Jake glowered at him. “Obviously, you weren’t here earlier when the medics wheeled one of its victims out of here. Or rather, half of him.”
“That was a boating accident.”
“Manny, you can spin this any way you want. We have definitive proof this creature exists. The problem is not convincing a posturing skeptic like you, it’s how we’re going to deal with it.”
“Definitive proof, eh? Well, I hope it’s more convincing than that tooth you’ve got sitting there.”
Jake reached into his shirt pocket, extracting the DVD Adam Spencer made for him, and held it up.
“This disc contains footage of the animal in question. It was filmed a few days ago, after the creature attacked a large sperm whale. The whale’s carcass and the damage to it were documented by the scientists of the Harbinger.” Jake turned a deaf ear to the reporter’s next comment and continued. “After this news conference, my office will be emailing the footage to the national networks, at which time your collective doubts should all be erased. If they’re not, however . . . you two gentlemen are welcome to come back this evening and do some snorkeling in our quaint little marina.” Jake smiled humorlessly at them and pointed at a distant section of the docks. “I’ll arrange for you to use the exact same spot where this ‘dinosaur’ of ours made a meal out of the husband and wife that owned that bloodstained sailboat over there. Sound good?”
Before either reporter could respond to his “invitation,” they were all distracted by the sound of screaming.
Moving to the edge of the stage, Jake shielded his eyes with the back of one hand and sought to pinpoint the source. His eyes picked up the panicky movements of a dark-haired teenager wearing brightly colored swim trunks. He was running full out across the sand and heading right for the press corps. Plunging into the crowd with no regard for personal safety, the teen bolted toward the stage. He made straight for the podium, hysterically crying all the while.
Jake wasted no time and sprang off the stage. His foot became entangled in the microphone cord and he pitched forward. He landed hard, dispersing the reporters closest to him. Regaining his footing, he charged through the crowd, intercepting the gasping fifteen-year-old at the halfway point.
“Whoa, hold on now, kiddo! What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Jake dropped to one knee, holding the frightened teen by the shoulders in an effort to reassure him and keep him from collapsing.
“M-my . . . sister . . . she . . .”
The boy was struggling to stand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“What about your sister?” Jake pressed, looking anxiously in every direction. A growing series of cries drew his gaze away from the terrified youngster, up towards the nearby beach. Paradise Cove’s private beach was a picturesque swathe of white sand that formed a secluded swimming and tanning area. Typically crammed with beachcombers and sunbathers, it was nestled between the marina’s maze of boat docks and the vintage concrete pier.
Jake released his grip on the youth and rose to his full height. He espied a flurry of movement near the water’s edge. Groups of people were rushing toward the surf and pointing at something.
“A shark . . . a shark got my sister!”
Jake stared at the distraught boy, blinking rapidly. He craned his neck and peered over the nearest group of reporters, staring past the rumbling waves, out toward the froth-coated waters of Paradise Cove.
Less than a hundred feet from shore, in water thirty feet deep, was a girl not much older than the near-faint adolescent at his feet. She was open-mouthed and terror-stricken, flailing away with hands and feet in a desperate attempt to stay afloat.
Jake focused hard and his blood ran cold.
The water all around her was a bright crimson.
With a quick yell to Amara, he barreled through the crowd. Bowling over anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in his path, he stripped off his uniform shirt, boots, and gun belt and hobbled toward the shoreline. Like spawning lemmings, the reporters followed him.
Oblivious to all the flashbulbs, Jake sprinted to the water’s edge and dove in. Powering his way through the stinging surf, he swam with a speed that would have made Samantha proud. Yard by yard, he closed the distance, his teeth clenched, his energy focused on fighting the tide. He could hear the girl’s screams even underwater, and willed himself to swim faster. With the powerful undertow, he had only moments to reach her. Once she went under, she’d be lost.
Jake raised his head, gauging the distance between them. Only forty feet to go. He sucked in a breath and dove beneath an incoming swell. His confidence began to grow. In a few seconds he’d have her.
Then he saw the shark.
Jake’s cry of astonishment cost him his air. He made a desperate lunge for the surface, spitting seawater and rubbing his palms against his eyes. It was the biggest fish he ever saw – the size of Dean Harcourt’s stretch limo. Its dark grey dorsal fin measured over three feet in height and sliced through the water like an enormous scythe. Supremely confident in its power, the great white circled slowly, its lifeless black eyes locked onto its prey. Jake took a deep breath. Ignoring his searing lungs and the prowling shark, he made a break for the girl.
He’d watched numerous documentaries on white sharks over the years. Predictably, the girl’s attacker had used the chomp-and-spit attack they usually relied upon when hunting sea lions. After inflicting a single, devastating bite, they circled nearby, waiting for their victim to expire from hemorrhage and shock.
Jake also knew that when a Carcharodon carcharias erroneously attacked a human being, it typically ignored people attempting a rescue. That was why so many shark attack victims survived their ordeals.
As he reached the stricken teen, Jake passed directly over the swirling vortex created by the shark. The traumatized girl was too weak to struggle and collapsed into his arms. She was pale and had suffered a horrific bite to her right hip. All of the skin and much of the surrounding muscle was stripped away, with blood seeping from a dozen gaping puncture wounds that traveled all the way to the bone.
Jake turned sideways and cradled the girl with one arm. Summoning all of his remaining strength, he made for the nearby dock. He hesitated, his breaths becoming shallow and rapid.
The great white was in his way.
Creeping silently closer, the predator prepared to strike. It had successfully stalked its distracted prey while it remained at the surface. Now only fifty yards away, it spread its jaws and began to accelerate. In seconds, the distance between them would be nothing. The prey was small and weak. Despite the presence of other life forms, it could not escape.
It increased velocity to close the distance and attacked.
They were facing the worst possible death; Jake could feel it in his bones. The shark wasn’t behaving at all like the great whites he’d seen on cable. It was tenacious, relentless, and it simply would not give up its victim.
At first, Jake thought the giant fish was playing the waiting game, circling patiently as he struggled toward the dock. He soon realized its movements were deliberately and systematically cutting off their only escape route. It was consciously stalking the wounded child – and now him.
Its first approach was an exploratory one, with the fish deliberately brushing Jake with one of its huge pectoral fins. Like a giant rasp, the saw-toothed skin covering its flipper ripped a jagged gash across his ribs. He grunted a curse. With saltwater eating into it, the cut was painful and bled profusely. Worse, the impact pushed them twenty feet further from the dock, leaving them bobbing helplessly.
The ghostly apparition continued to circle, moving closer and closer. He could see its huge, gray head, just beneath the surface. With its jaws opening and closing, the shark seemed completely unfishlike. It reminded him more of a hungry Rottweiler, its tooth-lined mouth awash in anticipation.
Suddenly, the shark pulled a hard one-eighty and raced toward them. It accelerated, its submerged maw gaping wide, its dorsal fin and tail sawing through the
surface. It was less than a hundred feet away and closing fast.
Jake’s heart stopped.
Its mouth was big enough to take them both.
Furious at having left his gun belt on the beach, he looked for anything he could use to fend off the shark. There was nothing.
The nearest accessible dock was still twenty-five feet away and jammed with reporters, none of whom budged. Their lenses were all focused on the life and death spectacle.
“Hold on, chief. I’m coming!”
Jake’s jaw dropped so low he nearly choked on saltwater. Chris Meyers was charging in to save them. With a determined gleam in his eye and a float ring worn bandoleer-style, the teen forced his way through the crowd. Jake spat out a nasty mouthful of brine and grinned at the irony.
Of all the people watching, only my off-duty, chronically irresponsible deputy has the balls to help.
If Jake wasn’t fighting for his life he would have laughed.
“Out of the way, you guys!” Chris yelled. Moving at a full clip, he reached the end of the dock and crouched down to dive. As he sprang frontward, his sneaker caught on the strap of a reporter’s camera bag and he tripped. He staggered forward, his eyes widening with horror. There was an appalling thump as his temple struck a bordering piling and he collapsed, tumbling forward headfirst into the water.
A groan escaped Jake’s lips as he watched Chris sink like a stone. A moment later, the donut-shaped life preserver did its job and his inert form came bobbing to the surface. Eyes closed and arms hanging limply, he lay there, shifting with the waves with blood trickling from the side of his head.
Jake shook his head and uttered a sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Chris float by. He was relieved to see he was still breathing – which might be more than he could say for himself in a few minutes.
Realizing that the end was upon him, Jake gazed once more at the dock. His eyebrows crimped down over his eyes. He noticed Albert Mulling, a former marine-turned fisherman he knew for years. Petrified with fear, the bearded charter captain stood like so many others: staring wide-eyed and clinging to an exposed piling.
Jake yelled hoarsely, “Albert, when it comes for me, you dive in and get the girl! Then get Chris. Do it, and don’t screw up!”
Despite the shivering panic that overwhelmed him, Albert swallowed hard and nodded.
Jake turned to face his demise. He started treading water with his feet only. Grasping the unconscious girl by the shoulders, he held her close. His plan was simple. At the last possible moment, he would toss her as far from himself as possible, aiming for the dock. If successful, he would deprive the shark of at least one of its victims.
He felt around hurriedly, retrieving the heavy pocketknife nestled in his pants pocket. He made himself a promise; however horrific his own death might be, he would make sure the fish paid a dear price for its meal.
The shark was almost on top of them. Swirling helplessly in its wake, Chris bobbed past its dorsal fin like a rubber ducky. It ignored his limp form, focusing entirely on the bleeding teen. Its yard-wide mouth broke the surface of the water. Jake exhaled heavily as he saw its jaws. For him, there would be no escaping its power. Clenching the knife in his teeth, he kicked hard and hoisted the girl out of the water, preparing to throw her clear. His eyes narrowed into navy-colored slits. It was twenty feet away . . . then ten. Jake took a deep breath and hauled back, but before he could execute his throw, the shark stopped dead in its tracks.
With its guillotine jaws an arm’s length away, the great white abruptly ceased moving. Its eerie black eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, a strand of seaweed sliding down its sandpaper-coated snout. It looked like it ran into an invisible wall.
His own eyes bulging in disbelief, Jake clutched the wounded adolescent protectively before him. He lowered her gently into the water, staring confused at the giant shark. It remained where it was, its head thrashing back and forth. For a moment, he thought it was playing possum – studying its food before striking. Then the shark twitched spasmodically, its mighty jaws opening and closing like a giant bear trap. It raised the darker, dorsal portion of its fore end above the surface of the water, its teeth gnashing together repeatedly.
As Jake watched, the white continued its bizarre elevation. Soon, its pale belly and pectoral fins were fully visible, its entire upper third rising above the swells. The waters of the marina began to convulse.
Mystified by the shark’s gravity-defying behavior, Jake recoiled suddenly. The water pressure around him had changed, and a huge, submerged shadow began to grow beneath the great white. He gave a throaty gasp, realizing with dreadful certainty that something had stopped the shark.
Something bigger . . . much bigger.
A collective gasp of astonishment swept over the marina. Like a cobalt blue mountaintop, the pliosaur broke the surface, the great white pinioned within its vice-like jaws. Jake desperately sidestroked away as it rose up. Seawater ran in rivers down its muzzle as it hoisted its prey out of the water and held it suspended in the air.
Jake glanced back and mouthed a curse. Unconscious, Chris was drifting right to the creature. Blissfully bobbing up and down, he was completely oblivious that he was floating next to the father of all man-eaters. In fact, the kid wore a ridiculously sublime expression – one more fitted to a resting infant. Grinning, he gave a half-spin as he curtsied past the pliosaur’s giant fangs, even brushing up against its thick-scaled skin.
A deep, vibrating rumble echoed from the creature. Increasing in volume, its roar boomed like a thunderhead, drowning out the cries of those who watched, mesmerized. Reveling in its kill, it heaved the quivering shark high into the air. The blackish centers of its blood-red eyes glanced downward, dispassionately surveying the terrorized life forms below.
The pliosaur let out an indescribable hiss, then whipped its crocodile-shaped head down in a sweeping arc, slamming the great white against the surface of the water. Duplicating and reduplicating its attack, it savagely shook the paralyzed shark, smashing it with indescribable power. The impacts sent waves taller than a man surging up and over the docks, washing people and coolers into the water, and sending several nearby boats careening noisily into each other.
Jake spotted Chris, still comatose, traveling past the beast and toward the dock, moving three feet at a time with each wave created by the pliosaur’s assault. Turning toward shore, the sheriff cradled the unconscious girl against his chest and paddled as fast as he could. He looked back, his disbelieving eyes fixated on the impossible.
The pliosaur, satisfied that the shark’s back was broken, set about swallowing its dying prey. The horrified crowd looked on as the world’s largest known carnivorous fish disappeared down the prehistoric predator’s throat. It was a laborious process, but soon, only the shark’s six-foot crescent-shaped tail remained. Then, after a colossal gulp, even that was gone.
The creature emitted a rumble of satisfaction. Like an engorged python, it lowered its head onto the water and began to float contently, its huge body drifting steadily toward shore, moved along by the incoming swells.
A short while later, bright flashes of light assailed its vision. Grumbling irritably, the pliosaur closed its eyes and sank beneath the surface, seeking to escape the painful onslaught of flashbulbs. It sensed the shifting of the tide and twisted its armored body, its belly scraping the bottom, ripping up the surrounding coral reefs as it began to force its way toward the deep.
Eager for the freedom of the open sea, the creature increased its speed, its monstrous body displacing hundreds of tons of seawater. Suddenly, it stopped, its deep-set eyes blinking repeatedly. Distracted by a full belly, it had unwittingly drifted into the very heart of the marina. It was trapped within a maze of wood pilings sprouting up from the seafloor, a bristling forest of submerged timber. The imprisoned reptile uttered a water-muffled roar of defiance and lashed out. Jaws spread, it launched itself against the support columns, smashing into them with unbelievable force. A
bove it, scores of terrified journalists screamed and fled for their lives.
So powerful was the predator’s initial charge, that the central regions of the aged docks tore loose from their foundations, the thick columns splintering from the force of its blows. Roaring repeatedly, the pliosaur continued to fling itself to and fro, forcing its gigantic body through the unnatural barrier. Unable to withstand its furious bid for freedom, the docks collapsed in on themselves. Accompanying them were a dozen astonished reporters who stood their ground, brazenly snapping pictures even as they were drawn into the violent waters.
Back on shore, Jake Braddock staggered from the surf, the unconscious girl cradled in his arms. His breath came in harsh gasps as he stumbled across the debris-strewn sand. He looked around, spotting Chris Meyers being carried from the docks by Albert Mulling and a second man.
“Doc, call an ambulance, on the double!” He bellowed at Amara as he lowered the girl onto a beach towel.
Ignoring the stream of blood that seeped from his own side, Jake watched Amara struggling through the crowd, trying to keep her balance as she made the call. Half the town was gathered near the water’s edge, their eyes focused on the prehistoric monster cruising just outside their shattered marina.
“Here, put pressure on these spots and hold tight!” He barked at a pair of local kids. He looked up, just in time to watch the pliosaur vanish from view. “Make sure you keep her wounds closed, or she’ll bleed to death.”
He glanced over at the bystanders gathered around Chris. Albert was bent over his limp form, his weathered face clouded with concern. Jake jogged over and checked his deputy’s pulse and breathing. There was a nasty gash on the kid’s temple. He needed medical attention.
Chris gave a painful moan and slowly opened his eyes. “J-Jake?”
Jake leaned close to him, resting his palm on the kid’s chest to keep him from moving or trying to rise. “Take it easy. You took a hard knock, but you’ll be okay.”
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 33
