Ezekiel Lookaround awoke in a panic, his nose, mouth, and lungs filling with water.  Frantically, he kicked, pushing himself upward.  His head broke the surface explosively as he expelled water, sputtering loudly.  Cool, sweet air flowed into his spasming windpipe.  Calming himself, he treaded water, spinning slowly around to get his bearings.  His small fishing boat bobbed uselessly one hundred yards away, capsized.

            He was still in Egg Harbor, that much he knew for certain.  The marina and breakwater lay another one hundred yards beyond his boat.  There was no choice but to swim for it. With deep, confident strokes he closed the distance in six minutes, reaching the granite slabs of the breakwater,...

Please subscribe to keep reading.