by Jeff Miller
Jolly clicked a tiny remote in her hand, and a hatch just behind the gills opened.
“Climb aboard, crew,” said Jolly. “You’ll see you’re well acquainted with the controls. Glad to have you on my team.”
Neil felt uneasy. It might have been the churning sea, or the overwhelming amount of last night’s candy in his gut, but Neil knew it was a feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.
“SO WHERE’D YOU’D DESIGN THESE CONTROLS?” ASKED NEIL, sitting in the middle of the three captain’s chairs. “Did you base it off other simulators?”
He was full of questions, nervous energy, exotic candy, and a tiny bit of rare ketchup. He shifted in the uncomfortable seat. It felt like sitting on a metal beam and looked like a dentist’s chair plucked from a nightmare. Metal bars, like a roller-coaster safety harness, were above each seat. Fabien and Pierre had followed them inside but had to hunch over in the cramped quarters. Jolly stood behind them while Neil and his friends were harnessed in, making sure never to lift a finger to help.
“Did I base what off other simulations?” said a distracted Jolly.
“Your game, the controls,” Neil said. “This really looks like Shark Hunt; it’s impressive that you captured it so well.”
“Sure,” she said.
For a designer, she’s not very eager to talk games.
Neil was cramped. He felt like he was in a cage. Even the headsets they wore were too small, and the metal wires of the mouthpiece kept rubbing at Neil’s chin. The floors were metal grates, and Neil could hear the inner workings of the prehistoric mecha shark below.
“And safety bars down,” said Jolly.
Fabien and Pierre pulled them down, covering their chests and shoulders and making sure all three made an intimidating click.
“Extra tight—don’t want anybody thinking they can get up,” said the captain.
Neil pushed up on the bar, which didn’t budge. He was trapped in Jolly’s real-life shark hunt.
“Et voilà,” said Fabien.
“We can’t get up? What if something goes wrong? Or this thing fills with water?” Sam said.
“There are emergency procedures, but they won’t be needed.”
“What about bathroom breaks?” added Biggs.
“We’ll handle bathroom breaks on a case-by-case basis,” said Jolly, leaning her head toward the only exit. “No more questions.”
She clicked the remote in her hand, and the gills of the ship closed tight.
“That’s possibly the worst restroom strategy I’ve ever heard,” said Biggs, examining the set of controls in front of him.
He was on Neil’s right, with Sam on the other side. A homemade console of gauges was laid out in front of them. The nose of the megalodon must’ve been high-tech one-way glass, because Neil was looking straight into the ocean.
The ceiling was metal grating as well, with a few electrical cords and wires slipping through its cracks. It reminded Neil a bit of a NASA-designed craft. Nothing was pretty, but it all combined to make something special.
“Can you guys hear me?” asked Jolly through the headsets.
“Loud and clear,” said Neil.
“I’ll be with you over the radio, and don’t worry, it’s a closed line. Don’t get any ideas of calling your precious parents or anything.”
Neil thought back to his family back home, probably hanging out watching Janey practice her karate moves. Part of him wished he’d just stayed home, instead of getting into this mess.
“I will be watching every move on the video feed. So no funny business,” continued Jolly. “Everything functioning properly?”
They tested the ship’s controls. They were nearly identical to the game they’d played the day before. Sam controlled diving and rising to the surface, while Neil controlled steering via the pectoral fins. Biggs commanded the speed of Magda, too, by gauging the force from the tail fin.
Biggs accelerated and the shark lurched forward. They were now in open water, swimming ahead of Jolly’s yacht.
They found their bearings with the craft, gently guiding the shark down and then back up to the surface of the water. Neil watched a pack of curious dolphins swim alongside them.
“Cool,” said Neil. “They’re probably wondering where this thing has been for millions of years.”
Biggs pushed them faster, leaving two rippling waves in Magda’s wake.
Without seeing the rest of the huge mechanical megalodon behind him, Neil could’ve believed this was an actual video game.
“Let’s try a barrel roll!” said Sam as she jerked her controls hard to the left.
The shark twisted in the water with grace.
“All right, good to see you’re already enjoying it,” said Jolly over the radio frequency. “It looks like radar is showing a school of sharks a bit west of here. Let’s start heading there.”
While Neil still didn’t like the idea of going after sharks, getting to let loose on the controls was exhilarating. Biggs pushed forward on the metal acceleration lever. Magda instantly thrashed its tail fin, swimming like an actual shark.
“It’s like flying a jet, only the water is the sky,” said Biggs. “I just blew my own mind.”
“How, exactly, would you know what flying a jet is like?” asked Jolly from the radio. Biggs looked at the glass bubble camera monitoring them from the ceiling.
“Ugh, video games of course. You know what I mean,” said Biggs.
“You kids sure do love your fancy video games,” Jolly said.
“And you don’t?” said Sam.
“There are so many more interesting things in the world,” Jolly said. “It’s a pity you people waste your lives staring at screens.”
“OK, Jolly, what’s your deal?” said Neil. “For someone who has a video game named after them, you seem to hate them. I didn’t see a screen larger than three inches on your ship. Something’s not adding up.”
“You think that game was for anything other than finding recruits?” Jolly said, starting to sound angry.
Wait, it’s not a real game?
“And I’ll tell you what’s not adding up: the fact that we haven’t captured a single shark. My radar is showing a small pack of hammerheads a few hundred meters from here. Now turn left.”
Magda kept its course, heading straight. Neil, Sam, and Biggs didn’t budge from their present course.
“I said left!” shouted Jolly. A small electric shock coursed through the metal of the three pilot seats.
“Ow!” yelped Sam. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s call it positive reinforcement,” said Jolly with a snort.
The ship veered left as Sam maneuvered a fin. Neil’s hands began to sweat as his nerves still buzzed from the jolt. Jolly was more sinister than she seemed.
“Good,” said Jolly. “Now I trust you’ll do as I say from now on. Head for the grouping of sharks.”
“You know, if you’re making an aquarium, I can suggest much cooler stuff to collect,” said an upset Biggs. “There’s far more interesting sea life.”
“You really are something special, aren’t you,” Jolly said. “You worry about doing what you’re told. Give me full speed!”
She sent another electric jolt and gave the jaws a few quick chomps. Unlike in the video game, Jolly made sure she was the only person in charge of the jaws.
“No, I won’t,” Biggs said, his voice shaky. “You mean there’s no aquarium?”
“You think revenge for my family is a little glass viewing booth for those monsters?” Jolly said. “We’re getting them out of every ocean. Forever. Now shape up, or would you like to see how many volts you can take?”
Neil gulped. He knew they were in deep trouble, literally.
“SO WHAT’S OUR PLAN?” SAM PUT A HAND IN FRONT OF HER microphone so Jolly couldn’t hear her.
Neil shrugged his shoulders, covering his headset as well.
“I don’t think we’ll make it north to that aquarium,” Neil whisper
ed. Biggs nodded in agreement.
“Only if we want to be extra crispy, well done,” said Biggs. “But we can’t let her have control of this thing.”
“We need to find a way to make this megalodon extinct,” said Sam. “Again.”
“Copy that,” said Neil. “Let’s see what we can do. Sorry in advance for getting you both electrocuted.”
“It’s worth it,” said Biggs. Sam gave a nod.
The trio guided the shark toward coordinates given by Jolly, which seemed to keep her silent. Neil knew he wasn’t ready to withstand another burst of electricity. The amount of sugar inside of him would most likely act as some kind of superconductor.
The team accelerated forward, and soon a group of sharks slowly became visible in the watery distance. They all circled in a feeding frenzy. Smaller sharks darted between the larger, slow-moving ones. From her controls, Jolly opened the jaws of Magda.
“Full speed ahead!” commanded the captain.
But before Jolly clamped the jaws shut, Neil guided the nose of the ship away from the cluster of swimming sharks. He felt a shock course through his body but kept the open jaws of Magda away from the sharks.
“What happened!” Jolly yelled, gnashing the teeth of the mechanical animal. They coasted past craggy rock formations and coral, leaving behind a trail of bubbles.
“I lost control! Maybe we’re just not as good as you thought,” fibbed Neil.
“Don’t lie to me, Neil,” Jolly said, her voice eerily calm. “I know what you’re capable of.”
“Lie to you? But—”
“Oh, arguing is pointless,” Jolly interrupted. “Let’s just bring the sharks to us, shall we? Then I can escort you all to the brig—permanently.
“Fabien, I think it’s time to deploy the ketchup,” Jolly said to her henchman. “The finest Rogers Ketchup has to offer.”
There was a moment’s silence.
Rogers Ketchup. That’s actually a name from my nightmares.
Neil remembered, clearly, that the brand was the sponsor of the Southwestern Robotics Invitational. He suddenly realized why Jolly’s laugh had been so familiar—she must have been the one watching from the wings. He didn’t know what to say. Was Jolly just really into homemade electronics? Had she been following him for months?
“Jolly, just so you know, your ketchup is horrible,” Biggs said. “And your krill stuff tastes like feet.”
“Well, aren’t we feeling talkative,” said Jolly. “Lucky for us, sharks have a taste for feet.”
“For the last time, we’re not killing sharks!” Biggs screamed. He was, for the first time ever, angry—like, angry.
Neil knew he had to do something. His mind raced, trying to think of something from Jolly’s video game to use against her.
“If you won’t do what I command, someone else will,” Jolly explained. “Do you know how many kids lined up to play that game? And right now we’ve got shipments of ketchup going out to strategically lure sharks to me. I can force someone else to collect them for me, once I get rid of you.”
Neil saw an outcropping of rocks ahead. A few formed a huge arch, which crawled with dozens of sharks all looking for their next meal. He winced as the jaws of Magda opened wide, ready to scoop them up.
“Hey, guys, you think Jolly was serious about some kind of escape pod being on this thing?” Neil said, putting a hand in front of his headset microphone.
“Um, maybe?”
“Well, let’s hope. We need to make a move right now.”
For the first time in twelve hours, Neil felt something good inside his stomach—a kind of fire like when he first climbed into a Chameleon’s cockpit.
“Let’s break this thing,” said Neil. “If we go down, we’re going down fighting.”
He wiggled in the chair and readjusted his grip on the rubber joystick. Sam and Biggs did the same, but a jolt of electricity ran through them again.
“Ow! OK, OK, we’re going,” said Biggs.
“Jolly, let’s do this,” Neil said confidently into the microphone.
“Head for those rocks!” shouted the evil captain.
“Roger that.”
Neil guided Magda toward a flurry of sharks, but he reached a foot over to control Sam’s fin. The mega-lodon swerved toward the naturally formed arch. It would barely be big enough for the fake shark to squeeze through.
Jolly sent another shock through the metal chairs, and it vibrated Neil all the way down to his teeth.
“Stay strong, everybody!” shouted Neil, mostly for his own sake. He kept a firm grip on the control stick and steered the shark into the arch. Jolly screamed into the radio headsets.
With a huge screech, Neil felt the dorsal fin of the submarine shark connect with the rocks above. Neil and friends let out a huge cheer as the ship began to lose its balance.
“Neil, you’re breaking it. You’re doing it!” exclaimed Sam.
“Critical injury,” said a robotic computer voice. Gauges and meters began to misfire from every control panel.
Without a properly functioning dorsal fin, Magda was spinning endlessly. It spiraled like a football. Neil was getting dizzy, unable to focus on a fixed spot to reduce his nausea.
There’s way too much ketchup inside me for this to end well.
Suddenly the metal bars holding the pilots in disengaged. With a hydraulic hiss, Neil, Biggs, and Sam were released.
“Hold on tight, everybody!” yelled Sam. She regained control of her fin and managed to slow the rolling of the ship, wedging her radio headset next to the joystick. Blue emergency lights illuminated the back of the cockpit. They surrounded a small doorway marked with a giant red exclamation point.
“Oh, you’re all soon to be smithereens. You think you can get away in my ship?” came Jolly’s voice. She continued to scream as the three friends staggered away from their seats.
“That’s gotta be the escape pod,” said Neil. “Let’s make a break for it, before this thing sinks.”
The three friends grabbed metal beams to help stabilize themselves. The shark kept twisting through the water like a torpedo. Neil peered out the windows to see an orange coral reef ahead.
“Turn with it!” said Sam, who maneuvered around the spinning cockpit, walking on the wall and then ceiling as if they were back in space. They scrambled to the back of the ship’s cabin and crawled into the tiny escape shuttle. There was barely enough room for all three to fit, but Sam pulled the metal latch shut. A red handle was illuminated behind a clear piece of plastic. Sam removed the cover and tugged on the emergency release.
“Let’s get out of here!” yelled Sam as she maxed out every lever on the tiny craft. With an incredible burst of speed, the small submarine sped away from Magda.
The shark continued to roll, grinding its fin on yet another rock formation—narrowly missing a head-on collision with the coral.
Neil’s face was squeezed against a small window. He watched as the shark’s eyes flickered off and then back on again. With a final crackle, they turned black, and the nose of the submersible began to sink.
“Guys, I think we just pulled off an impossible escape,” Sam said. “I’m shaking.”
“Me too,” said Neil.
“Me three,” said Biggs. “But there’s a good chance that’s red Singapore-goo related.”
“Now let’s get away from her before her yacht catches up,” said Sam.
Neil smiled as the tiny submarine sputtered its way through the ocean, past lots of happily uneaten sharks.
“SO, WE’RE IN A SUBMARINE,” SAID BIGGS, HIS LEGS BENT to fit. “A submarine that is stuck somewhere in the ocean, surrounded by sharks, and we don’t have to be at school until tomorrow. What’s next?”
Biggs was right. It was probably noon, and regular life continued tomorrow morning. The team paused as the sub’s propellers continued to hum. The pod was controlled by a simple joystick and two buttons—one to stop, the other to go. It was like a prehistoric video game.
&nbs
p; They coasted through open water, with schools of small translucent fish wriggling alongside. Various sizes and species of sharks swam past, coming close enough to investigate.
“And what do we do about Jolly?” asked Sam.
Neil wasn’t sure, but he knew getting away was the priority.
“Let’s take things one step at a time. For instance, how far can this thing get us? Can’t imagine there’s much fuel in an escape pod,” Neil said. He scanned the controls for some kind of fuel monitor, but there was nothing to be seen.
Sam read from a GPS. “Well, we’re somewhere in the Pacific, pretty far out, though. We definitely don’t have enough fuel to make it back to California.”
“Unless we—” Neil said, thinking aloud. “Nah, it’d be too much of a long shot.”
“No, say it,” Biggs answered. “Whatcha thinking? Does it involve a family of friendly sea lions? ’Cause if so, we’re on the same wavelength.”
“Ha,” Neil laughed. “Biggs, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not sure anybody will ever be on your same wavelength.”
“Good—I don’t want it to get crowded.”
“But I was thinking,” Neil continued. “We’ve got to be close to that island with Harris’s warehouse, right?”
“Neil Andertol, you’re a genius!” Sam said.
“Now I’m not totally sure, but I think we could find it,” Neil continued. “If we only knew the coordinates.”
“Done,” Sam said proudly.
“What?” Neil asked. Sam rested her hand over a tiny numeric keypad on the ship’s control panel.
“Latitude and longitude are plugged in. After our Chameleon mission, I went online to try and find the island from a satellite,” she said. “You could barely see it, but I memorized the coordinates, just in case we ever had the chance to go back.”
“Well done, soldier,” said Neil as he watched a flashing dot appeared on the radar.
“That’s where we need to be,” said Sam. “Now let’s just hope this little thing can get us there.”