Vengeance from the Deep - Book Two: Blood of the Necala

by Russ Elliott

  “This is the spot. Wow! Look at the size of the thing,” Greg said excitedly, staring at the obscure shadow beneath the boat. He quickly slid on his dive fins.

  As Greg grabbed his snorkel, Mat turned around in his seat. “Just make it quick. I didn’t have supper yet, and I’m starting to get a little hungry.”

  “Yeah, yeah . . . you and your appetite.” Greg slid the snorkel into his mouth and dropped backward from the stern.

  ~~~

  Beneath the surface, Greg turned around and found himself less than two yards above a gray mass that completely filled his field of view. He marveled, Wow, these things are a lot bigger than they look on TV!

  Then he noticed something that disturbed him to the core. No spots.

  What set his heart to beating uncontrollably, however, was the lack of a dorsal fin. In its place, a jagged frill ran atop an armor-plated hide. Raising his gaze, Greg looked down along the huge wide back that led to the thick head.

  As if sensing his presence, the creature turned its head. A red eye glared up at him. Slowly, the gigantic muscles behind the eye sockets rippled, and the mouth fell agape. The fading light in the water glittered across the bottom row of enormous spiked teeth.

  Greg sprang from the water and landed on the deck, still swimming.

  Mat sat with his feet propped on the steering console. “Bro, I said I was hungry. But you could have taken longer than that!”

  “Get. Out of. Here. Now,” Greg gasped from the deck. His eyes were wild as he lay sprawled across the fiberglass.

  “What the h—”

  “It’s NOT a whale shark down there!” Greg’s voice reached increasingly higher pitches. “It’s something else, and we need to get moving now!”

  “How do you know tha­­ . . . ” Mat stopped midsentence when he saw a gigantic upper jaw rise above the stern. The boat fell dark in its shadow. Mat grabbed the throttle just as the jaws began to close. The boat lunged forward, but the creature’s upper row of teeth caught on the transom causing the boat to point straight up in the air. Finally, the fiberglass gave way to teeth, and the boat shot forward, speeding across the surface at a forty-five-degree angle. Eventually, the bow dropped down, gently kissing the surface.

  Mat glanced over his shoulder and saw that a large, semicircular section of the transom was missing— along with Greg.

  “God no, Greg . . .” Mat was breathing rapidly, panic rolling through his body.

  “Hey, man! Slow it down!”

  Again, Mat looked back. This time, he saw Greg hanging through the half-moon hole in the back of the boat, his body skimming across the surface. Mat closed his eyes briefly and gave a silent thanks.

  The moment was short-lived.

  Before he could say a word in response to Greg, a jagged frill rose twenty yards behind the transom. From the front, it looked like a mound of gray, pebbled flesh that tapered up to a point as it plowed through the sea.

  One of Greg’s dive fins came off from the force of the water and skipped across the top of the massive head.

  Slow down so Greg can get on the boat? Or go faster to get away from the freak beast? Mat was in full panic mode.

  Suddenly, the frill dropped back. Is it getting tired? Mat wasn’t so sure, but he eased back on the throttle, slowing the boat enough for Greg to slide his body through the hole and onto the deck. After pulling up his trunks which were miraculously still attached to his skinny white legs, he quickly fell across the passenger seat. Neither said a word; instead, they looked across the water behind them. The frill was slowly closing in.

  This time, Mat did not hesitate. “See ya later!” He slammed the throttle wide open and held it there as the frill became a remote fleck in the water.

  “Bro, that was close!” gasped Greg, trying to catch his breath, shivering. He seemed on the verge of going into shock. “What do you think that thing was?”

  “Oh God.” Mat said another silent prayer as he pointed at the jagged frill which was now beside the boat.

  Greg refused to look, clearly knowing what Mat was pointing at.

  Greg whimpered now. “Mat, open this sucker UP. Get us out of here. Please, man. Oh man. Oh God.”

  “We’re at top speed!” Mat shouted, not taking his eyes from the frill which gradually began to fall back behind them again. He watched over his shoulder with relief as the frill continued to get smaller. “I knew after a while that thing would have to tire.”

  Greg nervously replied, “Just don’t slow down before we get to shore!”

  The engine sputtered.

  The frill was about forty-five yards behind them, closing in rapidly now, as if they weren’t moving at all. It wasn’t Mat’s imagination; the boat was definitely slowing.

  The boat jumped, lunging forward, just as the massive frill pushed into the stern, bumping them to a speed beyond that of the boat’s ability. Mat struggled to control the wheel.

  Mat looked over the edge to see a massive shadow, the rocky head.

  “Look over on your side, Greg. What do you see?”

  Greg hesitated, then looked. “You don’t want to know!”

  Mat gave a wide-eyed nod.

  There was silence as the boaters tried to come to terms with their predicament. Suddenly, Greg jumped up and grabbed Mat’s shoulders.

  “Outmaneuver the sucker, bro! No way it can follow you in a series of turns. It’s too big!”

  Matt nodded and cut the boat hard to starboard.

  Greg fell, catching himself on the gunwale as the massive shadow shot past them. “Nice move. But tell me when you’re gonna do it next time!”

  “Like I give a crap, Greg. No time for public service announcements, bro,” Mat said, looking for the frill.

  His mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

  Greg grabbed his arm. “Bro! What?” Then he saw what Mat saw, and he cursed under his breath.

  The creature had quickly adjusted its course and dropped back in behind them. Again, it showed a sudden burst of speed, pulling its frill up to the stern of the small boat as if to make a point. The water surrounding the boat turned dark. Then the creature plunged beneath the surface, and the massive shadow and the frill were gone.

  Mat kept heading straight at full speed, his knuckles white on the throttle. The engine was sputtering and skipping.

  Greg looked at him and shouted, “Bro, you’re going farther out to sea. We’re going the wrong way!”

  Mat’s curly hair was blown straight back from the wind. “No, we’re not! The wrong way is wherever that thing is!”

  “Yeah, but I think it’s gone. We gotta start heading back.”

  Mat slowed the boat down. He glanced at Greg while easing into a turn. “We need to let the engine cool off, man. With all the modifications, I can’t push it like that for long. It’s overheating bad. I just pray that . . . thing finally tired out.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Greg nervously scanned the surface. “I got the feeling that thing could have taken us out any time it wanted, ya know? Like it was playing with us or something.” He looked back at the half-moon bite mark in the transom, which went down to the waterline. “But one thing’s for certain.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m sure glad you got an inboard!”

  ~~~

  Kate guided the helicopter over a darkening sea while John searched through binoculars. Visibility was fading with the setting sun.

  “This is the general vicinity,” Kate said. “If my calculations are correct, we should be about eight miles northeast of the Nauticus II.”

  “But the creature’s most likely moved on. It’s been a half an hour since we got the ship’s call.” John’s frustration grew with every passing minute. “If only Nemo would give us the new coordinates.” He looked at Kate, who raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m not holding my breath.”

  Kate said, “Think we should drop some chum? Lay down a scent to try and lure it back?”

  “No,” John focused his
binoculars through the side window, “better not waste it.”

  After searching the glimmering waters for a few more minutes, John lowered the binoculars. He flipped a switch on the instrument cluster and raised the mike on his headset. “Guess all I can do is give Nemo another try.”

  ~~~

  Mat pressed the start button, and the powerful speedboat roared to life. “It’s been about twenty minutes,” he said. “The engine should have cooled off enough.” He proceeded toward the coast at about half speed. Greg continued to stand watch, carefully scanning the surface in all directions.

  After a few minutes, Greg pointed off starboard. “What was that?”

  “Oh no! You’ve GOT to be kidding me, man.”

  “No, no, it’s not that,” replied Greg. “It looks like . . . I know this sounds crazy, but . . . there is someone out there. We gotta go back and check it out.”

  “I . . . I don’t know! That thing could be anywhere!”

  “But if it is someone, they won’t have a chance, Mat. There’s no one out here other than us!”

  “Okayyy,” Mat replied, his tone hesitant. “We’ll check it out, but you keep your flippin' eyes wide open. I’m not going through that again if I can help it.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, dude.” After turning around and backtracking about forty yards, Greg said, “It was around here somewhere. I know I saw it. It was black!”

  “Maybe it was a seal.”

  “No. It looked kinda square, like a box . . . wait a minute. There it is, there.” Greg pointed. Veering the speedboat around, Mat saw the black fiberglass strewn across the surface. Drawing closer, he saw a piece of debris—the only piece of debris that was identifiable in a slew of other smaller pieces.

  A boat.

  A rectangular section of the transom was bobbing in the water.

  Greg gasped. “That’s Dr. Phillips’ boat!”

  Mat slowly pulled alongside the wreckage. Greg’s eyes carefully scanned the surface. A patch of blood surrounded the section of transom. Then he noticed all the shadows—the water was alive. Nearly a half dozen bull sharks were writhing in and out of the debris. The section of transom slowly turned in the fray. And that’s when Mat and Greg could see the frail hand clinging to it. Then the young woman’s pale arm and back came into view. Eyes clamped shut and shivering, she clung to the wreckage.

  “She’s still alive!” Greg shouted.

  Matt quickly pulled the speedboat behind the trembling girl.

  “I’ve never seen so many sharks in one spot!” Greg said, picking up an oar.

  “Hope all of that blood’s not coming from her!” Mat rose from the driver’s seat just as a ten-foot bull shark lunged for the girl’s side. Greg pushed the shark’s head down with the oar, veering the creature away from the girl. Missing the naked flesh, the jaws slammed the hull, rocking the boat. Regaining his balance, Mat swooped down and pulled the girl up to the gunwale. “Her leg!” he shouted. Greg yanked her left leg up from the surface just as another shark’s open mouth glided beneath it.

  The woman’s body shook as it lay across the deck. The ends of her strawberry blond hair were stained a deeper shade from the bloody water. She began to cry hysterically.

  Mat examined her, and asked Greg, “Where is it? I can’t find where she’s bleeding.”

  Greg’s eyes followed a red trail from the side of the boat to a long cut across the back of her right thigh. “Yeah, yeah . . . it’s her leg! Think all the blood’s coming from there. Doesn’t look like a shark bite, though. Maybe it’s from a jagged edge of the wreckage.” Her blood began to pool beneath her and trail toward the back of the boat where the bite mark met the water. The small boat jolted. Tilted. The frenzied sharks were nudging the fragile hull.

  “Go go go go go go,” Greg yelled. “They’re starting to come after the boat!”

  Suddenly, an eight-foot bull shark shot through the bite mark at the stern, its white underbelly sliding across the bloody deck, its open mouth swaying beside the girl. Mat pulled her to him as the shark thrashed wildly behind her. She screamed as the shark’s cold skin brushed her back. Frantically, Greg beat the paddle against the shark’s gills while Mat continued to pull the girl to safety at the front of the small boat. The shark jerked sideways, trying to draw its open mouth closer to bare flesh. Wham! Greg slammed the paddle end of the oar into the shark’s mouth and pushed the creature until it dropped back through the hole and into the water. He looked over the side of the boat and noticed there were more fins than before. Another shark nudged its nose through the opening in the stern until Greg cracked the paddle between its eyes.

  “What are you waiting for!” he shouted, his voice a frantic whine now. “Get us outta here, NOW!”

  Mat raced to the cockpit. With his hand on the throttle, he looked back. “Get her away from the hole first. I don’t want to shoot her out the back.”

  “I heard that!” Greg said. He quickly reached down and pulled her legs away from the jagged opening. He kneeled on the deck and tried to console her. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s all over. We’re gonna get you to a hospital.”

  The rocking subsided.

  Mat reached for the throttle as he noticed the sharks starting to disperse the wreckage area. Several fins streaked through the water–away from the boat.

  The girl lifted her head and muttered, “It’s not over.”

  They all followed her gaze through the bite mark in the boat’s stern.

  The frill had returned.

  ~~~

  Young Erick slowly ascended the stairwell leading to the main deck of the Nauticus II. He was careful to keep Rex behind him. Nearing the top step, he froze at the sound of Nemo’s voice. Carefully peering over the top step, he saw Nathan and Nemo beside the stack of crates. The reddish-orange sunset seemed to ignite the waters behind them. It seemed the two were taking a break from the hours spent watching the monitor.

  The men were having a heated conversation. As the argument escalated, Erick grew more concerned. He had never seen his easygoing Uncle Nathan so upset.

  “But you have no idea how dangerous this creature is! It must be stopped now.”

  Nemo withdrew his pipe. “I’m not saying we don’t destroy the pliosaur. They can blow it to oblivion for all I care, but not before I get it on film.” He leaned closer to Nathan. “Once the beast is dead, do you have any idea how valuable the only LIVE footage will be?”

  Erick ducked back behind the stairs when Nemo glanced in his direction. “Come on, boy,” he whispered to Rex. “Don’t want the captain seeing us.” Guiding the dog by the collar, the boy crept back down the stairwell.

  ~~~

  “I repeat. Sky Hawk to Nauticus II, do you read? Over.” John flipped a switch on the instrument cluster in frustration and collapsed back in the seat. “That’s it. Nemo’s definitely gone dark on us.”

  “What do you want to do?” asked Kate, working the stick.

  “It’ll be dark soon. May as well head to the ship.”

  Working the pedals, Kate veered the chopper around and headed west.

  John stared at the darkening horizon. Once at the ship, he wondered how things would play out with Nemo. Would it be a civil argument or break out into an all-out brawl? At this point, John was in favor of the second option. He glanced across the instrument cluster. “How we looking on fuel?”

  “We have enough to—” Kate paused, listening. She tilted her head.

  Suddenly, a voice came over the radio. It was a child’s voice in little more than a whisper. “Guys. Can you hear me?”

  John and Kate shared a look.

  John spoke into his headset, “Who is this?”

  “Erick.”

  “Erick, how old are you?”

  “I’m eleven . . . eleven and a half. I’ll be twelve in April. I’m on the ship, Nemo’s ship. Just wanted to let you guys know . . . they picked up another signal on the creature about ten minutes ago, but Nemo won’t let anyone call
you. They stepped away from the control room for a minute. I don’t know how to read this stuff, but I heard Nemo say six miles off Cape Agulhas.” Erick paused. “Uh-oh, someone’s coming. Gotta go!”

  And he was gone.

  John looked at Kate in disbelief.

  Kate gave John the thumbs-up. “I’m on it.” She twisted the throttle, and the chopper peeled back around, heading for the coast.

  Chapter 3

  WOUNDED PREY

  “Hurry! I think she’s going into shock!” Greg kneeled beside the trembling girl, trying to keep her stabilized on the slippery deck.

  Mat looked back at the approaching frill. “She’s not the only one. Gotta get this thing to go faster!”

  The massive frill closed in.

  Mat yelled to Greg, “Tell me when it’s within ten yards!”

  Greg yelled back, “Now!”

  Mat cut the boat hard right. Greg fell onto his side, still clinging to the girl. The frill glided past their port side. For a split second they looked up at a pebbled, gray mass slicing through the sea. Then the towering structure slowed as if to adjust its course. The boat pulled away about forty yards.

  “Good move!” Greg shouted.

  Mat replied without looking back, “Tell me when it catches back up!”

  The frill accelerated quickly, but this time as it drew nearer the stern it slowed, inching its way closer. Greg yelled again, “Now!”

  Mat cut the boat to port. The frill shot past their starboard side and then slowed down slightly, same as before. Mat saw they hadn’t gained as much distance this time. It’s hopeless, he thought. The creature was too smart for this zigzagging to get them all the way back to shore, even if the boat’s small engine could maintain this rate of speed without overheating, which was questionable.

  Leaving the girl lying behind the passenger’s seat, Greg ran up to Mat and picked up the radio mike. “I’m gonna call ahead and try to have an ambulance waiting for her!”

  Mat nodded his head without looking over, knowing the loss of hope would be evident in his eyes.

  ~~~