Behemoth 2

by Michael Cole

  I’ll be fine. She could hear the thoughts as if spoken out loud. Rick turned back to the crane and placed his right knee on the ledge.

  “Is the shark still over to starboard?” he asked. Lisa turned and looked. The fin was moving at a path nearly parallel to theirs.

  “Yes,” she answered. Rick knew his opportunity to get in position was now. He placed another hand forward and started crawling outward, ready to be the bait to lure the creature in. His eyes looked down beneath him, seeing the red within the water. But it wasn’t chum or blood. His eyes opened wide, and he pushed himself backward. “Holy shit!”

  He rolled backward onto the deck, falling down straight on his shoulders. At the same time, another splash consumed the deck, and the armored head of a twenty-four-foot shark emerged. Its jaws clamped down around the arm of the crane where Rick Napier had just been. Teeth snapped against the huge metal appendage, but the shark did not ease off on the bite pressure. Still biting down, it hung by the crane. It waved its tail and shook its body. Sparks flickered from the gears, and the mechanisms groaned. The footing whined heavily. Screws popped from their places, each one resonating like gunshots.

  Forster rushed out on deck just as the crane broke free. The wire snapped from the generator, whipping past her face as it followed the shark into the ocean. She reactively put a hand over her cheek, surprised by how narrowly it missed her. Rick pulled himself to his feet and stepped to the forward bow. Off in the distance, the two fins slowly crossed paths. Everyone joined him, sharing the shock of the moment.

  “Am I stating the obvious by pointing out that there’s two of them?” Nelson said. The boat rocked hard again, following the sound of a heavy metallic thud. Everyone grabbed anything they could to keep on their feet. Forster and Rick both moved to the starboard side. There it was, another dorsal fin emerging after passing underneath the Neptune. He briefly looked to the bow, where the two other sharks were still beginning their circular path.

  “Apparently not,” Rick answered. The three sharks circled the boat. He felt the optimism he had fade away. It was as if the hybrids were deliberately taunting them.

  CHAPTER

  35

  “I need you to send out an alert. Tell every boat to come in. And close the beaches! Nobody is to be out on the water.” Nelson’s voice shook as he barked orders through the radio to Dispatch. He watched the three sharks circling the boat, each of them sizing them up. Each shark, after every pass, seemed to tighten the circle like a noose. “Dispatch, you copy?”

  “Ten-four.”

  “After that, make a call to the Coast Guard, National Guard, hell, the friggin Israeli Army if you have to. Tell them they’ll need explosives to kill these things.” He lowered his radio and waited for a response.

  “We’ll get on it,” the dispatcher said. He could detect the confusion in her voice. He clipped the radio back to his belt.

  “You better,” he said aloud. He turned toward Lisa, who was knelt by the duffle bag. She had just finished loading his rifle. Holding it by the barrel, she extended it to him. He accepted it and she started loading the other weapons. Forster and Rick stood on opposite sides of the deck, keeping track of the fins. “Can we make it to shore?” Nelson asked them.

  “Not with three of them on our tail,” Forster said. “We need a decoy.”

  “Unfortunately, we are the decoy,” Rick said.

  “Very inspiring,” Nelson said. “Guys, we can’t just sit here.”

  “No, we can’t,” Forster said. The quickening pace of the sharks added to the pressure. “Hold on to something!” She rushed into the wheelhouse. Lisa and Rick looked at one another, then quickly did so. Nelson stood at the bow, rifle pointed out as if he was in a trench in World War One. Two fins crossed again at the bow, while the third was passing behind the stern. Then, in unison, they all disappeared under the surface.

  “They went under!” Nelson said. Forster gunned the accelerator. As if kicked from behind, the Neptune raced forward in a sudden burst, lifting the bow up slightly. In nearly that same instant, one of the hybrids charged across, just missing the rear of the boat. Forster cut the wheel hard to port, swerving the large boat. It bounced in the sea like a car cruising on an uneven road.

  Just then, another hybrid came into view, charging in from the port bow for an angular attack. As the boat turned, it passed alongside it, grazing the hull with its shell. The engines groaned as the Neptune raced at top speed, beginning to aim toward the island.

  Then another red shape appeared dead ahead, between them and the distant shore. Forster couldn’t cut the wheel in time. The timing and angle was perfect. The shark’s nose crushed into the starboard bow, sending the front of the boat into a nosedive. The stern briefly rose above the water, propellers still racing in circular spins. Forster fell to her knees while everyone on deck clung for dear life. The boat leveled out and rocked forward and back. The hybrid moved again to gain distance.

  A surging sound immediately worried the Chief. Nelson quickly peeked over the starboard side and looked down. The worst fear was realized. The hull was breached beneath the waterline. His eyes met those of Rick and Lisa, and his troubled gaze answered their unspoken question.

  “Shit,” Rick said. The sharks commenced circling the boat again. Rick watched the fins passing by each other. There was something oddly patient about their behavior. “I think they’re waiting for us to sink,” he said out loud to himself.

  Red lights flashed along the controls, informing Forster of the breach. Even without them, she knew from seeing the body language from everyone on deck. She looked toward the island. Even without the sharks chasing them, the boat would sink before reaching the shore. And sinking here was certain death.

  She then looked toward the atoll. There was no time to think or plan. With each passing second leading them closer to certain doom, she followed her instinct. She pushed the throttle, and the boat raced forward again. She turned the wheel, facing the bow toward the field of rocks. The sharks still circled the boat, even as it moved, as if they were trying to keep their prey cornered. Water cracked against the crumpled front of the bow, allowing water to seep onto the deck. Nelson and Rick realized the boat was moving and looked forward to see where they were going. The boat had swerved away from the island and was racing toward the blockade of jagged rocks between them and the atoll. They looked at Forster questioningly.

  “Is this a good idea?” Nelson said, momentarily succumbing to his anxiety. Rick almost did the same, but hearing Nelson speak first put it in perspective.

  “No, but we don’t have a choice,” he said. “Either we smash against the rocks, or sink like the Titanic, take your pick.” Nelson quickly understood and regained his composure. Lisa stood at the starboard side, pointing a shotgun out into the water. Nelson handed Rick a rifle.

  “We’re gonna have to go to work,” he said. Rick accepted it. He was no Army Ranger, but he knew how to shoot. He took position a few feet from his wife, while Nelson centered himself at the port. Hair brushed in the quickening wind as the Neptune gained pace. Everyone kept their breathing under control as the rocks seemed to grow in size. Even Forster was surprised. Some of the rocks towered over the boat, and they hadn’t even entered the forest of natural obstructions.

  The sharks ceased to circle the boat and accelerated their pace to keep up with the Neptune. Two traveled along the right, and one on the left, each of them trailing behind, but gaining distance. For a few moments they moved parallel, as if simply tracking their prey. But they soon angled their positions toward the boat.

  Nelson squeezed off the first shot at the incoming shark. Lisa squeezed the trigger. Rick tensed from the deafening gunfire, being not as conditioned to it as the other two. Despite this, he placed the head of the nearest shark in his sights and squeezed the trigger. Tiny explosions of water sprayed where the projectiles cut through the surface, where they missed the target entirely or were stopped in place by the rigid shell.

 
; Forster took air in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. In thirty feet, they would be entering the field. Fifteen feet, five…the Neptune passed narrowly between two towering rock formations. The enormous sight and extremely close proximity caused everyone on deck to instinctively duck. Forster clenched her teeth, keeping the boat racing at full speed. They cleared the two rocks, only to have a huge round formation dead ahead. She cut the wheel, and the Neptune swung to the right. The hull scraped against the edge of the rock as they cruised past it.

  “Jeez all mighty!” Nelson exclaimed.

  The sharks pursued them into the rocks. Their organized formation broke, and they zigzagged around the formations, still trying to keep up with the vessel. They hooked around each rock they passed. After each dodge, the sharks would redirect their focus on the Neptune, only to adjust their trajectory again to avoid smashing into another formation.

  Forster didn’t bother looking for the sharks. Driving the boat took every ounce of focus. Another jagged formation was dead ahead. She turned the wheel to port. The bow turned, putting them on a collision course with another rock. She continued to turn until she was heading directly perpendicular to the path she wanted. She carefully maneuvered around the second rock, turning back to starboard, while grazing another, smaller formation. Metal screeched as they passed over an underwater rock, which rubbed viciously against the hull.

  One of the hybrids grazed another rock before straightening out its path. It was no longer just hungry, with an insatiable desire to kill, but it was now frustrated. Its resolve was fueled, and it raced forward with an enormous burst of speed, aiming straight toward the starboard quarter.

  The boat moved ever so slightly to the side, and the shark adjusted its charging approach as such. In doing so, it found itself smashing directly into a tower formation of rocks. A mixture of gravel and water burst into the air, accompanied by huge fragments of grey rocks. The hybrid sunk to the murky shallow, completely stunned by the crash. The other two hybrids continued their pursuit, leaving their comrade behind.

  Another of the hybrids attempted a run at the boat. A boulder lay in its path. Moving at a burst of forty miles per hour, the hybrid hooked to the left to avoid it. Doing so, it smashed straight into another rock. It spun like a log rolling downhill, disoriented from the unexpected impact.

  The murky, greenish-black mixture of soil that was the beach approached. Nelson’s eyes went big upon the realization they were moving at it at full speed.

  “Slow it down, Julie! Slow it down!” he said. Forster waited, until finally the slab of muck came into more definite view. She stopped the accelerator and allowed the forward momentum to do the rest of the work. The boat brushed against a small sandbank during its approach, causing the boat to hook slightly to the left, though it still moved toward the beach.

  The boat rocked upward as it beached along the shore. The stern, still in water, swung slightly to port before it settled, bringing the starboard side in view of the ocean. And with that view came the sight of the third approaching hybrid. On his knees, Rick was barely able to look over the edge of the boat. The shape of its shell was visible under the water, though clouded by the muck that had stirred up. Its approach slowed as its belly scraped against the bottom. It came to a brief stop, and its legs unfolded from under it. Its back lifted slightly above the waterline, including the top of its head. The black eyes seemed to look right at Napier, who stared the beast in the face.

  Nelson rushed beside him and pointed his rifle at the hybrid. Rick held his hand out to stop him.

  “It’s useless,” he said. “I have an idea. Hurry!” He pushed off the side and moved to the fuel barrels. Nelson kept his eye on the approaching beast as he joined him.

  “And that plan is?”

  “Help me move this!” Rick said. He wrapped his arms around the huge barrel. Nelson did the same, and with all their strength they scooted the heavy drum to the side. “Lisa, I need the chum bucket!” Lisa turned and searched for it, quickly locating it where the crane used to be. She brought it over to Rick. He snatched it from her hands, peeled off the lid, and dumped it all over the barrel. Bits of minced fish guts and oil splattered all over the container, raining down the sides like little brown waterfalls.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Nelson said.

  “Giving it something to taste!” Rick said, tossing the bucket away. “Dr. Forster, do we have a flare gun somewhere in there?”

  Forster immediately started sorting through the spilled supplies inside the wheelhouse, looking for a silver container that contained the flare gun.

  The hybrid was now up to the boat. Its legs, bent to the sides like insect appendages, straightened underneath it to give extra height. The front leg lifted and dug into the side of the boat, clinging to the ledge of an indentation formed by a ramming impact. Its weight tilted the boat to the side, causing everyone to gasp. Its head angled upward, and its jaws snapped.

  Rick unscrewed the top cap and stuffed his handkerchief into the opening to prevent an overflow. He knelt down and grabbed the barrel by the bottom. The Chief did the same. They took turns leaning the drum in separate directions to get their fingers underneath, as their grips would slip off the now oily sides. Heavy metal pinched into their digits, causing teeth to clench and faces to tighten.

  “Lift!” Rick yelled in a pained voice. He and Nelson grimaced and their legs shook. Lisa joined in from the side, helping to lift the heavy fuel drum. Every muscle quivered as they lifted it over the gunwale. On the other side, the creature’s bottom jaw leaned against the boat as it secured another leg. Its mouth opened in preparation of dragging the boat down and devouring the occupants. The opportunity was now. They threw the barrel into the open jaws. The bottom slammed into the back of its throat, triggering a choking gag reflex. The hybrid lurched back. The substance was unfamiliar; it was solid and unliving, yet the taste of blood kept it from regurgitating it completely. It splashed back down and backed away, waving its head side to side to loosen the heavy object from its throat. Gasoline leaked through the soaked handkerchief, mixing into the surrounding water.

  Forster found the silver container and smashed the lock with a hammer from the tool box. She peeled it open and immediately snatched the gun and a fresh flare. She was already out the door when she loaded the device. Everyone stepped out of her way as she leaned over the side and pointed it toward the frothing water. The flare burst with the sound of a muffled drumbeat, and it smacked into the water inches in front of the creature’s head. The floating gas ignited, instantly spreading into the creature’s mouth. The hybrid felt the searing heat inside it, the last sensation it would ever feel. The handkerchief ignited into flame, triggering a chain reaction to the jam-packed fuel inside the drum. Heat and intense pressure skyrocketed at once. Everyone on deck ducked just as the drum exploded within its throat, bursting its entire head. Fragments of shell rained from the air, and the softer tissue connecting its joints ruptured from the internal pressure.

  Forster was the first to look again. The hybrid’s headless body had collapsed into the water. Fire blazed in the surrounding water and on some of the nearby rocks where burning gas had been flung from the blast. It was almost exact to her envisioned appearance of Hell.

  There was no time to catch their breath. The two other hybrids rapidly approached. They extended their legs to walk on the shallow bottom.

  “Oh shit,” Rick said. Nelson and Lisa looked as well.

  “Let’s get off the boat!” Nelson yelled. Everyone turned and hurried to the other side, ready to climb over. Forster stayed behind, watching the sharks.

  “Wait,” she said. One of the beasts snatched up the limp tail of its dead sibling in its jaws and started pulling it backward into the deeper water. The other joined in, and the two snapped at each other briefly for control of the meal. While making a show of force, the first one continued to tug back on the fresh meal, while the other bit on the ruptured shell to peel the exoskeleton away
. Within several seconds, they were submerged completely.

  CHAPTER

  36

  Wrapped in darkness, Rick’s hands fumbled against the wall until finally locating the light switch. He flicked the small toggle with his finger, and a small overhead light brought the cargo hold into view. It was a surprisingly small space for a boat of this model. It wasn’t even deep enough for Rick to stand up straight. His lower back ached as he hunched down. With the boat being relatively new, there wasn’t much in the cramped space. The hatch above flipped open, and Julie Forster started to climb down with him.

  Rick found the thin sheets of aluminum patches. They were in various sizes. He sorted through them to determine the proper fit for the breach. As he did, Forster grabbed some gas containers and checked the gauges. She located the welding torch. She knelt silently at it, looking worrisome.

  “You ever weld a patch?” she asked. Rick understood that it was a question, and simultaneously a confession that she didn’t know how.

  “I’ve never had to do it,” he said. “But I know how. It shouldn’t be as hard since I won’t be diving.” He looked at a sheet of metal. It was roughly three-by-four feet. “This’ll have to do.” Forster waited for him to move up the hatch before following. Once he was up, she passed up the torch and containers, then climbed up into the wheelhouse. Nelson was there at the helm, operating the boat’s radio.

  “Coast Guard, this is Pariso Marino Police Chief Joseph Nelson, come in please.” By the sound of his voice, it was another of many attempts. His other hand tapped impatiently at the console. No response came through. “I repeat: Mayday, mayday, we are stranded on the atoll located west of the island. We need immediate evac.” The only answer was silence.

  Rick and Forster carried the supplies on deck. Lisa sat up on top of the structure, cross-legged, serving as a look-out for the hybrids. Nelson followed them outside, snatching his police radio from his belt.