by Rick Chesler
She stopped walking when she reached the edge of the beach where the little foothpath wound its way back to the complex of buildings that supported the hotel. Who should she tell? Another thing, she thought to herself as she dripped seawater onto the vegetation, is what could anybody do about it? There was no way into the hotel now other than to scuba dive past a megalodon into the airlock. No thanks. What’s more...who could she trust? Some of White’s inner circle may be just as untrustworthy as he. She looked around. Another path ran along the top of the beach to the right, toward the sub dock. Mick would probably be out there.
The sub...it also couldn’t directly access the hotel, but it could get a close look inside, and it could drop small supplies just outside the airlock. Not exactly sure of her next move, but desperately wanting to do something that would help save the people still trapped in the hotel, Coco took off at a trot along the beach path toward the submersible dock.
Chapter 25
Coco felt comforted when her bare feet hit the wooden planks of the pier that led out to the submersible dock. Mick would be out there. He was on her side, at least she could count on that. Maybe he had some new information on what was developing around here. She padded out along the pier, looking left toward the complex of support buildings on shore. Everything was eerily quiet. No one was visible walking around or anything.
She reached the sub dock where a single shed-style outbuilding squatted in the sun. The sub itself bobbed peacefully at the dock. She didn’t see Mick so she walked around to the end of the sub shack. He must be inside working on some parts, probably still fixing the damage she did to the thruster. She rounded the corner, and saw that the door was open.
She was about to call out Mick’s name when she saw movement inside the shack, in the corner. A hand moving over a slender back that was partially covered by long, blonde hair... There were two people in there, not just one. Mick’s face was buried in the neck of...a woman...locked in embrace...Coco felt a welling of embarrassment and…something else...jealousy? She turned to leave, but the one of the boards creaked, and Mick’s head raised.
“Coco!”
The woman snapped around, and Coco recognized the face of Clarissa, the dolphin trainer.
“I…I’m sorry. I’ll go.” Coco turned to leave.
“Coco, wait!” Mick broke free from Clarissa, and moved toward the door. Coco turned around.
“What?”
“It’s nothing. I didn’t realize you two were...”
Clarissa appraised Coco coolly while she composed herself, brushing her hair out of her face, straightening her clothes. “Well, that’s one way to find out, I suppose.” She shot Mick a disapproving look.
Coco stepped outside the shack, but then stopped and turned around once more. “It’s not easy for me to do this. I just want to run away and hide right now, honestly, but I need your help.” She eyed Mick and Clarissa in turn.
“I’ll just be leaving now,” Clarissa said, moving to step outside.
“I need your help, too,” Coco insisted.
“What for?” Clarissa stopped walking. Mick stood a few steps behind her, hoping the two women weren’t about to fight.
“I need to get back down into the hotel. Scuba diving in is the only way. But there’s a huge-ass shark in the lagoon. I need a distraction.”
Clarissa gave a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, so you want to use me for bait, is that it?”
Coco shook her head. “Not you. Your dolphins.”
The trainer’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “My dolphins! You mean the ones there are left?”
“Just one of them. People are dying, Clarissa.” It irked Coco that Mick’s...girlfriend, if that’s what she was...would place the lives of her dolphins above those of humans, as if they are so much more important....or is it simply that to lose her dolphins is a step closer to losing her job? Either way, Coco didn’t like her. As if she needed another reason not to like her, she thought sourly, glancing over at Mick, who was staring back at her intently.
Mick chose this moment to rejoin the conversation. “What would you do with it?”
Coco looked from Mick to Clarissa. “Let it out into the lagoon. Instruct it to swim away from the hotel out to the edge of the reef. Hopefully the megalodon will decide to follow it, but won’t be able to catch it. Meanwhile...” She directed her gaze back to Mick.
“...you drive me in the Zodiac, with my dive gear, out to the hotel directly over the airlock, so I can drop over the side and swim down there fast. I’ll slip inside before the megalodon knows I’m there.”
“And then what?” It was pretty obvious that Mick was glad to have something to focus on other than the interaction between the two women.
“Then I’m going to lead a group of certified divers out of the hotel and back to the beach.”
Mick moved closer to Coco. “You’re going to go back down there now that you’re safe?”
“That’s crazy,” Clarissa concurred.
“It’s my job.”
Clarissa laughed. “Hey, I’m a dolphin trainer, you’re a marine biologist, you’re probably making about what I make, and I know it’s not enough to risk our lives for.”
“Actually, I got a raise.”
Clarissa appeared confused. “I thought raises were only given once a year during the annual evaluations?”
“Let’s just say that there were...extenuating circumstances... down there that enabled me to negotiate for more.”
Mick nodded. “Like agreeing to risk your life to save people in the tunnel, and now again to lead them out of there past a killer shark?”
Coco nodded. “Seriously you guys, that building is in sketchy shape down there. There’s maybe two or three people down there who have the slightest clue about how any of it works. More people are going to die if I don’t help out. I just need you two to help me.”
“I drive you out there in the Zodiac, and I’ll be waiting on the beach in the boat in case you need any help getting back to the beach.”
“Thanks, Mick.”
Coco and Mick looked to Clarissa. “I still have Tursi, and he’s my fastest. I suppose I could have him streak out to the reef.” She shot Coco a hard stare. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
#
An hour later Coco sat on the pontoon of the Zodiac inflatable boat that was tied to the pier next to the sub dock. Mick started the engine and let it warm up while he used the boat’s radio to call Clarissa over at the dolphin lagoon.
“Clar, we’re ready in the boat, what’s your status, over?”
Coco raised her eyebrows at him as she tugged on her scuba gear. Normally she’d wait until the boat reached the dive site to actually put the gear on, but in this case she wanted to be able to hit the water immediately, as long as there were no signs of the mega-shark.
“Clar?”
Mick cleared his throat. Realizing his mistake, he spoke into the radio again. “Clarissa, you read me?”
The dolphin trainer’s voice came loud and clear across the radio channel. “I’ve got Tursi lined up at the gate. Just say the word.”
Mick looked at Coco, who gave him a nod. He spoke into the radio. “Word.”
“Okay, I don’t see any sign of the shark, so I’m just going to send him across the middle of the lagoon. When he reaches the reef he’s supposed to skirt the perimeter, and come back through the atoll lagoon to the dolphin lagoon. Releasing in three...”
Coco looked out across the lagoon, but also saw no sign of the prehistoric predator.
“...two...one...lifting the gate...Go Tursi!”
They heard two shrill blasts of a whistle emanate from the radio.
“Hold on!” This from Mick for Coco’s benefit, as he gunned the outboard’s throttle, sending the Zodiac skimming across the water away from the pier. The surface of the lagoon was almost mirror flat, making for a smooth boat ride. Despite the seemingly tranquil surroundings, Coco’s face was grim as she scoured the lagoon
for signs of the hyper-predator. After a couple of minutes, Mick slowed the boat as he neared one of the two end-piece towers which supported lamp-tipped spires protruding a few feet above the surface to mark the hotel’s position beneath.
“Airlock’s right down here,” Mick said, holding the boat steady. “Forgive me if I don’t want to drop anchor. Might need to leave in a hurry, if you know what I mean, so I’ll just keep her in position for you.”
Coco was so focused on the moment, so all-business that she didn’t even acknowledge Mick’s humor. Or is it because you’re pissed at him? After a quick glance around one more time (no megalodon), she flopped backwards over the side, Jacques Cousteau style, she always joked.
“Be care—“Mick called, trailing off when he saw that she was already underwater. “—ful.”
He watched her descend toward the reef in a trail of bubbles. When he was sure she was underway without problems and clear of the boat, he put the motor into gear and raced back to the beach, double-checking that his radio was standing by on the designated channel.
Underwater, Coco heard the thrumming of the outboard motor grow more distant. She looked up and toward the beach in time to see the bottom of the Zodiac leaving a trail of white water on the surface of the lagoon. Head on a swivel, Coco descended the rest of the way to the reef floor. The hotel loomed before her, the airlock door protruding like a bump on a log just a few feet to her right. Even though she didn’t see the shark, she wasted no time finning over to the hotel’s underwater entrance. The megalodon was capable of scary-fast speeds, and of course made no noise if it stayed completely submerged. She would not take her safety for granted down here.
Reaching the airlock, Coco hit the switch to open the outer door. It slid open, and she kicked her way inside.
Chapter 26
Coco opened the inner airlock door, and stepped into the hotel. While resealing the airlock she heard voices coming from the dive shop inside. She grabbed her gear, and walked into the shop. There, a half a dozen people, one of them calling out, “Hello, Coco, you here?” walked around the shop.
Among them, apparently pretending he was oblivious to where she should most likely be—dead inside the Wet Bar, now having lived up to its name entirely—was James White. Coco was not at all surprised. In fact, instead of confronting him and creating a scene, she decided it was time to mess with his head a little. Still wearing her scuba gear and holding her fins in one hand, she stepped out into view of the shop visitors.
“Hi, Mr. White! Hello, everyone, are you ready for your afternoon dive?” Might as well make it fun, Coco thought. It’s just one short, shallow reef dive. You can do it. Then it’s over.
White looked like he’d seen a ghost, his face paling, lips trembling.
“C—Coco?”
“Hi there, Mr. White! As you can see I’m just back from a dive. I thought I’d test the waters in preparation for the group dive. Everything looks fins out there, people—I mean fine, everything looks fine!” She paused for a second with the group’s laughter. “So don’t worry, just relax, come with me, and we’ll get you all geared up.”
“All right!”
“Always wanted to get my shark diver certification,” one of the men said.
Coco’s approach had worked. In general, the tone of the group was upbeat and positive, all things considered. White, though, while not about to say anything, was having trouble processing the situation. Coco took great pleasure in watching his baffled expression out of the corner of her eye as she ignored him. She could practically read his brainwaves as his mind screamed, How in the Hell did she get out of there? She would never tell.
Coco went about the business of getting her divers together and checking their certifications. One of them said he was certified, but didn’t have his card to prove it, so she grilled him with a pop quiz only certified divers would know, and pronounced him fit to dive. All told she had six scuba divers to take with her to the safety of the beach. Then she set about assisting the group as they tried on gear, making sure it fit properly, making sure it worked. She was extra careful, taking longer than usual on this process since she absolutely did not want any gear-related issues on this dive above all others. The dive should only last about ten or fifteen minutes if everything went well, much shorter than a standard dive, but the overriding sense of danger was palpable.
As she was nearing the end of the setup, screwing her own regulator onto a fresh tank, White came up to her and knelt down, looking around briefly to make sure no one was within earshot. He spoke to her in a low voice with a smile on his face.
“Coco, I was very concerned when I found out the restaurant flooded, and the pressure door was sealed off. I was worried that you...” He paused, hoping she would pick up the sentence and fill in the blanks for him, but she only continued adjusting her equipment. “I was worried that you might not have made it out of there,” he finished, staring her in the eyes.
Coco shrugged as she pressed the purge button on her regulator, testing the airflow and enjoying seeing White jump at the sharp hiss of air it produced. “It was no big deal. I did a sweep of the area, found no one in there, and then squeezed out quick before the door shut.” She gave him a big, fake smile.
“I—“ he started, clearly confused as hell, but then a diver approached Coco holding a spear gun in one hand, and White stood with an “All right, then, glad to hear it, Coco!” and left.
“This is for sale in the shop,” the man, an Egyptian telecommunications magnate by the name of Hatem Safar said. “I will purchase it from you.”
Coco shot him a doubting look. “No spearfishing on this dive, Sir. We’re just going to swim over to the beach so you can exit the hotel safely. That’s the only purpose for this dive.”
“In case the shark...” he began...but Coco waved him down. The last thing she wanted was to have to worry about nervous neophytes going off half-cocked underwater on what could be an extremely dangerous dive. No need to make it even more so.
“Absolutely not, Sir. You’re welcome to go on your own, if you prefer...” she waved an arm toward the airlock while adding extra conviction to her voice. “But no one diving with my group will be carrying spears of any kind.” Then she thought, but did not say, As if that little toothpick would have any effect on the megalodon, anyway. Well, maybe if it was right in the eye...
But the man set the spear gun down, acquiescing. “Very well. I trust you to lead us safely.” Coco nodded at him, and he left to see to his wife. She straightened up and looked around, judging the state of readiness of her divers. They looked about as ready as one could be to attempt to swim underwater past a living dinosaur. It was time.
“Listen up, everyone!” she called. “Please gather all of your gear, and follow me to the airlock entrance, this way.”
Wearing her scuba gear, Coco led the group to the inner airlock. She pointed to the activation button on the wall next to the door. “When I press this button—” she began, but never finished her sentence. At that moment they heard a destructive crunching sound, a heavy impact of some sort that sounded like it came from outside the hotel.
“What was that?” everyone immediately started asking.
Coco stepped back from the door. “Sounded like something hit the outer airlock door.” She held a hand up for silence, listening to see if there would be more noise. Again came another wrenching impact—the creaking and twisting of metal. Coco quickly pictured the hotel’s construction from the outside. Most of the hotel’s “walls” were acrylic, but the airlock doors were metal, as were the internal failsafe pressure doors. Something...don’t kid yourself, you know what it is...was colliding with the outer airlock door, with great force.
When they heard—and felt, Coco noticed as she sensed a vibration beneath her feet—yet another battering, Coco waved the group away from the door. “Back up, back away!” She led by example, backpedaling several feet from the inner airlock door.
Coco stared at the inner door,
dreading seeing it bulge and buckle. The megalodon had to be responsible for this. What else could cause such underwater destruction? Why, she had no idea.
“It’s the shark, isn’t it?” the Egyptian man asked. Everyone looked at Coco, expecting an answer. She was their guide. She knew this place much better than they did. But the truth was that, although it must be the shark, she had no idea why, and that bothered the scientist in her.
“I think so.”
“Why is it doing this?” a woman asked. “Are they chumming the waters?”
Coco shook her head emphatically. “No chumming or commercial fishing activities of any kind on this island. Subsistence fishing by the native villagers only.”
“Then why is this shark doing this?” someone else wanted to know.
“Look, now is really not the time and place to worry about that, okay? I don’t have the answer to that, and I don’t want to waste everybody’s time speculating right now.”
“Why not, we can’t exactly do our dive now, can we?” the Hatem pointed out. Coco had to admit that he had a point, but then she was distracted by the airlock door button on the wall. It was blinking red. She’d never seen it do that before. Usually it was unlit when on standby and then green when pressed to either open or close the door. She looked closely at the seal where the door met the floor and saw moisture seeping in. Also unusual; usually it was bone dry, even after wet divers traipsed through it back into the hotel.
“I’m willing to bet,” Coco said, shrugging her scuba tank off and setting it on the floor—a signal to the others that they would not be doing the dive—“that the airlock no longer works.”
She pointed to the blinking red button, then to the wetness on the floor.
“You think it’s flooded in there?” a man asked.
“It’s always flooded in there,” Coco explained, “until that button is pressed. When that happens the water in the airlock is forced out by pressurization. But if the outer door was banged up, the system would no longer be air- and water-tight, and so wouldn’t be able to work right.”