Washed Away

Then he heard the sound that every fisherman dreads. That terrible snap rang in his ears, and his pole shot back over his head. The line had been shredded on one of those sharp boulders just under the surface of the water, and the giant trout had won the battle.

Ben stopped to catch his breath and dropped his head in disappointment. Cursing his luck, he looked up, only to see that a fog had been rolling in without him noticing it and the sky was taking on a dark and ominous look.

Oh great! He thought as he bounded for the radio to get an update on the weather.

A storm was rolling in, and he had drifted a long way from the harbor. Ben started the engine and headed toward the harbor and at the same time, he switched on the radio and tried to get an update on the incoming weather. When he couldn’t get any reception at all, his only option was to use his cell phone.

Darn! Ben looked around, trying to locate his waterproof jacket, knowing his cell phone was in one of its pockets. I wish I had taken the time to get this equipment organized like I should have. Jen’s going to be really upset with me if she ever finds out I didn’t get that done before I left the Harbor!

Ben saw that the jacket had been tossed nearly all the way to the back of the boat. In his haste, he dashed toward it, desperate to get a weather update and not paying much attention to the mess he’d created on the boat’s deck. In the next instant, he slipped, stumbled forward, got his feet caught up in the net and after what looked like a clown doing uncoordinated gymnastics, he was driven headfirst into the twenty-pound propane tank attached to the onboard grill.

The crack as his head hit and the shooting pain in his neck would have made Ben scream with pain if it hadn’t instantly and mercifully knocked him totally unconscious.