The Trench

by Steve Alten

  This is hopeless . . .

  “Mac, do you think people can change?”

  “Oh, boy, she’s really got her claws into you, doesn’t she?”

  “Actually, I was talking about me.”

  * * *

  With a resounding blast from its horn, the ferry, M/V Lady Rose, pulled away from the docks at Bamfield, continuing its ten-hour round-trip journey to Ucluelet.

  Fourteen-year-old Kevin Blaine rested his forehead on top of the polished wooden rail, feeling the reverberations of the ship’s engines as he kicked the iron support post with his foot.

  “Kevin, knock it off,” his older sister, Devon, yelled. “You’re annoying the other passengers.”

  “I’m bored. Why can’t I skateboard?”

  “I told you, it’s too crowded on deck.”

  “How much longer till we’re in Ucluelet?”

  The nineteen-year-old grabbed her brother by his arm. “Kevin, will you shut the hell up, you’re driving me crazy. I swear to God, if Mom and Dad ever make me take you to Port Alberni again, I’ll kill you first.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Here,” she said, slapping a ten-dollar bill into his hand. “Now go. I don’t want to see you again until we dock.”

  * * *

  The predator made its way north against the strong currents of Imperial Eagle channel, remaining close to the rocky coral bottom as it continued its search. Swinging its elephantine head from side to side, the Megalodon inhaled a troughful of sea, its olfactory senses detecting the faint acrid odor of urine.

  A half mile away, an adult male sea lion pirouetted gracefully just below the waves. At just over six hundred pounds, the mammal feared only the Orca pods. Survival instinct told the agile bull just how far it could stray from shore in order to escape attack. With visibility at just over thirty feet, the large male, always on the lookout, would not venture more than fifty yards from shore.

  The hunter moved swiftly along the seafloor, quickly closing the distance between itself and the heartbeat of the sea lion. Ascending slowly beneath its prey, the Megalodon searched the sunlit surface, homing in on its unseen meal.

  Sensing danger, the sea lion propelled itself quickly toward shore.

  The female detected a dark silhouette of movement along the surface. She launched upward from the bottom, whipping her muscular tail in swift calculated strokes.

  The bull registered the disturbance below. Trapped on the surface, it twisted and thrashed, attempting to deflect the impending bite of the unseen predator.

  The Megalodon burst through the surface, eyes rolled back, jaws fully hyperextended, engulfing the sea lion in one horrific bite. The pinniped’s blubbery girth was instantly crushed beneath fifty thousand pounds per square inch of pressure, sending streams of blood and excrement gushing out from between rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  * * *

  It was just after four in the afternoon when the five kayakers moved beyond the last of the Broken Group Islands of Barkley Sound. Heading into open ocean, Ronald Jacobs noticed a bald eagle circling overhead as they passed the final vestige of land for the next several miles. He stopped paddling, following the flight of the majestic bird until it perched in the upper branches of a fir tree three hundred yards away.

  “Okay,” Karen said, “it’s four miles to Ucluelet. Watch for swells, it can get really nasty out here.”

  “Look’s like we’ve got company,” Jon said. He pointed south. A ferry was approaching in the distance.

  “That’s the Lady Rose,” Karen said. “She’ll be taking us from Ucluelet back up the channel to Port Alberni tomorrow afternoon.”

  “We’re not leaving until I get some good underwater photos,” Andrea said. “What happened to those whale pods you promised me?”

  “There’s forty to fifty grays that spend the spring and summer months feeding between Barkley Sound and Clayoquot Sound, which is another thirty miles to the north. There’s always a few minke whales about, as well as humpbacks. Be patient,” said Karen, “we’ll spot something before too long.”

  * * *

  Kevin Blaine leaned over the starboard bow and spit, watching the wind carry it twenty feet back before it hit the water. Most of the other passengers on the Lady Rose were either napping on the rows of wooden benches, or had gone inside to get out of the weather.

  He stared at the blue ocean, hoping to see a whale, when an ivory blur, half as long as the ferry, soared into view well below the surface. Kevin leaned out over the rail as far as he could, gawking at the creature, which was moving parallel to the boat.

  Seconds later it descended, disappearing from sight.

  Kevin ran to his sister, who was lying on one of the benches, working on her tan.

  “Dev, I just saw something huge. I think it was the Megalodon!”

  “Go away.”

  “You’re not listening—”

  “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get me a diet Coke.”

  Kevin ignored her and ran back to the bow.

  * * *

  “There,” Karen said, pointing ahead to their left. “Looks like we’re in luck. They’re feeding off phytoplankton blooms.”

  “What’s that?” Ronald asked, paddling harder to keep up with his wife. He paused as a series of seven-foot swells lifted his kayak, soaking him with freezing water.

  “It’s that white stuff that looks like bathtub foam,” Karen said, rolling with the swell. “Every spring the sun causes the phytoplankton to bloom like crazy. Small larvae and fish feed off of it, attracting baleen whales.”

  They approached to within fifty feet of the feeding pod.

  “What kind of whales are these?” Shirley asked.

  “Grays. I count five, maybe six adults, and a calf. Let’s not get any closer.”

  Andrea pulled the dry-suit hood over her head and positioned her face mask. She checked her camera for film, verifying a new roll. “Wish me luck,” she said, rolling sideways into the ocean.

  Even wearing the dry suit, the chilly water took her breath away. She looked around, realizing immediately that she was still too far away from the pod to see anything. Then, just as she was about to roll upright, she spotted a ghostly form gliding through the deeper waters directly beneath her, heading toward the whales.

  Paddling hard, Andrea pulled herself back into an upright position. “I can’t believe it,” she said, water pouring off her face. “I just saw a belukha whale!”

  “Are you certain?” Karen said. “Belukhas usually don’t venture this far south.”

  “I’m telling you I saw it.” She picked up her paddle.

  “What are you doing?” her husband asked.

  “The belukha was heading toward the pod. I need to get closer, I’m too far away to shoot.”

  “Too late,” Shirley said, pointing.

  The grays had stopped feeding.

  “Something’s spooking them,” Karen said. “They’re closing formation.”

  Without warning, the pod began moving en masse toward the kayakers.

  “Oh, shit—stay close and hold on!” Karen yelled.

  The thirty-ton leviathans tore up the surface as they accelerated at them, sounding seconds before they would have struck the kayaks. The four boats tossed wildly about, spinning and crashing into one another.

  Andrea sucked in a lungful of air and rolled sideways, her camera already positioned in front of her mask.

  A series of seven-to-eight-foot swells rolled at them, lifting and dropping the kayaks precariously. And then the sea calmed, the whales out of sight.

  “Everyone all right?” Karen asked.

  “I’m freezing,” Shirley said. Jon removed a towel from one of the watertight compartments and handed it to his wife.

  Ronald turned to Andrea’s kayak, which was still inverted. “At least someone’s enjoying herself.”

  “Let’s go home, Shirley,” Jon said. “I’ve had enough wilderness to last me a lifetime. The next time your
magazine wants to do a wildlife piece, suggest Manhattan.”

  Ronald reached out to help his wife flip her kayak right-side-up. That’s when he saw the cardinal-red cloud pooling around the craft.

  “Andrea!” Ronald spun the kayak over—and screamed.

  Shirley stared, then turned and retched over the side. Karen and Jon looked on in shock, clutching their mouths.

  All that remained of Andrea Jacobs was a gushing scarlet stump of mangled flesh, the lower torso still wedged in the kayak, severed at the stomach.

  Ronald stopped screaming as the seven-foot stark-white dorsal fin surged out of the surf. It circled the group twice, then submerged.

  “It’s the Megalodon,” Jon rasped, holding on as the kayaks were lifted by another series of swells. He leaned forward and caught his wife’s head as she fainted.

  Ronald’s eyes bugged out as an unearthly glow appeared beneath him. He gasped in horror as the enormous head rose vertically to his left, engulfing the remains of his wife and her kayak in its powerful jaws. Two vicious chomps—and the shark slid back into the sea, leaving only a paddle and a section of bow bobbing on the surface.

  “Move!” Karen yelled. “Split up!” She paddled south, heading for the ferry.

  Jon watched her go, then reached forward and slapped his wife hard across her face.

  “Shirley, wake up,” he yelled, shaking her. Feeling her stir, he released her head and began paddling toward Ucluelet, two and a half miles to the north.

  Still in shock, Ronald Jacobs remained motionless in his kayak and wept.

  * * *

  Jonas focused his binoculars on the ferry, then spotted something else. “Looks like a kayak. It’s heading straight for the ferry—”

  “Jonas—behind the kayak—one o’clock!”

  Jonas searched the ocean. “Oh, fuck . . .”

  “Hold on—” The helicopter soared past the Lady Rose as Jonas desperately attempted to hail the ferry on the radio.

  * * *

  Alone in the bow, Kevin watched the woman paddle furiously toward the boat. He ducked instinctively as the helicopter soared overhead, then spotted the dorsal fin and realized what was taking place before his eyes.

  Spinning around, he searched the deck, locating the life ring. He tore it from the rail as the Lady Rose swung to port to intercept the woman.

  * * *

  Groaning out loud, with her shoulders, arms, and back aching from the anaerobic effort, Karen switched sides, paddling on her right as she headed toward the ferry. Blisters on her hands began bleeding; her tears and the splashing salt water were blinding.

  Fifty yards . . .

  She focused on the bow, her mind racing, wondering how she would possibly reach the rail that towered fifteen feet above her head.

  Then she spotted the boy tying off the rope.

  * * *

  The predator rose, jaws agape, its eyes focused on the silhouette of the fleeing kayak. In the murky water the figure resembled another sea lion. The Megalodon closed to within forty feet, then detected the larger creature changing course, approaching its prey.

  * * *

  Kevin felt the ferry cut its engines. He looked up to see three members of the crew running toward him.

  Calling to the woman below, he reached out and tossed her the ring.

  Physically exhausted, her arms trembling, Karen guided the kayak alongside the moving ferry. She lunged forward and grabbed the ring. Looping her right arm inside, she managed to free her lower body from the boat, but was unable to muster the strength to pull herself upward.

  The three crewmen pushed Kevin aside and grabbed the rope.

  Karen felt herself being hauled upward. She held on tight, praying the monster would spare her.

  A crowd gathered. Unable to see, Kevin climbed up to straddle the rail.

  * * *

  Mac hovered the chopper eighty feet above the deck of the ferry. Jonas watched the scene below, breathing a sigh of relief as the crew reached out and pulled the woman to safety.

  “Can you get off a shot with the grenade rifle?” Mac asked.

  Jonas peered down the scope of the weapon, searching for the creature. “She’s too deep to see, and I’m getting a bad reflection from the sun. I can’t tell how close she is to the ferry.”

  Reaching beneath the seat, he pulled out a large handgun resembling a starter’s pistol. Lodged in the barrel was a small transmitter attached to a seven-inch barbed hook. He pulled the safety off the pistol, then activated the transmitter.

  “Where’d you get that?” Mac asked.

  “Had the Institute deliver it while we were in port. It only transmits over a three-mile radius, but—”

  Without warning, the Megalodon rose from the sea, its vertical momentum sending its upper torso high into the air as its jaws clamped down on the empty kayak. Falling forward, the leviathan slammed sideways against the ferry, its weight knocking the Lady Rose hard to starboard.

  Most of the ship’s passengers and crew found themselves sprawling on their backs. Kevin Blaine had squeezed his legs around the rail, holding on precariously as he gawked at the gargantuan beast, its huge pectoral fin so close he could have reached out and touched it. As the creature’s upper torso slammed hard against the side of the ferry, the rail jolted out from under him and he tumbled forward, twisting in midair, catching a glimpse of blue sky before plunging headfirst into the icy sea.

  * * *

  Afraid he might hit the ferry, Jonas lowered the grenade rifle and grabbed the pistol. In one motion he aimed and fired, the barbed arrow and transmitter exploding from the barrel, puncturing the Megalodon along its exposed underbelly.

  Bouncing off the vessel, the monster rolled sideways back into the water.

  * * *

  A strong swimmer, Kevin quickly righted himself underwater and kicked hard to the surface. More cold than scared, he looked up, waiting for someone to appear at the rail with a rope.

  Devon picked herself up off the deck and rushed to the rail, shocked at having witnessed her brother fall. She quickly spotted him treading water, waving at her along the surface.

  “Kevin, hold on—” She saw the end of the nylon rope tied off on the rail and started pulling in the slack, the life ring appearing from across the deck. Grabbing the flotation device, she tossed it overboard.

  The ghostlike demon had reappeared. Gliding gracefully on its side, it opened its mouth, its lower jawline moving silently across the surface. A channel of water streamed into the dark tunnel of the widening orifice.

  Devon freaked out. A dozen passengers yelled and screamed in her ear as she motioned wildly for Kevin to grab the life ring.

  Kevin’s smile disappeared as he saw the expression of terror on his sister’s face. He turned around.

  The ivory head, lying on its side, was barely visible. A small wake closed, revealing a black hole in the sea, outlined by pink gums and sickening teeth.

  A rush of panic washed over him. Ignoring the life ring, he tried to swim away, but an overpowering current grabbed him, dragging him backward in the water. For a surreal moment, Kevin felt the bizarre feeling of sliding feetfirst down a hole, water rushing along either side of him.

  A torrent of ocean washed over him, pushing him downward. Daylight disappeared. For a suffocating moment, the boy clawed in complete darkness along the slimy surface of the monster’s tongue.

  And then he tumbled backward, crushed into oblivion.

  * * *

  Jonas slammed his face against the cockpit door and howled in rage as the creature disappeared beneath the waves.

  Mac shifted the hovering chopper to autopilot, too shaken to even grip the joystick. For the next several minutes, the two men could do nothing but seethe, their eyes closed tight, the horrifying scene refusing to cease replaying in their minds’ eyes.

  “Chopper, come in, this is the captain of the Lady Rose. Chopper, come in—”

  “What,” Jonas said, not recognizing his own voice
.

  “Chopper, the woman we rescued says there are two more kayaks out there. Half mile northwest. Reply, please, over—”

  Jonas looked at Mac; his friend’s face was red with rage. Mac gripped the joystick, the airship leaping forward. “We’re on it,” Jonas yelled, his own adrenaline pumping.

  Retracing the woman’s direction, they searched the ocean, quickly spotting the kayak. The chopper swooped downward. Mac hovered the copter just above the surface, watching a series of incoming swells. “Do it fast, Jonas—”

  Jonas unbuckled his harness and moved back to the cargo bay. Pulling open the sliding bay door, he reached out for the unconscious man and grabbed hold of one of his arms.

  Jonas hauled Ronald Jacobs from his kayak into the chopper—as the airship leapfrogged over an eight-foot swell.

  “Is he alive?” Mac asked.

  “He’s breathing, but he’s in shock.”

  Jonas covered the man with blankets while Mac circled to the east, looking for the other kayak.

  * * *

  Out of breath, and his muscles trembling from lactic acid buildup, Jon Kollin was forced to stop paddling.

  “Shirley, I need your help,” he rasped. He rubbed the sweat from his eyes and tried to focus on the sliver of land, still a half mile away.

  Shirley dipped the end of her oar into the water, attempting to paddle. “Jon, I can’t, I’m going to be sick again.”

  Jon was looking behind them, watching the ferry in the distance. “Something’s going on back there.” He reached overboard, splashing water onto his face, the cold helping to revive him.

  “Shirley, look at me.” As his wife turned, he drenched her with an oar-splash of water.

  “Goddamn you—”

  “Now pick up your paddle and help me row,” he ordered.

  * * *

  The Megalodon continued circling below the ferry, waiting for more prey to appear, when a thrumming sound resonated somewhere in the distance. The baritone vibrations continued, enticing the shark away from the boat to investigate.

  As it closed on the source, the beating abruptly ceased. The shark circled, confused, waiting for the voodoolike beats to reappear. Instead, another sound caught the creature’s attention, this one moving along the surface.