Panic

        As the chopper hovers over the deep black waters, I flinch as a sharp bit of metal slice open my calf. Gritting my teeth I ignore it, and dive down into the depths below. Clenching my jaw harder at the cold, and the salty water now in my cut, I swim towards the citizen struggling to stay above the waters. As I reach her, I yell up to my comrade to hurry up, and seconds later a splash is just to my right. I glance over to see her sheepishly helping me bring the woman over to the rope ladder. I roll my eyes, and she just smirks.

        "Alright, now I am going to go up a ways first, so that I can pull you into the chopper, and Mason here," she says motioning to me, ''is going to come after you so if you slip, he's got you, alrighty?'' The woman nods, and my comrade turns towards the rope, grabbing hold, she climbs up a ways before I nudge the woman fore ward. Then just as I am about to go, a shriek pierces my skull and I glance up to see the woman screeching at something. Turning my head, I quickly identify the cause for concern.

        A Great White.

                Panic consumes my entire being. And as much as I will myself to move, I don't. I am not one to freeze in an emergency. I have faced a bear head on. Ran straight into a fire. Without any hesitation. But as that Great White approaches. Pure, unadulterated fear spreads like wildfire, and I am frozen.

        Because if there was one thing I feared, it was sharks. And this one might as well have been king of them all.

        So for five seconds. I let the fear consume me. I let it take over and I don't move.

        One. I breathe in, and out.

        Two. I can hear screeching still. The woman is frozen too.

        Three. My partner gets her moving again.

        Four. The Great White is maybe yards away now.

        Five. I breathe in, and out, one last time before leaping into action. Rung after rung, I catch up in time just to help the woman whose foot just barely slips on the rung. After she is secure, I aid her into the chopper that my comrade is now in and pulling her in. 

        I reach for the handle, but I slip. And here is no one to help me.

        Tumbling down, I am able to miraculously grasp a rung about two-thirds of the way down. I glance down to see a Great White's jaw wide open, and rows of rows of teeth. Whirling back to the ladder, I practically fly up the rungs, and am able to get a hold of the handle this time.

        Pulling myself in a shut the chopper's door I turn to see the woman in a shock blanket, my partner tending to her.

        Closing my eyes, I gasp for breath. And I can feel the plane moving as the pilot spins us around. As I calm my breathing, I realize just how dizzy I am.

        I open my eyes as my partner gasps. And I turn to see her staring a my legs. I look down and then I really get the wave of nausea. 

        Because, yes, I have survived a head on bear tackle. I've lived to tell the alligator tales, and I've been through the whole panther thing. But these things all left their mark. I've never left unscathed.

        And today is no different. Because I will have my new scar across my calf, from the door. But the shark has costed me more than a scratch.

        Much more.

        I may have left with my life. But I do not leave with every limb.

       He has taken my bleeding leg.