The Beach

by Alex Garland

Better the devil you know is a cliché I now despise. Hidden in the bushes, shivering with fright, I learned that if the devil you know is the guard of a drug plantation, then all other devils pale in comparison.

All that said, I wish there’d been someone with a camera when I sauntered out of the mist with a dead shark over my shoulder. I must have looked so cool.

“Christ, Jed! Put the torch back on! This is making me nervous!” “If you’re nervous, why are you smiling?” “…How did you know I was smiling?” “I could hear it in your voice.” “Just put the bloody light back on!”

I returned his smile, willing him to fuck off with all my heart.