but to fear the worst.

Opening the throttle on his forest green Polaris ATV, Kyle and his bright red Rescue Can sped across the beach towards the main lifeguard tower, kicking up rough columns of sand in his wake. Bree fled her position on her tower, and focused on ushering all of the straggling sunbathers, mostly the elderly crowd, over the rolling dunes to the safety of Beach Road. Pushing her whistle to its manufactured limit, her section of the beach was successfully cleared out in a matter of minutes.

Skidding to a harsh, sideways stop, Kyle vaulted off the ATV and sprinted up the ramp. Finding the tower deserted, he began to meticulously ransack the room. After a quick search, he found what he was looking for beneath a dense stack of drinking citations and old Vineyard Gazette newspapers. Turning the handheld radio on, he set it to channel two, then firmly squeezed the push-to-talk button on the side, and relayed his frantic message.

“Emery, come in. The tide washed up blood. Bree and I issued a shark warning, and began the evacuation of State Beach. I saw at least two dorsal fins breach the surface just beyond the east buoy. Bree is escorting the last of the older folks to their vehicles, but we need more hands to assist with the traffic. We will also need the police and EMS. There’s a lot of blood, emery. We also need boats in the water as soon as possible to investigate the source of the blood. Do you copy? Over.”

Kyle was trembling so hard he was unsure if his words were audible enough to be deciphered by Emery. Chunky beads of sweat seeped from his facial pores as he impatiently waited in the droning silence for a response. He was about to radio again, but Emery’s nasally voice finally cut through the hissing static.

“Copy that, Kyle. I’m at the police station now. The phones have been ringing off their hooks for the past ten minutes with numerous calls about multiple sharks attacking swimmers along the coast. The Chief is trying to control the chaos, but he’s struggling. Three cruisers are headed your way right now to help contain the beach. Until they arrive, keep your eyes on the water, keep people off the beach, and do not lose sight of those sharks. Over and out.”

Shocked by the impressive response time of the Oak Bluffs Police department, Kyle shoved the radio into a hanging backpack, then hustled outside to the idling ATV. Donning the pack around his shoulders, he gave the horizon a quick scan with the binoculars hanging from his neck.

“Oh, shit,” he cried softly.

He immediately unleashed the throttle and barreled his way back across the empty dunes, dodging hundreds of blankets and umbrellas along the way. Kicking up a vicious sandstorm with the two wide-back tires, Kyle enveloped the entire beach in an ominous veil of sandy darkness.