Jake held his breath, watching the two-pronged harpoon sizzle through the seawater separating them. It slammed into the giant reptile’s armored dorsal section, nearly burying itself.
“Bull’s-eye!” he cheered.
“Okay, here goes!” Amara said. She flipped the switch on their main generator.
Bellowing in frustration as enough electricity to light up the Empire State Building once again streamed through its body, the pliosaur snapped its jaws in every direction. Its fins and stubby tail flailed like the water was fire, and its forward momentum ceased. Paralyzed by the high powered amperage, it writhed in the current. Arcs of electricity spouted from every part of its body, dissipating into the surrounding seawater. Even its teeth spewed bright blue sparks.
“You’re doing it!” Jake cheered. His eyes gleamed from the pyrotechnics display.
The pliosaur’s movements became more and more spasmodic. Finally, it gave one last shudder and turned belly-up.
“Yes, but we can’t keep this up much longer!” Amara shouted. Her gaze fixed on a blinking gauge to her right.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to short out!”
A high-pitched warning claxon began to sound, its wail filling the cabin.
“Our circuits are overloading from the backlash!” Amara cried. “If I don’t shut down we’ll lose power, just like Karl did!”
Jake watched in abject silence as Amara reached for the cut-off lever. Next to her, a dangerous shower of sparks hissed out of a control panel.
“Shit!”
A second later, the lever was thrown, and the cable’s deadly voltage ceased.
“I’m sorry,” Amara said. “If I didn’t cut it we’d be done for.”
Jake shrugged. “Hey, at least the lights are still on.”
Fifty feet away, the pliosaur lay dead in the water, its eye half-closed, pupil fixed and dilated. For the briefest of moments they thought they’d done it. Then, one of its flippers twitched and its eye opened wide. It rolled right-side-up, its massive body displacing a wall of water as it started forward. It gazed furiously around.
“God, let’s get out of here,” Jake said.
“Good idea.” Before Amara touched the controls, Eurypterid II gave a violent lurch. Jake’s stomach heaved as they were hauled inexplicably forward. Their velocity increased, until soon they were careening helplessly along like a trolled marlin lure.
“What’s happening?” Amara peered anxiously at her readouts.
“We’re still attached!” Jake yelled. He cursed as he bit his tongue and removed his arms from the actuator ports. “The cable’s still connected and I can’t reach it with the actuators! You’ve got to release it!”
Amara scanned the maze of knobs, dials, and levers surrounding her. “I don’t know where the cut-off controls are. I don’t even know if there are any!”
The creature continued to build up speed. It was cruising purposefully, dragging them like an oversized dog on a leash.
“Hold on, I’m throwing us in reverse!” Amara cried out.
Pulling steadily back on Eurypterid II’s control lever, she exerted pressure on the high-tensile strength cable linking them. The sub’s impeller engines whined loudly from the pull, and its reinforced hull started vibrating from the buffeting of the pliosaur’s cavitations.
The creature continued to drag them inexorably downward. Below, the Cutlass loomed larger.
“I can’t break free!” Amara shouted over the din. Her teeth bared as she yanked the controls side to side. “He’s too powerful and the damn cable’s too strong!”
“Well, you better think of something,” Jake pointed at the blackness welling up beyond the Cutlass. “Because it looks like he’s going deep!”
Amara’s head snapped upright. “I’ve got an idea . . .”
“Good . . .” Jake said as they bounced violently up and down. “Because, this Nantucket sleigh ride is getting old!”
Jaw set, Amara floored it. She hit the switch releasing the winch cable’s anti-backlash brakes, allowing the ten thousand pound test line to burn off its spool. The insulated cable formed a billowing arc, increasing in diameter as it was dragged through the current.
Jake saw the Cutlass clearly. The creature was headed for a one-hundred-foot thick section of the spire. Her face a mask of utter concentration, Amara fought to keep pace with it. As the behemoth veered to port, she released more cable and threw the mini-sub hard to starboard.
“What are you doing?” Jake asked, as they and the pliosaur went around the mountain in alternating directions.
“Just trust me,” Amara said. Taking advantage of the cable’s huge arc, she spun Eurypterid II one hundred and eighty degrees around. With their backs to the chasm, she locked the cable down and waited. Like a garrote, it tightened around the Cutlass’s exterior, tearing along its craggy slopes and casting up clouds of sand and kelp. The moment it went completely taut, Amara slammed the engines into reverse and heaved back against the cable with everything Eurypterid II had.
Jake’s jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch!”
Immediately, the submersible began to buck from the pull, its sturdy frame groaning. On the opposing side of the Cutlass the pliosaur, bewildered by the unexpected loss of freedom, began paddling wildly.
“Hold on!” Amara screamed. She braced her feet and pulled with all of her might. The wail of straining engines filled the cabin, increasing in pitch as pressure was exerted on the line.
Jake swore vehemently. Like a blowtorch, the braided steel cable began gouging a groove through the seaweed-coated stone and coral. Eurypterid II listed to one side as it was pulled toward the Cutlass’s jagged exterior.
“It’s not going to work!” Jake bellowed over the complaining motors. “We’re being dragged into the rocks!”
“Have faith!” Amara yelled back. Her forehead beaded with sweat as she continued to pull on her controls. “The cable shouldn’t be able to . . .” Her sentence was cut short by what sounded like a gunshot. She slammed painfully against her restraining belts and groaned. Shaking her head to clear it, she fumbled to regain control of the spiraling ship.
Momentarily dazed, Jake glimpsed a burst of bubbles, followed by a flash of silver that sliced like a giant whip past the observation window. A split-second later, something smacked loudly against the hull.
“What the hell was that?” he blurted out.
“I’m not sure. It might be the cable.” Amara looked over the interior, checked some gauges, then frowned. “I think it looped over us.”
“Is that bad?”
Her eyes traveled from one shimmering screen to the next. “Not unless it gets in the way of our intake valves,” she noted. “I don’t see any obstructions on the readings or on our hull cameras, so I think we’re good. We’re lucky it didn’t strike the observation bubble.”
“Why, would it have broken?”
“It’s Lexan, so I doubt it. But, then again . . . I’d hate to find out I was wrong.”
“I’m glad we didn’t.” Jake breathed a sigh of relief. He reinserted his arms into the actuator’s ports and resumed standing guard. Far to port, he spotted a school of Dorado flashing emerald, gold and sapphire as they fled. “Any sign of old faithful?”
“Nothing on sonar . . .” Amara powered them forward. Behind them, the Cutlass’s daunting form faded from view. “By the way, you were right. We’re directly over Ophion’s Deep.”
“I guess that gives our scaly pal plenty of places to hide, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
Jake peered into the abyss’s blackened maw. He felt an uncomfortable tingle in the pit of his stomach – a prelude to nausea – and yanked his head back. He shuddered. The currents rocketing up from Ophion’s Deep sent particles of plant matter and detritus soaring high into the thermocline, causing the mini-sub to pitch back and forth, and creating the optical illusion one was plummeting powerlessly into its depths.
“Yikes. So,
how deep does this thing actually go?”
“Readings are seven thousand feet and plunging.” Amara peeked at her sonar. “That’s strange. The pliosaur’s vanished. Hard to believe, given its size. I don’t know whether to be worried or relieved.”
“I prefer the latter.” Jake studied the surrounding sea and saw nothing. “You still have the proximity alarm on?”
“Of course. But it only works on objects within 150 yards.”
“So what do you want to do?” Jake twisted in his chair.
Amara scowled. “We’re weaponless and our sonar is damaged . . . I say we head for home.”
“And the pliosaur?”
“Still needs to be dealt with – but we’re not going to be the ones to do it. We’d need a lot more firepower.”
Although the thought of the creature escaping vexed him, Jake realized Amara was right. Short of throwing away their lives, they’d done everything they could. He exhaled and nodded. “You’re the expert, doc. I guess it’s time to get out of Dodge.”
“It’s time to alert the military.”
Amara confirmed their location on Eurypterid II’s GPS and punched in a few coordinates. She realized the mini-sub was equipped with an autopilot feature, but opted not to activate it. Despite her fatigue, she preferred to grip the controls as they cruised for home, her weary eyes reflexively scanning sonar.
She tried to relax. She was bruised and battered and fantasizing about Ibuprofen, but happy to be alive. She gave Jake a surreptitious glance. He was rigidly erect and poised like an armed Phalanx antimissile battery, jaw set and arms ready to bring Eurypterid II’s graspers into action. She smiled. The broad-shouldered lawman reminded her of a big guard dog, fiercely loyal and dependable. Even so, with all the bloodshed over the last twenty-four hours, it was a miracle either of them survived. She studied the rugged lines of Jake’s face and nodded approvingly. He was like Omega Baby – a true alpha. Her eyes lit up and she found herself wondering if the future might be brighter than she thought.
Suddenly, her mind wandered to Willie, and she found herself fighting back tears. She controlled her breathing, forced herself to relax, and kept from falling apart by focusing on the fact that his murderer had already been punished. And that she and Jake would be back shortly to tell the tale.
She thought of being on dry land, away from all the horror, and closed her eyes. She envisioned herself getting home, taking a luxuriously hot bubble bath, and climbing into bed. She was going to turn off her phone, hide beneath the covers, and sleep for a week.
Before she realized it was happening, she nodded off.
A moment later, she realized the alarm clock rousing her out of bed was Eurypterid II’s proximal sensor.
“Where is it?” Jake pressed as he scanned the area. The sound of the submersible’s proximity alarm had his blood pressure and adrenaline levels pulsing off the charts. “Do you have it on the scope?”
“No,” Amara said. She blinked repeatedly, her aquamarine eyes glued to the sonar unit’s screen. “He must be somewhere above us. Keep an eye out.”
“Geez, I hate this shit,” Jake grumbled. He kept his arms tight inside the actuator ports as he gazed toward the surface. “And, as if we didn’t have enough to worry about, it’s going to be dark soon.”
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .
“He’s got to be close!” Amara abandoned her useless sonar screen and scanned her side and rear wall monitors. “I’m going to reverse and head for the surface!”
“You’re the pilot.” Jake leaned forward, craning his neck to one side so he could glance straight up. His gasp of alarm filled the cockpit.
BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep . . .
“Holy shit, he’s right on top of us!”
On pure instinct, Amara hauled back and threw Eurypterid II into reverse. She barely got their nose up before the pliosaur smashed into them with all its power.
“Mother of God!” The impact was heart-stopping, and Jake’s biceps bulged like softballs as he fought the controls. Miraculously, he’d caught the pliosaur’s mouth just as it closed. With its upper lip and jaw locked in his right pincer assembly and its lower jaw in his left, he battled to keep the behemoth from crunching down on the mini-sub’s vulnerable prow.
Amara screamed in horror. “Don’t let go! If he bites into the cockpit, he’ll kill us both!”
Jake cursed and held on for dear life. His arms shook from the strain, and the submersible’s actuator motors shrieked from being pitted against a crushing force exceeding fifty tons per square inch. His ears popped from the increase in pressure as the creature pushed down on them, plunging Eurypterid II deeper into Ophion’s Deep. Outside his six-foot portal, all Jake could see was a wall of razor-sharp teeth, each as big as one of Amara’s calves, and beyond them, the beckoning darkness of the pliosaur’s gullet.
The darkness . . .
As the wave of nausea swept over him, Jake realized with surprising detachment that it was days since his last episode. Then, his breathing turned harsh and ragged and he felt himself slipping away. He tried to fight, but the cold queasiness quickly overpowered him, sweeping him away to a dark and distant place.
He was losing the battle. He saw Samantha’s face staring back at him from the encroaching void. Strangely, she wasn’t smiling and gesturing for him like she usually did. She was fearful, frantic. Then, fatigue hauled back and hit him hard, right between the eyes. His breath grew shallow and he slumped forward in his chair. His arms started to go limp. Behind him, Amara screamed in his ear.
There was a shudder as Eurypterid II’s steel actuators began to power down.
“Jake, snap out of it!” Amara shrieked at him. “What’s wrong with you?” Her eyes focused on opposing sets of sixteen-inch fangs drawing steadily closer. In moments they would contact the mini-sub’s fragile viewing portal. A loud, metallic groan caused the distraught scientist to check her depth gauge. She gasped. They were three thousand feet down. If one of the pliosaur’s teeth even partially penetrated their Lexan shield, Eurypterid II would implode instantaneously, pulverizing them.
Jake was dimly aware of Amara wrestling with her harness and climbing towards him. He sensed his body being shaken, and from the recesses of the collapsing house of cards that was his mind, heard her panicked cries. At first, he thought it was Sam. Still, the voice was hauntingly familiar.
His tightly closed eyes waged war against the screaming demons. The voice in his head grew louder. Despite the din, he realized he recognized it. It was someone he knew. Someone he . . .
Roaring like a lion, Jake raged back against the enveloping darkness. He could hear the voice clearly now, as it pleaded with him. He focused on it, using it like a beacon to guide him toward the light. His chest heaved and he sucked in a huge breath, opening his eyes just as the pliosaur’s needle-sharp teeth moved within six inches of finishing them once and for all.
Jake’s eyes turned to talons, and his lips peeled back from his own canines. A rage welled up within him as he plunged his arms fully inside the actuator ports, pressing back against the creature’s jaws with the strength of a madman. With Amara hanging from the back of his chair in astonishment, he uttered a bellow that rivaled the pliosaur’s and hurled himself against its rows of teeth. His joints cracked and his muscles began to tear, but he stopped the jaws from closing. Then, with the creature’s frustrated rumblings shaking Eurypterid II to its core, Jake did the impossible: He forced its mouth back open.
“Oh . . . no . . . you . . . don’t!” he spat. He felt a sense of awe as he realized he was holding two lives in the palm of his hand. “Doc, are you okay?” he shouted over his shoulder.
“I was just asking you that!” Amara gasped. She lowered herself back into her chair and fumbled with her harness. “What the hell just happened?”
“Something wonderful, I think.” Jake smiled grimly. He gave a violent headshake to keep the sweat from his eyes. “We’ll talk about it later!”
“Oh God, J
ake – we’re in big trouble!”
“Tell me about it!” he growled. Breathing hard, he leaned back into his David vs. Goliath stalemate against the creature.
“No, you don’t understand!” Amara shuddered. “We’re about to die!”
A throaty grumble of frustration escaped the pliosaur’s disfigured mouth as it forced its enemy further down into the abyss. Still raging from the injuries it suffered from its previous battle, the marine reptile vented its fury upon the big yellow crustacean whose pincers were fastened onto it.
Like an underwater drill, the Kronosaurus bored its way relentlessly deeper. With the water it was pushing against leaving it unable to bring its jaws’ full power to bear, it was opting for an alternate means to destroy its ammonite-like adversary. The incredible water pressure waiting thousands of feet down would squash its hard-shelled opponent beyond recognition.
Ophion beckoned.
With its lacerated jaws locked in place, the wrathful monstrosity continued its relentless descent, its damaged flippers powering ever deeper into the ice-cold blackness of the void.
Only death would stop it.
“What do you mean? Die from what?” Jake yelled.
Amara watched as the embattled lawman shook his head in exasperation, unable to look away from his protracted struggle.
“He’s taking us too deep!” she shouted back. Her knuckles were white as she struggled in vain with Eurypterid II’s steering controls. “Our engines are barely slowing him down”
“I don’t understand!”
“Karl said this sub has a crush depth of five thousand feet, remember?” Her teeth clenched, Amara shifted her joystick back and forth in an attempt to dislodge their gargantuan opponent. From outside she heard a deep, coughing sound – almost a chuckle – as if the pliosaur was mocking her puny efforts. “We’re approaching that now. If we don’t get away soon we’ll implode from the pressure, whether he gets us or not!”
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 58
