KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back.

by Max Hawthorne

  “No,” Willie replied, reaching across and checking the settings on Adam Spencer’s complex video equipment. “Dey disappeared from sonar. I only see da sled.”

  A hundred yards off, the gleaming white sled cruised on, its cylindrical form swerving to and fro as Stubbs attempted to present it as wounded prey for the pliosaur. Though Amara dreaded it, there was a good chance Stubbs’ antics, combined with the cetacean distress calls emanating from the Harbinger’s underwater speaker system, would succeed in luring the colossal carnivore right to their door.

  The pliosaur cruised just above the ocean floor, its huge flippers casting up great clouds of sand and silt as it moved. It scanned the waters ahead. The familiar sounds of whales in distress echoed once more through the water column, but it was no longer fooled. There were no whales in the vicinity.

  It slowed its pace. Suddenly, waves of active sonar washed over its position. Alarmed, it ceased moving and sank quietly to the bottom. The pinging sound waves its body was absorbing were different than those manufactured by its kind. They were more regimented in nature, similar to those of the giant sperm whale it battled days before in the darkness of the nearby deepwater. Something was attempting to locate it.

  Its primitive brain suspected the noises were related to the big metal vessel. It ceased using its own echolocation abilities and began to creep stealthily forward, hugging the sea floor to disguise its approach. It instinctively knew using its own sound sight would give away its position and decided to rely on its keen underwater vision and phenomenal sense of smell to stalk its prey.

  Up ahead, it pinpointed two potential victims – one large and one small. The smaller one was hovering close to the anchored ship and was moving in a haphazard manner. It was obviously crippled and easy to obtain. The larger one, however, was attempting to conceal itself behind a huge stone outcropping that rose up from the seafloor. The bigger prey item was a rival predator; it was studying the injured creature and waiting for it to come within striking distance.

  With cool, reptilian deliberation, the pliosaur made its decision. Focusing on the larger animal, it moved noiselessly behind its quarry, propelled forward by silent strokes of its paddle-shaped appendages.

  The hunter was about to become the hunted.

  Patience was not one of Dean Harcourt’s strong suits. He continued to strain his eyes, attempting to keep watch on all the Harbinger’s sonar screens and hull camera monitors simultaneously. In his mind’s eye he visualized a thousand possible battle scenarios involving the Eurypterid and its highly-paid crew. In the end, all resulted in him reveling in his cold-blooded adversary’s overdue demise. He gloated at the thought. It was going to be glorious – divine retribution of biblical proportions. His only regret was not going down in the mini-sub with Karl Von Freiling to contribute directly to the demon’s destruction.

  Harcourt stifled his recriminations. He felt a mountain of impatience landslide over him. His already heavy brow lines engraved themselves deeper into his forehead, and his thick hands fidgeted in his pockets as he irritably shifted his weight back and forth.

  “Well, Mr. Daniels? Where is it?” he snapped.

  “How da hell do I know? Maybe da damn ting’s not comin?”

  “This is the culmination of a long-awaited battle between good and evil,” Harcourt replied. His eyes became intense and unwavering. “I doubt very much that that overgrown hell spawn is going to be absent.”

  Amara stifled a chuckle, then reached over and zoomed in with one of the hull cameras. “If you mean my husband, he’s already there. A pliosaur is nothing more than a large reptile. Like a crocodile, only bigger.”

  Out of the corner of one eye, Harcourt noticed Markov shifting position, his cold eyes contracting. The psychotic bastard was looking for any possible reason to retaliate against the girl. He stayed the scar-faced killer with an upheld hand.

  “If you believe that, Dr. Takagi, you’re more foolish than I thought.”

  “I’m tired of sitting and waiting,” Amara announced. “I’m going to go check on Jake and make sure he’s alright.”

  “I’ll go wit ya,” Willie chimed in. He swiveled in his chair, gesturing at the assorted screens and monitors. “You guys can take over for a while.”

  “You two fucks aren’t going anywhere,” Markov hissed. He moved a half step closer, his hand resting on the handle of his machete. “I’m not familiar with this sonar shit, and neither is the senator.” He gave them a diabolical smile. “If you’d like, I’ll go check on your boyfriend.”

  “Oh, you’d like that, I’m sure . . .”

  “I’d like what?”

  “You know,” Amara remarked. “Having another man tied up and helpless.”

  Markov’s sinister smirk faded and his knuckles tightened on the machete’s bone handle. “Excuse me?”

  Willie shook with laughter. He grinned disarmingly at the nearby merc. “I tink she means ya be a batty boy – ya wants Jake for yourself!”

  Markov turned on Willie, his expression as black as his eyes. “Listen, you–”

  “That’ll be enough,” Harcourt interjected. He gave his bodyguard a stern look. “Markov, so far you’ve proven yourself a useful asset. In fact, I might even consider hiring you as my chief of security, once we return to port. But, you need to learn to remain silent until spoken to or summoned.”

  Still seething, Markov settled for shooting Amara and Willie a malicious look before stepping back.

  “Omigod, what was that?” Amara blurted out. She pointed excitedly at the glimmering screen. “Did you see that?”

  “See what?” Harcourt said.

  “Over there by the drop-off, about a hundred yards behind the Cutlass. I thought I saw a really big signal. I . . . wait, there it is!”

  Harcourt mouthed a curse. A huge sonar image popped up on the edge of the screen and then vanished, only to reappear in a different location a few seconds later and then disappear once more.

  “Shit, mon! I tink ya right,” Willie said, reaching for his headset. “Da damn ting’s swimming so close ta da bottom we can’t even see it!”

  Amara’s eyes peeled wide. “What’re you doing? Karl said not to use the radio.”

  “Unless we had a contact,” her sonar operator corrected, checking his frequency and flipping a pair of switches. He turned and looked briefly at Harcourt before he started transmitting. “Well Senator Harcourt, I tink ya about ta get dat battle ya been lookin for.”

  Suspended in near darkness, four hundred feet down, the Eurypterid held its position. Its weapons system was armed and ready, its external camera array and sonar equipment fixated on Stubbs’ attack sled as the tiny craft continued its “dying baitfish” performance.

  Inside the mini-sub, Von Freiling chafed. He was used to the interminable waiting that came with stalking big game, but sitting there in the dark listening to nothing but the groaning sounds of seawater exerting pressure on their hull was beginning to grate on his nerves.

  “Anything, Barnes?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t see anything except water and a few fish,” Barnes replied. His nose was pressed against the thick Lexan window. “Hmm . . . that’s funny. Now, even the fish are gone.”

  A voice shrieked out of their overhead speaker system.

  “Karl, it’s Willie! Come in, mon!”

  “What the fuck?” Furious, Von Freiling reached down and flipped a switch. “Willie, I told you not to–”

  “Shuddup and listen! It’s here!”

  “What are you talking about?” Von Freiling’s eyes scanned his sonar screen. “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s behind ya, mon! Get out of dere! Right now!”

  Shaking his head, Von Freiling twisted against the hold of his restraining belts. He glanced at the big monitor that served as their rear window. What he saw made his blood run cold. A mountain of teeth and muscle was headed straight for them at forty miles an hour. It was so close its spreading jaws filled the screen fro
m top to bottom. Willie was right. The pliosaur had found them instead.

  “Holy shit, hold on!” Von Freiling roared. He threw the ship’s powerful impeller system forward at full power, twisting the controls savagely to starboard.

  Nearing its full attack speed, the creature’s lethal jaws closed with a snap that could be heard through their armored hull. Though it missed the weaving Eurypterid, its charge bowled the little sub completely over, sending it into a dizzying underwater roll.

  “Son of a bitch!” Barnes cried out. He cursed and held on for dear life as his employer fought the controls, struggling to stabilize the off balance submersible.

  “Damage report!” Von Freiling bellowed. His biceps bulged as he brought them back on plane, all the while scanning the nearby waters for their monstrous adversary.

  “He just nicked us!” Barnes yelled back. His eye looked up from his screens. “He’s heading for the sled now!”

  “We’ll see about that,” Von Freiling growled. Gripping his controls tightly, he pushed Eurypterid I forward at full speed.

  Already fifty yards from their position and accelerating, the creature closed on the sled. The tiny craft’s exposed occupants spotted its approach and promptly started screaming into their leader’s ear.

  “Calm the fuck down, Stubbs!” Von Freiling snapped. He was holding his headset with one hand and steering with the other. “And stay off the radio, I don’t need any distractions right now.”

  “Mother of God,” Barnes said. “Look at the size of that thing! He’s as big as a blue whale!”

  “Good, because that religious nut of ours is paying us by the pound, brother,” Von Freiling answered, then chuckled amusedly. He thumbed open the fire control switch cover on his joystick. “Hold on, Barnes!”

  Von Freiling activated Eurypterid I’s harpoon cannons, then pushed a button and brought his visor’s targeting screen system online. Closing one eye, he drew a quick bead on the surging behemoth. It was a hundred yards away and closing rapidly on Stubbs and Barker. He took a breath and tapped the trigger. Twice.

  Too fast to follow, the first pair of titanium-steel harpoons missed their target completely. The second pair slammed into the pliosaur’s exposed rear quarters with enough force to punch through granite. One hit at a steep angle and glanced off its armored back, tearing a deep groove in its thick dorsal scales. The other struck home, burying itself in the creature’s right rear flipper.

  The result was exactly what Von Freiling was hoping for.

  The carnivore emitted a bellow that shook the mini-sub’s occupants to their core, then turned its huge head and wheeled in their direction. Jaws agape and murder in its eyes, it came for them.

  “Holy fucking shit, he’s coming right at us!” Barnes’s one good eye was the size of a saucer.

  “Hold on tight and keep the actuators in repose,” Von Freiling said. Beads of perspiration formed on his nose and brow. “We’re gonna need all the maneuverability we can get.”

  “What are you going to do?” Barnes leaned involuntarily back in his chair as the Kronosaurus loomed closer.

  “I’m gonna use the electric harpoon. His skin’s too tough to take chances. I need to aim for a soft spot.”

  “You’re not going to . . .”

  “Oh, yes I am,” Von Freiling said with a chuckle. “I’m gonna aim this thing right down that fucker’s throat. So hold on, brother. We’re about to play the world’s most dangerous game of chicken!”

  “Ah, shit!”

  Accelerating to flank speed, Von Freiling annihilated the distance between them. The infuriated pliosaur headed straight for the mini-sub, its limousine-sized jaws spread wide enough to swallow a cow. Von Freiling kept one eye on the proximity meter in front of him, coolly gauging the distance between them. Fifty meters . . . then thirty . . . then ten. . .

  Suddenly, the monster was so close all they could see was the inside of its mouth as it prepared to swallow them. With a scream of defiance, Von Freiling fired his weapon and flung his controls all the way to port, gunning his engines full out for additional power.

  The pliosaur uttered a confused bellow as something jabbed it in the roof of the mouth.

  “Got him!” Von Freiling exulted. “Harpoon’s in. Hit the juice! I’m throwing her in reverse!”

  His face a dire mask, Barnes reached back and flipped the red lever that activated the generators powering their primary weapon. Tethered to the mini-sub by its indestructible cable, the creature was jolted with enough amperage to light up a city block. Flailing to and fro, it thrashed in the water. Its fins trembled and its mighty jaws snapped repeatedly as it struggled to sink its teeth into the invisible foe attacking it.

  Von Freiling eyed the voltage meter by his side. Based on its struggles, he calculated the creature would be dead in less than a minute – long before they were forced to cut the power. Everything was going according to plan. Their insulation was shielding them, and they had fifty feet of locked-up cable keeping them at a safe distance. It was simply a matter of time before he emerged victorious.

  Von Freiling closed his eyes and smiled. He could visualize his grinning face plastered across the front page of every paper on the planet.

  Unwilling to die, the Kronosaurus fought on, lashing its immense head to and fro. Out of nowhere, it clamped down on the insulated cable linking it to Eurypterid I. It felt the mini-sub’s weight and the resistance of its engines and instantly yanked its head in the opposing direction, jerking the tiny submersible forward and off-balance – and within range of its mouth. As the brightly colored craft came within an arm’s length of its baleful eye, the infuriated beast closed its jaws on Eurypterid I with a frightful crunch.

  “Oh my God!” Barnes screamed as he was thrown about in his chair.

  Von Freiling barely made a sound as he was struck hard on the head by a falling object. Struggling to stay conscious, the astonished adventurer could do nothing but hold on.

  Outside, the berserk titan started shaking them like a bull terrier does a rat. There was a wrenching noise so high-pitched it was painful. Through a haze of pain Von Freiling recognized the sound. The pliosaur’s ridged teeth were digging their way through the Eurypterid’s reinforced armor. Sizzling blue arcs of electricity and showers of white sparks spewed forth from their control panels and indicator screens.

  “What’s happening?” Barnes yelled.

  “His fangs are piercing our insulation!” Von Freiling cried out. Blood streamed down his face from his reopened scalp wound and his insides felt like a gallon of semi-gloss trapped in an out-of-control paint shaker. “The sub’s not designed to be this close to the discharge area! He’s burning out our electrical systems! You’ve got to cut the power!”

  Still struggling to hold on, Barnes strained to reach the cutoff switch that killed the juice to their harpoon. He was almost there when the creature spat them out, causing the damaged Eurypterid to spiral off, end over end.

  A second later, the insides of the embattled mini-sub went dark. Releasing his harness, Von Freiling staggered to one side as the floor shifted beneath his feet. He shook his aching head in an effort to clear it, leaning against what felt like a bulkhead as he tried to assess their situation.

  “Barnes, can you hear me?” He could barely make out his co-pilot’s shape in the near blackness.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” came the weak reply. “Shit, we’re on emergency power!”

  “Yeah, he got us good. Our circuits must be fried,” Von Freiling said. Outside he could hear the roar of the retreating pliosaur as it moved away, gnashing its teeth. “At least the harpoon broke off.”

  “Well ain’t that just great,” Barnes replied. He unclipped his belt, cursing as he fell from his chair and crashed to the floor. “Fuck, we’re upside down!”

  There was a series of clicking sounds as the submersible’s rose-colored emergency lights kicked in.

  “We’ve got to replace the fuses,” Von Freiling said, moving forward while hol
ding his head. “Quick, before that damn thing realizes we’re helpless and comes back to finish us off!”

  “Let’s do it.” Barnes looked around the upside-down interior of their submersible, blinking at the dim, red lighting. “Where are the fuses?”

  “They should be right about . . . here,” Von Freiling said, moving unsteadily to a nearby section of their hull.

  The spot was empty.

  “Shit, the box must’ve been dislodged when he yo-yoed us. There’s equipment all over the place!”

  Just then a trickle of water fell on Von Freiling’s head, mixing with his blood as it ran down his face. He stuck out his tongue and tasted it.

  “Barnes, what’s our depth?” he asked, looking nervously upward.

  “Five hundred and ten . . . make that twenty . . . shit, we’re dropping fast!”

  “Damn it! The fucking lizard damaged our ballast systems,” Von Freiling said. “The hull’s been compromised!”

  Overhead, the trickle of water increased to a series of heavy streams. Soon it was pouring down over them.

  “Then, let’s do something!” Barnes yelled. Soaked to the skin and shivering, he searched through the pile of equipment and debris that littered their inverted craft. “Shit . . . what does the fuse box look like?”

  “It’s a fiberglass box about fourteen inches square,” Von Freiling said, tossing fallen cases and containers as he spoke. “It’s red.”

  Barnes stared angrily at their emergency lights. “Everything’s fucking red!”

  “Just keep looking,” Von Freiling said. He continued to feel in ankle-deep seawater. “I don’t know what the seafloor depth below us is, but if we’re over the crevasse and don’t get our power back, we’ll implode, whether he gets us or not!”

  Pausing, as static shrieked from his headset, Von Freiling cupped one hand to his ear.

  “This is Karl,” he said into the mouthpiece. “Can you read me? I am unable to understand your message. Please repeat!”