Tom and Mike went fishing in a small boat to the lake. It was smoggy and cold, but quiet. Too quiet. No wind, almost no sounds.
They had set their fishing rods and waited for the fish to take the bait when something heavy bumped against them. Tom fell backward onto the deck, but Mike went overboard and disappeared from view.
Tom began to call his friend.
But there was no answer.
He didn’t dare to move from the spot where he was.
A light tap on the boat’s hull put his flustered nerves on alert. He touched a cold hand.
But he didn’t say a word. Something had crushed his head and had killed him.
Tom rescued the corpse of his friend and returned to the shore.
He heard voices, followed the trace of the noise, and saw a diver getting out of a minisubmarine talking about how exciting his dive had been with another two guys.
-You bastard! You have killed my friend! Tom yelled.
A gunshot stopped his run towards the divers.
-Nobody has to know we have been practicing here, said the shooter and coldly took his place in the minisub. There was his turn.