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

by Max Hawthorne

  “Wow, that was quick,” Jake remarked. His nose was pressed against the cold surface of Eurypterid II’s observation portal as the orcas vanished from sight. “Is that it? Did they give up already?”

  “Not if I know my transients,” Amara fretted. “That was what you’d call a feeling-out tactic. They’re faced with something they’ve never seen before and have no idea what to do.”

  “They do now.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Amara pointed to the far side of their viewing window. Another group of killer whales started moving in from the south. “Look, here they come again!”

  “Are those the same ones from before?” Jake squinted in the dim lighting,

  “No, they’re not,” Amara announced. “That last group was all females. The cows are faster and more maneuverable than the bulls. This group is all males. See their fins and how big they are? They’re what we call the pod’s heavy hitters. They deliver the coup de grace on large prey items like sperm whales. Apparently the orcas have decided to risk everything by taking the pliosaur on in a head-on assault.”

  Jake shook his head. “That’s crazy!”

  “Don’t tell me, tell them!”

  A hundred yards from Eurypterid II and a similar distance from their target, the six bull killer whales approached in a flying wing formation. Ranging from twenty-eight to thirty-two feet in length and weighing up to ten tons, Omega Baby and his fellow Orcinus orca were the dominant predators on the planet. Their kind had ruled the seven seas virtually unchallenged since the Pleistocene epoch.

  Speeding toward them with its gaping maw spread wide, the pliosaur threw itself at the approaching whales, its beady eyes focused on the leader. Confident in its power, the giant predator never noticed the eight other whales hurtling toward its exposed flanks.

  Jake’s eyes peeled wide as the second group of orcas sprang their ambush. The cunning cows had used the more easily discerned bulls as bait. Attacking as one, they closed the horns of the trap on their misdirected adversary. Converging from every possible angle, they launched themselves at its vulnerable throat region, slamming into it and tearing away, while the impacts echoed throughout the water.

  Jake gaped at the frightful vision. Over forty tons of enraged orca clung to the great reptile’s wrinkled gullet, ripping away as the infuriated beast flailed wildly.

  Amara remained frozen in place, unable to tear her eyes away. Squealing with excitement, the massed killer whale cows continued to pummel and punish their oversized opponent. Nearby, the agitated herd bulls circled back in preparation for their own assault. ““Oh my God . . .” she sputtered. “They’re doing it!”

  She was wrong. Used to brawling with others of its kind, and accustomed to feeding on schools of prey as large as the mammals that clung to it, the pliosaur was unfazed by the organized assault. Its mammoth neck was heavily armored by thick ridges of skin and layer upon layer of rock-hard muscles. Despite the cloud of dark scales and blood that began to obscure the ongoing melee, Jake could see the whales were finding it difficult to do any serious damage to their well-protected adversary. They didn’t have enough size or sheer biting power to inflict a mortal wound.

  Ferociously shaking its huge head back and forth, the pliosaur began to systematically dislodge the whales. One by one they were thrown off, until it twisted its entire forefront around in an explosive arc, flinging the last two orcas from its tattered throat. Exploiting its own inertia, it whipped its crocodile-shaped head back around and retaliated, crunching down on the nearest cow.

  The high-pitched squeal the bitten orca gave off pierced Eurypterid II’s thick hull with a sound reminiscent of a giant’s fingernails raking across the world’s largest chalkboard.

  “Oh God!” Amara slammed her palms against the glass before her. “He got her! He got the matriarch!”

  As Jake and Amara stared, horrorstricken, the creature released a deep rumble of satisfaction and shifted its death grip on the big killer whale, plunging its ridged teeth deeper into the old cow’s body. As her death cries diffused into the water with the last of her air, the orca’s leader gave out a mournful final call and fell silent.

  Watching in disbelief from fifty yards out, Omega Baby emitted an agonized squeal and started shaking. A moment later, the normally playful male went berserk. Though he knew his mother was already dead, he flung his 20,000 pounds directly at the pliosaur’s scale-covered head. A split-second behind him, the remaining bulls scrambled to catch up.

  With a sound reminiscent of thunderclaps, fifty tons of incensed orca plowed into the preoccupied marine reptile. For the pod bulls, all thoughts of personal safety were forgotten. Foregoing any semblance of strategy, they clamped their jaws onto the object of their enmity and tore into it, sinking their teeth into anything and everything they could and tearing away with all the strength they possessed. A second later, the equally vengeful cows joined the fray.

  Bellowing like a herd of elephants, the pliosaur answered the orca’s assault. It flung its giant jaws from side to side and retaliated, crushing, slashing and snapping at anything that moved. It was the ultimate battle of the ages; the prehistoric versus the present, in a no holds barred, kill-or-be-killed fight to the death.

  Powerless, Jake and Amara watched in awe as the war for dominion of the world’s oceans raged at their feet. Despite their proximity to the warring titans, they could see little. Within seconds of the killer whale’s concerted attack, the water surrounding the combatants became obscured by blood, scales, and scraps of blubber and skin. Other than an occasional set of flukes flailing away through the murkiness, or the roars of pain and rage that buffeted their insignificant craft, they had no idea what was happening. Finally, several minutes after it began, the din of battle ceased.

  With their noses pressed against their craft’s reinforced portal, the two humans fought to peer through the gore-glutted waters. Then, as the current dissipated some of the obscurity, Jake spotted a hint of movement. Something big and dark emerged from the debris cloud, causing him and Amara to recoil.

  It was Omega Baby. Badly injured from a bite to his dorsal section, the wounded bull struggled toward the surface. An unscathed cow sped up alongside him, supporting the significantly larger male, nudging him toward the much-needed air, some twenty feet above.

  Watching as the two orcas vanished from view, Amara gave a hesitant smile. Two more bulls and a handful of cows limped away from the scene of the gruesome struggle. As the waters cleared more, her pride in her cetaceans vanished, and her increasingly grim expression reflected the toll the clash took on the killer whale pods. Three of the big male orcas were dead, and seven females. Drifting upside down as they floated toward the surface, their sundered bodies bore brutal testimony to the power of the primitive terror they’d pitted their collective strength against. The last of the surviving whales quit the field, emitting billowing trails of crimson as they went.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Amara’s legs give out. He made a quick grab, catching her just before she collapsed to the submersible’s hard floor. He lowered her gently into a seated position, cradling her until her head rested against the thick Lexan portal. She sat in a stupor, her breathing shallow and rapid, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Are you okay?” Jake dropped to one knee and touched the side of her neck with his fingertips.

  “Wha . . . what?” Amara stammered. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed by what I saw.”

  “No one can blame you for that, doc . . . believe me.”

  She nodded slowly and covered her face with her hands. After a few deep inhales she exhaled through her teeth and rubbed her cheeks briskly in an attempt to clear her head. She blew out one final breath, then accepted Jake’s help making it back to her feet. She dusted herself off, smiling weakly as he dropped back into his co-pilot’s chair and started strapping himself in.

  “So, can you get this thing going, or do I have to call the auto club?” Jake winked b
ack at her.

  “Aye, aye, captain.” Amara grinned, making her way to a computer terminal built into one of the cockpit’s interior walls. “Now that I know what the problem is it should be easy to fix.”

  “Best news I’ve heard all day,” Jake said. He leaned back into his chair and closed his battle-weary eyes. Thank God it’s over. A second later, he felt a faint vibration run through the soles of his feet. “What the hell?” His eyes popped and he sat rigidly upright, peering nervously around. “Doc, did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?” Amara asked, her attention focused on the computer screen before her.

  “That,” Jake said. The vibration repeated itself.

  This time, Amara felt it too. Alarmed, she moved to her sonar screen. “I don’t see anything. There’s still too much gunk in the water.”

  Jake unsnapped his web harness and hobbled to the sub’s viewing portal. He wiped away the cool condensation to peer through the gradually dissipating cloud that still marked the battlefield. He blinked repeatedly, trying to focus. He saw a hint of movement, but his brain had trouble registering what he was looking at.

  Then something huge emerged from the center of the cloud.

  Jake’s concerned frown became a sagacious grin. What he’d spotted was nothing more than the pliosaur’s drifting carcass. He could see its ravaged head and muzzle protruding from the cloud. He took a deep breath and started to relax again. He turned back toward his chair, laughing at himself for being so jumpy.

  He stopped laughing when the “carcass” moved.

  “Motherfucker!” Jake staggered backwards, his rear bumping painfully into a corner of his station’s control panel.

  Amara started. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not dead! The whales didn’t kill it! They must have cut their losses and made a break for it!”

  “What are you talking about?” Amara’s pale eyes struggled to pierce the remnants of the debris cloud.

  “I said it’s not dead!” Jake insisted. He could feel his voice growing noticeably shaky. “It’s still alive. I’m telling you, I saw it move!”

  “Jake, you just saw its body undulating in the current,” Amara reassured. She continued scanning the nearly clear sea outside their oval-shaped window. All of a sudden, the current kicked up like a gust of wind and the cloud of gore vanished completely. To her bemusement, nothing occupied the space where the pliosaur had been. No body. No anything.

  Amara frowned. She was about to check her sonar screen again when movement off the starboard side caught her eye. “Good God!” She rushed back to her computer keyboard and started furiously pecking away.

  Jake felt a cold shiver crawl centipede-like up and down his spine. He sagged against his console, grabbing onto it for support as he stared in disbelief.

  It was emerging from the blackness of the ocean’s depths.

  Invincible.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Jake shuddered as the pliosaur’s monstrous form completely blocked his view of the surrounding sea. It was beyond belief. Not only had the colossal reptile survived its bloody struggle with the killer whales, it had emerged victorious. Its movements were unimpaired as it cruised past their portside, mandibles ajar. It was less than twenty yards away, and they were still dead in the water. He felt cold trickles of sweat run down his spine, causing him to shiver. For the first time since Samantha died, the lawman experienced fear in its rawest, most undiluted form. As it moved closer, Jake braced himself for the inevitable charge; closing his eyes tight, he held his breath and waited.

  The moments passed in agonizing slow motion. He opened one eye, then the other. The creature wasn’t coming for them. He moved cautiously to the mini-sub’s observation bubble, squinting hard. He inhaled sharply as he realized it was missing an eye. The pliosaur’s entire left eyeball was bitten out, wrenched from its socket, along with a substantial portion of the bony orbit. Jake whistled as he spotted the horrific wound. He took an involuntary step back, taking in all the punishment the marine reptile sustained during its battle with the frantic killer whales. Its enormous head was covered with oval-shaped bite marks and a five-foot section of its lip was ripped away, leaving behind bleeding gum tissue and exposing its ivory-colored teeth. Its throat was badly lacerated and both fore flippers were torn up, the right one in tatters, with large sections of carpal bone peeking through savaged tissue.

  As he surveyed the creature’s wounds, Jake noted with satisfaction that, although the pliosaur had won its greatest battle, the price for its victory was costly.

  Suddenly, someone touched his shoulder. Jolted out of his head, the lawman whirled wide-eyed and found Amara standing next to him.

  “Sorry . . . wow, he looks pretty beat up,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” Jake said quietly. “Like you and me.” As their eyes met his grin vanished. He took a step forward, his hand palming her hip as he guided her behind him, instinctively placing his body between her and the creature. “He looks just as mean as ever. Maybe more so.”

  Amara nodded. “No surprise there. Wounded predators are always the most dangerous.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “I hate to say it, but I think he’s looking for us.”

  “Us . . . or the whales.”

  “Shouldn’t you be getting the engines working?” Jake asked. He moved carefully to his seat and eased into it as noiselessly as possible. “Sooner or later he’s going to figure out we’re here.”

  “The engines are already fixed.” Amara’s eyes locked onto the pliosaur’s monstrous form. “Just so it doesn’t come as a shock, as soon as I start them he’s going to be all over us.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Amara shrugged. “Hell, yes. All that noise?” She grinned halfheartedly, then cracked her knuckles by intertwined her fingers and extending her arms in front of her. “Get yourself situated. I’ll need to do some fast maneuvering if we’re to fight our way out of this one.”

  Jake winced as his restraining belts clicked loudly. “Can’t we just wait for him to die?”

  “He’s not going to.” Amara tiptoed to her station and seated herself. “Barring infection, none of those wounds are fatal. Even that missing eye will heal up. He won’t get the eyeball back, of course, but his echolocation abilities will make up for it.”

  Jake stared. “So what are we going to do?”

  Amara’s bruised face became a steely mask of determination. “We have to finish him. Now, while he’s hurt. If we don’t, and there are others of his kind, and they start multiplying . . .”

  “Good lord . . .” Jake shuddered.

  “Exactly. I’m thinking of this from a species perspective now: us versus them. Last thing we need are a thousand of those things running amok.”

  “Okay,” Jake slipped his arms inside Eurypterid II’s padded actuator ports, ignoring the neural interface’s bothersome sting. “Ready when you are. Let’s do it.”

  “Just one second,” Amara said. She flipped an overhead switch and grasped her control lever. She hesitated. “Jake?”

  “Yes?”

  She looked at him with big eyes. “In case we don’t get out of this, thank you for saving my life. You’re a real knight in shining armor.”

  “Anytime, doc.” Jake twisted in his seat and grinned at her. “And for the record, you make an excellent damsel in distress.”

  Amara chuckled. “All-righty then. Hold onto your hat . . . because here we go!”

  Jake sucked in a breath and prepared for the fight of his life. Just then, the chorus from REM’s “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” emanated out of the mini-sub’s internal speakers.

  “Oops, wrong button.” Amara grinned sheepishly. “Okay, this should do it.”

  She hit the submersible’s automatic engine start. Five hundred feet away, the wounded pliosaur’s silhouette flickered as it swung its head from side to side, striving to locate the killer whales, the mini-sub, or any living thing to vent its wrath on. The instant Eur
ypterid II’s engine’s flared to life it whipped around, its gleaming eye zeroing the tiny sub with pinpoint accuracy. Its mangled jaws split apart, emitting a deep-throated challenge that echoed for miles. A second later, it charged.

  “Holy shit!” Jake yelled. “He’s coming straight for us!”

  “And us at him,” Amara announced. She threw them into high gear, heading straight for their nemesis. “Hang on, this could get dicey!”

  At the last possible moment, Amara faked to port, then whipped them hard to starboard. She threw their starboard engine into reverse, gunning them into a steep climb.

  With the pliosaur’s maw beckoning, Jake’s heart took an express elevator into his stomach. Miraculously, they made it past its deadly jaws and over its damaged flipper. Executing a seamless 180 degree turn, Amara started following the frustrated beast, keeping them on its blind side and away from its teeth. It was a tough proposition. Though less maneuverable than the mechanical marvel pursuing it, the wounded saurian was considerably faster. And, despite its impaired vision, it seemed to know exactly where its prey was hiding.

  “Damn, he’s pulling away from us!” Amara cried out. In the distance, the Cutlass loomed over them, a monstrous fin arcing toward the surface.

  “Do something!” Jake bellowed. The frustration of having to sit there like some prepubescent wallflower was really grating on his nerves.

  Amara made a grab for her console’s targeting helmet. “I’m going to try the electrified harpoon. It’s our only chance!”

  Leveling off forty feet above the furiously paddling pliosaur, she flipped down her visor. A red and green virtual-reality sighting mechanism sprang up on the device’s internal lens. She flipped the fire control cover open and aimed for the creature’s broad back. Mouthing a prayer, she squeezed the rubberized trigger. A faint vibration shimmied their hull as Eurypterid II’s main armament launched with a hydraulic hiss.