by Alten-Steve
Where was the Megalodon?
Jonas descended to thirty feet, circling the area. Visibility was poor, debris everywhere. He felt his heart pounding, his head moving rapidly in every possible direction.
Then he spotted the caudal fin.
The female was moving quickly away from Jonas, her tail disappearing with a flicker into the gray mist. Jonas surfaced the Abyss Glider, locating the towering dorsal fin as it cut the surface waves.
She was heading toward land.
* * * * *
The two lifeboats were less than half a mile from land when the six-foot dorsal fin appeared behind the second lifeboat, closing fast. Then it disappeared.
Barre stood up and looked back to the other lifeboat. He pointed at them, then motioned emphatically to the south. He tapped Pasquale, who was steering his boat, and pointed north. The survivors would split up.
Eighty feet down, the Meg shook her head, confused. Her senses had registered one prey, now there were two. She rose to attack.
Terry and DeMarco saw the white glow rise a split second before their worlds spun like a gyroscope, out of control. Explosion, bright blue sky, followed by bodies, then icy-cold water. The boat flipped upside down, its motor dead.
Twelve heads, coughing and moaning, broke the surface. Twelve pairs of hands reached for the capsized lifeboat, its wooden hull glistening in the fading sun. They held on for dear life.
The towering white dorsal fin circled twenty feet away, its owner sizing up her next meal. Forty-two thousand pounds of Megalodon coursed lazily along the surface, her sheer mass creating a current that began to spin the lifeboat and its crew. The creature's head emerged, angled sideways in the water. Her jaws opened slightly and water streamed into her mouth. The crew watched in silence, unable to take their eyes off the monster, as they rotated within her current.
Terry gasped as one of the crewmen lost his grip on the slippery hull. He screamed, his body drifting away from the lifeboat in the Megalodon's riptide. He kicked against the current, stroking with all his might and screaming as he saw the open mouth.
The Meg had stopped, twisting her head around and lifting it from the water as she beckoned her prey to drift out. The crewman felt the undertow ease slightly. He swam harder. Then he heard the others scream. He glanced back.
The triangular tip of the snout blocked out the sun. Mesmerized, the crewman whispered a prayer in Spanish and ducked his head as the gargantuan mouth swallowed him whole.
Like drowning rats, the surviving eleven tried to claw their way up onto the capsized hull. Adashek stepped onto the outboard engine, pulling himself higher. DeMarco's fingers were raw and bleeding, gripping the wooden hull. He knew he couldn't hang on. The hunter circled slowly, her undertow tugging hard once more. This time, DeMarco didn't fight it. He thought of his wife — she'd be waiting in the parking lot for him. He had promised her that this would be his last voyage. She hadn't believed him.
Terry saw DeMarco. She screamed.
"Al! Al, swim!" She pushed away from the boat, stroking hard. She grabbed his arm from behind, pulling him toward her.
"No, Terry, leave me! Get to the boat—"
"No, goddamnit."
"Terry... oh God—"
The Meg moved toward them, drifting lazily on the surface like a lethal barge. The head again lay sideways, a river of seawater streaming into her mouth. Terry caught herself focusing on the thick snout, peppered with the black ampullae of Lorenzini. And then the jaws stretched wider, revealing glistening white teeth, human flesh still caught between several fangs.
Terry and DeMarco kicked wildly as the jaws opened wider to accommodate the meal, pink gums exposed, serrated teeth beckoning.
Terry Tanaka looked back, paralyzed. She felt herself losing consciousness, not recognizing the familiar whir of the engine.
Six hundred and fifty pounds of submersible and its pilot leapt straight out of the sea, smashing down upon the exposed upper jaw of the Megalodon. The triangular head lifted in the water, blood oozing from its left eye socket.
The AG I rolled into the sea, accelerating downward, circling behind the female.
"Come on," Jonas yelled at the creature. "Come on, catch me if you can!"
Like a mad bull, the Megalodon plunged below the waves to give chase. Jonas turned, saw the garage-door-sized mouth jump into view ahead of him, and whipped the Abyss Glider hard to port, veering around the open maw.
The Megalodon's jaws closed on seawater as its prey escaped. The female instantly relocated, a sixty-foot torpedo homing furiously on its target.
Jonas checked his speed — thirty-four knots — and saw the Meg was gaining fast. Where to go? Lead her away from Terry, away from the others. He felt a bump from behind as the Meg rammed his tail fin. He turned hard to starboard, then ascended at a sharp angle.
The AG I shot into the air like a flying fish. Right behind it was the Megalodon, jaws snapping air, her upper torso fully exposed. Jonas's sub slapped hard against the waves. The predator flipped sideways into the ocean behind it, the thunderous splash rivaling that of the largest humpback whale.
Jonas pushed down on the joystick to dive... Nothing happened! The landing must have jarred the battery cable loose again. Desperate, he twisted backward in the capsule, felt the connection, and slammed it home. The power engaged.
Taylor knew he had no time. He kicked his left foot back, pushing the throttle down with his toes. The submersible jumped, milliseconds ahead of the nine-foot jaws. He twisted again in the tight capsule, praying the battery connection would hold.
The Megalodon was upon him, jaws almost around the tiny vessel. Jonas whipped the sub to port. The snout passed on his right. A red flicker beckoned from his control panel. The batteries were dying!
Jonas spun the submersible around in a tight circle, unable to locate the Meg. He slowed, feeling the rumble of twin engines in the distance.
* * * * *
It took André Dupont ten minutes to convince the captain of the fishing trawler that his institute would pay for any damages to his vessel. The captain finally relented, and the boat raced to the rescue of the wrecked lifeboat's survivors.
Terry Tanaka was pulled on board by Dupont. She tried to stand, then simply collapsed on deck. Adashek vomited from the stress. DeMarco and several other shipmates fell to their knees, all thanking their maker for sparing their lives.
Rising twenty-five feet out of the Pacific, the Meg grasped the capsized lifeboat in its hyperextended jaws and snapped the wooden hull like kindling. Splinters rained upon the trawler's deck, followed by a ten-foot swell as the monster slammed her upper torso back into the ocean.
André Dupont had no time to react. The wave hit him squarely and swept him into the sea. Terry screamed, then saw the AG I skimming the surface. Thirty feet from the fishing trawler, Jonas's submersible stopped, its engines silent.
Jonas kicked at the batteries, but he knew it was hopeless. The voltmeter read zero. His vessel had no power source. Slowly, the heavier Lexan nose cone settled deeper in the water, making the AG I bob head-down in the water like a cork.
Suspended upside down within the pilot's harness, Jonas peered into the gray mist beneath him. He felt his blood pounding in his temples. Movement to his left — a smallish figure swimming toward the fishing trawler.l
"Where are you?" Jonas whispered out loud. "I have to get out of this sub and on board that ship."
* * * * *
She rose slowly out of the depths, sensing her challenger was wounded. At one hundred feet she began accelerating, jaws opening wider, nostrils flaring for the scent.
Jonas saw the white face, the satanic grin, appear out of the darkness. It was seven years ago. He was back on the Seacliff, but this time there was no retreat, no escape. I'm going to die, he thought. Strangely, he felt no fear.
And then Masao's words came back to him. "If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."
"
I know my enemy," he said aloud, the head now fifty feet away, jaws stretching open.
Forty feet.
Thirty. Jonas reached forwarde with his right hand, grasped the lever, turning it counterclockwise.
Twenty feet. He breathed deeply to calm his skipping heartbeat.
Ten feet! The jaws hyperextended.
Jonas screamed involuntarily, pulling the lever toward him. The fuel ignited, the AG I transformed into a rocket, streaking down through the open jaws of the Megalodon.
The black cavern jumped at Jonas. He aimed the sub into its center, catching a glimpse of the almost Gothic, sweeping arches of the creature's cartilaginous ribs, then absolute blackness as the AG I roared down the predator's tongue, plunging deep into the esophagus.
The Abyss Glider's midwings sliced deeply into the esophageal walls, tearing yards of soft tissue before snapping from the sub's body. The torpedo contour of the sub continued sliding downward, driven by the hydrogen combustion.
Fearing he was about to crash, Jonas pushed the lever back, cutting off the burn, as the AG I thudded into a dark fleshy mass. He let out his breath, realizing he was still alive.
Jonas Taylor had entered the gates of hell.
HELL
The Megalodon exploded from the Pacific, its scythelike caudal fin nearly clearing the water. For a frozen moment, the twenty-ton monster hung in the air like a marlin, then plunged back into its liquid realm, mouth open, dying to quench the fire that burned within.
Although the AG I's batteries were dead, the sub's small backup generator could power the life support systems for almost an hour. Jonas switched on the exterior light.
The Abyss Glider was lodged somewhere in the upper regions of the Megalodon's stomach. Warm seawater steamed the Lexan glass as brownish objects swirled within the tight pink walls. Jonas looked at the external temperature gauge: eighty-nine degrees.
"Amazing," he said aloud, trying hard to keep his mind focused, away from the thoughts that created panic. Thick chunks of mutilated whale blubber slapped across the glass cone. Jonas felt queasy, but couldn't stop himself from looking. He could discern the remains of a porpoise, a rubber boot, and several pieces of wood. Molten globs of partially digested whale blubber slithered along the unseen periphery. And then something different.
It was a human leg, snapped off at the knee. Another figure appeared, an upper torso, badly mangled. The figure had a head, a face, still recognizable... Danielson!
Jonas gurgled, his scream cut off by the rising vomit. The walls closed in upon him, and he convulsed in fear. The sub shifted hard to one side, rolling with the gaping stomach, sloshing the remains of Taylor's former commanding officer out of sight as the host hurled itself in and out of the ocean, thrashing in agony.
* * * * *
André Dupont sat on deck, catching his breath and watching in amazement and fear as the greatest creature ever to inhabit the oceans spasmed out of control. Terry stood, her legs quivering, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had seen the fuel ignite, knew what Jonas had done. At that moment, she realized how deep her feelings were for him.
Leon Barre was arguing with the fishing trawler's owner, warning him that the boat's engines would attract the monster. The older man swore at Barre, swore at Dupont, but decided it might be best to cut the engines.
* * * * *
The Megalodon went deep, her insides scorched from the rocket's flames. The shark attempted to regurgitate the object it had swallowed. Two five-foot sections of aluminum oxide along with several bloody chunks of esophageal tissue were expunged, making their way out of the female's mouth. The broken wings of the Abyss Glider floated past the creature's snout. She snapped, engulfing them again along with her own innards, unable to override 70 million years of instinct.
* * * * *
Jonas shook uncontrollably, hyperventilating, his nerves trembling amid carnal horror the likes of which could not be imagined. He had not really known claustrophobia, not known fear until now.
Then he remembered Terry. She, of all people, could give him hope. "She's still alive," he grunted out loud. "And so am I. Concentrate, goddamnit! Think. Where are you?"
He forced his mind to recall the clean, clinical diagrams of the great white shark's internal anatomy he knew so well. The submersible had cleared the esophagus. Jonas knew he must be in the upper regions of the stomach. What could he do? Was it possible to kill the Megalodon from within?
Jonas realized that rational thoughts had slowed his breathing. "You're okay," he said, "you're okay." His pulse pounded in his ears, getting louder. He found he could barely hear himself speak.
That's not my pulse, he suddenly realized. The diagram reappeared in his head, the esophagus, the stomach... It's her heart! Yes, the two-chambered heart lay behind the gills, forward of the enormous liver. Directly below the stomach!
A calm resolve began to settle over Jonas. He had a plan — a ray of hope. He would see Terry again. He rolled onto his side and located a small compartment below his seat cushion. The compartment held an emergency mask, a regulator, and a small oxygen tank. He removed all three from the compartment, attached the mask, and made sure the oxygen flowed. Satisfied, he searched for the underwater knife.
It was gone. Now what? How could he hope to cut through the thick muscular tissue of the Meg's internal organs? Feeling around the capsule, his fingers found the leather pouch. He removed the fossilized tooth from its protective satchel, tucking it in the belt of his wet suit. He took a flashlight, then secured the small cylinder of oxygen across his chest with the Velcro straps. He was ready.
Jonas unscrewed the escape hatch in the sub's tail. The rubber housing lost its suction with a hiss as he pushed the circular door open. A thick liquid, hot to the touch, began oozing into the sub. Breathing through the regulator, Jonas lifted his head out of the hatch, shining the flashlight into the acid darkness.
The Megalodon's stomach revealed a tightly confined, twisting chamber of muscle, constantly moving, churning debris in a caustic atmosphere of humidity, burning excretions, and seawater. The digestive organ protested his presence, high-pitched gurgling noises alternating with series of low, resonating growls. Beneath it all, the constant thumpa-thumpa of the Megalodon's heart vibrated through Jonas's body.
With no discernible top or bottom, the stomach simply appeared to be a pocket of continually collapsing and expanding muscle. Jonas carefully swung his right leg out of the AG I, feeling the submersible shift position as he did so. His right foot touched the stomach muscle, squishing between his toes and scalding his foot. Jonas pulled his other leg through the hatch. Without warning, the stomach bulged beneath him, the entire compartment rolling 270 degrees. Both his feet slipped from under him, tossing him blindly onto his back. He could feel the heat of the mucous lining attacking his wet suit. Gagging, he rolled over on all fours and crawled on his hands and knees on the uneven, thickly muscled surface.
His hands began to burn, and the change of temperature started fogging his mask. Holding his breath, he rose to his knees, removed the mask, and spit inside, rubbing the glass clear. He gagged at the acidic smell, which began to burn his eyes.
Jonas sucked hard on the regulator, returning the mask to his face. Yes, that was better. "Stay calm, breathe slowly," he coached himself. Now, which way to the shark's underside? He felt a change in pressure and grabbed that tail wing of the AG I just as he was tossed backward again. The sub nearly slid on top of him. As he dodged it, something moved. He shone his light on an object, no, two objects, shiny... the AG's broken wings! They slid further into the stomach, guided by the muscular walls of the digestive tract.
Jonas calculated as the Megalodon leveled out once more. He placed his ear to the swollen mass below him, hearing the thumpa-thumpa grow louder. Bracing himself against the heavy submersible, he grasped the seven-inch serrated tooth like a prehistoric knife, and plunged the sharp tip into the stomach lining below.
The tooth bounced off the thick,
muscular wall, popping out of his hand. Frantic, he felt along the lining, relocating the tooth. A sense of dread shattered his calm. I'm going to die in here, he thought.
On all fours, he held the tooth with both hands, pressing down with his weight, this time using the serrated edge as a saw. The thick fibrous tissue began splitting, but it was slow work, like cutting through raw meat with a butter knife. Jonas traced a four-foot-long incision into the thick tissue, then kept rubbing the edges of the blade against the resilient muscle.
The Megalodon could not feel the laceration Jonas made in her stomach, but the cuts along the upper digestive tract caused the shark to gag repeatedly. Agitated, the predator surfaced to attack.
* * * * *
With is left hand, Bud Harris flipped the toggle switch, restarting the Magnate 's pumps. In his right hand was the magnum, cocked and pointed at Mac's head.
"You're activating the pumps?" asked Mac. "You'll attract the Meg."
"I want to attract the Meg. Move." Bud put the barrel of the gun in Mac's mouth, his left hand around his throat, and guided him on deck. The late afternoon sun beat down on the collapsed deck of the yacht.
"That monster destroyed my woman, the one person I truly cared for," cried Bud. "This creature, this albino nightmare, continues to haunt me, preventing me from sleeping, preventing me from living. And you?" Bud pushed his face next to Mac's. "You had to interfere, had to play the hero."
Bud stepped back, motioning for Mac to walk toward the rail. "Go ahead."
"What?" Mac listened for the Coast Guard copter, trying to stall.
Bud fired the magnum, blowing a three-inch hole in the deck. "You wanted to save this monster, now you can feed him." He fired again, this time nicking Mac in his right calf muscle. Mac collapsed onto one leg, blood oozing from the wound.
