As the shark moved, its dark top reflected virtually no
light. The denticles on its skin muted the whoosh of its
movements as the shark rose, driven by the power of the
great tail sweeping from side to side, like a scythe.
The fish exploded upward.
Charles Bruder felt a slight vacuum tug in the motion of
the sea, noted it as a passing current, the pull of a wave,
the tickle of undertow. He could not have heard the faint
sucking rush of water not far beneath him. He couldn't
have seen or heard what was hurtling from the murk at
astonishing speed, jaws unhinging, widening, for the
enormous first bite. It was the classic attack
that no other creature in nature could make -- a bomb from
the depths.
[ Close to Shore, by Michael Capuzzo ]