Chapter 6.
Jack
Off the Coast of Chile
Jack wants to be the first into the water. Back when he wore a uniform, he always believed you led from the front.
So now he’s first into the turbulent waters of the Pacific.
The sharks start circling immediately, as he expected they would.
Jack tries to keep as many of them as possible in his range of vision. Focus on them and nothing else.
If you don’t mess with them, they won’t bother you.
That’s the working theory, anyway. But he’s not betting his skin on it.
Jack starts a steady crawl stroke toward the island. He reminds himself to maintain a steady even pace, pretending he’s in the middle lane of some Olympic pool with other swimmers on both sides of him.
He tells himself this is not a sprint.
He’s not trying to break any speed records. He’s not trying to win style points. He’s just trying to make it to shore with his arms and legs still attached. Jack’s just trying to be alive. Then figure a way to get through the infested forest, up the mountain, and then back down.
The biggest shark—at least the biggest he has eyes on—is dead ahead. Probably thirty yards. Jack wants to keep it that way.
He knows this much from growing up around sharks, being in the water with them: They were the ones who decided whether you were prey or not.
And by the time you knew, it was usually too late.
He hears splashes of the other players hitting the water, jumping off the boat, and he wonders if being the first in was such a bright idea.
Could’ve let Tipton go first.
Jack watches the big shark as it watches him. They’re both deciding who’s going to make the first move.
Or make the first mistake.
Jack thinks about angling away from it, going parallel to shore, hoping the shark might lose interest.
Only now, just to make things more dangerous and a lot more complicated, Jack sees the shadow of a bull shark. It’s less than ten yards away—and below him, turning its head just enough to put eyes on Jack.
Not today.
Jack’s eyes go back to the big one, still making slow turns but not doing what Jack desperately wants it to do.
Go. Get out of here.
Hey, buddy.
Jack can clearly see it’s a good fifteen feet long, or even longer than that, a beast.
Tiger shark, Jack is sure of it. Known for eating anything and everything. And everyone? Now it’s moving slowly, relentlessly in Jack McHenry’s direction. Sure as the sun’s gonna rise, as his old man used to say. Almost baiting Jack into reacting, into turning himself into bait.
Jack knows what he has to do when the big shark gets too close. He’s not going to have any choice. He’s going to get one shot at saving his own life.
He’s going to have to do the only thing left—haul off and punch him right in the snout, the way he was taught back in Texas.
Jack dips under the surface, just enough to brace.
Here goes nothing.
Then he sees the shark’s attention shift to his immediate left. And then the whole pattern changes, like someone just pressed a button. Jack carefully turns his eyes in the same direction—no sudden movements, not now—and sees another swimmer.
Someone Jack recognizes instantly.
Jimmy Donaldson.
MrBeast himself.
As blown away as he is to see him here, Jack is even more shocked to see the guy is actually smiling at him. Like he’s saying, Breathe. Move. Don’t give them a reason.
He hadn’t seen him since they’d boarded together.
Jimmy takes charge of the situation and makes a simple motion: Stay close. Don’t thrash. Something about him makes Jack trust him: the calm. The way he moves like panic is a choice.
Jack does what he’s told, without hesitation, and a faint warmth from his wristband again, like someone took note.
When their heads are above the water, Jimmy looks at Jack.
“We having fun yet?” he asks.
Up close, it’s different. Jack can see Jimmy is putting on a brave face. But for what? For me, Jack realizes. Jimmy is acting like everything is fine so that anyone he runs into doesn’t give in to fear.
“I’ve had about as much fun for one day as I can handle,” Jack says, gasping for breath.
“We’re going to be fine,” Jimmy says.
“Tell that to the sharks,” Jack says.
I’m out here with the biggest YouTube star on the planet, he thinks, and it feels like the two of us against the world. If he can lead by example, then I can too.
“We stick together,” Jimmy says. “I don’t know the rules yet. But I know this: Alone is how they want us.”
Jack looks to see if the closest shark has gotten any closer.
It hasn’t.
Yet.
“If you say so,” Jack says.
“Big win, there’s no blood in the water,” Jimmy says. “This is their natural habitat, panic is the only enemy we can control. They react to it. So, we don’t give it to them. Even if we have to fake it. We act bold.”
“Got it,” Jack says.
“Then let’s go,” Jimmy says.
“To the island?” Jack asks.
“Nah,” Jimmy says. “We have to pretend to be braver than that!”
He swims directly toward the closest shark.
Jack follows him.