by Steve Alten
Benedict contemplated her response, the answer seeming to satisfy him.
“Are you going to postpone the next mission?”
“Mais, non, madame. Je maintientdrai—I will maintain. The Benthos continues its trek north through the Trench, the Epimetheus and her crew readied for deployment. I assume you will be joining them?”
“Joining—no, of course not. How could you even think of deploying the Epimetheus with these monsters waiting out there?”
Benedict moved slowly toward the control panel along the opposite wall. “So, you now prefer Sergei to these creatures?”
“No, it’s just—”
“Then I expect you aboard the sub. We depart in twenty minutes.” Benedict reached the controls, activating the titanium outer seal which slowly began closing over the observation window.
“Benedict, wait—” Terry whirled toward him.
From the darkened perimeter, another Kronosaurus suddenly glided into view. Headfirst, the thirty-four-thousand-pound beast launched its attack upon the diminishing section of glass, its luminous eyes sparkling in the red lights.
She looked back at Benedict, who stared wide-eyed at the approaching carnivore, a sadistic leer stretched across his face.
Terry cowered back as the creature opened its mouth, its flat tapered jaws stretching higher than the window.
A high-pitched whine of hydraulics—and the retractable titanium doors slammed shut over the glass. A thunderous thud echoed through the room as the Kronosaurus struck the dome.
Terry turned to find Benedict standing by the control panel grinning at her, his cleanly shaven head glistening beneath a ceiling light.
“Perhaps surveying the Trench may have to wait after all.”
She watched him unseal the hatch and climb down the access tube’s ladder as a succession of massive blows pounded the exterior of the Benthos.
Second Chance
Iliuliuk Health Clinic
Port of Dutch Harbor
Unalaska, Alaska
“Welcome back.”
Jonas opened his eyes on the plump face of an Aleutian nurse.
She gave him a warm smile, then opened the blinds, allowing the morning sun to filter into the room. “There, that’s better. I’ll bet your throat hurts.”
Jonas nodded.
“I’ll get you some water, but first let’s unstrap those arms.”
Jonas looked down at his wrists, which had been secured to the bed rail by Velcro straps. His fingers, wrapped in gauze, felt strange.
“The doctor says you’ll be fine, although you did give all of us quite a scare.” She held a cup of water to his mouth.
Jonas took a few sips, the liquid soothing his parched throat. “What happened?” he rasped.
“Apparently, you decided to take a swim in the Gulf of Alaska. The extreme cold caused hypothermia. Your body shut down.”
“My heart stopped?”
“At one point you were dead. Good thing your friend knows CPR. By the time you arrived by chopper, you were breathing but your core temperature and blood pressure had both dropped dangerously low. Then your heart stopped again in the OR. But we’ve got good doctors on staff. They got you pumping again, and the extreme cold helped minimize the potential damage to your vital organs.”
“Wait, are you saying I was . . . dead?” Jonas closed his eyes, trying to remember what he had assumed was a dream.
“For a minute or two. You’ve also suffered some severe frostbite. Your fingers and toes are heavily blistered.”
Jonas wiggled his fingers, registering a tight soreness.
“The doctor’s a bit concerned about the toes on your left foot. He wants to keep an eye on it, just to make sure gangrene doesn’t set in. And that left leg of yours, my goodness. Everyone on staff wants to know what caused those nasty wounds.”
“Fishing accident,” Jonas whispered. “How long have I been here?”
“Three days. Your friends are back on their boat, somewhere in the Bering Sea. We’ve been keeping them informed by radio. I’ll have our switchboard operator contact them to let them know you’re conscious.”
The nurse fluffed his pillow, then left.
Jonas closed his eyes, allowing her words to sink in.
I died . . .
An incredible sadness overwhelmed him. He thought back to everything that had happened in his life over the last eleven years since he had first escaped death in the Mariana Trench. Guilt had pushed him into becoming a paleo-biologist, his ego needing to prove to the world that his actions aboard the Seacliff had been justified. His preoccupation with the creatures had destroyed both his marriages. Now his blind hatred had led him to the brink of death.
God’s giving me a second chance. . . .
* * *
The nurse returned several hours later, placing his lunch on a tray table next to his bed. “I hope you’re hungry. By the way, your girlfriend, the pretty blonde—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Okay. Well, whoever she is, she’s just arrived and is anxious to see you. Should I ask her to wait until you’ve finished eating?”
“No, send her in.”
Celeste entered a moment later, her long platinum hair hanging down over a black turtleneck sweater. She leaned over, kissed him gently on the cheek, then pulled a chair up close to the side of his bed.
“Here, before I forget.” She took a cellular phone from her purse, placing it on the bureau. “Harry insisted I bring this to you. He wants you to call him when you’re ready to be picked up. So, did you see a white light, or were you headed in the opposite direction?”
“I remember a white glow, but it had teeth. I pulled a really stupid stunt, didn’t I?”
“Not only that, but you were trying to kill my shark. All this time I thought I could trust you. The truth is, you never cared about me, you were just using me so you could get close enough to the Megalodon to kill it.”
“Celeste—”
“Don’t lie, just admit it.”
“Fine, yes, I admit that I accepted your offer because I wanted to kill the Meg. As far as caring about you, I’ve never led you on. I told you up front that I love my wife. You’re the one who’s been coming on to me.”
“I’m attracted to you. Is that a crime?”
“I’m married—”
“What if you weren’t?”
“What?” Celeste’s tone had sent a shiver down his spine.
“You heard me. What if Terry wasn’t in your life? Would you have still turned me down that night?”
Be careful, Jonas . . .
“Celeste, you’re a beautiful woman and I’m a stuffy old scientist. It just wouldn’t work out. What I appreciate most about you is your friendship. The time we spent together really did mean something to me. And you were right. I’ve blamed these overgrown sharks for everything bad that’s happened in my life over the last eleven years.”
“I told you—you’re obsessed”
“Terry and Mac have been telling me the same thing for years, but I just ignored them. Guess I actually had to die to realize that my anger and guilt were blinding me. I think Mac summed it up best when he called me Ahab. Celeste, I was so anxious to throw my life away, just to kill an overgrown fish.” He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I want to apologize if I misled you.”
She touched his cheek. “It’s okay.”
“Things are going to be a lot different from now on. God’s given me a second chance and I’m taking it.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m done. Finished. No more Megalodons in Jonas Taylor’s life. I’ve officially retired.”
She pulled back, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t get righteous on me, Jonas Taylor. You just can’t walk away. Not after everything that’s happened. We still haven’t recaptured your shark.”
“My shark? As I recall, it was your shark—”
“You know what I mean. You h
ave to stick it out—you owe me that.”
“Let the creature be.”
“Are you delirious?” She stood, spilling his orange juice all over the floor. “Jonas, how many people have died since this shark of yours escaped from the lagoon? Don’t you think we owe it to the public to track it down before more innocent people are killed?”
“Celeste, it’s a shark, for Christ’s sake. It’s in its own natural habitat. Humans are not the staple of its diet. We just seem to get in the way—”
“You’re wrong. It’s your fault these creatures escaped the Mariana Trench.” She pushed her index finger into his chest. “You and Tanaka are responsible for these monsters surfacing.”
“Whoa, I don’t believe I’m hearing this. What happened to your advice about not feeling guilty over what happened?”
“You shouldn’t feel guilty—as long as you do the right thing. And the right thing is to help me recapture Angel before she kills again.”
“Why me? Because I happened to be the unlucky jerk who accidentally crossed paths with these killing machines eleven years ago? Listen, I’ve already helped capture one Megalodon and kill another. I’d say I’ve hit my quota as far as prehistoric sharks are concerned.”
Celeste paced back and forth like a caged animal. “You have a responsibility to the Institute, Jonas, to all who died.”
“How much is enough? You said it yourself. My life has been preoccupied with these creatures for way too long. Sorry, Celeste—no more hatred, no more guilt, all of that died on the table with me three days ago. This is the new Jonas Taylor, I’m reborn. And as far as my responsibilities to you and the Institute, I tried to warn you. I told you to dope the creature up until we could seal the gateway permanently.”
Celeste sat on the floor, laying her head on his bed. “Please, Jonas, I need your help.”
“That’s the thing, Celeste, you don’t really need my help. Maren can handle everything. Personally, I think Angel’s too big to capture, plus she’s in estrus, which makes her even more dangerous. If you want my advice, continue searching the Bering Sea. She’ll turn up, sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time.”
“You’re wrong. We haven’t seen a trace of her since your accident, and we’re not the only ones looking. The Coast Guard’s out in full force, and there must be a thousand fishing vessels out there, as well. No one’s spotted the shark, not even a trace of a dead sea lion or whale. Even Maren’s baffled.”
“The Bering Sea’s a big place. Offer a reward to local fishermen. I’m sure someone will sight her real fast.”
Celeste laid her head on his hand, emotionally drained. “So that’s it? You’re just walking away?”
“That’s right.” He pulled his hand away. “I’m going to heal up, get my strength back. Then I’m going back to California to start my life again with Terry.”
Celeste looked him hard in the eyes. “Okay, Jonas, I understand how you feel. You’ve gone through a very traumatic, emotional experience and I don’t blame you for just wanting out. But there’s something you can still do to prevent innocent people from dying.”
“What’s that?”
“Your own wife’s still on board the Benthos, along with people I care very much about. As long as they’re in the abyss, they’re in danger.”
“What are you asking me to do?” Jonas said, struggling to sit up.
“Be the friend that you claim to be. I haven’t been able to sleep at night since you told me about Devil’s Purgatory. Call me neurotic, but I’m worried sick. I’m getting terrible premonitions about that location.”
“Celeste, the gorge is over fifteen hundred miles long and more than forty miles wide.”
“I’m a woman, Jonas. Don’t try to reason with my emotions.”
He lay back, feeling exhausted. “Okay, Celeste, what are you asking me to do?”
“Before you turn your back on your responsibilities, give me the same peace of mind that I’ve tried to give you. Tell me the location of Devil’s Purgatory. Maybe it means nothing to you, but knowing the Benthos will avoid that area of the Trench will allow me to sleep at night. I think you, more than anyone, can appreciate that”
Jonas closed his eyes, debating whether to pass on the information. As far as he knew, the Navy was no longer interested in the Mariana Trench. What harm could it possibly do to give her the coordinates and get her out of his hair, once and for all?
Then he remembered Mac’s words of warning.
“I’m sorry, Celeste. I just can’t give out the location.” Jonas watched her face turn scarlet in anger.
“You know what, Jonas? You and the United States Navy can go fuck yourselves!”
He cringed as she knocked over his tray table and lunch before storming out of the room.
* * *
Michael Maren was staring absentmindedly at the chart of the Bering Sea when Harry Moon entered the control room.
“Those Orcas just took the last sea lion carcass,” Harry said. “Now what?”
Maren looked up. “How the fuck should I know?”
“You’re the expert. You said the creature would be here.”
“She’s out there. She’s just not showing herself. Maybe all of those goddamn helicopters and boats and Coast Guard cutters have her spooked. Mark my words—sooner or later, she’ll show herself.”
“You look wiped out. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
“Yeah, think I will. When’s Celeste due back on board?”
“Three hours.”
Maren left the control room, heading out on deck. As he adjusted his parka against the driving wind, he heard someone calling his name.
“Dr. Maren, over here.”
Maren looked to the helo pad. He saw Mackreides attempting to lift a large cardboard box into the cargo bay of his helicopter.
“Hey, Doc, please. It’ll just take a moment.”
Maren walked over warily. “What do you want?”
“I need a hand with this box, my back’s killing me.”
Maren reached down and lifted the box, which weighed less than forty pounds. “You needed my help lifting this? What’s the matter? I thought you were a tough guy.”
“I told you, my back’s out. Would you mind putting it inside?”
Maren turned, tossing the lightweight cardboard box against the far wall. “Now, if that’s all, I’ll—”
Mac picked him off his feet, tossing him headfirst into the compartment.
Maren rolled over, then sat up, rubbing his head. “What’s your fucking—”
The tip of Mac’s boot connected with Maren’s solar plexus, driving the breath out of him. Before he could regain his senses, Mac had bound his wrists together with a nylon cord. Lifting the younger man to his feet, he looped the end of the cord several times around an overhead support in the ceiling of the chopper, forcing Maren to stand.
Maren struggled to free himself. “Why are you doing this?”
Mac climbed into the cockpit and started the engine. “It’s simple, Doc. Fuck with my boy, you fuck with me.”
The helicopter rose away from the William Beebe and headed north.
“Wait a second! Goddamn it. Where are you taking me?”
“Sight-seeing. I find Alaska quite beautiful, don’t you?”
“Enough already. Why are you doing this?”
Mac ignored him. The helicopter flew east over the Bering Sea, then north, soaring over snow-covered peaks and lush valleys.
* * *
Celeste looked up from her magazine as the nurse approached Jonas’s room.
“Excuse me, is that for my fiancé?” Celeste pointed to the lunch tray.
“Your fiancé?”
“Yes, Dr. Taylor.”
“Oh, well, yes, as a matter of fact it is.”
“May I?”
The nurse smiled, handing her the tray.
Celeste returned her smile and waited until the nurse turned her back before she removed the two yellow pills from her p
ocket
Jonas was watching the news.
“Hi, I’m back,” Celeste said as she breezed into the room.
He shut the television off. “I thought you returned to the ship.”
“I felt bad. We’re supposed to be friends, and here I was, yelling at you. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“Thanks, Celeste. I feel the same about you.”
She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Here,” she handed him the two pills and a glass of juice. “The nurse is trusting me to make sure you take these. She says it will help you to regain your strength.”
Jonas swallowed the pills. “So what are you going to do?”
She pulled a chair up next to his bed. “The William Beebe is on its way to the nearest port for repairs before we go out—”
Jonas felt himself growing tired as Celeste droned on for the next ten minutes.
“—and I’ve taken your advice and offered a five-thousand-dollar reward for the first person who spots Angel. I’m sure it won’t be long till she reappears.”
Her words began echoing in his head.
Celeste watched his eyes roll back. “Are you okay?”
Jonas rubbed his temple. “I don’t know. I feel really tired . . .” He shut his eyes.
Celeste leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Jonas, are you attracted to me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
“But you’d love to fuck me, wouldn’t you?”
His mind felt limp. “Yes—but I can’t,” he mumbled, the sodium pentothol taking effect. “I love Terry. I won’t cheat on her.”
“Jonas, Terry’s in the Mariana Trench. She’ll die unless we warn her about the Devil’s Purgatory. Jonas, don’t let her die.”
Jonas clenched his teeth, trying hard to focus through his delirium. “I don’t want her to die.”
“Then give me the coordinates—quickly.” She patted his cheek. “Jonas, the Devil’s Purgatory—”
He felt himself drifting off, his mumbled words belonging to someone else. “. . . the northern gorge . . . twenty-two degrees . . . forty-five minutes . . . North Latitude . . .”
“Yes, go on!”
“—one . . . forty-six . . . degrees . . . thirty-three . . . minutes . . . East Longitude.”