Killer Crabs (Crabs, #2)

by Guy N. Smith

He had barely completed two strokes of a panic-stricken crawl before something gripped him by both thighs, checking his progress immediately. The sudden pain was agonising, but it lasted for no more than a second. Then he was free of whatever had held him. He struck out again blindly. Something was wrong, and he could not determine quite what it was. He felt numbed, and his leg thrusts did not appear to be propelling him along as they should have done. In fact, he appeared to be making no progress at all. Something bobbed against him. He grabbed at it for support. A piece of driftwood, maybe. He clung to it with both hands, and kicked again with his legs. Once more his efforts appeared to be futile, and then he saw the object on which he was relying to help him gain the safety of the coral. A human leg. His own! The bloody limb still had his shabby plimsoll attached to the foot.