by Steve Alten
The vessel was a whaler, its hold dangerously overloaded with its illegal catch—the carcasses of eighteen Gray whales. Two more had been lashed to the port side of the ship with a cargo net.
A pair of lookouts held on to the main mast, disoriented by weather and darkness. The two sailors had been assigned the hazardous duty of making sure the valuable whale blubber remained firmly secured during the storm. Unfortunately for the exhausted men, their searchlight hardly penetrated the maelstrom. Sporadic flashes of lightning afforded them their only real vision of their precious cargo.
Flash. The ocean dropped from view as the ship rolled to starboard, the cargo net groaning with its keep. The sailors hung on as the poorly ballasted vessel rolled back to port.
Flash. The sea threatened to suck them under, the net momentarily disappearing beneath the waves.
Flash. The vessel rolled again to starboard, the net reappearing. The men gasped—a massive white triangular head had risen from the sea with the cargo!
Darkness returned as the whaler rolled back to port, its lookouts blind in the storm. Silent seconds passed before a fork of lightning lit the sky and the horrible head reappeared, its mouth bristling razor-sharp teeth.
The crewmen screamed, but the storm muted the sound. The senior mate signaled to the other that he would find the captain.
Flash. The unimaginably large jaws were tearing at the carcass now, the head leaning sideways against the rolling vessel, its teeth gnashing at the whale blubber.
The ship rolled to starboard once more. The senior mate struggled to make it below deck, squeezing his eyes shut against the gale while holding tight to the rope ladder. He could lower himself only a rung at a time as the vessel rolled back to port ... and kept rolling!
He opened his eyes, his stomach churning as the sea kept coming, an immense force pulling the ship onto its side and into the water.
*
“Captain, the whaler is two hundred yards ahead.”
“Thank you, Chief. Take us to periscope depth.”
“Periscope depth, aye, sir.”
The sub rose as Danielson pressed his face against the rubber housing of the periscope and stared into darkness. The scope turned night into shades of green, but the storm and rolling waves severely reduced visibility.
Flash. The raging Pacific was illuminated, and for an instant Danielson caught the silhouette of the whaler lying on its side. “They’re sinking. XO, contact the Coast Guard. Where’s their nearest cutter?”
“The only surface ship within twenty miles is the Kiku.”
The sonar operator called out, “Skipper, there’s something else out there, circling that ship.”
*
Robert Nash held the headset tightly against his ears, verifying the message once more. “Captain Barre, we’re receiving an emergency call from the Nautilus. A Japanese vessel is sinking, twelve miles to the east on heading zero-eight-one. They say there may be survivors in the water, but no other surface ships are in the area. They’re requesting immediate assistance.”
Masao looked at Jonas. “The Meg?”
“If it is, we don’t have much time.”
“Get us there quickly, captain.”
*
The Japanese whaler lay on her port side, the buoyant vessel refusing to sink as she rose and fell with the twenty-foot swells. Within the bowels of the ship, eleven men struggled in darkness to escape a chamber of death in which they could not tell which way was up. The cold ocean hissed from all directions, battering the keel, searching for a way inside the battened-down ship.
Below the waves the Megalodon tore at the remains of the whale meat lashed to the cargo net. It was her physical presence in great part that supported the vessel from below, keeping the dying ship afloat.
The senior lookout had been thrown overboard when the ship had toppled. Somehow he had managed to climb back on-board, and now he struggled to hold on. From within, he heard the screams of his shipmates. Kicking open one of the sealed hatches, he shone his flashlight inside. Four crewmen crawled out from below, joining him on the tilting main deck.
*
Skipper, I can hear ambient sounds,” reported the Nautilus’s sonar tech. “There are men in the water.”
“How far away is the Kiku?”
“Six minutes,” Chief Heller called out.
Danielson tried to think. What could he do to distract the Megalodon, keep the monster from the survivors? “Chief, continuous pinging, loud as you can. Sonar, watch the creature, tell me what happens.”
“Continuous ping, aye, sir.”
Ping … ping … ping.
The metallic gongs rattled through the hull of the Nautilus, the deep throb of the reverberations radiating acoustically through the sea.
*
The deafening pings reached the female’s lateral line in seconds. The dense sound waves overloaded her senses, sending her into a rage—an unknown creature was challenging the female for her kill.
Abandoning the whale meat still entangled within the cargo net, the Megalodon circled below the sinking whaler, her head and lateral line throbbing. Descending beneath the ship, the shark homed in on the source of the annoying vibrations.
*
“Captain Danielson, I’ve got a bearing on the biologic. Six hundred meters and closing. You’ve definitely got its attention.”
“Chief, ready a firing solution.”
“Four hundred meters and closing.”
“Chief?”
“I’ve got a temporary solution, sir, but the explosion could harm the crew of that whaler.”
“Two hundred meters—”
“Helm, change course to zero-two-five, twenty degrees down-angle on the planes. Dive the boat to eight hundred feet; make your speed fifteen knots. Let’s put some ocean between this fish and that ship.”
The sub accelerated in a shallow descent, the Megalodon in pursuit. The female measured less than half the Nautilus’s length, and the submarine, at three thousand tons, easily outweighed her. But the female was faster and could outmaneuver its adversary; moreover, no adult Megalodon would allow a challenge within its domain to go unanswered.
The female accelerated at the sub’s steel hull like a berserk sixty-foot locomotive.
“Seventy meters…. Thirty meters... brace for impact!” The sonar man ripped off his headset.
Whomp!
The thirty ton creature struck the Nautilus along its starboard flank, the solid impact crushing several steel plates while rolling the sub hard to port. The collision sent crewmen hurtling from their posts. The power died, darkness momentarily taking the sub until red emergency lights flickered on.
Powerless, the sub listed at a forty-five-degree angle.
The Megalodon circled, measuring her challenger. The collision had caused a painful throbbing in her snout. The female shook her head, several broken teeth falling out. In time they would be replaced by those lying behind them in reserve.
Captain Danielson felt warmth seep into his right eye. “All stations report,” he yelled, wiping the blood from his forehead.
Chief Heller was the first to call out. “Engine room reports flooding in three compartments, sir. Reactor is off-line.”
“Radiation?”
“No leaks found.”
“Batteries?”
“Batteries appear functional and are on-line, Captain, but the stern planes are not responding.”
“Son of a bitch.” Danielson was fuming ... how could he have allowed a fish to cripple his boat? “Sonar, where’s the creature now?”
“Circling, sir. Very close.”
“Skipper, damage control reports one screw is out, the other should be on-line within ten minutes. Emergency batteries only, sir.”
“Torpedoes?”
“Still ready, sir.”
“Flood torpedo tubes one and two sonar, I want a firing solution.”
The hull plates groaned ... followed by a bizarre scratching sound.
Danielson loo
ked around, baffled. “Raby, what the hell is that noise?”
The sonar man looked up, fear in his eyes. “Skipper, I think the Megalodon’s attempting to bite through our hull.”
*
The Kiku arrived at the last known coordinates of the Japanese vessel, but without the support of the Meg pushing from below, the ship had gone under without a fight.
Jonas and Mac, wearing life jackets and secured to the main deck by life lines around their waists, stood at the stern rail by the harpoon gun. Mac manned a searchlight while Jonas held the rifle loaded with the tracking dart, his right arm looped inside a life ring secured to the rail.
They held on as the Kiku rose again and fell, the thirty foot swells threatening to send both men head-first into the sea.
“There!” Jonas pointed to starboard. Two sailors clung to what was left of the whaler’s mast.
Mac aimed the light, then called Barre on his walkie-talkie. “Two men in the water, fifty yards astern.”
Jonas handed the rifle to Mac, then tossed the life ring toward the sailors. With the sea breaking in peaks and valleys and the Kiku bucking like a wild bronco, he could not tell whether the men could even see the flotation device, let alone reach it.
“Forget it, J.T., you’ll never reach them!”
Jonas continued scanning the surface as the bow dropped thirty feet, another swell rising ten yards away. They rose again and Jonas saw the beacon of light flash on the men. One was waving.
Retrieving the floatation device, he untied the rope around his waist and connected it to the life ring’s rope, doubling its length.
“What are you doing?”
As the bow dropped, Jonas looped his right arm through the life ring and placed one foot on one the rungs of the rail. When the ship rose again, he leaped into the maelstrom with all his might. Propelled by the rising deck, he launched high into the air, falling beyond the next incoming swell.
Cold water shocked his body, driving the breath from his chest, sapping his strength. He rose with the next wave but was unable to see anything, then swam as hard as he could in the direction he prayed was correct, the life ring encumbering his progress but keeping him afloat, the wind howling in his ears.
Without warning, Jonas found himself falling into a valley between two swells. Swimming was not an option: he was being hurled up and down mountains of water. Rolling onto his back, he kicked with his legs and stroked with his left arm, his heart pounding with the effort.
*
The Meg couldn’t tell if the creature was alive, its piercing vibrations having ceased. She circled back, attempting to gnaw on the object, taste buds located in her rostrum telling her the strange fish was inedible.
And then the Meg detected vibrations along the surface … the floundering movements accompanied by the rapid heartbeats of prey.
*
“It’s moving off, skipper. She’s heading back to the surface.”
“Engines back on-line, Captain,” reported Chief Heller. As if in response, the Nautilus leveled out.
“That’s my girl. Helm, bring us around; make your course zero-five-zero, up ten degrees on the planes. Take us to four hundred feet. Chief, I want a firing solution on that monster. On my command, start pinging again. When she descends to attack, we’ll hit her with both torpedoes.”
Heller looked worried. “Sir, engineering warns the ship can’t withstand another collision. I strongly suggest we return to Pearl and—”
“Negative, Chief. We end this now.”
*
Jonas let out a yell as something grabbed him by his collar and hung on.
A Japanese sailor pulled Jonas onto the fallen mast and sputtered something incomprehensible, the man terrified.
Jonas looked around—the second sailor was gone.
He felt a strong tug on the life ring; Mac and his men were pulling him back.
Taylor instructed the sailor to hang on to the floatation device. Seconds later they were dragged backward along the violent surface toward the Kiku.
*
The Meg locked in on the electrical impulses generated by the two men’s beating hearts. It could smell blood in the water, their floundering movements rendering them easy prey—
Ping…ping….ping—
Incensed, the albino monster broke off her attack, descending on an intercept course with the Nautilus.
*
“Here she comes, skipper. Six hundred meters and closing quickly.”
“Chief Heller, do we have a firing solution?”
“Aye, sir, we do.”
“On my command …”
“Three hundred meters.”
“Steady, gentlemen.”
“One hundred and fifty meters.”
“Let her come closer …”
“Skipper, she’s changing course.”
Danielson ran to the console, sweat mixed with the blood dripping down his face. “Where is it?”
Sonar was bent over, cupping his ears, trying to hear. “She went deep. I can barely hear her. Wait—Oh shit, she’s coming up below us.”
“Evasive maneuvers! Hard to starboard, all ahead full.”
The crippled submarine lurched forward, struggling to reach a speed above ten knots—as the Megalodon rose from below, her snout striking the hull at twenty knots. This time the casing gave way, spreading a gap between the steel plates, venting the engine room to the sea and rupturing the submarine’s aft ballast tanks.
*
Seaman Anthony Gonzalez tumbled backwards, the engineer’s head slamming hard against a control panel, knocking him unconscious.
Lieutenant Peter Suarez found himself pinned under a collapsed bulkhead, his left ankle caught. As the engine room filled with water, he managed to free himself and crawl up into the next compartment, sealing the watertight door behind him seconds before the sea could rush in.
*
“Damage report!”
“Engine room’s flooded. I can’t raise—”
A loud wail was followed by flashing red lights.
“Core breach,” Heller yelled. “Someone’s got to shut it down.”
“Helm, high-pressure air into the ballast tanks, put us on the ceiling. Dennis?”
“On my way.” Chief Heller ran through a tilting maze of chaos. He squeezed past crewmen attempting to staunch the flow of seawater spraying from a thousand leaks. At least half of the electrical consoles looked down.
He found Lieutenant Suarez outside the engine room frantically throwing switches, shutting down the nuclear reactor.
Heller joined him, shutting off the alarm. “Report, Lieutenant.”
“Reactor’s gone, but at least we averted a meltdown. Everyone and everything aft of the engine room is underwater.”
“Radiation?”
The officer looked at his friend. “Denny, this ship’s over forty years old. We’ve lost the integrity of the hull, the steel plates are falling off like shingles. We’ll drown before any radiation kills us.”
*
Jonas and the Japanese sailor were hauled out of the sea and onto the Kiku’s stern deck. Frank Heller escorted the whaler’s lone survivor to sickbay, Mac leading Jonas up to the bridge.
Terry Tanaka wrapped a blanket around him as he entered the command center. “Diving in the sea like that—are you insane?”
“Technically, Mac and I did spend three months together in a mental ward.”
She shot Jonas a look to kill. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Terry, quiet,” Masao called out. “We’re receiving a distress call from the Nautilus.”
Bob Nash cupped his ears, trying to hear. “They’re surfacing. No power … major breach. They need our assistance immediately.”
Captain Barre barked orders to change course.
The Kiku turned, fighting against the relentless swells.
*
Anthony Gonzalez had regained consciousness. The engineer’s face was pressed hard against the watertight
door where a small pocket of air remained. The chamber was bathed in red emergency lighting. Blood gushed from his forehead.
As the Nautilus rose, debris began seeping out of the gap in the hull and into the Pacific.
The Megalodon ascended after the sub, snapping its jaws at anything that moved. Smelling Gonzalez’s blood, the Meg jammed her head into the engine room breach, separating the already loose steel plates, enlarging the gap in the hull significantly. Her white hide illuminated the dimly lit flooded compartment, catching the engineer’s attention.
Holding his breath, he ducked underwater and looked down.
The monster’s ten-foot-wide jaws opened and closed below him, the upper jaw pushing forward and away from the creature’s head like something out of a 3-D horror film, the hideous triangular teeth less than five feet away.
Gonzalez felt his body being sucked into the vortex. He surfaced and tore at the door, his screams muffled by the rising sea. Unable to escape, he chose an alternative death, ducking his head underwater, inhaling the salt water deep into his lungs, struggling to kill himself before the mouthful of teeth could reach him.
The female inhaled the heaving body into her vacuous gullet, crushing and swallowing her prey in one gulp. The warm blood sent her into a renewed frenzy. She shook her head, freeing herself from the opening, then circled the Nautilus again as its bow burst through the surface.
*
“Abandon ship! All hands, abandon ship!” Captain Danielson barked his orders over the ship’s intercom as the Nautilus tossed hard to starboard against the incoming swells.
Three hatches exploded open, releasing the crew. Pink phosphorescent flares pierced the blackness. Three yellow rafts inflated instantaneously and were lashed to the side of the boat. Survivors rushed to board, struggling to maintain their balance against the raging sea. The Kiku was close, her spotlight now guiding the rafts.
Danielson was in the last life raft. Bolts of lightning lit the seascape as he looked back at the Nautilus. Within seconds, the submarine was overcome by the waves. Her bow rose, only to be swallowed by another swell which drove the ship toward her final resting place at the bottom of the Pacific.