The dark waters rippled. Harold didn’t say anything right away; he wanted, nay needed, to be certain.
There it was again. A definite movement in the moonlit black.
“John!” He waited. No reply.
Another ripple. Stronger this time. The lake was coming alive.
His son bounded up from the boat’s lower cabin. “What you shouting-”
“Look.” He pointed out into the water.
“What are you-”
John’s eyes narrowed, piercing through the night. Another ripple.
Harold climbed from his chair. They had planned for this moment their entire lives. “I’ll get the-”
John turned and smiled. “Dad… this is it.”