“Okay, babe. It’s okay. Just—just stay calm and swim for me—all right? Don’t look at it. Don’t even look back. Just, just head for the dock. You can do it.”
And she did do it, focusing straight ahead, focusing on her strokes; closing the gap swiftly, deftly, until she reached the dock and sought for my hand—and realized she couldn’t make it. Realized the reach was simply too great; and that she’d have to climb for it—have to climb the pilings—which she began to do, grunting and groaning, struggling, coming close enough almost to touch my hand, or for me to take hers—before slipping and falling back down.
“It’s—the ropes are too slick. I—I can’t get a grip.”
I glanced at the allosaurus, or rather the top of its head—like a crocodile, I thought, or an alligator—creeping closer, sealing th
