Attack From The Deep

Sitting on his surfboard in the middle of the Pacific Ocean sat Sam Anderson. His shaggy blonde hair fell across his forehead, shielding his baby blue eyes from the golden rays of the sun. His toned physic and tanned chest had a light smattering of hair while his swimming trunks were so low on his hips that it left nothing to the imagination of passes by.

Sam's hand dipped into the cool water as his eyes scanned the horizon. There hadn't been many waves today but he was determined to catch one last one. 

Sam never use to be a surfer. By trade he was an accountant, but after a semi-violent breakdown that caused a co-worker a broken nose, Sam decided to take some time off. For a few weeks he sat around his house before finally deciding to venture out. 

He had taken surfing lessons at a request of his long time buddy, Rick Faulkner, who was as slick with the board as he was the ladies. Every night Rick had a new conquest, or two, and every morning he would delightfully spill the entire story to Sam, who had to fake an interest in what Jessica, Holly, Catalina, Kimberly, Sasha, Jennifer, Amber, Ashley, Riley, and Mackenzie had done the night before. 

Today had started no differently. Sam had risen first and barely made it to the kitchen before Rick had appeared, stretching and yawning with a stupid grin on his face. “Man, them Aussie chicks are fucking fantastic!” Rick declared as Sam put on a pot of coffee. Rolling his eyes Sam had a feeling he was going to need a pot of Irish coffee to get through this conversation.

Last night Rick had dragged him out to a bar, citing that Sam needed to get laid. Sam, who believed he was perfectly fine, politely refused any girl who approached him. So when Rick appeared with two Australian beauties, Sam forced himself to smile and even ended up buying the lovely ladies a drink.

Sam forced a smile to his face, leaning against the kitchen counter as Rick went into details about their sexual exploits for the night. “And I mean she could totally bend her body around and still manage to kiss me. Oh, and her tongue. Sammy, my boy, that woman knows how to use her tongue.”

Sam drummed his fingers along the counter top. “Do you even remember her name?” he asked. Rick looked a little shocked. “Of course I do. It was...Stacey?”

“Sally. And what about her friend?”

Rick looked thoughtful. “Julie? No, wait, Jamie.”

Sam shook his head. “Paige,” he replied, pouring himself a large cup of coffee. “Do you know anything about them?”

“OK, Sammy, I'm going to stop you there.” Rick held up his hands as though to defend himself. “I don't give a shit what these girls do for a living, nor do I care what their grandmother's name is. We had a good time and that's it. I'm not looking for a commitment.”

“Obviously.”

Sam took a sip of his coffee, the warm liquid pooling in his mouth before sliding down his throat. Rick's eyebrow shot upwards. “And what the hell is that suppose to mean?” he demanded, following Sam onto the deck.

“Women aren't objects that you just cast aside once you're done.” Even though he wasn't looking directly at Rick, he could feel his eyes boring holes into him. Rick opened his mouth to argue his case when a noise from inside had him swivel in his chair.

The two girls, tired and dishevelled, were scrambling to gather their belongings before attempting unsuccessfully to sneak out the front door.

“Ladies, there's a pot of coffee that's freshly made,” Sam called. Stacey waved her hand and shouted back that they were fine. Rick lent back in the chair, a broad smile on his face. “See? What did I tell you? They come in, have a good time then leave. It's the way the man upstairs intended it.”

“God?”

“No, me.” With that Rick stood up, patted Sam on the shoulder then headed back upstairs.

Sam watched his friend move inside. Rick was insufferable at times. His macho no-nonsense ways were infuriating to Sam who respected women. Well, he respected all women except his ex-wife. His hands balled into fists as he thought about her.

Sam stood up and calmly walked back into the kitchen. He placed his coffee cup on the bench before pulling open a drawer. He reached his hand inside and pulled out a large kitchen knife. He turned his head as the shower upstairs turned on.

Sam closed the drawer and began his ascension of the stairs.

On the landing, Sam turned left, his head cocked slightly. He licked his lips as he made his way down the hall to Rick's room.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned. The door swung open. He could hear Rick singing in the shower. Off key as always.

Sam silent walked across the carpet, his hand outstretched. He flung open the bathroom door.

Rick was in the shower, his eyes closed, his mouth open singing some God awful TV commercial jingle. Sam opened the glass door, knife raised high in the air and drove it repeatedly into his roommate. 

Blood splattered across the white tiles, as Rick's face twisted horribly, his body contorting in a failed attempt to get away from the razor sharp knife.

Just like the scene from Psycho, Sam continued to stab at Rick until his lifeless body fell to the floor of the shower stall, the water rinsing the blood down the drain.

Sam smiled as the water from the ocean washed over his knees. He had carried Rick's naked body down the stairs and carefully placed it inside his surfboard bag, then carried him outside to the beach.

It was deserted. The white sandy shore gave way to the beautiful blue ocean. 

Making sure he was alone, Sam unzipped the bag and dragged Rick's body out. With more effort that he would like to admit, Sam placed Rick on the end of his surfboard and paddled out into the ocean.

He found a spot to relax, his feet dangling in the water. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that the beach was still empty, so with a heave, Sam pushed Rick's body into the ocean, then paddled a little closer back to shore.

As he sat there, the early morning sun playing on his face, Sam noticed something bobbing up and down in the water. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Damn,” he said under his breath as he watched the body bob up and down like some kind of top.

He looked around wildly. An elderly man and his dog had appeared on the sand for their morning walk.

Panic rose in Sam's throat. If a big wave rolled in, he was screwed. Rick's body would wash ashore then he'd have to explain what the hell happened. And he hadn't even cleaned the bathroom yet.

That's when he saw something out the corner of his eye. He craned his neck. The water was smooth like glass, undisturbed by what was lurking beneath.

The body stopped bobbing. It disappeared altogether. Sam watched in amazement as the ocean turned red, chunks of human flesh floating to the foamy surface. Never once did it cross his mind to leave the water.

A long dark shape swum under his board, its fin scraping the underside. Sam carefully pulled his feet up. It was too late to make a break for it. Any splashing on his behalf would result in whatever was in the water to turn its attention to him.

Sam watched in both awe and fear as Rick's body was torn limb by limb in a frenzy.

Sam craned his neck to see what type of sharks they were. Not that he really could tell the difference anyway.

He leaned forward, getting onto his knees and peering into the water. The last thing he saw was the monstrous jaws of a Great White as it rocketed itself out of the water, taking his upper body into its gaping mouth with one quick sweep. As the beast hit the water, its jaws clenched, breaking Sam's back and tearing him in half.