The MEG

by Steve Alten

  “Mac, I can’t be sure but I think that’s a tooth.”

  “Again with the tooth?”

  “If it is a tooth and it’s white that’s all the proof I’ll need. Can you bring us in closer?”

  Taking the oar, Mac paddled on the starboard side of the boat.

  Jonas reached out, feeling the rough edges of the root. “It’s definitely a tooth, but its point is wedged tight inside the Humpback’s ribcage. Mac, I need something to pry it out with.”

  “Who do I look like? Mr. Goodwrench?” Mac turned to the fisherman. “Where’s your tools?”

  “Ten dollars.”

  “Sonuva bitch…” Mac tossed him his last twenty. “I want change.”

  John Paul grinned, pointing to a storage bin.

  Mac searched through the foul-smelling wooden box. Locating a hammer, he handed it to Jonas. “Don’t drop it or Happy Harry here will be asking for the shirt off my back.”

  Jonas leaned out over the side, attempting to pry the tooth loose using the back end of the hammer.

  Mac grabbed the oar, pressing the paddle to the blubber to keep the unstable boat close.

  “Steady … a little bit more—”

  The six inch alabaster tooth pulled loose, flipping high into the air.

  Jonas caught it—as a massive ivory-white snout, jaw, and upper row of teeth gracefully broke the surface along the far side of the whale’s remains, the creature’s lower jaw emerging right below Jonas as the submerged Megalodon clamped down upon the dead humpback’s torso, dragging the entire carcass below.

  Mac and Jonas stared at the surface, pie-eyed.

  John Paul crossed himself, muttering in Hiligaynon.

  Before they could speak, the dead humpback floated back to the surface, this time belly-side up, revealing a nine-foot-wide, three-foot-deep jagged crater-shaped wound.

  John Paul’s mouth hung open. “That no Orca bite … that’s a demon.”

  “Okey-dokey. Jonas, we good?”

  Jonas felt his throat constrict. “Leaving now would be a really good thing.”

  John Paul gunned the engine. It flooded, coughing blue smoke as it died. Grabbing the hammer from Jonas, the Filipino tore off the outboard’s hood and proceeded to whack the motor, the loud blows reverberating across the deck.

  Jonas yelled, “John Paul ... no!”

  A stark-white seven foot dorsal fin rose from the black sea, slowly circling the boat.

  Mac shoved John Paul aside and hurriedly checked the spark plugs. He tried the engine again.

  It spewed more smoke and died.

  The dorsal fin changed course, the shark moving toward the boat to investigate.

  *

  The female had been so focused on feeding that it had not sensed the wooden craft. Detecting these new vibrations, the Meg nudged the boat’s keel with its snout, jolting the craft with enough force to knock Jonas and Mac off their feet.

  John Paul fell backwards over his crab trap and landed in the water.

  Jonas grabbed the oar. “Start the engine, I’ll help John Paul.”

  The fisherman surfaced.

  Jonas extended the oar to the splashing Filipino—as the Meg’s ghostly white head rose straight out of the sea, engulfing the man whole in one swift ascent.

  Jonas staggered back.

  Mac grabbed John Paul’s hammer and started smashing it against the motor as he tried to turn it over—

  Miraculously, the engine started.

  Veering away from the carcass, Mac executed a tight one-hundred-and eighty degree turn that nearly tossed Jonas overboard.

  Lights appeared in the distance, Saipan’s shoreline beckoning two miles away.

  Jonas sat down next to Mac, visibly shaken. “Christ, that poor bastard.”

  “Yeah. At least he died a wealthy man.”

  Jonas’s eyes widened as he glanced over his friend’s shoulder. “Mac, we have company.”

  A ten-foot-high wake was racing after the boat, an unseen luminous mass pushing it.

  Mac zigged and zagged, but the wave continued closing the distance. “Okay, professor, I’m open to suggestions.”

  “She’s homing in on our engine.”

  “No shit? You went to college for that?”

  As they watched, the wake disappeared, the monster going deep.

  “Thank God.”

  Jonas looked around. “No, Mac... this isn’t good. She’ll come up from below.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Don’t you ever watch Shark Week on the Discovery Channel? It’s what they do!”

  Mac veered hard to port as they nearly sideswiped the first in a series of marker buoys, the boat’s wake causing its bell to toll.

  “Okay, Mac … radical idea time.”

  *

  The female descended, her lateral line locked in on the engine’s vibrations. Pumping her tail harder, the agitated predator suddenly ascended, her soulless gray-blue eyes rolling back an instant before—

  Wa-boosh! The sea erupted as the Meg smashed straight up through the keel of John Paul’s boat, splintering it into kindling.

  Flopping sideways back into the sea, the female moved back and forth through the debris field, searching for prey. A chorus of dull gongs accompanied her thrashing caudal fin, the marker buoys’ bells renting the night air—save for one.

  Jonas and Mac hugged the nearest buoy, the two dripping wet men balancing precariously on either side of its steel frame. Jonas’s right hand gripped the bell, silencing it.

  Thirty feet below, the white glow passed beneath them, heading back out to sea to continue feasting on the Humpback.

  Options

  TERRY TANAKA ENTERED the Aura naval hospital and glanced at her watch—8:40 a.m. That gave her exactly twenty minutes to get Jonas to Commander McGovern’s office, assuming he was in any condition to travel. She walked down the empty hallway, the navy MP no longer on duty.

  Jonas’s door was ajar.

  Inside, a woman with platinum blond hair was ransacking a chest of drawers. The bed was empty. Jonas was gone.

  “Can I help you?” Terry asked.

  Maggie jumped. “I’m … I’m looking for my husband.”

  “You won’t find him in a drawer. Wait … you’re Maggie?”

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right, I’m Mrs. Taylor. Who the hell are you?”

  “Terry Tanaka.”

  Maggie eyed her up and down. “Well, well…”

  “I’m a friend. My brother … he was the one who was killed. I stopped by to drive Dr. Taylor to the naval base.”

  Maggie’s disposition changed. “Sorry … about your brother. Did you say naval base? What does the navy want with Jonas?”

  “There’s a hearing. Exactly what are you doing here?”

  “My husband was nearly killed. Where else would I be but by his side?”

  Terry frowned. “Not that it’s any of my business, but—”

  “—but you’re right,” said Maggie, “it’s not your business. Anyway, since Jonas obviously isn’t here, he must already be at the meeting, so maybe you can take me?”

  *

  The hearing at Guam’s naval base took place in a refrigerated warehouse that had once been used to “hold” the bodies of deceased soldiers awaiting transport back to the States. Under three sets of mobile surgical lights lay the remains of the male Megalodon. Two Japanese men, both scientists from JAMSTEC, were busy examining the enormous jaws of the ancient predator.

  An MP greeted Terry and Maggie, handing each woman a lined coat as they entered the cooler.

  A conference table and chairs had been set on the far side of the room. Frank Heller and Al DeMarco were consoling Masao, who wore dark sunglasses to obscure his red-rimmed eyes. Terry embraced her father, then introduced Maggie.

  Commander Bryce McGovern, a silver-haired veteran of two wars, entered the warehouse, followed by an aide and a Frenchman in his late forties. “I’m Commander McGovern. This is Andre
Dupont of the Cousteau Society.”

  “I’m Tanaka,” Masao said. “My daughter, Terry.”

  The commander nodded. “Our condolences. We’ll try to make this briefing as painless as possible. Mr. Tanaka, is everyone present?”

  “Dr. Tsukamoto and Dr. Simidu have just arrived from the Japan Marine Science and Technology Center. But Jonas Taylor is not here. Apparently, he left the hospital late last night.”

  McGovern grimaced. “Our only real witness. Anyone know where Dr. Taylor went?”

  Terry pointed to Maggie. “There’s his wife. Ask her.”

  Maggie flashed a smile. “I’m sure Jonas will show up eventually. Studying these creatures was such a big part of our lives.”

  Terry rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s get started,” said McGovern, taking his place at the head of the table. “If everyone can find seats … including the two gentlemen by the shark.” The commander waited. “The Mariana Trench is under United States jurisdiction. As such, the United States Navy has assigned me to investigate the incident that occurred in the Challenger Deep. With all due respect to the bereaved, my rules are simple: I’m going to ask the questions and you people are going to provide me with the answers. First question,” he pointed toward the Megalodon carcass, “would somebody please tell me what that thing is over there?”

  Dr. Simidu, the younger of the two Japanese, replied. “Commander, JAMSTEC has examined the teeth of the creature and compared it with those of Carcharodon carcharius, the Great White shark, and its extinct prehistoric cousin, Carcharodon megalodon.” Simidu unfolded a towel, revealing one of the male Megalodon’s teeth. “This is an upper tooth. As you can see, the tooth has a chevron, or scar, above the root, identifying it as a Megalodon. Its existence in the Mariana Trench is shocking, to say the least.”

  “Not to us, Dr. Simidu,” replied Andre Dupont. “The disappearance of the Megalodon has always been a mystery, but the HMS Challenger’s discovery in 1873 of several ten-thousand-year-old fossilized teeth dredged from the floor of the Mariana Trench made it clear that some members of the species may have survived.”

  McGovern paused, allowing his stenographer to catch up. “How many more of these creatures are down there, and is there a danger to the local island population?”

  “There’s no danger.” All heads turned to Frank Heller. “Commander, the shark you see here attacked and killed the pilot of one of our deep-sea submersibles, then became entangled in our cable and was attacked by another one of its kind. These creatures have been trapped in a tropical layer at the bottom of the Mariana Trench for God knows how many millions of years. The only reason you even see this specimen before you is because we accidentally hauled it up to the surface.”

  “So you’re telling me at least one more of these … these Megalodons exists, but it’s trapped at the bottom of the trench.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You’re wrong, Frank.” Jonas entered from the rear door, followed by Mac, their clothing still damp. Jonas stopped as he laid eyes on his wife. “Maggie? What are you doing here?”

  She looked up innocently. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you did.”

  “Dr. Taylor, I presume?” McGovern was losing patience.

  “Yes, sir. And this is James Mackreides, a friend of mine.”

  McGovern’s eyes blazed. “Yes, the captain and I know one another.” He signaled to the MP. “Get these men some coats.”

  “There was a second shark, Commander, a female, much larger. She followed the male’s blood trail out of the abyss. She’s hunting in our surface waters as we speak.”

  Masao looked incredulous.

  “It’s true, Commander,” said Mac, “and I’ve got the stained skivvies to prove it. Jonas, show him the tooth.”

  Jonas passed the tooth he had taken from the humpback whale’s carcass to McGovern. The commander compared it to the tooth Dr. Simidu had handed him. The female’s was an inch and a half larger than its deceased mate’s.

  Masao shook his head. “My God ... Jonas, how big was this second shark?”

  “The tooth measures just over six inches. Figure ten feet of shark for every inch of tooth, so about sixty feet. But she’s also a female, and female sharks are much bulkier than their male counterparts.”

  McGovern shook his head. “A predator that size in these coastal waters, it’ll be a human smorgasbord.”

  Dr. Simidu objected, “Megalodon hunted whales, Commander, not humans.”

  Mac mumbled to Jonas, “And the occasional Filipino fisherman.”

  McGovern massaged his brow, clearly out of his element. “Dr. Taylor, since you seem to be the closest thing to an expert on these creatures and you were present in the trench, perhaps you can tell me how this monster managed to surface. Dr. Heller seems convinced these creatures were trapped below six miles of frigid water.”

  “They were. But the first Meg, the male, was bleeding badly. The second, this female, was ascending within its dense blood stream. As I tried to explain yesterday to Terry, if the Megalodons are like their cousins, the Great Whites, their blood temperatures will be about twelve degrees higher than the surrounding ocean water, or, in the case of the hydrothermal layer of the trench, about ninety-two degrees. The Kiku hauled the first Meg topside and the female followed her kill straight up to our warmer surface waters, protected by a river of hot blood streaming out of her mate.”

  Andre Dupont interrupted. “Dr. Taylor, you keep referring to this second shark as a female. How do you know for sure?”

  “Because I saw her cloaca as she passed over my sub while I was in the trench. She’s much larger than this first shark … and she’s pregnant.”

  Conversations broke out across the conference table.

  Mac looked at Jonas. “How the hell do you know she’s pregnant? Did you perform a gynecological exam while you were down there?”

  McGovern banged his palm on the table for quiet. “What else do we need to know about this … female?”

  “Like its mate, it’s an albino. This is a common genetic adaptation to its deep-water environment, where no light exists. Its eyes will be extremely sensitive to light. Consequently, it won’t surface during the day.” He turned to Terry. “That’s why no one on-board the Kiku saw her rise. She would have stayed deep enough to avoid the light. And now that the shark has adapted to our surface waters, I think she’s going to be very aggressive.”

  “Why do you say that?” Dr. Tsukamoto spoke for the first time.

  “The deep waters of the Mariana Trench are poorly oxygenated compared to our surface waters. The higher the oxygen content, the more efficiently the Megalodon’s system will function. In its new, highly oxygenated environment, the creature will be able to process and generate greater outputs of energy. In order to accommodate these increases in energy, the Meg will have to consume greater quantities of food. And, I don’t need to tell you, sufficient food sources are readily available.”

  McGovern’s face darkened. “Our coastal populations could be attacked.”

  “No, Commander, these creatures are too large to venture into shallow water. So far, the female has only attacked whales—”

  “And D.J.” Heller reminded him.

  “That was actually the male, which this female killed.” Jonas retorted. “In my opinion, we shouldn’t have been down there.”

  “And if this female eats a group of divers? Will you make the same excuse?”

  “There’s another concern,” said Masao. “This female’s presence could potentially affect one of the whale migrations along the Asian coast.”

  “Whale migrations?” McGovern looked perplexed.

  “Hai. Whale migration patterns began millions of years ago. Some scientists theorize the mammals first migrated into colder polar waters not just to follow the food, but to escape Megalodon attacks. I’m not saying one creature could change the annual southern migration now occurring along the Asian coastline
, but if this large female’s presence led to whale beachings in Saipan, then technically there is the potential to create an alternative route. When you consider the amount of plankton, krill, and shrimp required to feed thousands of whales, then even a slight deviation could affect the species of fish that share the same diets as these mammals. The sudden competition for food could affect salmon and tuna runs, altering breeding patterns while playing havoc with the local fishing industry for years to come.”

  Dr. Simidu and Dr. Tsukamoto whispered to each other in Japanese.

  Commander McGovern waited for quiet. “Let me be sure I’m understanding this situation correctly. Essentially, we have an aggressive sixty-foot version of a Great White shark on the loose, a pregnant female, no less, whose mere presence could indirectly affect the fishing industry of some coastal nation. Does that about sum it up?”

  Masao nodded.

  “So how do we deal with the situation?”

  “Commander, why must you do anything?” Andre Dupont asked. “Since when does the United States Navy concern itself with the behavioral patterns of a fish?”

  “And what if this ‘fish’ starts devouring small boats or scuba divers? What then, Mr. Dupont?”

  “Dr. Taylor,” said Dr. Tsukamoto, “if this creature’s presence alters the migration patterns of whales along Japan’s coast, our entire fishing industry could suffer a major setback. JAMSTEC therefore officially recommends that this creature be found and destroyed.”

  McGovern nodded. “I happen to agree. I don’t think nature intended to release these monsters from the abyss. Despite Mr. Dupont’s assurances, I can’t take the chance that this … female might venture into populated waters. And what if she has her pups along our coasts? Christ, we could be looking at dozens of these monsters in the next decade. What then?”

  “There’s no precedent for this,” Dupont retorted. “At the very least, we’re dealing with an endangered species on the brink of extinction, at the most, the scientific find of the century. You declare war on this shark, and everyone from PETA to the Cousteau Society will be picketing your naval base starting tomorrow.”