by Alten-Steve
At three hundred feet, the torpedo-shaped pod began vibrating.
* * * * *
"Terry, get out of the damn water now!" screamed DeMarco.
Terry ignored him, her face down in the water, breathing through the snorkel. The Megalodon was dead, that she knew. But her heart told her that Jonas had survived. She watched as the white glow disappeared.
* * * * *
André Dupont sat on the transom as Leon Barre and the trawler's captain disassembled one of the engines. André felt dazed and depressed. All his efforts to save the creature — the lobbying, the expense — all for naught. The greatest predator of all time... lost.
"I could have died today," he whispered to himself. "For what? To save my killer? What would the Society tell my wife and children? 'Ah, Marie, you should be a proud widow. André died in the most noble of fashions, giving his life to feed an endangered species'."
Dupont stood, stretching his sore back. The setting sun still shone strong enough to warm his skin. He watched the golden-yellow beam blaze a path from the horizon across the dark Pacific to the trawler. That was when he sighted the fin.
"Hey! Hey... Shark! SHARK!"
* * * * *
The bone-chilling water of the Pacific continued to fill the escape pod, the additional weight slowing the ascent significantly. Jonas shivered in his wet suit. He was afraid to move. He glanced at the depth gauge: two hundred feet. The fissure had completed its journey around the circumference of the vessel. The vibrations were reaching a fever pitch, exterior pressures encouraging cracks in the damaged chamber. He looked up, still unable to see the surface. At this depth, if the escape pod split open he would not survive.
Carefully, he donned his mask and prepared the regularor. He strapped the oxygen tank across his chest with the Velcro fasteners. Slow movements, he reminded himself. Don't panic. Force yourself to relax. Slow-kick to the surface. The empty tank will tow you topside. Use as little energy as possible. Don't close your eyes. Don't fall asleep, or you'll never wake up.
CRAAAACK.
I'm too deep...
* * * * *
He three-foot fin circled the fishing trawler. Eleven men as one screamed for Terry to get out of the water.
"That's a great white, no doubt," said Steve Tabor. "Looks like a female, maybe thirteen feet. She's attracted by all that blood. We gotta get Terry out of the water fast."
The trawler's captain went below and returned with a shotgun. The dorsal fin circled the girl. The captain took aim.
Terry disappeared below the waves.
* * * * *
At one hundred and forty-two feet, the escape pod cracked open, showering Jonas with freezing seawater and crushing him with the pressure of more than four atmospheres. His nose began bleeding as he pushed his way out of the hatch. His faceplate cracked.
His legs began scissors-kicking. The air tank was pulling him up rapidly... too fast! He wasn't decompressing properly. Jonas stopped kicking.
Eighty feet. His body was like lead, no longer moving. The oxygen tank, barely strapped to his chest, had expelled nearly all of its air. Now its extreme buoyancy accelerated him upward at a dangerous pace. Jonas gazed through heavy eyes at the Velcro strap straining to hold the tank to his chest. Watched as it began tearing away. He tried to reattach it, but his arms were no longer his to control.
At fifty-eight feet, Jonas ran out of air. The two ends of the Velcro separated. The empty tank rocketed away from his chest, sailing high above his head. Jonas closed his eyes and bit hard into the regulator. Since he could not reach the tank with his hands, he struggled to maintain the connection to the buoyant canister with his teeth. He felt drunk.
At thirty-three feet, Jonas blacked out. The regulator slipped from his mouth. The tank escaped to the surface.
Jonas felt nothing, no pain, no fear. I'm dreaming. He looked up and saw a bright light. He was flying, moving toward the light without his body, no more pain, no more fear.
I'm in heaven.
* * * * *
Terry Tanaka grabbed Jonas's wrist just as his body began slipping back into the abyss. She kicked hard, pulling water with her left hand. To her right, the shark circled above her. She swam harder.
As her face broke the surface, Terry pulled Jonas's head out of the ocean. He was blue, no sign of breathing. She saw the dorsal fin eight feet away, accelerating toward her as the triangular snout broke water.
The fishing net arced through the air, its lead weights dropping it around and beneath the predator. The creature twisted, attempting to escape, but the big fisherman had pulled the net taut. The shark was trapped.
Terry pulled Jonas to the boat. A dozen hands dragged them on board. David Adashek began resuscitating him. DeMarco wrapped him in blankets, feeling for a pulse. Yes, but very weak.
Jonas coughed up water. Adashek rolled him onto his side, allowing him to expel the seawater and vomit. Terry bent over him, massaging his neck. Exhausted, Jonas squinted against the golden sunlight of dusk.
"Try not to move," she said, stroking his hair. "The Coast Guard's on the way. They're going to tow us into the lagoon. We have a recompression chamber on site at the Institute." She smiled at him, tears in her eyes.
Jonas looked at her beautiful face, smiling through the pain. I am in heaven, he thought.
* * * * *
The shark thrashed back and forth within the fishing net, five feet below the surface, unable to free itself. André Dupont followed the captain throughout the boat, attempting to reason with him.
"Captain, you can't kill it," yelled Dupont. "It's a protected species!"
"Look at my boat. She's busted up. I'll kill this fish, stuff it, and sell it to some tourist from New York for twenty thousand. You gonna give me that much, Frenchy?"
Dupont rolled his eyes. "Harm that shark, and you're going to prison!"
The captain's response was interrupted by the Coast Guard.
* * * * *
The 110-foot Coast Guard patrol boat Manitou arrived and tossed a towline to the disabled fishing trawler. Leon Barre attached it to the ship's bow. Within seconds, the line went taut, and the trawler was in tow behind the ship, heading into the Tanaka Lagoon. The two-thousand-pound predator continued thrashing within the net.
The massive doors separating the Monterey Bay Sanctuary from the lagoon had been left open for the Kiku. The Manitou entered the entrance to the canal.
* * * * *
Jonas was leaning against the transom when the sharp pains began in his elbows. Within seconds, every joing was on fire, stabbing pains running throughout his body.
Terry grabbed him. "Jonas, what is it?"
"Bends. How far?"
They had entered the lagoon, the Coast Guard towing the fishing trawler toward the dock, situated at the north side of the artificial lake.
"A few minutes. Lean against the transom. I'm going to make sure they have an ambulance at the dock."
Jonas nodded.
The pain began increasing; he felt dizzy, nauseous. His joints felt as if the Megalodon's teeth were biting down. Opening his eyes, he focused on the great white being towed along the left side of the stern.
Masao Tanaka was waiting at the dock in a wheelchair, his head heavily bandaged, an orderly by his side. Mac was there, along with a team of paramedics standing ready to rush Jonas into the recompression chamber.
Terry saw her father and ran to the bow. She waved. Tears of joy flowed down Masao's cheeks.
* * * * *
Jonas leaned back against the transom, doubling again in pain. He could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness. He tried to focus on the predator in the water. She was struggling fiercely, twisting within the confines of the fishing net. Her white hide cast a soft glow in the growing dusk.
For a brief moment, man and beast made eye contact. The creature's eyes were blue-gray. Jonas stared incredulously at the baby Megalodon. He closed his eyes and smiled. And then the pain became overwhelming and
the paleontologist lost consciousness as the two paramedics loaded him into the ambulance.
CHANGES TO PUBLISHER'S EDITION MADE IN THIS VERSION
P19L21-22
Dad's strictly old-fashioned Japanese. Woman are to be seen and to heard, that kind of attitude."
Dad's strictly old-fashioned Japanese. Women are to be seen and to heard, that kind of attitude."
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P30L15
Terry pulled a thick envelope out of her robe pocket.
Maggie pulled a thick envelope out of her robe pocket.
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P41L34-35
It was possible, thought Jonas, that he has been staring at a worm cluster, fallen asleep, and imagined the triangular head.
It was possible, thought Jonas, that he had been staring at a worm cluster, fallen asleep, and imagined the triangular head.
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P97L2-3
My concern is that her mere presence among the whale pods may affect the cetacean's migration patterns.
My concern is that her mere presence among the whale pods may affect the cetaceans' migration patterns.
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P126L39
The Megalodon circled, carefully measuring her challenge.
The Megalodon circled, carefully measuring her challenger.
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P138L9
...Bud had made a deal with two local fisherman...
...Bud had made a deal with two local fishermen...
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P177L28
she could only react, each cell atuned to her environment
she could only react, each cell attuned to her environment
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P199L21
"Fuck you, fish. You're not gettin me. No way."
"Fuck you, fish. You're not gettin' me. No way."
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