Jean couldn’t help but laugh as Sammy, her eighteen month old cockerpoo, tore across the thin film of water coating the surface of the estuary. As he turned his head at the sound, his right foot suddenly folded under, and he bundled over in a blur of legs and fur.
—Her hand shot to her mouth in surprise and fear but the tan-colored dog was on its feet in an instant. He shook himself, and came careening back towards her.
—Jean smiled, shaking her head slowly. Sammy was absolutely filthy, his springy coat matted with sticky river mud. It’s going to take absolutely hours to get you clean, she thought.
—Forty feet away, Sammy skidded to a halt. He tilted his head to one side, his right ear raised slightly.
—“What is it, boy?”
—Sammy sniffed the muddy ground. Jean could hear a low, rumbling growl. She almost never heard him growl. That wasn’t like her little man at all.
—“Sammy? Come here, boy.”
—Instead of moving towards her, the dog backed away a foot, still growling. Rather than adopting his usual perky, upright stance, he slunk into a low crouch, his head tight into his shoulders. Jean could see the tension in his body.
She moved forward, aware of how the surface sucked at her boots. Close to the shore the beach was light sand, but within twenty yards it turned to mud and silt. Numerous signs warned people not to venture too far. Pockets of soft sludge could easily trap the unwary. The surface looked smooth as glass, but suddenly you could find yourself ankle deep in sticky ooze. If you were lucky, you just lost a shoe or a boot. Others found themselves held in a gentle but determined grip that would yield a couple of promising inches, only to drag them back again.
—But the mud wasn’t the real problem, the returning tide was. A killer that crept up quietly yet alarmingly quickly. It wasn’t dramatic, it didn’t come with crashing waves or spray or foam, but it rose steadily. Inexorably. One minute there was barely more than a trickle of water, then just moments later it was ankle deep. Panic would set in when the water rose above knee height, but cries for help would often go unheard. Even if someone were within earshot, rescue was unlikely. Vehicles couldn’t travel across the treacherous surface without sinking. The chances of a boat launching and reaching the spot in time were close to zero.
—Jean was keenly aware of the dangers. She had been coming on vacation to this beautiful spot on the west Somerset coast for many years. She was always careful to follow a course well shy of the line of safety markers, and to keep an eye on her dog so he didn’t get himself into danger.
—But now Sammy was backing away further, his growls interspersed with angry yips.
—“Not that way, Sammy,” Jean called. “Come to mummy.” Her footing was getting increasingly difficult. A swirl of water washed across the surface. The ground seemed to want to slide away from under her. Each step came with a small slurp as she pulled her feet from the deepening gloop. She held her arms away from her body, fighting for balance.
—Emotions were tearing at Jean. Part of her yearned to rush to her little dog, but the idea of getting trapped here terrified her. Seawater nudged gently at the sides of her boots by way of warning.
—As if sensing some problem other than the one he was concentrating on, Sammy lifted his head. He glanced at Jean, then back toward whatever bothered him, then back to Jean again.
—“Come on, Sammy,” she called. There was a pleading tone in her voice she fought to control. The last thing she wanted was to transmit her fear to the dog. Sammy took a few crab-like steps towards her, trying to look at two things at once. “That’s a good boy. Goooood boy. Come to mummy. Come to mummy, Sammy.”
—He seemed to make a decision, turning away from the perceived threat and walking slowly towards her. Jean let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.
—Jean fumbled in her pocket for his leash. His tail wagged hesitantly as he stopped a few paces away. She held out her arms, encouraging him forward. “Gooood boy, Sammy. Who’s mummy’s good, good boy!”
—She crouched a little, but in her eagerness she over-balanced. She landed with a muffled splash in water now deep enough to cover her hands. Sammy jumped back, running a circular route until he was a few yards away. He eyed her nervously. She wanted to cry out in frustration, but she held it in so as not to scare him. “Silly mummy,” she chided, trying to settle her dog by injecting humor she didn’t feel. “Look at silly mummy.” She sat back on her haunches, lifting hands that were covered in cold, gelatinous filth, and wiping them on the rear of her jeans.
—She leaned forward. One hand was now six inches deep in the dirty water, the other held the leash, stretching out towards her pet. Her eyes begged Sammy to come over. Finally the dog obliged. With a shaking hand she clipped into his harness. He licked her face. She wanted to weep, but managed a small smile as she ruffled a grubby ear.
—Sammy yelped, suddenly alarmed. He tried to back away but Jean held on tight to his leash. He jumped almost vertically, and spun around. Jean noticed a blur of red in the water where he had been standing. Had he cut his foot on something?
—She was distracted by a sharp pain in her own leg where it lay submerged in the fast-rising water. She tried to pull it away but the mud was unrelenting.
—Sammy yelped again, pulling a paw up quickly. More blood mingled with the water. Jean felt another searing stab at her trapped limb. No, not a stab, more like a bite. Then something rubbed along the hand she was using to support herself. Before she could lift it free, agony shot through her finger. She pulled it clear to see blood pouring from the severed stump.
—Freed from her grip, Sammy leapt away. He didn’t get far. Around him the water boiled. His eyes bulged in terror. His whine was a pitiful cry that became a high-pitched howl. Whatever attacked him did it with such speed and ferocity that he seemed to dissolve in a bloody mist. Within moments all that remained were a few bedraggled chunks of fur floating on the incoming tide.
—Jean didn’t witness her pet being torn to shreds. She was too busy trying to lift different parts of herself out of the soft but persistent grip of the estuary surface as the water continued to rise. The bites became more and more frequent until she couldn’t tell them apart. She was simply a writhing mass of pain. In moments she was surrounded by a rapidly expanding halo of her own blood. She tired quickly, collapsing with a soft splash. Jean spluttered and coughed. She tried to raise her face out of the muck but no longer had the strength. She couldn’t feel her body anymore, just the impact of dozens of hungry mouths ripping her apart.

Feeding Frenzy is 121 pages, and is available as a Kindle Ebook, Paperback, or Audiobook here.

Reviewed on Amazon:

“This is a fun fast read. The scary parts are flawlessly executed and paced in a way that kept me on the edge of my seat; at times I may even have forgot to breath. Feeding Frenzy is excellent writing with a colorful cast of characters. The protagonist, Hollis, is particularly interesting. Enough of his back story is sprinkled in to bring him to life without ever feeling indulgent or getting in the way of the story. The dialogue is smooth, to the point, and never feels forced. Robert Fael is an author I have been meaning to check out and I’m very glad I did. I’ll be reading more of his work for sure.”