The boy didn’t want to stop his father’s excitement, but his hands wouldn’t stop bleeding. They had to find some way to land, away from the giant beast, the huge teeth, and the ungodly cold. “Dada,” he started hesitantly. He could barely talk, he was so weak. So much blood lost.
His father’s eyes stayed focused on the ship’s wreckage as he murmured, “Megalodon. There’s one alive, son, and we found it. Do you have any idea what this means?”
“Dada, my hands.”
His father looked down at the boy’s shredded palms. “Oh, son. Oh my god, son.” He wrapped his wet arms around the boy and tucked his head under his chin, rubbing the tops of his son’s arms. “I’ll get you out of here. It’s okay. It’s okay. We’ll get out of here, and then we’ll tell the world what we’ve found here today. I know you’re scared and cold, bleeding, but we made it. Now, we have to survive. We have no choice. We must tell the world a prehistoric creature is still alive down here. We have to—”
The boy smelled the rotten fish smell so strongly that he felt bile rise up in his throat again, and he pulled back from his father, peeking over his shoulder to the warm gust of air accompanying the foul stench.
Nothing but jagged, sharp teeth filled his vision. The giant shark was right on top of their little island of debris, their piece of momentary and illusionary safety. At this range, the boy noticed each tooth seemed to have jagged teeth of its own. Teeth with teeth.
Then the jaws did that thing again. They seemed to shoot out of the massive creature’s head, but this time, the beast snapped the chunk of metal they had been floating on in half, leaving the boy alone on his side, and his father in the teeth of the beast.
His father didn’t scream; instead, all the boy heard, because his eyes were shut so tightly he might never see again, was the crunching of his dada’s bones, and harsh, heavy grunts and gasps coming from his father’s body as the shark demolished him into pieces of meat.
The boy balled up with his bloody fists under him and his backbone pointed to the sky, fetal, wishing, hoping, praying that it would just go away.
And if it did, he swore, absolutely swore by the tears in his soul at having heard his father die such a base and terrorizing death, that he would make it to land, and he would make it his life’s goal to do what his dada wanted in his last moments. His dada had wanted it so much he forgot to keep paddling them on the debris.
The boy would make the world know. He would find a way to make sure everybody on the planet knew this thing was here, right here, in the Drake Passage, if it was the last thing he did in his life.
Chapter 1
Will had always hated the cold, and now, after six months so close to Antarctica, his father had finally brought Will and his sister aboard his ship for the great Drake Passage expedition he’d been hired for and getting ready for, along with the dozen or so passengers from England.
Who would want to see this place?
Will hadn’t gotten his sea legs, even at twelve. His dad blamed it on how he was six feet tall, and grew four of them in the past year.
He had to stay in open air to keep his stomach somewhat settled. Anytime he went into the stagnant, bottled-up warm air of the cabins, he eventually ended up swallowing puke until he made it back outside.
So, basically he had to stay in the most frigid outside place on the planet all the day, or stay warm and vomit in his mouth every few minutes.
He’d found the higher up he was, the less the lingering seasickness, even in the fresh air, bothered him. As he’d been doing whenever they were at sea, he now rested on top of the breezy bridge’s roof with his legs crossed, and his hands and arms buried in the crooks of his knees. He kept his head down. There wasn’t much to seeing the ocean after doing so for most of his life.
It was close to sunset, and Will caught a glimpse of movement below on deck. He lifted his head to see who it was.
Sir Jeffery Mallory stared right back up at him. In his smooth, strong voice, he called up to Will, “In your spot?”
Will loved Sir Mallory’s English accent. He nodded.
“Come down. You’ll freeze your nose off up there when it gets dark.” He smiled a perfect white grin.
Will scrambled to get his stiff muscles moving and climb off the bridge roof to Sir Mallory. He’d been enchanted with the fifty-year-old rich Brit since the man gave him an English pound within moments of their meeting. That coin was cool. He kept it in his pants pocket all the time.
Once on deck, Will only slightly looked up to meet Sir Mallory’s eyes, the older man having a couple inches on him. Sir Mallory clapped Will’s shoulder and said, “Your dad is one amazing sailor. He’s a natural. So pleased he agreed to my proposal because nobody can sail the Drake Passage like Captain Miller.”
Will nodded. “He was even born on a boat.”
Sir Mallory’s laugh was thick, rich, and contagious.
Will grinned, bad mood dispelling. He didn’t feel as cold.
Sir Mallory leaned in toward him and in a soft, joking tone, said, “You, on the other hand, were probably born on the hard, packed earth as far away from the ocean as possible.”
Will looked down, but couldn’t help but give off a small smile.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I’m a diabetic, have to take insulin shots. When I was a kid, I was mortified if anyone knew I was taking my shot. Silly things, insecurities.” He looked at Will with one eye squinting against a cold wind picking up. “Funny thing, most people are so worried about their own insecurities that they don’t realize everyone has them. You have them. I have them. Even bugs in the soil have them. It’s survival.”
“Do killers have them?” The bold question sprung from Will’s mouth before he could think about how inappropriate it was.
Sir Mallory turned his head away from the wind and examined Will with a twinkle in his electric green eyes. “Killers have every insecurity.”
Will grinned back at him. Sir Mallory didn’t think twice about his odd question, and his reply gave Will something to think about. He loved how Sir Mallory treated him like an equal, didn’t ask him about his studies in Argentina and what he liked to do in his spare time, like so many adults did when they had no clue he wasn’t eight anymore.
Will also picked up that Sir Mallory had charmed the crew of his father’s charter boat, and all of the people Sir Mallory brought along for the exploration often laughed and joked with him.
Will’s father had told him and his sister that Sir Mallory knew the true meaning of catching more flies with honey.
“Want to see something you’ve never seen before? Touch it, hold it? Something that once belonged to a killer?” Sir Mallory’s eyes kept sparkling, but now with mischief and daring.
“Yeah!” said Will.
Sir Mallory dramatically looked over both shoulders as though making sure nobody was watching, even though the rest of the shipmates hid below deck from the cold. Will giggled. Sir Mallory reached into the huge left pocket of his parka, and out came the biggest, sharpest tooth Will had ever seen.
“What is that?” It filled Sir Mallory’s whole palm and then some. “How big is that? That is a tooth, right?” He couldn’t hide the wonder in his voice, and longed to hold the massive thing.
Sir Mallory read his mind, holding the giant tooth out to him. “It’s a little over six inches long. It’s a shark tooth. A prehistoric shark tooth, a shark called a Megalodon. Ever heard of it?”
Will took off his gloves, and ran his fingers and palms all over the gray, pointy, and polished tooth. The very edges of the tooth had serrated spikes going down along the sides. That gave his imagination a small shiver. “No, but it’s dead now, right?”
Sir Mallory glanced at the setting sun. Orange filled the sky to the west. “The Megalodons supposedly died off two million years ago. Now, Will, that’s not too long ago, is it?”
“Sounds like forever.” He turned the tooth this way and that, admiring the polish shining in the sunset.
/> “All we have of them are their teeth. Some fossil markings in soil. But like all sharks, they were held together by cartilage, which dissipated long ago. People who study them really can’t say what they looked like or how big they actually were, but most agree they were as long as sixty feet. Can you imagine?”
He shook his head, looked up at Sir Mallory, and held out the giant tooth to him. “Cool, thanks.”
Sir Mallory took the tooth and put it back in his pocket. “You’re welcome. Have you tried Dramamine? For the seasickness?”
“I’ve tried everything, but what works is just throwing up. I can’t go around throwing up every thirty minutes.” He rolled his eyes at Sir Mallory, then grinned. “School starts up after this trip and I’ll be so glad to be on land. We’ll be going back to the States.”
Sir Mallory gave him an inquisitive look. “I haven’t seen you blow chunks.”
Will let out half a laugh, but said nothing.
“What? Don’t be embarrassed. I’m dying to know now.”
Will shrugged. “It’s gross, but I throw up in my mouth, then swallow it back down. I just don’t eat or drink much when I’m on a boat, so there’s not much that comes up.”
His face dropped in sincere sympathy. “You poor guy. How miserable. They say everybody eventually gets their sea legs, but Will, I think you’re the guy who never could ride a bike all his life.”
That made Will laugh, and he appreciated that Sir Mallory made him feel less self-conscious about his inability to physically cope with the motion of the ocean.
Chapter 2
Will was bundled up with three space heaters blowing on him on the bridge. He spent nights on the bridge with open windows and the space heaters to keep from barfing while staying warm. Nights in this part of the world didn’t leave room for even the sickest person to get fresh air outside.
The watch his dad gave him on his tenth birthday said it was seven at night, just past.
As if on cue, Ellen, his sixteen-year-old sister, entered with a hot plate of fish and vegetables. “Come on, Willie, you gotta eat something. Look, it’s fresh-caught.” She held the food under Will’s nose, but his stomach turned. Still, he took the plate and offered her what he thought was a genuine smile.
“I’m not leaving until you have at least three bites. Big ones.” She stood straight, chin-length brown hair falling over one eye, and put her hands on her hips with a frown.
Will picked up the tin fork and shoved the peas and carrots around. “I…I can’t right now, but I will. You can leave it.”
She huffed. “You’re going to starve! You have to get some nutrients. Look. One bite, okay? Then I’ll leave you to pick at it all night if you want to.” She looked out of the bridge windows. “But you won’t,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“What do you mean?” His curiosity piqued.
“Well,” she said as she crouched back down, “Sir Mallory is lighting the deck’s fire pit tonight and is going to tell a story. Something about what this expedition is all about. I mean, Dad’s been sailing the Drake Passage for months now getting his chops back for this, and who knows how much Sir Mallory really is paying him to do it. I mean, he’s a knight, for Christ’s sake! Can you imagine the kind of money he has?”
“Nobody ever told me what he was knighted for.” The smell of the cooked fish turned his guts and he put the plate next to him on the floor.
“I dunno, but it must have been bravery. Don’t you think he’s handsome? I mean, for an older guy. I like older guys.”
“Eh.”
She slapped his arm. “What did I tell you? One bite. Then at eight, be on deck. Now, go on, eat up.”
Will picked the plate back up and took a nibble of fish. It actually tasted delicious, and he took another small bite.
“Good, good. See? Not so bad.” She smiled at him. “I know this is the rough part, but I have this feeling, ya know? Like we’re gonna see stuff, do stuff like nothing we’ve ever done before. Sir Mallory gives you that feeling, doesn’t he?”
Will nodded. Sir Mallory certainly made an impression on him, but not exactly the heartthrob kind he had on Ellen. Will guessed he could see the older guy’s good looks, but he suspected it was the knighthood that really got Ellen excited.
In a low voice, so Don Mack couldn’t hear, she said, “Caleb is coming to my room tonight. Don’t you dare pick my lock, and if Dad tries to make you, pretend you can’t. Got it? Willie?”
“Who’s Caleb?”
She blushed again. “He’s one of the guys with James. He’s eighteen, so smart he graduated from college this year. He’s so interesting. But tonight, it’s special, okay? No lock-picking.”
He nodded. Ellen had gone from swooning over Sir Mallory to sneaking an eighteen-year-old into her cabin in less than a minute. “Okay, will not disturb in any way.”
Ellen left Will to pick at his fish and vegetables, huddled in blankets and trying to keep the food down. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been.
Don Mack, his dad’s first mate, was at the wheel in front of Will, and he turned. “Look at ya. Eating like a regular sailor, son. Maybe you’re starting to get those sea legs after all.”
Will smiled weakly as a bit of fish rose up in his throat with a shift of the sea. He swallowed it back down without expression.
“Hey, Don?” Will asked him.
“Yeah?” He kept his eyes on the dark sea. The ice in the water wasn’t as bad in this area, but it could still sneak up unexpected. Don Mack was almost as good as his dad at cold sailing.
“Do you know why Sir Mallory was knighted?”
He shook his head. “Don’t give a crap.”
Will’s eyes widened. “Why not?”
He shrugged, pushed his enormous hat back. “It’s a bunch of rich people giving other rich people a reason to feel more important. ‘You are better than everybody else because I’m better, too, and I say so. You are a knight!’” He said the last part in what Will imagined was the Queen of England’s mimicked voice. Don slapped his thigh. “Get it?”
Will chuckled. “Yeah. But don’t you think Sir Mallory might be a little different or something? I don’t get the feeling he’s stuck on himself or all high-and-mighty.”
Don turned for a moment. His nose was bright red and bulbous, and a lock of black hair fell out of the front of his hat and over his forehead. “I don’t know what to make of the guy. Except he’s up to something, and we’re about to find out what.”
“We are?”
He laughed. “Didn’t you even listen to your sister?”
“Oh. The fire pit at eight.”
“Yeah, yeah. The fire pit at eight. I have to float this boat and can’t go, so you have to tell me everything. This expedition’s been in the works for four years, and your dad’s only just agreed after three years of Mallory begging him. Wouldn’t do it without him. Something’s up.”
“Dad didn’t say anything.”
“Nobody knows what the expedition is all about.”
“Well, Dad said it was secret, but I thought that was just from me and Ellen.”
Don shook his head and kept his gaze on the horizon, lazily fielding the ship’s wheel. “Big part of the reason your dad wouldn’t sign on for so long is because Mallory wouldn’t tell him what it’s all about upfront. Somehow, Mallory convinced him to go along with it, anyway.”
Will thought for a minute. “Did Sir Mallory give Dad a bunch of money to make him say yes?”
Don laughed. “I’m sure as hell he did, but I don’t think that’s why your dad said yes.”
Will rubbed his face and pushed his dinner away. “I’m so confused.”
“Your dad’s a sailor. You know that.”
“So? Of course he is. He sails all the time. But why in this freezing bottom of the planet?”
“Maybe he’s a curious man. Could be nostalgia. Captain Miller sailed the Drake Passage for the first six years of his sailing career. Or maybe Mallory used that British
charm and eventually got to him. But just between me and you, I don’t think your dad likes Mallory much.”
“Really? Why not?”
Don wiped his red nose. “Your dad’s a straight-shooter. Mallory’s a chummy talker. Two types that don’t usually walk off into the sunset as best friends…ever.”
“Dad’s so judgmental,” Will said under his breath. He couldn’t help it. Every time his dad brought him to sea, Will’s seasickness grew in him resentment toward his father until they were grounded, and then it would vanish with the spinning of Will’s head coming full stop.
“Hey, don’t say that. Your dad’s one of the good ones. I’d trust him with my life. Hell, doing this trip with him is trusting him with my life, but you know what? He knows the Drake Passage so well it’s like trusting him with a shotgun in a mad dog’s face.”
“Huh?”
“He knows how to use a shotgun real good, too. You seen it? You think he’s something with that whip he carries around all the time. He just switched to that when Ellie was born. Oh, and the Glock, man. He’s a wicked one with the Glock.”
“What Glock? Dad doesn’t have any guns.” He thought of his dad’s skills with the black whip. One of his father’s favorite things to do was sneak up behind him and ensnare him around the waist. It always gave him a mean jump, but he guessed that was his dad’s way of hugging. Other times, he’d seen his dad use the whip to catch fish right out of the sea.
“Oh.” Don straightened up and rubbed his nose again. “I must have been thinking of when we’d go out when your mom was still alive. He could shoot a shark thirty feet away right in the face with his handgun and kill it instantly.”
“Dad? For real? No way.” Will tried to imagine his lanky, tall old man as a gunslinger. It was hard to think of his quiet, somber father ever unloading a gun into any living thing. “What was he like?” Will said quietly.
“Your dad? Always knew what to say. Always knew what to do. Still does. He’s just more careful.”
“No, I mean before. Like, when you’d sail with him, before Mom.” Will was afraid to ask. His mother was an off-limits topic around his dad, and Will had never thought to ask Don. Before Will sprouted up to being taller than Don, the old sailor treated him like a fragile doll. Probably because he was sick every sea voyage. It was amazing how some things had changed since he’d hit six feet. Now Don Mack cursed in front of him, and Will had been surprised during those long nights on the bridge how much Don rattled on about whatever thought came to his mind.
Island Rampage: A Dinosaur Thriller Page 21