by Flash Rex
I had two choices. One, I could move the shark back out over water where it would escape but remain alive for another chance, should it fall out of the net. Two, I could move the net over the transport box where we would have it dead or alive, whether it fell out or not. "Bring it back over the box," I told the crane operator. I again thought of the kid. "We're not letting that monster go free again!" At this point I figured we'd be heroes for killing this beast mere hours after it attacked a defenseless kid. I could live with hero status.
I didn't have the same respect for this shark as I did for other great whites. To me other great whites had some redeeming value. They were the best at what they did. They seem to do what they do without having to hide. They hunted for food when they were hungry. Of course, they probably were always hungry. There was majesty to them. This thing we had in our net looked sneaky to me somehow. It looked like a great white that was trying to camouflage what it really was by being a different color. It snuck up on defenseless things and attacked without warning. I suppose all great whites did that but the color of this one made that normal practice seem evil somehow.
I could reach out and touch the shark now. It hovered a foot above the warm water in the box. By now the beginning of the pectoral fin and the last of the gills were at the edge of the net. We were running out of time.
The shark had only been out of the water for a few minutes but that was more than I wanted it to be. Unlike most of the other great whites that had been captured and taken to aquariums, this one hadn't had a real struggle while still in the water. We had a leg up on virtually all the previous attempts to catch a great white alive. Unfortunately we seemed to be blowing it because I didn't bother checking the water temperature. I didn't bother changing the water from this morning either so there probably was an oxygen problem of one sort or another that I couldn't begin to worry about. I'd done most of my reading on the sharks themselves and I neglected trivial things like the shark's ability to breathe in a box for a few hours. Too late to worry about that now. I heard some yelling behind us and I turned to see the crew taking turns carrying and sliding a huge red and white cooler, hopefully full of ice.
It took four guys to pick up the cooler to dump it into the transport box. Since the box contained at least a couple of hundred gallons of water, I assumed we would need about a cooler full of ice. After all we had to drop the temperature about fifteen degrees or so. After the ice was poured and the cooler removed I checked the temperature. At first there appeared to be no change but it then started to drop pretty quickly. Once the temperature sunk below eighty, I gave the go ahead. "Ease it down. Slowly."
"Wait!" One of the crewmen said next to me.
"Whoa!" I said. "What's wrong?"
The crewman reached into the box and pulled out a can of Budweiser. "This Bud's for you!" He said to the laughter and applause of the other guys.
"OK. Bring it down slowly. Slowly." The shark was no longer struggling as it was lowered into the water. Once it was submerged (except for its dorsal and upper caudal fins), the shark still did not move.
"It's dead," somebody said.
"Not yet," I replied. In the past, captured great whites had to be helped back into swimming form after transport. A person or two would walk around a tank pushing a great white to get water flowing through its gills again. I suppose it was not unlike jumpstarting a car battery. There wasn't much room to maneuver in the box but I didn't know what else to do. I reached in to pull the shark as far back in the box as I could. Just before I made contact, though, the shark smashed its tail from side to side. I nearly had a heart attack and I wasn't alone. I could see the others scrambling away from the box. "It's a shark for crying' out loud, not the Creature from the Black Lagoon!"
The shark's tail motion propelled its conical snout into the front of the transport box. The force of the contact on the most sensitive area of the shark's anatomy seemed to stun the animal momentarily. After recovering, the shark tried to turn around, but that was impossible. I didn't want our prize and savior to injure itself so I had to get the pumps on as quickly as possible. As soon as I flipped the pumps on, the water shot the shark back up against the rear of the box. The current was way too strong. I turned the knob to adjust the current as fast as I could. The flow of water nearly stopped and the shark shot forward smashing its snout again. I began to feel self-conscious as the others looked on while I beat the hell out of the shark. Here I was ordering everyone around all day and now I looked like I didn't know what I was doing.
I turned the knob back to what I thought was the middle. The shark, still stunned, was pushed back a couple of feet before it began swimming normally to keep pace with the current. Whew, I thought to myself. That was easy. I looked at Burns. He was as happy as I'd ever seen him.
I doubt Burns would have been quite as happy if he realized the difficulties we now faced in transporting a live shark from a boat in the Atlantic Ocean to an aquarium. Throw in thousands of recreational boats and motor vehicle traffic in and around New York City on a beautiful late Memorial Day afternoon and you had a task that nearly forced me to my knees to weep openly. This was a task only the truly ignorant could hope to accomplish successfully. Fortunately, we had a huge supply of ignorance.
"Mr. Burns. We've got to get this shark to the aquarium as quickly as possible."
"I'll go talk to Pearson. Maybe he'll need a little extra motivation. I'll get him to have the boys back at the dock make sure the truck is ready to go. Anything else?"
"A few prayers would probably help."
Burns snickered. "Prayers are for the unprepared." He turned and walked off to the bridge.
I couldn't believe how self-confident Burns was. He couldn't possibly realize that the entire day was nothing more than pure luck for him. Maybe not luck, but something like it. He thought everything was going according to plan. Nobody could plan what we'd already accomplished and nobody would bet on us to successfully complete the day. I always thought luck was a streaky thing. You'd be lucky for a while and then you'd be unlucky for a while. Since our luck would eventually run out, I just hoped it would last until we got the shark home. I didn't think it was too much to ask.
Whatever Burns said to Pearson got the job done. It was like Poseidon himself had taken control of the boat and got us back to Freeport. The Coast Guard undoubtedly got some complaints due to our speed and huge wake but nobody stopped us to write a ticket or do anything else. I asked Pearson if it wouldn't make more sense to bring the boat up the Hudson River and dock somewhere in Rockland County. Pearson said there was some sort of scaled down Fleet Week going on in the harbor. I always thought Fleet Week was around the Fourth of July, but Pearson said the aircraft carrier Abraham Lincoln was in town before heading to the Adriatic. The Port Authority was able to get some tall ships together and there would be two Fleet Weeks this summer. Besides, according to Pearson we didn't have access to any suitable docking or unloading facilities in Rockland. The only path from the Atlantic to Pearl River went right through New York City.
On the way in, Burns came back to look at the shark with me. We both wanted to know what this shark actually was. A couple of crewmen carried a table out for us to spread out all of Burns' books. "What I want to know is this a black great white or..." Burns paused, "is this something else?"
"By 'something else' I assume you mean a carcharodon megalodon?"
"I certainly do," Burns replied.
"You realize that megalodons are considered to be extinct?" I asked.
"How does anyone really know? How do you prove something is extinct? You really don't prove extinction. As far as anyone knows they are extinct. It's possible that they are still out there somewhere. Am I right?" Burns asked but didn't wait for an answer. "The only animal that we could catch that could bring in more money than a great white shark is it's long thought extinct ancestor."
"Well the Loch Ness Monster would be right up there," I said.
"We'll save that for next year!
" Burns said.
"I can't wait. But you're right about no one really knowing whether megalodons are extinct. In this century, people have found other sea animals that were thought to be extinct. I can think of at least two off the top of my head. One was the coelacanth. The other was actually a shark. It's called megamouth." I wasn't sure that was right so I flipped open one of the books. "Check that. Nobody knew megamouth even existed! Nobody thought it was extinct because nobody knew it existed in the first place!"
"So you think it's possible?" Burns asked.
"Possible, yes. Anything is possible if it hasn't happened yet. Sometimes at night I wonder what turn of events would have to occur to allow me to play in next year's Super Bowl. I've come to the conclusion that an awful lot of other people would have to die for me to play. Since next year's Super Bowl hasn't been played yet, it's possible I could play in it. I doubt you'd want to bet on me playing in it though."
"That's not the same thing though." Burns said.
"No it's not but I'm getting the impression that you're blurring the line between what's possible and what's probable. Me in the Super Bowl is possible but not probable. That we have a megalodon is possible but not probable."
"I don't know what's possible or what's probable but I do know no one's seen an animal like the one we have here,” Burns said. "And the question remains. What is it?"
"I think there are three possibilities. One, it's a great white with some skin color abnormality. Two, its some previously unknown species, like megamouth. Three, it could be a previously thought extinct species, presumably a megalodon." Both of us were quiet for a moment. "Since our aim is to make money, we can't go wrong no matter what it is."
Burns' eyes didn't brighten like I thought they would when I mentioned the financial similarities amongst the three possibilities. "Let's throw out the new species possibility,” Burns said.
"Okay," I said without asking why.
"What are the differences between a megalodon and a modern great white shark?" Burns asked.
"The most obvious difference is size. There's almost as much speculation over the maximum size of modern great whites as there is over the size of megalodons. I've heard stories about great whites up to thirty-nine feet long. Supposedly, that one was harpooned off the Azores years ago, but like so many reports it's unconfirmed. I'd be very skeptical of a report like that. The actual maximum is probably actually only about half that size. Seventeen to twenty-three feet is probable. Anything more than that is highly doubtful."
"What about megalodon?" Burns asked.
"The problem with trying to pin a maximum size on megalodon is that we only have the teeth to go on. Researchers would extrapolate a size of megalodon based solely on the tooth size. It really is only an educated guess. Some early estimates ranged up to a hundred or a hundred and twenty feet. Those earlier estimates have been revised down in the last few years to about forty-five to sixty feet."
"Sixty feet,” Burns said shaking his head.
"Sixty feet would make it the second largest predator that has ever lived."
"Behind Tyrannosaurus Rex,” Burns said.
"Actually, no. The sperm whale is the largest predator that ever lived. That's the whale from Moby Dick. We're lucky it doesn't make a habit out of unprovoked attacks on boats," I said. I didn't mean to correct the boss like I did but I just can't help myself from showing I know more than other people. I was humbled in law school by others who knew more than I. Fortunately, real life wasn't like law school. Sure I was wrong in real life sometimes, but unlike law school there usually isn't someone around to notice.
"You mean megalodon was, is bigger than Tyrannosaurus Rex? That's incredible!"
"Unfortunately, maximum size doesn't help us much right now. Whatever animal this is, we can be certain it's not full grown," I said.
"How can we tell how old it is?" Burns asked.
"We really can't with any reliability. Just by looking at it, I would say this is a very young animal."
"Why do you say that? Is that just a guess?" Burns asked.
"It's an educated guess. First, this shark is small as great whites and megalodons go. So it's a safe bet it's young. Second, there doesn't appear to be any scratches or scars on the skin. Scratches and scars could come from mating or feeding or whatever. A newborn shark probably won't have been in as many situations where it could get scratched or bitten as an older shark."
"A newborn? It's ten feet long!" Burns said.
"Well, a young great white is probably in the four foot range."
"But this one is ten feet!" Burns said.
"I would imagine that a newborn megalodon could be about as large as the shark we have," I said.
"There must be some other way to tell!"
"There is one definite way to tell. But we would need a tooth from this one."
"So let's get one!" Burns said.
"How?" I asked. "I don't know how we get a tooth out of it without endangering either him or us."
"What about drugging it? We could reach in and get one and the shark would be more relaxed for the ride home," Burns suggested.
I shook my head. "I've never voluntarily taken any drug stronger than an aspirin. I wouldn't dare try to drug this thing. I wouldn't know what to use or what dosage or anything. And I don't want to risk being the one to kill this shark by mistake. Whatever it is, it's unique and we shouldn't risk killing it just to find out what it is."
"There's got to be a way to get a tooth out of it," Burns said.
"Why don't you just stick your hand in and grab it? Or tie a string to a tooth and to a doorknob and just slam the door shut. You gotta be patient, Mr. Burns. Great whites and their close relatives have multiple rows of teeth. They keep replacing them. There's a good chance a tooth could just fall out while it's feeding. Once we get it home we can let it bite into something and see if it leaves a tooth."
"All right, but it would be easier to market this thing if we knew what it was,” Burns said. "What about the tooth can tell you what it is?"
"We could probably find out two things. We might be able to get a clue to the shark's age. Younger great whites have thinner, sharper teeth because they usually hunt fish. Bigger great whites go after bigger game like mammals and need more powerful teeth to cut through bone and flesh. Humans are rarely attacked by small, young great whites because humans are relatively large compared to most fish."
"What else?" Burns asked.
"The tooth of a megalodon should have an identifying mark on the back that a great white tooth does not have."
"That's it?" Burns asked. "A mark on the back of the tooth? What about the color of the skin? Great whites are at least partially white. What color are megalodons?"
"Nobody has any idea. They could be plaid for all we know! The back of the teeth is the only way to tell for sure. Anything else would just be a guess."
"That's just great! So all we know now is that we may or may not have the most unique animal ever held in captivity."
"Captivity is still a truck ride through New York City away," I reminded Mr. Burns.
The unloading process was as painless as I dared to dream it would be. The box was lifted and lowered onto the back of the truck without so much as a glassful of water spilling out. The shark appeared to be fine to my untrained eye. I probably wouldn't have realized something was wrong until the shark was floating on its back motionless. As a kid, I knew my goldfish needed medical attention when they floated motionless. Even the truck driver looked sober. He listened to the Met game while the rest of us loaded the shark onto his truck. I was going to ride in the back with the shark and I was happy to see the green canvas that the fellas were unfolding to cover the entire back of the truck. I got more than enough sun on the boat.
Right off the bat, we got stuck at the first traffic light. The sun beat down on the canvas while we waited for the longest red light in the free world to change. I was roasting. It didn't help that the fumes from the truck's diesel
engine and the transport box's gasoline engine combined to provide a knockout punch that nearly sent me headfirst in with our man-eating passenger. I knocked on the back window of the truck. "Pull over!"
"Why?" The driver asked.
"Because I'm going to be dead if you don't!" We pulled over into a convenience store parking lot. The car Burns and Grimshaw were in pulled in behind the truck. I began rolling up the canvas.
"What are you getting, a Slurpee?" Grimshaw yelled out the car window.
"Yeah, and a burrito, you jackass!"
Once the canvas top was rolled up we finally got going again but we got caught at every red light on the way to the highway. Each time the driver made an attempt to make it only to jam on his brakes at the last second. I was sliding around the back of the truck with an empty one-gallon gasoline container. Every time the driver hit the brakes the gas can flew into me. I couldn’t stand it any more. I stood up, grabbed the can and punted it out of the truck and into a vacant lot at the corner of the intersection. "Oh! He got all of that one! Look at that hang time!"
The driver watched me through his rearview mirror. "What'd do that for?"
"If you stop short again I'm gonna punt your ass all over the street! You got me?" Of course, he continued to stop short every chance he got but my right foot was throbbing after kicking the can and I was sweating like the proverbial pig so I just endured it.
The next two hours were pure hell. We barely made it into Queens. The Memorial Day traffic heading back into the City from the Long Island beaches creeped along. Cars lined the shoulders after overheating. Of course, over a dozen overheated cars sat in driving lanes so the truck moved like a slalom skier in ultra-slow motion. The only thing that broke up the boredom in that frying pan on wheels was the threat on my life. Everyone was afraid to use their air conditioners due to the likelihood of over heating, so people were driving with their windows open. At one point, the shark thrashed its tail wildly and water splashed over the side and into the open driver's side window of the late 70's model Cadillac next to us. The driver stuck his head out the window, looked at me and got out of his car. He was at least a foot taller than me and easily double my weight. "I hope you have your will up to date, little man! Cause I'm gonna hurt you real bad!" I was frightened like a little girl. He jumped up the side of the truck and saw the shark. He jumped back down. "What the hell is that?" He climbed back into his car. His lane moved faster than ours and he gave me the finger on the way by.