“So do something!”
Amara snapped hysterically. “DO WHAT?”
“What about that . . . stinger thing Karl was talking about?” Jake was panting now. “He said it was a . . . weapon of last resort. Well, I’d say we’re . . . down to our last resort!”
“Shit, you can say that again!”
Filled with an influx of hope, Amara fumbled with her right armrest. She found a small lever on one side and pulled it. There was a low hissing sound, and the smell of compressed air permeated the cockpit. The armrest’s padded section flipped open, revealing a small console housing a series of switches and a steel lever similar to her steering controls, only smaller. It was ergonomic in design and had a button-styled trigger on its front, like the joystick for an old-fashioned video game.
“Let’s see if I can make this work,” she said, her eyes calculating as she tapped one button after another.
“Hurry up!” Jake bellowed. He grunted in pain as the pliosaur attempted another downward lunge. His arms were forced brutally back, the groaning actuators barely absorbing its power.
“Okay, I’ve got it,” Amara said. With a low hum, a foot-wide monitor screen descended from the cockpit roof, positioning itself directly above her. There were glowing crosshairs on it, linked to an external lens centered directly above their prow. She could see every detail of the pliosaur’s battle-lined skull, illuminated by the mini-sub’s powerful searchlights. Its remaining eye blinked, narrowing malevolently as it continued its death struggle with the hydraulic-powered pincers holding it at bay. Amara took hold of the stinger’s control lever, wrapping her fingers gingerly around its cold surface and pushing lightly to see what would happen.
It didn’t budge.
Frowning, she pushed again, only harder this time. The lever moved a smidgen, then stopped. A loud warning sound emanated from her overhead screen, and a bright red text box replaced the system’s targeting crosshairs.
DANGER - OBSTRUCTION - SYSTEM OFFLINE.
“What the hell?” Amara checked the controls and pushed hard.
“Oh, shit!” Jake sputtered. His cry of alarm yanked her attention back to the submersible’s embattled bow. “Doc, look!”
The observation bubble was cracking.
With a sound like splintering ice, the first spider web fracture formed along its reinforced edge.
Amara managed a horrified gasp. She wanted to scream, but speech failed her. Outside, the pliosaur pressed its assault, its mandible muscles bunching like iron cords, straining the big steel manipulators to their absolute maximum. It could sense victory within its reach.
“How . . . deep are we?” Jake rasped. He was near exhaustion, his voice hoarse from grappling with the tenacious reptile.
“We’re passing forty nine hundred feet!”
“If you’re going to . . . do something, you’d better . . . do it now!” Jake roared as cracks in the thick Lexan increased in both size and number. “Because I . . . really don’t want to . . . die down here!”
Amara pushed the lever again and got the same error message. She glanced at her portside camera monitor. There was a blurry object running across the screen, obscuring visibility. It was too close for the lens to focus on – something resting against their hull or wrapped around it . . .
The cable.
“God damn it!” Amara’s adrenaline-fueled eyes flew open wide. She realized to her disgust that her impromptu means of breaking free from the mini-sub’s line had also disabled their last line of defense. She’d bucked the odds, just like she always did. Only this time, her miscalculation was going to get them killed.
As their current predicament piled atop all the other horrors she’d endured, Amara Takagi’s thought processes teetered on the brink of insanity. Over the last forty-eight hours she’d lost her crew, her ship, and had her livelihood taken from her. She’d been bullied, threatened, pushed around, beaten, and nearly murdered. She’d seen her best friend shot, and had him bleed out in her arms. And after all of that, the thing she’d been trying to save was about to annihilate her and Jake.
She could take no more.
Amara heaved against her restraining belts, fumbling with the release mechanism until she fought her way free. Teeth clenched, she lunged for the stinger’s firing mechanism with both hands and yanked it to and fro with all her strength. Eight feet away, Eurypterid II’s window neared its breaking point, the sounds of its splintering layers matched by Jake’s screams of rage and frustration.
“You slavering son of a bitch!” Amara slammed the frozen lever back and forth in a manic frenzy. “I am sick of this shit! Sick of being hunted, sick of being afraid, and sick of watching you eat people!”
The control lever came free, lurching backwards so suddenly the impact sprained her wrist. Dismissing the pain, she focused on her overhead screen. There was a loud pinging sound, and the glowing crosshairs reappeared. Accompanying them was an emblazoned box with yellow lettering that flashed across the bottom.
SYSTEM ARMED. SYSTEM ARMED. SYSTEM ARMED.
She grasped the firing mechanism and pushed it slowly forward. She heard an immediate thump, and the ceiling overhead vibrated as the stinger arm and its howitzer-sized shell curved up and out of the sub’s dorsal section. Prepped and activated, it remained poised and waiting.
Amara was breathing so rapidly she nearly passed out. She maneuvered the joystick until the brightly colored sights were centered between the pliosaur’s eyes. She took a deep breath and held it as she eased her finger onto the knurled trigger. As its tiny metal teeth bit into her skin, a thought flashed through her adrenaline-charged mind. She realized that, despite Jake’s cries of fury, and the pliosaur’s deep-throated rumblings, the loudest sound she could hear was her own red-hot blood, pulsating in her ears like a giant bass drum.
“Eat this, fucker!”
Arcing overhead like the scorpion’s tail that inspired it, Eurypterid II’s stinger lanced forward, its explosive tip slamming into the pliosaur’s head and detonating.
To Amara’s credit, she didn’t collapse until after the explosion.
She was alive.
She almost wished she wasn’t. The softly coaxing sound of Jake’s voice felt like ice picks buried in her ears. Amara mouthed a curse and opened her eyes. She looked up at him and tried to ask what happened, but all she heard were croaking sounds. Her voice was gravel from all the screaming, and her headache increased exponentially when she tried to sit up.
“You did it.” Jake nodded, somehow understanding her. He wore a proud look as he dabbed a moistened towelette to her bruised forehead and eye. “You hit your head pretty hard. You should rest for a while.”
Amara nibbled her lip, embarrassed by him tending to her with those oversized paws of his. Her pride kept needling her to wave him off, but she didn’t. She took a slow breath. “No . . . I’m fine. So . . . where are we?”
“Cruising toward the surface.” Jake indicated the depth gauge to his left, then pointed out the dim lighting now visible through what remained of their viewing portal. “I don’t know jack about driving this thing, and I didn’t want to go fast in case that window wasn’t going to hold. I just pointed us up and left her slow and steady.”
Amara tapped her lips with a fingertip and nodded. They’d been lucky. Jake’s concern about Eurypterid II’s compromised portal not only got them out of the danger zone, it also saved them from a serious case of decompression sickness. She placed one hand on the floor and tried to put some weight on it. God, I hurt in places I didn’t know I had.
Jake offered her a hand.
“Thanks.” Drawing on his strength, Amara made it unsteadily to her feet. She paused a moment to get her bearings, then eased herself down into her pilot’s chair. She closed her eyes and pressed the back of one hand to her aching forehead, hoping the cockpit would stop spinning. “What happened to the pliosaur?”
“Dead as a doornail,” Jake said. His sapphire eyes were filled with admiration. “
I don’t know how you got that stinger thing working, but you blew the entire top of its head off. I watched it sink like the Bismarck.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He nodded solemnly. “It’s dead as Dillinger. Trust me.”
Amara shook her head. “Wow, thank God it’s finally over. What a day!”
“Yeah, I’ll say.” Favoring his injured ankle, Jake moved along Eurypterid II’s gently sloping floor and took his seat up front.
Amara groaned, leaning back and closing her eyes. “How’s our depth?”
“Less than four hundred.” Jake leaned back, interlacing his fingers behind his head as if he were watching a football game. “It’s a little after seven. With any luck, we’ll be home in time for supper.”
“Good, because I’m hungry enough to eat a pliosaur.” Amara chuckled despite her headache. Her gaze suddenly hardened, and she stared intently at the lawman. “By the way, what was that damn business down there with you freezing up on me? You suffer from chronic hypoglycemia or something?”
Jake sucked a breath and looked down, his hand rubbing at the two-day scruff on his chin. He sighed. “I don’t know if you’ve figured it out, but for several years now I’ve had a . . . burden I’ve carried around with me. Or used to, anyway.”
“Used to?” Amara didn’t bother hiding the doubt in her voice.
“Yeah.” Jake glanced upward, a strangely serene expression on his face. “Funny as it may sound, I think I left it down there in the abyss, along with our scaly friend.”
Amara nodded approvingly.
Jake smiled sadly. “Hey, loss comes with life. But, like you said before, you shouldn’t let it stop you from living.” He peered out their fractured window as the surface’s glow drew steadily nearer. In the distance, a large manta ray sped up to avoid them, its wings flapping as it veered off. “So, do you think this thing can get us home?”
“Sure.” Bracing her hip, Amara made her way to a flush-mounted keyboard. She logged onto the web, scanning her homepage. An email caught her eye, and she snickered. “The winds have died down and seas are calm. I think we’ll be okay.”
“What’s so funny?”
“Not funny . . . more like ironic.”
“Do share. I could use some irony right now.”
Amara hesitated. “Okay, but I hope you won’t get mad at me.”
“I promise.” Jake grinned.
“Well . . . I, uh, just got an email from the Department of the Interior, AKA the Endangered Species Act.”
“Go on . . .”
She cleared her throat. “It says . . . Dear Dr. Takagi: Your request for probationary admittance of the species you submitted has been approved, based on the materials and evidence provided. Pending further investigation, as of 0600 hours today, the species you awarded the scientific name Kronosaurus imperator has been granted official protection under the United States Endangered Species Act. Any harm to or harassment of said species, adult or juvenile, is henceforth a violation of federal law, and is punishable by up to five years in a federal penitentiary and a fine of up to two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Jake sniggered sarcastically. “Guess it’s good nobody saw us kill the damn thing.”
“Yeah,” Amara said. She closed her email and peered into space. “So, Jake . . . now that you’ve helped save the world, what will you do next?” She looked intently at him.
“Besides going to Disney?” Jake winked at her. “I’m thinking about getting back into competition.” He had an excited, almost predatory gleam in his eye, one Amara had never seen before. “I’m a little rusty, of course, but after a few months of training I think I might have a comeback or two left in me.”
“That’s wonderful!” she beamed. “I’m happy for you.” Without realizing it, she found herself looking him up and down.
Jake caught her stare. He hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing up. Then his expression changed and he rose and limped toward her.
“So tell me something, doc,” he said with a sheepish grin. “Has any of this excitement served to help you work up an . . . appetite?”
Amara felt her heart flutter. Omigod, I don’t believe it; he’s going to make a move! Recovering quickly, she tossed her hair back and incorporated her best southern belle accent. “Why, Sheriff Jake Braddock. Are you asking lil’ ol’ me out to dinner?”
“Oh, I guess you could say that.” Jake’s grin widened as he drew closer.
“Hey, whoa there, stud.” Amara tittered at his amorous expression, extending one hand to keep him at arm’s length. “Dinner will be fine. Dessert you’re going to have to work for.”
“But, didn’t I save your life twice already?” Jake unabashedly studied her curves, following her every move as he helped her reseat herself by holding her hips.
“You’re unbelievable, Jake Braddock. We both look like losers in a no-holds-barred cage fight and you’re thinking about sex?”
Jake stared dejectedly at the floor. “Well, it has been three years . . .”
“Oh, really . . .” Amara moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and exhaled slowly. “Gosh, that sounds like a long time.” She reached coyly down, guiding his calloused hands up and running them smoothly along her ribs. She winked, then lifted them up off her tattered blouse, depositing them perfectly on the waiting halves of her restraining harness. She studied his befuddled expression and smiled coquettishly. “The buckle has been giving me problems. Would you mind inserting it for me?”
Jake swallowed nervously and wiped his brow with the back of one hand. “Uh, sure. No problem, doc.”
Amara watched his crestfallen expression as he knelt and began fumbling with the heavy harness. His expression was so intense she had to fight to keep from cracking up. “Are you having a problem? Maybe you need some lubricant?”
Jake made a face, grunting as he finally snapped the metal buckle closed. “No, but I think it got damaged during that last battle. Damn prototypes . . .” He exhaled hard and gave both sides of the harness’s webbing a hard yank. “There. That should hold.”
“Thanks.” Amara reached out and grabbed him by what remained of his shirt. Jake’s yelp of alarm as he fell on top of her was quickly silenced when their lips met and her tongue found its way inside his mouth.
As their mouths weaved their magic upon each other, Amara quickly realized she had more than she bargained for. Their pent-up carnal impulses cascaded down, escalating from a hot and heavy downpour into a scalding monsoon of purest passion.
Her shocked inhalation as Jake pressed his hardness against her was a throaty gasp of delight. His lips and tongue peppered her mouth and throat and the sensitive spots behind her ears with hot, wet kisses. Hissing when she found herself restrained by her harness, she raked her nails repeatedly across the muscles of his upper back and pulled him tight against her, arching her back to press herself more strongly against his heaving chest. His teeth bit gently into the muscles at the base of her neck and she gyrated in her chair, grinding herself insistently against him. She felt his hands fumbling with her harness as he tried and failed to release it.
As Jake’s hands started caressing her breasts, Amara felt a moment of panic. Her innate modesty and reserved nature doused her like a pail of ice water. She moaned aloud as the awful battle between desire and caution began. Common sense pleaded with her to push him away, but her hormones laughed at the sheer absurdity; it was like putting out a fire by tossing kerosene on it. She threw her arms around him in a huge hug and melded herself to him, burying her chin alongside his neck and trying desperately to ignore the insanely pleasurable sensations his fingertips created as they skillfully exerted pressure on her aching nipples.
She sucked in air, gasping like an exhausted swimmer who barely makes it to the surface. Finally, caution won out and she seized hold of Jake’s hands, trapping them against her chest and squeezing with all her strength. She forced him gently back, her suddenly dry mouth unable to speak w
hile his hotly aroused lips continued smothering hers with undisguised desire.
“Oh, God . . .” she moaned, straightening her arms to hold him at bay. “Please . . . We . . . we’ve got to stop.”
To his credit, Jake nodded, despite his ragged breathing sounding like he just completed a decathlon. He swallowed hard and noisily cleared his throat. “Yeah, you’re right, doc. Sorry about that. I, uh . . . ahem, don’t know what came over me.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed wickedly, then widened as she looked down. She gave him a knowing smirk. “Oh, I think I know . . .”
Jake followed her gaze and flushed. He looked away, his eyes momentarily unable to focus. He seemed totally forlorn; a lost waif, so boyishly cute Amara couldn’t help herself. She reached out and cradled his strong face in her hands, studying his bruised mouth and feeling his sandpaper stubble on her palms as she drew his lips unerringly back to hers. He came willingly but nervously, his half-opened mouth cautiously meeting hers, as if he was afraid of what might happen next.
She kissed him softly but deeply, then drew back just enough to see his face and smiled. “Now you definitely owe me dinner, mister.” She made an exaggerated pouting face and winked at him. “Because you already had dessert!”
Jake grinned broadly and cupped his hands protectively over hers. Their eyes met and his shone. He lowered his chin to his chest, his warrior’s equivalent of a bow. “It would be my honor, doc.” His face was suddenly silhouetted and he glanced back over his shoulder, basking in the golden rays of sunlight that pierced the water and began to fill Eurypterid II’s cockpit. “We’re almost to the surface. Guess I better get strapped in.”
As he rose and made his way toward his co-pilot’s chair, Amara took a moment to shamelessly admire him from the rear. He turned and caught her in the act, grinning and wagging his finger at her. She blushed, grinning mischievously, then grabbed her joystick and gunned Eurypterid II forward, causing the surprised lawman to stumble and nearly lose his footing.
Amara’s adolescent giggles were drowned out by a deafening shriek that filled the mini-sub’s cabin. She heard Jake’s surprised cough as a wrist-thick jet of seawater punched him in the chest like an out-of-control fire hose. He made a desperate grab for the back of his seat, missed, slipped and crashed headlong to the floor. Her shocked eyes flew open wide and she tried to gurgle a scream as she, too, was inundated.
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 59
