The Ocean King: A Deep Sea Thriller

by Russ Watts

  “Josh, thank you. We will, of course, keep you updated as the story continues. In other news…”

  Don’s mobile buzzed in his pocket and he plucked it out.

  Private number calling. Who the hell is this?

  “Don speaking.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  “This is Don, can I help you?”

  “Don, it’s me.”

  He finished his beer and put the empty glass down so as not to break it. His mother hadn’t called him in years. What did she want now? They hadn’t parted on very amicable terms, which actually was not unusual. Still, she never called him, ever. Suddenly, the CNN anchor wasn’t there, the bar wasn’t there, and he was at home, bending over the kitchen table as his mother raised a brown leather belt in the air.

  Get a grip, Don told himself. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. She can’t punish you anymore. She’s fallen over and broken a leg. She’s crashed her car. She’s been mugged and now she needs you. She’s…

  “I’m fine. Are you? I just thought…” She trailed off and nobody spoke.

  Don broke the awkward silence. “I’m sorry I got angry earlier. I shouldn’t have. Maybe us meeting today wasn’t such a good idea? Not on his anniversary. You need anything?”

  “No, I just stopped by the Holy Spirit afterwards and stayed there a while. I got to thinking how I’m not so young anymore. You’re not either, Donald. Time creeps up on you. I don’t know, I think perhaps I’ll see him again soon.”

  “Mom, you’re stronger than most people I know. Don’t go talking like that.” Don picked up his wallet. He should go round and check on her. “I can be round in a few minutes if you like?” He was nervous asking and wanted to burst out laughing. Nervous about asking his mother if he could come home? What a joke. “Mom, you hear me?”

  “Like I said, I was at the Holy Spirit today. It got me thinking about a lot of things. How short this life is. How we need salvation before we meet Him. I wanted to ask if you’d come with me on Sunday. I think it would do you good.”

  Don didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “Mom, you know I don’t go anymore. I don’t need to. I know that…”

  “You don’t need to? Don, you more than anyone need to go. I thought I could help you. There are a lot of good people at the church, people who you can talk to about it. They can help you realise what you did, so you can seek forgiveness from Him. I could…”

  “Jesus, are you for real? Forgiveness? I thought you were calling to talk to me like a regular person. Huh, what was I thinking? You know what, Mom, forget it. You go to your church and pray for me. I’m already at mine, and I’m going to drown in holy water tonight.”

  Don hung up and about two seconds later, he knew he was going to get drunk. Damn Zola and her pet dinosaur. He set his phone alarm for seven thirty, giving himself just enough time to shower and get to the park for eight, and shoved the phone in his pocket.

  Meghan was drying glasses and he called her over. “Fill her up,” he said with a scowl on his face.

  Meghan poured him a beer and handed it to him. “Want to talk about it?”

  Don downed it and shook his head. “Another, please.”

  Meghan handed him another beer and watched him down that too. She wrestled the empty glass from his hand and held onto him. “Don, you don’t have to be like that around me. I’m your friendly waitress, remember?”

  Don’t drag her into it. Look at those eyes, so warm and kind, even now, when you’re acting like a jerkoff.

  Don smiled humbly. “You’re right. Sorry, just had a thing with someone.”

  “Anyone important?”

  “No. It’s nothing.” Don looked around the bar and realised it was deserted. The family in the corner had finished and left, leaving the bar empty. He glanced up at the TV and saw it was getting late. “Sorry, you must want to close up. I’ll get going.”

  Meghan bit her lip and kept her hand on Don’s. “You live round here, don’t you? You know, I should really make sure you get home. I can’t have my best patrons walking these streets late at night when they’ve drunk as much as you. What do you say? I’ll lock up and meet you out front in five minutes? Or if you’re busy, I’m off Friday night. We could hang out then.”

  Don thought about his apartment and how dirty it was. He still hadn’t thrown out the empties, or the dishes in the sink. Meghan was probably half his age, yet, when she looked at him, he forgot his sadness. “Sure, I’ve got something a little stronger at home if you’re keen for a night-cap?”

  Meghan smiled. “Now you’re talking.”

  She clicked off the television set and Don wandered over to the door, leaving her to lock up. He waited outside in the fresh air as the lights flicked off behind him. The evening air was comfortable and still. The faintest breeze was coming from the south, bringing warm air with it. Standing outside the bar, under a cluster of palm trees, he was pleased he didn’t have the smog of LA to contend with. He had tried living there for four months and hated every second. When he had left the SEALS, he hadn’t really known where to go, or what to do, and so had tried LA first of all. It was too big, too industrious, and cluttered with people everywhere. Eventually, he had wound his way back down to San Diego. He knew deep down that he had come back to make sure his mother was all right, even if they didn’t see one another. He told himself he had come for the diving though, and for a long time, he had enjoyed it.

  There were so many spots to visit, and he had enjoyed the solitude he found underwater. Coral grew in abundance off the coast, and if you knew where to look, there were shipwrecks and caverns to explore. There were so many you could go diving every day and not have to go to the same spot twice. On the boats that took them out, he frequently met a few other guys who had been in the SEALS too. He made small talk with them, and they were pleasant enough, but he didn’t want to get close. Friends like that were not what he needed. If he’d wanted to hang out with people like that, he would have never quit in the first place.

  “Ready?”

  Meghan was locking the door and wore a leather jacket over tight jeans. He took her arm and began walking back to his apartment. “I have to warn you now - my neighbour is a terrible gossip. If she sees you, I won’t hear the end of it for weeks.”

  “Well that’s okay. We’ll have to make sure we give her something to gossip about.”

  Don looked at Meghan and wondered why she was drawn to him. It was obvious why he was drawn to her. Any man with two eyes would be. Don couldn’t understand what she saw in him, but he went with it. He’d had the perfect amount of beers not to question everything, and just to go with the flow right now.

  “I have to warn you about something else,” Don added as he led her up the steps to his apartment. “I might not have cleaned up for a while. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “Trust me, it’s got to be better than the place I’m renting. Honestly, I share with two men, sorry boys, and they are pigs. I can handle a few empty pizza boxes, but do you think they ever clean the bathroom? Do you think they ever empty the dishwasher or… Forget it. I didn’t come here to moan about those two.”

  Don put the key into his front door and hoped Mrs Barkley was asleep. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Meghan she would gossip about him for weeks if she saw him coming home with someone.

  “So, what did you come here for?” asked Don, as they stood in the doorway. The night was dark, and Meghan’s face was lit only by the moon that hid over the top of the apartment building. He couldn’t help but smile as he asked her.

  Don heard the creaking of her leather jacket as she slowly reached up and kissed him. Her lips were so delicate and fresh. The warm breeze carried her scent to him and sweet perfume mixed with the delicate citrus smell from the orange trees nearby. Slim, cold fingers wrapped around his neck and then withdrew as their lips parted.

  Don went into the apartment and switched on the lights. “Drink?”

  Meghan sa
w the coffee table and black bag that had fallen over, spilling a dozen beer bottles over the floor. There was a musty smell and she cracked the kitchen window open wider. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  Don ignored her and went into his bedroom to find the white rum. He didn’t feel like beer anymore. He wanted more, more of everything. He sank down onto his bed, kicked off his shoes, reached for the rum on the bedside table, and took off the cap. The bedroom was bigger than the lounge, and whilst just as cluttered, far more comfortable. He had no interest in watching television, in cleaning up, or even talking. He embraced the rum, drinking long and hard. A meagre light shone through the blinds, making him look like a ghostly zebra-man as he sat on his bed drinking.

  What right had his mother calling him like that? She was as bad as Mrs Barkley, interfering in his life when he hadn’t asked her to. When had he ever asked his mother for anything? Her and her church could go to hell. As if today wasn’t hard enough, he didn’t need to listen to any sermons from her. He knew he should check on Meghan, yet, was all of a sudden shy. He drank more of the rum for courage.

  Where are you? Where am I?

  Meghan walked into the room and stood in front of Don. “You gonna share?”

  Don handed her the bottle and Meghan took three large gulps. She handed the bottle back to Don and walked closer to him in the darkness.

  Don watched in a haze as Meghan cast off her leather jacket, and began unbuttoning her blouse. He drank more as she slipped it off and unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts. In the dim light, Don could see the outline of her nipples and he passed her the bottle. As she drank, he drew her to him, and she wrapped herself around him on the bed. He opened his mouth to speak, but she put a finger on his lips.

  “Shh, Don. We don’t need to talk anymore.”

  Meghan pushed Don onto his back and began to unzip his jeans. And that night, Don did not dream of anything.

  CHAPTER 7

  OCTOBER THURSDAY 17TH 07:54

  As Don drove to work, he felt different. He knew he was the same person, but something inside him had changed. When he had woken this morning, his head still hurt and his mouth was dry. That was a common occurrence. There were still empty beer bottles strewn around his apartment, and the place needed a good clean. It had only occurred to him as he brushed his teeth, but he had been woken up by his alarm. He had woken without bullets, sand, and blood on his mind. In fact, the first thing he had thought of when he’d woken was Meghan. He remembered how she looked, still sleeping soundly when he’d got out of bed. Her body was warm and he had been tempted to get back in, but he knew he couldn’t skip school today. If he didn’t show for Zola’s meeting, he would get more than detention.

  Meghan had been slow to rise, and promised to lock up when she left, so Don left her in bed with a kiss and a promise to call her soon. He wasn’t sure if there would be more nights like last night with her, but he sure wasn’t ashamed about it. Why should he be? He had nothing to feel bad about, he had not cheated on anyone or forced her into anything. Yesterday had been and gone, and no doubt, there would be more days like it in the future. But as of now, he almost felt good about himself. He had connected with a real person instead of Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan. He wondered if Meghan had left yet. She worked late nights at the bar and tended to sleep in the morning, so he doubted it. Clearly, she wasn’t as used to the hard stuff, and it was going to take more than a quick shower to bring her round.

  As he pulled into the staff parking zone, he thought about the creature that was locked up inside. It was something different all right. He would never have believed such a thing existed if he hadn’t seen it for himself. He had to admit, it was quite incredible. Just the size of it would be enough to give people nightmares. If it was a fifty foot high rabbit, that would be scary enough, but this thing had a mouthful of teeth to go with it. Cuddly, it was not.

  There had been no phone calls or messages, so he trusted there had been no problems last night, got out of the car, and headed straight on over to the meeting room.

  Once inside, he saw Zola and John already in discussion. Tate was reading through some notes whilst noisily slurping a mug of coffee. Don pulled up a seat at the large table next to a woman he recognised, but couldn’t quite remember. He thought her name was Fiona, but couldn’t be sure, so he just smiled politely as he sat down next to her. It was as if she was actively trying to slip unnoticed into the background. When she said hi, her voice was not strong, and she dressed plainly, in a dark grey business suit. Her brown hair was tied back and she wore little to no make-up.

  “Don, thanks for coming,” said Zola. “Let’s get started shall we? I’ve been over to see our little friend this morning, and he, or she, is doing fine. Amanda and Jay are trying to get a closer look, but I understand their reluctance to get too close to those teeth.”

  Don wished he had stopped for a coffee too, but there hadn’t been time this morning and he settled for getting one from the security room shortly.

  Please let this meeting be over quickly, he thought.

  “We need a catchy name, something that will really stand out. I want people to be in awe of this thing when they haven’t even seen it. I want kids to demand their parents bring them here. I want this to reverberate around the whole freaking world. So let’s go. What have we got? John, why don’t you kick off?”

  Don knew John was one of Zola’s favourites, a marketing man who had dreamt up the ‘snappy meal’ concept last year, which meant giving away a free plastic turtle with all kid’s meals bought on site. Business increased by fifteen percent in the cafes as a result of the promotion, and those crappy little plastic turtles had brought in an extra hundred grand to the bottom line last summer. Don knew they had been shipped in from Panama at a cost of sixty cents per toy. They had ramped up the prices of children’s meals by a dollar over the promotion. John was young, energetic, bright, and an absolute ass-kisser. Thankfully, Don had little need to get involved with marketing or advertising most of the time, and knew even if he came up with the best name in the meeting, he would be shot down. The suits would never give him the time of day. That was one thing Zola did have going for her. She usually listened to Don and clearly respected his opinions.

  John smiled and stood up. He flattened down his tie, adjusted his cufflinks and then addressed the table. “Thanks, Zola. What we have here is, as Zola said, is something really unique, and the name we attach to this new product needs to reflect that.”

  Don contemplated leaving as they discussed the new ‘product.’ He watched John walk up and down, throwing around generic marketing terms like ‘consumption audience,’ ‘intangibility,’ and ‘product lifecycle.’ At no point did he mention the animal’s welfare, or if what they were doing was in the animal’s best interests. He could’ve been talking about a new car, not a breathing animal.

  Don looked at his watch. How long was he going to ramble on? Twenty minutes later, and John was still droning on in that monotone voice of his about ‘nano-campaigning.’ He hadn’t even mentioned having an idea for a name yet. Don let his mind wander as the executives carried on with their mindless suggestions. Now and again, he heard a crazy name thrown out by Tate and Fiona, but John shot them down every time. He kept the room, pacing up and down, leading the gathered suits as if he was the conductor in a choir.

  “Tate. Any other suggestions?”

  Don finally watched John sit down, a smug look on his face, as if he had just won a prize Christmas Hamper in the office sweepstake. John had sweat circles under his armpits that were spreading slowly, and Don audibly sighed, resisting the urge to look at his watch. Why had Zola wanted him along?

  “I was thinking,” said Tate, “that as Zola said, there is predominantly going to be interest from children and teenagers about this. We need something trendy and quirky, something catchy. All kids like sharks, right? So I’m thinking, ‘Super-shark.’ No, I think ‘Mega-shark’ is better. Don’t you?”

  H
is suggestions drew withered looks from everyone, and even Don cringed.

  “Um…”

  Tate was floundering and Fiona tried to help him out. Don had only met her once, but she had been pleasant enough to him, far more than Tate or John had ever been.

  “You’re on the right lines, Tate, but it’s not a shark is it? I mean, we can’t be too specific when we don’t really know what it is. Mega-fish, super-fish, I don’t know, just keep going.”

  John snorted. “Super-fish? What are you, five? Err yeah, that’s real dynamic Fiona.” He and Zola snickered and then fell into silence.

  Fiona quietened down as John took over. He rifled through some papers before him. “I don’t know what your vet’s and trainers are doing, Zola, but we could do with some more information. If I was them, I would’ve pulled an all-nighter, but hey, we all have different priorities, right? Now, according to our best guess this is a…Metoposaurus Rex, or some bullshit like that.”

  “Metoposaurus,” said Don. Until then he had not spoken, preferring to watch the developments instead of getting sucked into a meeting he had no intention of taking part in. How they marketed the creature bore little relevance to his job. “And it’s not bullshit. The park’s best marine-life veterinarian worked on that report. Do I need to remind you that nobody has ever come across one before?”

  John stared at Don and shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. As I was saying, Metoposaurus is too clumsy. We can’t call it that, but we could shorten it. The name just needs to fizz. I think…”

  “Supersaurus?” suggested Fiona. She looked at Tate for support, but he kept his eyes straight ahead fixed on John and didn’t acknowledge her.

  John waved her down and scrunched up his face. “Fiona, isn’t it? You’re new so we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure you’ll come in useful later. I have a stack of paperwork to be done.”