little farther out.
Big mistake.
Just up ahead, maybe twenty yards in front of me, I spot a rippling, pinkish-purple mass of something underwater heading my way—fast. Thanks to the way the light is being refracted, I can’t quite make out what it is. But I have a very bad feeling.
My first instinct says it’s a school of angry jellyfish. Toxic ones.
As the giant blob keeps coming toward me, I realize yes, it is a school of jellyfish…with some venomous sea snakes mixed in and a few tiger sharks behind it.
Oh, shit!
“Help, help!” I shout as I twist around and start swimming frantically back toward the shore. “Sarah! Dr. Freitas!”
I’m flapping my arms and kicking my legs wildly, as fast as I can move them. I think I might be getting away, but when I steal a glance behind me, the jellyfish, sea snakes, and tiger sharks are even closer.
I thought Bali was supposed to be safe! What the hell is going on?
I keep swimming and screaming, but it’s no use. I can feel the water churning behind me as the mad sea creatures close in. And I can see out of the corner of my eye that they’ve even started to spread out in a semicircle, flanking me on both sides.
My heart is pounding. My mind is racing.
Is this really how I’m going to die?
Then, in the distance, I hear a glorious sound: the low rumble of a ship engine speeding in my direction. As it gets closer, I hear voices, too, calling to me in Balinese.
Thank God, I think—I hope they’re not too late.
I feel a stinger pierce my right ankle and a set of fangs chomp down on my left calf. I howl in pain and try desperately to shake the creatures off…as another jellyfish latches onto my shoulder and a second sea snake latches onto my hip.
I writhe and splash, pain coursing through my body, praying the boat gets here fast. The tiger sharks must be mere yards away, circling, preparing to finish me off.
Finally I spot the noisy vessel. It’s a local fishing trawler manned by a group of shirtless Balinese men. Three of them dive into the water and paddle over to me…
And as if by magic, the jellyfish, sea snakes, and tiger sharks all swim away.
I’m too stunned and light-headed to make sense of this. But, Jesus, am I thankful.
The fishermen pull me over to their boat and gently lift me aboard. I’m shocked by all the blood I see. Not mine—the gallons of it staining the deck.
While I start to triage my throbbing wounds, I can’t help but notice the awful conditions of the sea life on board. Filthy tanks full of bloody fish, crammed together like sardines. Blue crabs stuffed into rusty cages, their shells crushed and mutilated. Even an adorable baby dolphin, tangled in a net, struggling to take its last breaths.
I’m beyond grateful to be alive, but appalled by the horror I’m seeing.
And confused by it, too.
Putu, the hotel attendant I met yesterday—he said most Balinese were Hindu vegetarians who revered all animal life. Clearly that isn’t exactly true. Judging by the scene on this boat, fish have plenty to fear from Bali’s fishermen. That army of sea creatures fled when the fishermen showed up, but they sure as hell had no problem trying to kill me . Why?
My head spins. Maybe animals can distinguish among the human race by scent—whether Hindu vegetarians or dangerous predators—and react accordingly.
For now, as I try to catch my breath and tend to my painful snakebites and jellyfish stings, there’s only one thing I know for sure.
Bali isn’t the HAC-free paradise we thought it was.
Chapter 11
“It was not another of the dreams in which he had often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a vague but heavy fear was upon her.”
Chloe stops reading aloud from A Tale of Two Cities and places the well-worn paperback down on her lap, suddenly overcome by emotion.
Charles Dickens wrote those words—about one of the novel’s main characters, worried about her husband’s safety—in 1859. Yet tonight, for
Big mistake.
Just up ahead, maybe twenty yards in front of me, I spot a rippling, pinkish-purple mass of something underwater heading my way—fast. Thanks to the way the light is being refracted, I can’t quite make out what it is. But I have a very bad feeling.
My first instinct says it’s a school of angry jellyfish. Toxic ones.
As the giant blob keeps coming toward me, I realize yes, it is a school of jellyfish…with some venomous sea snakes mixed in and a few tiger sharks behind it.
Oh, shit!
“Help, help!” I shout as I twist around and start swimming frantically back toward the shore. “Sarah! Dr. Freitas!”
I’m flapping my arms and kicking my legs wildly, as fast as I can move them. I think I might be getting away, but when I steal a glance behind me, the jellyfish, sea snakes, and tiger sharks are even closer.
I thought Bali was supposed to be safe! What the hell is going on?
I keep swimming and screaming, but it’s no use. I can feel the water churning behind me as the mad sea creatures close in. And I can see out of the corner of my eye that they’ve even started to spread out in a semicircle, flanking me on both sides.
My heart is pounding. My mind is racing.
Is this really how I’m going to die?
Then, in the distance, I hear a glorious sound: the low rumble of a ship engine speeding in my direction. As it gets closer, I hear voices, too, calling to me in Balinese.
Thank God, I think—I hope they’re not too late.
I feel a stinger pierce my right ankle and a set of fangs chomp down on my left calf. I howl in pain and try desperately to shake the creatures off…as another jellyfish latches onto my shoulder and a second sea snake latches onto my hip.
I writhe and splash, pain coursing through my body, praying the boat gets here fast. The tiger sharks must be mere yards away, circling, preparing to finish me off.
Finally I spot the noisy vessel. It’s a local fishing trawler manned by a group of shirtless Balinese men. Three of them dive into the water and paddle over to me…
And as if by magic, the jellyfish, sea snakes, and tiger sharks all swim away.
I’m too stunned and light-headed to make sense of this. But, Jesus, am I thankful.
The fishermen pull me over to their boat and gently lift me aboard. I’m shocked by all the blood I see. Not mine—the gallons of it staining the deck.
While I start to triage my throbbing wounds, I can’t help but notice the awful conditions of the sea life on board. Filthy tanks full of bloody fish, crammed together like sardines. Blue crabs stuffed into rusty cages, their shells crushed and mutilated. Even an adorable baby dolphin, tangled in a net, struggling to take its last breaths.
I’m beyond grateful to be alive, but appalled by the horror I’m seeing.
And confused by it, too.
Putu, the hotel attendant I met yesterday—he said most Balinese were Hindu vegetarians who revered all animal life. Clearly that isn’t exactly true. Judging by the scene on this boat, fish have plenty to fear from Bali’s fishermen. That army of sea creatures fled when the fishermen showed up, but they sure as hell had no problem trying to kill me . Why?
My head spins. Maybe animals can distinguish among the human race by scent—whether Hindu vegetarians or dangerous predators—and react accordingly.
For now, as I try to catch my breath and tend to my painful snakebites and jellyfish stings, there’s only one thing I know for sure.
Bali isn’t the HAC-free paradise we thought it was.
Chapter 11
“It was not another of the dreams in which he had often come back; he was really here. And yet his wife trembled, and a vague but heavy fear was upon her.”
Chloe stops reading aloud from A Tale of Two Cities and places the well-worn paperback down on her lap, suddenly overcome by emotion.
Charles Dickens wrote those words—about one of the novel’s main characters, worried about her husband’s safety—in 1859. Yet tonight, for
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