Kronos

by Jeremy Robinson

  26

  The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  Atticus didn’t bother asking why the Coast Guard was tailing them. He didn’t much care. He’d come so close to killing the beast and providing some closure to his grief that little else mattered. As for Andrea, he’d come to the decision that she had, from the beginning, taken an interest for personal gain.

  Forget our past, he thought. She can’t be the same person she was then. It’s more likely that she sees my high-profile tragedy as a way to make a quick buck. That’s what motivates most people. By becoming part of the action, maybe she’ll score a memoir or film deal.

  But if that’s true, he thought, then why am I still thinking about her?

  Sporting a scowl any football player intimidating a rival would be proud of, Atticus propped his feet up on the theater chair in front of him, crossed his arms, and waited for the film to roll. He already had his movie deal. It was the sickest, most vile footage ever captured, and it featured his daughter’s death.

  “Don’t look so foul,” Trevor said as he leaned over the arm of a chaise lounge and looked at Atticus from across the aisle of his personal movie theater. The front wall held a fifteen-foot screen, while the sloping floor contained eight leather lounge chairs, split by an aisle running down the center. The room was dimly lit by sconces on the walls and a strip of tiny lights running up the sides of the central aisle, adding an authentic atmosphere to the place. “It was only our first attempt at conquering the mightiest beast on this planet. We’ll not cease until we’ve accomplished our noble goal.”

  Trevor’s pep talk, while well-intentioned, did little to calm Atticus’s nerves—a man who would soon watch his daughter die—for the second time in four days. Before the following silence became uncomfortable, they were joined by Remus, who held a remote, a bottle of Coke, and a bucket of well-buttered popcorn. Atticus was instantly offended.

  “You fucking prick,” Atticus said, jumping to his feet. He stood inches from Remus, crushing the popcorn between them. “Is this some kind of treat for you? Do you plan on being entertained?” The sudden rage-filled outburst shocked Remus into silence, but anger quickly followed. He tried to stare Atticus down, but once their eyes met, he knew in an instant that if they were to come to blows, it would only end with one of their deaths, and he was not prepared to find out whose death that would be. “Do you?” Atticus shouted again.

  Remus grunted, which was as close to an apology he could muster, placing the popcorn and soda on the floor. He sat down without saying a word.

  Atticus glanced at Trevor, whose eyes were wide. He looked at Atticus and raised his eyebrows, silently communicating that he was shocked that Remus had backed down. The door at the back of the room opened, and a seemingly emotionless O’Shea entered. He was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. In casual clothes, he looked more like a grad student than a priest. He slid past Atticus and took the seat next to him. No one questioned his presence or attire.

  “Start it up,” Trevor instructed.

  Remus pointed the remote over his shoulder, toward the back of the room, and pushed a button. The camera recorded video straight to DVD and was able to be played immediately. Atticus hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of viewing such a large image of the tape, but Trevor insisted the finer details might be worth noticing, and Atticus couldn’t argue with that. Whatever chink this creature might have, Atticus felt certain it would be infinitesimal.

  The large screen lit up blue, then turned black as the footage started to roll. Atticus grew rigid as the voice of his daughter bellowed from the powerful surround-sound speakers that encircled the room. “Daddy, c’mon, let’s go.” The image of Giona, wrapped tight in her wet suit, with her wild purple hair blowing in the wind, almost caused him to retch.

  “Cute kid,” Remus said.

  “I like the hair,” Trevor added.

  “Fast forward,” Atticus said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  Remus let the video continue for a moment, long enough for it to be apparent he was either trying to torture Atticus or was too busy checking out the man’s now-dead sixteen-year-old daughter.

  Trevor slapped the back of Remus’s head. “Do it.”

  The video became a blur. Atticus watched as footage of Giona swimming passed by, flashes of his past that seemed like faded nightmare made real. The peaceful pod of whales appeared on the screen.

  The video moved forward, and they all watched in silence as Atticus and Giona swam with the whales, touched the bull, and shared their last moments together. The first warning call sounded loud over the speakers. Atticus broke out into a sweat.

  Here it comes…

  The image spun as the whales’ mighty flukes churned the water. Then the second pod of whales emerged from the depths. Atticus listened as he instructed Giona to blow her air tank. Seeing the video, he could make out how close the lead bull had actually come to plowing through them.

  Atticus saw Remus nodding. Apparently, even the thug was impressed.

  A silver cloud burst onto the screen. Thumps sounded out as the fish careened into Atticus and the camera. At one point a single herring became lodged between the camera lens and Atticus’s body.

  The image stabilized again, and the ocean returned to its calm blue glow. But what Atticus couldn’t see at the time had been picked up clearly by the sensitive video camera. The dark silhouette of the creature could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t moving toward them at all. But then the front end, the creature’s head, turned toward them as if sensing their presence. Its body suddenly undulated even faster and headed straight for Giona, as though it were seeking her out.

  The creature emerged from the darkness, jaws open, teeth gleaming, then, it froze. Before them was a crystal-clear image of the front half of the creature, its mouth open wide. Giona, arms outstretched in fear, floated just inside the giant’s maw.

  “Oh God…” O’Shea whispered.

  Trevor got to his feet, mouth open wide. “Kronos.”

  Remus munched quietly on his popcorn.

  And Atticus…laughed.

  What started as a light chuckle became a grotesque snicker and finally emerged as a sinister bellow mixed with tears and a white-hot glare. He shook his head back and forth, “I’m going to kill it. I’m going to kill it.”

  Atticus turned to Trevor, who jumped back. Atticus had not realized the three men had been staring at him in silence, afraid he had become a madman. He kept his voice low, but the savagery behind his words was plain. “What else does the submersible have for armament?”

  Trevor opened his mouth to reply.

  “Be honest,” Atticus said. It was clearly a warning that only the truth would be tolerated.

  “Electric-shock cables, high-yield torpedoes, and a micro nuclear dart capable of sinking an aircraft carrier…”

  “I’m going to need it.”

  Trevor nodded. “In the morning. When we fully understand what it is you are facing, then you can face the beast. Then you can kill Kronos.”

  Atticus knew he was right, but the rage inside him needed an outlet. He could bury it for the time needed to learn about the creature, but his control wouldn’t last long. The rage boiling inside him would spew out at some point, and waiting until morning would be a challenge.

  “Why? Why Kronos?” O’Shea asked, his voice quivering. “Wasn’t he the king of the Greek gods?”

  “Indeed,” Trevor replied. “While the name is fitting from a power perspective, the most powerful of the gods and the most powerful of living things, but I named it for its appearance.”

  “A Kronosaurus,” Atticus said.

  “Precisely.”

  “That’s not a Kronosaurus,” Atticus added.

  “Undoubtedly. While the Kronosaurus was the world’s largest marine reptile, its maximum size was closer to forty-five feet. Our beast would have made a meal of the dinosaur. But the head shape and lower fins smack of the Kronosaurus. Perhaps they’re related; or this is s
imply an evolved specimen whose species survived the mass extinction and flourished in the depths?”

  “Look,” Atticus said, “while speculating about its origins might be interesting to you, it won’t help how to kill it; where it’s vital organs are; how it breathes. This is what needs to be learned. The key to its death lies in what keeps it alive.”

  27

  Coast Guard Cutter—Gulf of Maine

  As the sun set and darkness spread over the easterly sky, Andrea basked in the last rays of sunlight cast in hues of orange, pink, and yellow as it mingled with the clouds and humid atmosphere; a beautiful sky. One that would make couples swoon, cause photographers to snap pictures, and the religious to think about God. But the vivid colors did little to ease her tension or erase her fear.

  Her plan of action was risky. When darkness finally settled she would slip into the ebony abyss and board the Titan under the cover of night. Her swim from the cutter to the Titan would be aided by high-tech fins designed to maximize water displacement and minimize resistance, but that was little consolation as the two boats were a half mile apart. If the Titan made a run for it, she’d be stuck in the water and the cutter couldn’t pursue until she was hauled back in.

  Andrea shuddered. She couldn’t imagine how someone like Atticus used to do things like this for a living. The idea of sneaking onto a boat and searching for someone without being found out made her queasy. She wasn’t even sure that Atticus wouldn’t hand her over if she did manage to find him without being detected. While Conner had kindly welcomed her back, and her impression of Atticus was that despite his military training, he had become a loving man, that didn’t change the fact that she really didn’t know him very well anymore.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” came the voice of Captain McCormick.

  Andrea was surprised to find herself standing in the dark. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the remaining light of day slip away. She faced McCormick and nodded. “I have to.”

  “You realize that if something goes wrong—if you get caught—we have to deny we sent you.” McCormick sighed. “As soon as you’re off this ship, you’re on your own.”

  Andrea swallowed hard. “I know.”

  “We’ll move off, give them some breathing room. If they head for international waters…”

  “It’d be a long swim back.”

  McCormick smiled. “A very long swim.” McCormick started for the bridge. “Gear up and get in the water. We’ll pull out at 0200 hours. Make them think we headed back to port.” He paused and glanced back, meeting her eyes with a serious stare. “I hope he’s worth it.”

  With that, McCormick walked away, leaving her to her preparations and doubt. “So do I.”

  The absolute void experienced during a night dive always made Andrea think it’s what being in space would feel like, except for the external pressure. The cold and the emptiness, devoid of any visible light, caused eyes to strain and colors to emerge. The depths of the ocean seemed much more ominous at night, though what she’d seen that day, in crystal clarity, chilled her more than the dark water. The lonely expanse hiding dangers below tempted her to reconsider, to give credence to her fears, but she pushed them out of her mind and kicked harder. She imagined herself as a torpedo, mindlessly seeking its target. She pushed forward, not keeping track of time. It wasn’t until her mind registered the slap of waves upon a hull that she realized she’d bridged the gap between the two ships.

  She’d made it.

  Finding the hull with her hand, she kept one hand against the smooth exterior while kicking her way toward the back of the boat. She’d board where the crew had staged the great fishing excursion. She kept her ears keenly aware to the sounds of the sea, listening for the roar of engines. As she took action, her fears and doubts faded, to be replaced by an adrenaline rush that gave her strength and an unwavering determination. She felt she could swim throughout the night if need be.

  Suddenly the hull next to her lit up like a UFO’s teleporter beam. She scurried from the light like a frightened cockroach, sure she’d been discovered. After taking several deep breaths from her regulator, she calmed herself enough to realize the light was coming from a window on the side of the hull—an underwater viewing port. Slowly, Andrea swam a few feet away from the hull, so she’d be less illuminated, and peered into the room.

  The massive chamber on the other side of the glass was like none she’d seen before. It almost appeared to be an aquarium, but the stillness of the creatures painted on the curved walls spoke otherwise. There, at the center of the room were two extravagant-looking chairs, a small table holding a bottle of brandy, and two glasses. A burst of bubbles shot from her mouth as she saw Atticus and Trevor Manfred heading for the chairs.

  They sat together and were speaking calmly. She tried to read their lips but could only make out a few words…“tomorrow”…“torpedo”…“nuke”? Andrea was sure she’d misread the last word as it was so ridiculous and had come from Atticus’s mouth. Moving closer, yet careful to stay out of direct view, Andrea attempted to see their lips more clearly. If she could find out where Atticus would be, she’d have a much easier time locating him on this behemoth of a ship. She knew she was too close when her reflection came into view. She slowly moved sideways, careful not to move too quickly. As she moved, another reflection filled the void where hers had been.

  The sight of it made her scream, expelling her regulator, and flail madly.

  The brandy slid down Atticus’s throat, warming his insides and calming his nerves. He smiled as Trevor poured him a second glass. “You know you’re going to get me addicted to this stuff.” Atticus downed the second shot. The alcohol and pleasant atmosphere of the underwater sitting room were having the intended effect of soothing the raging soul of a man who just watched his daughter get eaten alive. They’d watched the video over and over, yet found nothing, aside from fueling Atticus’s rage, that would offer them any aid in killing the sea serpent.

  “Every good man has a flaw,” Trevor said with a smile and drinking his second shot as well. “Tell me, then, what does my intrepid hero have planned for the morrow? Hmm?”

  “I’ll need the sub.”

  Trevor crossed his legs and perched his hands daintily on his knees. “Yes, you mentioned that earlier.”

  “Alone.”

  A single eyebrow arched high on Trevor’s head. “While I share your desire to see Kronos dead, I would very much like to see the event take place.”

  “I’ll drive it to the surface in the sub, where you can hit it with whatever big guns you’ve got hidden on board.”

  Trevor grinned. “And if the weapons on the sub fail to push the creature onward and upward?”

  “Then it will chase me to the surface.”

  “Sounds like a fool’s errand.”

  “It will work.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “You mean if it eats me?”

  Trevor offered a feeble nod.

  “Then I’ll use the mininuke and send us both to hell.”

  “Ahh yes. You know that was designed to be a long-range weapon; but I suppose it would function well as a self-destruct mechanism.” Trevor sighed long and deep. “You will, of course, do me the common courtesy of warning us before detonating a nuclear device? Will you not? We would need time to steer clear. It may be a small charge, but it will create a sizeable splash.”

  “I’ll wait until my last breath.”

  After chewing on his lower lips, Trevor let out a chuckle and slapped his knee. “You do know how to raise the stakes don’t you! Very well then—”

  An enormous collision reverberated through the room, sending Atticus and Trevor immediately to their feet.

  “Are we under attack?” Trevor asked eyes wide.

  When Atticus saw it, he knew they had nothing to fear. He pointed to the window with a view of the dark undersea kingdom. There, chomping his jaws on something indeterminable was Laurel
, the twenty-eight-foot great white shark.

  “Ahh,” Trevor said as he straightened his rumpled black turtleneck. “Laurel, you naughty fish. You nearly caused me to soil myself.”

  Atticus moved closer to the window, watching Laurel devour whatever was in her mouth. “What’s she eating?”

  “Late-night snack I suppose. One never knows.”

  28

  Under The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  Pain wracked Andrea’s body as her insides tore.

  She’d moved so frantically to avoid the freight train of a shark that she’d pulled several muscles in her legs, arms, and chest. But the most painful of pulls came when the great white locked its jaws upon her fin, nearly taking her toes off, and yanking it from her foot. With the giant’s jerk, the muscles of her right leg stretched like the strings of an over-tightened harp.

  If not for the shark’s total dedication to devouring the rubber fin, breaking away would not have been possible. Even then, her chances of escape remained slim as she feebly kicked her way toward the back of the Titan, relying on one bare foot and one finned foot to propel her forward and outrun the ocean’s top predator.

  As she kicked, a burn filled her chest. She’d been holding her breath. Worse than that, she had yet to replace the regulator that she’d spat out when she screamed. Reaching back for the regulator caused multiple fresh muscle pulls to protest painfully, but she pushed past the pain and found the regulator hose dangling from her air tank. As the regulator met her lips and she took a deep breath, her strength returned. But she was nowhere near the stern of the Titan. If the shark gave chase, she’d never make it, injuries or not.

  She dived under the Titan in an attempt to remove herself from the shark’s field of view. In the end it wouldn’t help much, but she refused to make an easy meal of herself. Sharks had evolved to sense their prey using more than eyesight. They could smell a drop of blood a quarter mile away. More than that, the shark’s ampullae of Lorenzini, jelly-filled canals in its head and snout, could detect the electrical fields emitted by all living things, especially panicking, thrashing prey trying to escape.