The Trench

by Steve Alten

  Benedict grabbed her arm, escorting her out of the lab. “Within the next forty-eight hours, the Benthos shall arrive in Devil’s Purgatory. With the combined mining efforts of the Prometheus and the Epimetheus, we should be able to clear the seafloor of nodules fairly quickly. Thanks to the Tanaka Institute, the Benthos will ascend from the abyss without the United States or Japan having a clue as to what our actual mission was.”

  Terry felt ill, her hands trembling. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “I haven’t decided. You’ve grown on me, becoming a pet project of sorts. The thought had occurred to allow you to live out your days aboard the Benthos.” He smiled. “Tell me, my dear, do you find me the least bit attractive?”

  Ring of Fire

  Bering Sea

  Jonas shielded his eyes from the swirling debris as the helicopter touched down on the hospital parking lot. Waving to his nurse, he pulled open the passenger door and climbed into the familiar cockpit.

  “You look pretty good for a dead guy,” Mac said.

  Jonas gave his friend a quick handshake. “Mac, I—”

  “Forget it. I’ll just add it to your tab, which, by the way, is getting quite full. Seriously, though, I’m glad you’ve finally got your head screwed on straight. For a while there, I was thinking about changing my name to Ishmael.”

  Jonas buckled his seat belt as the chopper lifted off. “How far are we from the William Beebe?”

  “A few minutes. We docked last night in Dutch Harbor. By the way, Celeste left the ship early this morning.”

  “Celeste is gone? Where’d she go?”

  “A GTI chopper picked her up. Captain Morgan says she took her belongings with her.”

  “That makes no sense,” Jonas said, spotting the William Beebe in the distance. “Why would she just leave after repairing the lagoon and spending so much money on recapturing the shark?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with her leading you on while she was screwing Maren.”

  “Celeste and Maren? Who told you that?”

  “Maren, just before I dropped him off for a nature walk across the Alaskan frontier. He confessed to removing the firing pin on the grenade rifle, but swears he had nothing to do with cutting the line to the Zodiac.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Yes, which means there’s someone else on board who’s not real fond of you. Any clues?”

  “No.” Jonas rubbed his eyes, trying to absorb everything at once. “I don’t get it. Why would Celeste come on so strong if she was sleeping with Maren?”

  “Who the fuck knows? I say good riddance to both of them.”

  * * *

  They joined the captain and Harry Moon in the control room.

  “Taylor, good to see you in one piece,” the captain said. “Now what’s all this about changing our course?”

  “I need you to take us to the Mariana Trench as quickly as possible.”

  “Sorry. My orders are to complete repairs on the ship, then return to the Bering Sea to recapture the creature.”

  “The Megalodon’s not in the Bering Sea,” Jonas said. “She’s headed for the Trench.”

  “If Dr. Maren were here, I think, he’d disagree,” Harry said, eyeing Mac suspiciously.

  Jonas searched through the ship’s charts, removing a bathymetric map of the Pacific Ocean.

  “Harry, I’m sure you’re familiar with the Ring of Fire?”

  “Uh, actually, no.”

  “Really? I’d have thought different. Doesn’t matter—” Jonas spread out the plastic chart. Using a red dry-erase marker, he drew a line up the South and Central American Pacific coastlines clear up along the Pacific-Northwestern coast of the United States, continuing around Canada, Alaska, and the Aleutian Islands, then across the Pacific and south down along the coast of Japan to Indonesia.

  “This is the Ring of Fire, a seismic area situated around the Pacific Rim that is home to more than four hundred active volcanoes. Deep within the Earth, above the core and mantle, are roughly fourteen tectonic plates that float like giant continental rafts across our planet’s crust. Dynamic collisions along these plate boundaries produce earthquakes and violent volcanic eruptions, the most powerful occurring along this seismic ring.”

  “What does all this have to do with the Megalodon?” Harry asked.

  “During the last Ice Age, the ocean temperatures dropped, killing off most of the Megalodons. The surviving members were able to inhabit an abyssal, insulated layer of warm water continuously being fed by hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. But the Trench itself is part of the Ring of Fire, a convergent plate boundary created by the subduction of the Pacific Plate pushing beneath the Philippine Plate.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point, Harry, is that these sharks are equipped with sensory systems that can use the Earth’s own magnetic field, along with seismic vibrations in the fault lines to orient themselves over long distances. When Angel’s mother escaped from the Trench four years ago, she instinctively headed east, first following the Hawaiian island chain, later moving north along the Central American coastline until she reached the Monterey canyon. All of these locations are part of the Ring of Fire, as is the route Angel’s been following since she escaped from the lagoon.”

  “I thought she was just following the migratory course for whales,” Harry stated.

  “So did I. Now I’m convinced the shark bypassed the Bering Sea. I think she continued southwest, following minute seismic vibrations emanating from the Aleutian Trench. Look here,” Jonas pointed to the coast of Alaska, “if Angel continued to follow the Aleutian Trench, she’d cross the Northern Pacific and run directly into the Kamchatka and Kuril Trenches. These gorges continue southwest past the Kuril Islands before becoming the Japanese Trench—again, all part of the Ring of Fire. The Japanese Trench empties into the Mariana Trench, the species’ home over the last million years or more.”

  “It’s like the shark’s following some sort of underwater highway,” Mac said.

  “I don’t know, Taylor,” Captain Morgan said. “This monster could still be following the cetacean summer migration.”

  Jonas looked up at the captain. “The Megalodon’s not following the whales. The female’s entered a powerful state of estrus. Like some kind of giant salmon, she’s using the Ring of Fire to navigate her way back to the Mariana Trench in order to breed.”

  “Taylor—”

  “Captain, please. My wife’s in the Trench. I need to get her out of there before it’s too late.”

  Western Pacific

  21 miles southwest of Kamchatka Peninsula

  The captain of the twenty-eight-foot research vessel Cachalot turned his ship into the wind, allowing his crew to drop sail and drift in the five-foot seas. A cold breeze whistled across the mast. The rising three-quarter moon peeked out from behind a cloud bank, casting its luminous glow on the ship’s decking.

  Inside, sound engineer Janis Henkel adjusted her headphones and listened, reminding herself not to look at the Discovery camera pointing in her direction.

  She turned to face her husband. “Bruce, according to my latest calculations, ‘Mad Max’ is now sleeping in eight hundred feet of water, hovering vertically directly below our boat. If his pattern holds, he should remain at rest for at least another three hours before continuing north.”

  “And . . . cut,” said Norton Binder, the Discovery producer. “Very good, Jan. Is the sperm whale definitely asleep?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “Great, then let’s use this opportunity to retake a few of the scenes we talked about earlier. Bruce, are you ready?”

  Jan’s husband, biologist Bruce Henkel, clipped the microphone to his shirt, then adjusted his collar. “I’m ready.”

  “Good,” Norton said. “Now this is just voice-over, so don’t worry about the camera, just read right from your notes. Josh, are you set?”

  “S
ound level’s fine,” the cameraman called out. “Anytime.”

  Bruce cleared his throat “Reaching a length of sixty feet and weighing up to forty-five tons, the male sperm whale is undoubtedly the most formidable predator on the planet. It was back in the early nineteenth century that whalers first hunted these leviathans, targeting sperm whales for their enormous yields of oil. Unlike baleen whales, the aggressive sperm bulls often fought back, their actions no doubt inspiring Herman Melville’s classic tale Moby-Dick.”

  “Great, much better than the last take,” Norton said. “Go to the next passage.”

  “Larger and more aggressive than their female counterparts, bull sperm whales usually travel alone, their deep descents making the elusive hunters difficult to track in the open ocean. In order to learn more about these predators, the Cachalot will remain under sail, making as little noise as possible as we track the creatures with underwater microphones mounted in the ship’s keel. Like their dolphin cousins, sperm whales use pulses of sound called echolocation to see their environment, a sensory system unique to toothed whales. Over the last four days, our expedition has been tracking an enormous bull we’ve nicknamed Mad Max. By listening in on the whale’s underwater vocalization, Jan can pinpoint Max’s location anywhere within a five-mile radius.”

  “Cut. Okay, folks, I’d say that was a solid day’s work. Josh and I are going to call it a night. Be sure to wake us if anything interesting happens.”

  Jan watched the two men head for the guest quarters. She felt Bruce’s strong fingers massaging her back. “That feels wonderful. I suppose this means it’s my turn to stay up all night and listen to Max snore?”

  “It is your shift.” Bruce kissed her on the back of the neck, then crawled into bed.

  * * *

  Gliding silently in the southerly flow of the Anadyr current, the female continued her southwesterly trek along the Asian coast, passing the Kuril Islands in six hundred feet of water. Far below the creature loomed the depths of the Kuril Trench, its deepest point, the Vityaz Deep, dropping to almost 34,600 feet

  Using the Aleutian Trench as a bearing, the albino predator had crossed the Northern Pacific, following the Kamchatka Trench to the southwest. Moving past Cape Lopatka, the shark suddenly found itself swimming into the path of a thousand whales, all migrating north to their summer feeding grounds in the Sea of Okhotsk.

  Like a hungry wolf descending upon a flock of sheep, the Megalodon’s sudden presence sent an immediate panic through the frightened pods. The whales quickly established an alternative route, allowing the supreme hunter a wide berth, but not before she had slaughtered and fed upon a fin whale and her calf.

  Gliding through waters east of the Japanese island of Hokkaido, the Megalodon now detected new vibrations, the faint, yet powerful heartbeat of a creature the shark immediately recognized as another predator. Seventy million years of primal instincts took over. The challenger’s presence within the big female’s domain had to be dealt with.

  Agitated, the Megalodon increased her speed.

  * * *

  The male sperm whale hovered vertically, motionless in eight hundred feet of pitch-dark ocean. Though silent and at rest, the whale never truly slept, part of its brain was always on constant alert.

  Something approaching in the distance aroused the large bull. Opening its eyes, it slapped its enormous fluke several times, leveling itself out.

  The sperm whale shook its gargantuan head, rousing itself awake. Using its sonarlike clicks, it quickly located the charging Megalodon. The bull circled, shaking its head in defiance as it awaited the arrival of its challenger.

  * * *

  Jan Henkel closed her journal, then took a sip of coffee from her mug. The coffee was cold. As she stood to rewarm the beverage in the microwave, intense clicking sounds began chirping from the hydrophone.

  “Bruce, wake up! It sounds like Max is on the move again.”

  The biologist rolled over in bed, groggy from lack of sleep. “Tell that whale to go back to sleep.”

  Jan listened intently to the headphones. “This is bizarre. He’s not moving off, he’s just circling around and around, two hundred feet below us.”

  “Think he knows we’re here?”

  “I don’t see how. I think we may be witnessing an undocumented type of sperm whale behavior.”

  Bruce rolled out of bed. “Okay. I’ll wake the Discovery guys.”

  * * *

  The sperm whale waited until the Megalodon closed to within several hundred yards before breaking from its defensive pattern. Beating its muscular fluke up and down furiously, the bull charged the albino shark, attempting to ram it with its mammoth head.

  Sensing danger, the Megalodon banked sharply and circled away. The bull gave chase but, unable to catch its quicker adversary, returned to its defensive posture.

  Though faster than the sperm whale, the Megalodon could not attack the larger bull without risking a crushing butt to the head or devastating blow from its powerful fluke.

  The two behemoths continued circling, measuring each other, the bull occasionally making a run at the luminous shark, which darted away, only to return, looking for an opening.

  * * *

  “What’s happening?” Norton shouted, holding onto the mast as the boat began spinning in the whirling seas.

  “Something else is down there with Max,” Jan yelled.

  “Another whale?”

  “No, we’re only registering one set of clicks. Whatever it is, it sure has Max agitated.”

  “We need to stay clear in case they breach,” Bruce said as he gunned the boat’s engine.

  The Cachalot stopped spinning, its bow moving toward the edge of the turbulence.

  * * *

  Although evenly matched in size with the Megalodon, the sperm whale had one shortcoming not shared by its opponent—being a mammal, it required air. Continuing to circle, the bull worked its way toward the surface to blow.

  The Megalodon banked, launching its attack from below.

  Darting upward, the shark clamped down on the whale’s small rounded pectoral fin, holding on like a pit bull. Mad Max bucked wildly as rows of serrated teeth sank into its appendage.

  The crew of the Cachalot turned to see the great head of the sperm whale plow upward through the surface. Then another creature appeared, this one snowy-white, thrashing alongside. Before the crew could react, they found themselves in the middle of a battleground between two colossal titans.

  The sperm whale flung its head from side to side, sending eight-foot swells crashing against the small sailing boat. As waves began cresting over the side, Bruce grabbed his wife, gripping the wheel with his other hand. Meanwhile, the bull’s fluke slapped the sea only feet from the Cachalot’s bow.

  Rolling sideways, the sperm whale fought furiously to shake its assailant loose, slapping its tail at the Megalodon, which was thrashing about and tearing at the mouthful of flesh and bones clenched in its jaws.

  The bull’s pectoral fin was no match for the shark’s teeth, which quickly punctured the thick muscle of the whale’s appendage clear down through the bone. Shaking its head savagely from side to side, the Megalodon tore the sperm whale’s severed forelimb from its body, shearing with it a bloody chunk of blubber.

  Savagely wounded, the bull whale whipped its enormous head around to face the shark, its long narrow jaw snapping in wild spasms as the enraged cetacean attempted to bite the Megalodon’s snout.

  Blood and froth rained upon the crew of the Cachalot. Jan grabbed hold of her husband as the craft plunged sideways down a ten-foot trough. As the bow lifted precariously, she caught sight of the Megalodon’s ghastly upper jaw appear to jut forward from its mouth and slam shut on the sperm whale’s lower jaw in a bone-splintering bite, crushing it with a sickening crunch.

  The eighty-five-thousand-pound bull heaved its girth in agony along the surface, lashing out with its tail, while the remains of its mangled, dislocated lower jawbone dangled painfu
lly below the underside of its head.

  Dark waves rolled over the Cachalot’s transom, depositing a slick film of whale oil and blood across her deck. Bruce gunned the engine, distancing the sailboat from the tortured whale, which thrashed across the surface, stubbornly refusing to die.

  The bull whale rolled belly-up to die. The alabaster dorsal fin raced past the Cachalot’s bow and disappeared. Bruce cut the boat’s engines, terrified the sound might attract the creature. Moments later, Mad Max heaved in a final spasm of pain as the Megalodon launched its attack from below, burying its teeth in the whale’s back. A sickle of caudal fin lashed back and forth along the surface, sending lather in all directions.

  The crew of the sailboat huddled together on deck, horrified by the brutality of the attack and by their own vulnerability. Only Norton looked away, stealing a glance at his cameraman to make certain he was still filming.

  For the next twenty minutes the Megalodon continued its assault on the bleeding mass of blubber that had been Mad Max. Gradually, the torrent along the surface pushed the Cachalot farther from the carnage. Bruce and his crew raised one of the sails, distancing themselves farther from the nightmarish beast.

  As the boat sailed away, Jan spotted a half-dozen lead-gray dorsal fins emerge from the darkness.

  Rather than approach the carnage, the great whites circled, waiting patiently for their larger cousin to finish feeding.

  Desperate Hours

  Mariana Trench

  Terry climbed the access-tube ladder, entering the observation deck. Benedict was behind the bar, pouring himself a drink. Captain Prokovich, seated on a bar stool, gave her a look that made her want to retreat back down the passageway.

  “Ah, there you are,” Benedict said. “You’re just in time. The Benthos is about to begin its ascent along the canyon wall. What can I get you to drink?”