Dahlen offered Krauser a cigarette, which he accepted gratefully. Eventually the captain asked; “Were there any other survivors?”
Dahlen shook his head, sadly. “None. We found some pieces; but no, you were the only one alive.”
“And the shark?”
“It was one hell of an explosion.”
Krauser nodded. “I guess they finally found a torpedo that wasn’t a dud.”
Dahlen smiled, ruefully. “We’re on our way back to Norway.”
“Where I’m to remain a prisoner of war, I suppose?”
“No, actually. The fishermen and I will arrange for you to ‘fall’ into German hands. We both know that you have a rather pressing engagement you need to make it home for. It is the least I can do for you – and, of course, Mrs Krauser.”
Krauser smiled. “Thank you. What will you do?”
Dahlen shrugged. “I will hang around the docks. Beer. Women. Another ship will come in, and I will sign on. There is always a need for crew, and there will be all the time that your Kriegsmarine are sinking ships.”
The men fell silent for several minutes, each thinking over the excitement, terror and – yes – even the good fortune of the past few days. Eventually, it was Dahlen that broke the silence. “Do you think it is dead?”
“Yes.”
“You are so sure?”
Krauser stubbed his cigarette out and exhaled a lungful of smoke. “If it were still alive, it would have hunted me. It would still be hunting me now. It would have attacked this ship. No, my friend, it is dead. It lies at the bottom of the ocean with the other dark, dead things. With the other ghosts.”
Dahlen shivered and lit another cigarette. “What if it is following this ship?”
Krauser sat up sharply, propping himself on his elbows. “Why? What have you seen?”
“I have seen nothing; I have heard nothing. It is just…I do not know.”
“Arild…when this war is over, I want you to come find me in Berlin. I’d like us to remain friends. I want you to meet my wife – and my son or daughter, when they are born.”
“I would like that very much, August. And, if there is not a Berlin, you can find me in Oslo.”
They smiled, and then were silent. Krauser was just drifting off to sleep again, when Dahlen’s deadpan voice interrupted him. “What do you think it was?”
“It was hungry. Is that not all that was important?”
Dahlen chuckled. “Not a sea monster? Not a dinosaur? Not the devil himself?”
Krauser yawned, and lay down. “It was a shark. A big one, mind, but still just a shark. Anything else would…raise too many questions.”
“Just a shark?”
“Just a shark.”
The friends fell asleep, as the ship carried them towards Norway, and whatever awaited them next.
Read on for a free sample of The Last Colossus
Deep Crab Marina and Sports Bar
Seaside, Washington
Cheap lamps flickered at either end of a dim drinking establishment. A few patrons slumped against the bar, all of them wearing flannels and ball caps. A lone television flickered above the far end of the bar, reflected in the array of whiskey bottles and glasses. A patron named Paul Woody looked up at the TV and grimaced.
“You see that?” Paul asked the man sitting next to him.
“See what?” the man next to him said.
“Eh, another dumb shark movie,” Paul said.
On the TV, a series of boats floated around an oil rig as divers submerged despite the danger of a freakish shark.
“Your point?” the other man asked.
Paul gestured lazily at the TV. “Why don’t they just steer the damn boats away from the shark?” Paul asked.
The other man shrugged. “I suppose. The motor might have puttered out on ‘em, though.”
“Yeah, it’s been done a million times. Motors don’t just go like that, and there are backup systems. It’s not an either-or situation,” Paul said. “Why do all these dumbasses stick around when these monster sharks are out and about? Just motor the damn boat away,” Paul said. “I don’t care if yer’ doing research, or have to fix a damn oil rig, or whatever the reason may be. Just motor away.”
The other man laughed. “I suppose.”
Paul gulped his shot of tequila. “I mean, problem solved, right? Leave the area and you’ll never see the fucking shark again.”
The other man nodded. “Nothin’s really keeping them there. They can just motor away.”
“Exactly,” Paul said. “Just fucking leave, eh? I mean yeah, a giant shark would make you curious, but then you’d get the hell out of there. It just doesn’t make any sense. Something would have to keep you with the shark, almost force you to be there. The ocean is just too damn big.”
The other man took a swig of his beer. “Well, for the first time, Paul, you make sense,” he said. “Congratulations.”
Paul raised his hand as if he was going to backslap the other man, and laughed. Then Paul looked back up at the TV and waved his hand. “Just motor away,” he muttered. “Ain’t nothing keeping you there.”
The First
“Great,” the stranded fisherman said. He clung to the last evidence of his boat, a jagged piece of hull keeping him from the floor of the Pacific. Thirty-foot swells surrounded him, nuzzling him in their watery bosom. The Pacific was cold, too cold, but luckily, he had worn his emergency gear, a waterproof thermal shell similar to a snowmobile suit.
Lightning had struck the mast of his ship The Morgan, frying the alternator and all onboard electronics. That was when the fire started, igniting the fuel tanks. He’d been sent flying into the mess of rain and swells, lucky to keep consciousness.
Or maybe not.
As lightning spidered the horizon, the brief light illuminated a shape in the water, one he’d definitely seen before while fishing for halibut near the Falcon Islands. The Falcons were a tiny island chain fifty miles off Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, and well known for an overpopulation of sea lions and their ultimate predator, the great white shark. And wasn’t it his luck to blow up his boat in shark-infested waters.
Great.
Lightning dissipated in the sky.
The shark disappeared.
For the first time in his life, Eric Harper began to hyperventilate. He immediately performed an ab crunch, bringing his knees as close as he could to his chest. He wanted to ball up, make himself disappear, but he needed to grasp what remained of the hull, too. He shut his eyes tight as water dripped down his brow. He blew away the moisture in spastic breaths.
“Mother,” he said weakly.
Huh, he thought. Another first.
When he opened his eyes and blinked away the rain, a shark fin sliced the electric water, then disappeared.
A swell gently carried him higher, until he could see Mount Kraken rising above the Falcon Islands. For a brief moment, the mountain tip resembled a shark fin, then disappeared in the gloom.
The swell brought him back down into the maw, and he clung to the hull piece, knees drawn up as far into his body as he could. Of course, this made him weaker, as did the storm. He had a feeling that was going to be the theme of tonight. Weak, weak, going, getting…weaker.
Or maybe not.
Below him, a nudge, then nothing at all.
“Just a fish,” he thought. “A goofy halibut up at the surface.” Eric Harper looked up at the sky and laughed. “Bring it on,” he said between spits of water. “Bring it the fuck on.”
Below him, a swell of water pushed against his legs. The jagged hull piece bobbed higher in the water along with it. Lightning divided the horizon, illuminating the water beneath him.
He so wished it hadn’t.
The great white surged vertically below, it’s mouth wide open, the scarred gums connected to rows and rows of prehistoric looking teeth.
Eric let go of his pathetic life raft and reached for his ankles, pulling them tight to his ass so only hi
s knees pointed down. But the great white was too fast and caught him right at his knees, popping them like firecrackers wrapped in paper towels.
He screamed.
The jaws opened wider, and Eric was sucked further into the shark’s mouth. Now only his torso and arms were clear. He pummeled its eyes with his fists, but soon gave up as his spine began to crack, forcing complete non-function of his motor skills.
As the shark prepared to dive, a shadow loomed beneath it, a shadow that dwarfed its own. A much larger set of jaws opened, taking in the great white entirely, and Eric along with it.
Then there was nothing but the storm.
The Last Colossus is available from Amazon here.
North Sea Hunters Page 10
