“Shoot another spear in the one that hit
Derek,” I said to Mr. Woodard. “Make him bleed like a sieve, but
keep him alive and thrashing.”
Mr. Woodard fired another spear into Derek’s
attacker. This time it landed on the other side. Then he fired
another one near the tail, and a fourth one into what I believe
were the gills. The combination seemed to cause enough paralysis to
keep the shark from moving too well, but not enough to kill him or
to stop him from moving around like the wounded animal that he
was.
“Derek!” I yelled. “Come back to shore now,
and change! I need you!”
Somehow, even in this state, Derek heard me.
He turned toward shore and moved as fast as he could. I knew the
only thing that would separate him from his brother was me.
“Do you have one with a rope on it?” I asked
Mr. Woodard, looking at the spears.
“There’s a cord reel here on the gun. We can
connect to any of them,” Mr. Woodard said, and then began winding a
reel of cord into the spear.