by Russ Elliott
A deep bellowing sound resonated across the ocean and made his hair stand on end. The haunting call of a sperm whale. But it wasn’t the eeriness of the sound that unnerved him. The call meant that whales were in the area . . . and whales were among pliosaurs’ choicest prey.
A towering spray of moist air shot into the night sky. A shiny gray hump slid above the waves. A pair of enormous horizontal flukes slapped the surface, and the breaching whale dove. “They’re closer than they sounded,” John whispered.
Staring into the pitch, the mistakes of his life became painfully clear. Every expedition, every so-called quest for science, had been nothing more than a failed attempt at redemption. He could never bring back the young life that was lost that fateful night—he understood this. Still, if he could somehow benefit humanity, he just might be able to live with his mistake.
His eyes again swept the water. The cold, dark sea was certainly bleak enough: a fitting arena for the final round. Was this where fate, after twenty four-years, would finally catch up with him and even the score?
Although John’s mind stayed alert with fear, his body was starting to fail. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take over for a while,” he muttered to the chimp. John lay back in the raft and studied the night sky. Black smoke-like clouds drifted past the moon, and a light rain began to fall again.
He let his heavy eyelids close. Just five minutes. Then I’ll sit back up and continue the watch. But the rhythmic sound of the waves brushing the raft lulled him into a deep sleep.
The chimp’s cry shattered his respite.
He bolted awoke and rose to sitting, looking desperately at the waters around him. A shoal of fish shot through the waves and vanished into the night. He looked over the side of the raft and froze. A shadow passed beneath them. A reef? As the dark object rose closer to the surface, moonlight revealed craggy, gray skin. Not a reef. A sliver of whitewater divided before a tall, jagged frill. John felt the mist falling from the passing frill wash over him—horrifying proof that what he was seeing was really there.
The raft swirled in the wake created by the passing leviathan as the giant frill slowly submerged. John searched the water in disbelief. “No . . . how could it have found me?”
He continued to watch the surface, hearing only his racing heart. His fingers sank deep into the moist, orange fabric of the raft. The rolling wake slowly dispersed, and the raft stopped moving. How long has it been since it passed? He had no idea; time stood still . . . a vacuum of silence.
Did I really see that? Or did my frazzled nerves play on my imagination?
“A whale?” John whispered as if seeking confirmation from the chimp. “No. Not with a frill on its back.” Wait! A humpback maybe. He stared into the dark water. He knew they had strange ridges along their backs and could reach fifty feet or better.
Suddenly, there was a great swoosh of air followed by splattering water as if the sea had opened up behind him. It was a sound like a breaching whale exhaling through its blowhole to ventilate its lungs. It could have been . . . but John knew it wasn’t.
The moonlight disappeared. Fighting a crippling rush of fear, he turned toward the sound. Before him was an enormous black tunnel behind a curtain of falling water. Water splattered his face, distorting his vision. He looked higher, and his blood ran cold as he stared into the horrifying source of the downpour.
An upper jaw rose as water continued to cascade from the tips of enormous, spiked teeth.
The next few seconds seemed to last an eternity.
The chimp shrieked in terror. John fell back on his knees. The raft dropped as the ocean tore open beneath them.
Noooooo!
In a cavern of darkness, the raft buckled, tearing around pearly white tips. Unseen daggers ripped into John’s back. At first, it was with blunt force. Then like a bolt of lightning, an intense pain shot through his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound.
The chimp’s squeals dropped below him. John rose higher from the surface, snared on the lower row of teeth. He glimpsed the full moon beside the gray underside of the creature’s nose, and then everything spun crazily.
There was a moment of weightlessness; he was dropping. With a tremendous crash, water spewed around John’s back and through his hair when he slammed beneath the waves. Water churned in his ears. Plunging farther beneath the surface, he drew a panicked breath. But instead of lifesaving air, cold seawater invaded his lungs. In overwhelming pain, he struggled to move, free himself. The rush of water started to lift him from the lower jaw until the upper jaw moved closer. Rows of glistening white scalpels swept down out of the darkness.
His palms pressed against pink gums, straining to keep them away, but offered no resistance to the closing jaws. The upper row of teeth came down to meet his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. The pressure intensified; his last breath exploded from his mouth. Through a curtain of bubbles he saw his fists pounding against pink skin. Then, the creature’s gums turned black as they plummeted to the depths of the sea.
John screamed. He awoke to find himself beating his hands against the raft in the drizzling rain. His heart was pounding like a drum. At his feet, he saw the frightened chimp staring at him as if he were crazy.
Quickly, John sat up and scanned the surface for the giant frill, but saw only the dark horizon in all directions. Releasing a deep breath, he looked down at himself. The dried blood on his shredded t-shirt and the raw skin on his rope-burned wrists were all too real. He knew he had to be hundreds of miles from the island, yet he could still feel the creature’s eyes on him, watching, waiting.
John scanned the surface one more time then eased back against the raft. His heartbeat barely slowed, and he took deep breaths to regain his waning composure. He stared up at the crescent moon, unnerved by the realistic images of his nightmare.
“Will we make it back to land before it finds us?”
The chimp, now quietly gazing at John, gave no answer.
Chapter 16
PRIZED POSSESSION
Little Kevin Addelson curled up in the back seat of the minivan. He pressed his nose into the corner of the seat to keep the beach ball from hitting him in the face. But it didn’t help. Even though it was seven a.m., there was no way Billy was going to let him sleep. He turned around and used his hands to cover his face. Between his fingers he saw his eleven-year-old brother taking aim for one more shot. The morning sun shone through the windows as the ball again bounced off his sandy-blond hair.
“Wake up, squirt,” said the freckle-faced older brother, retrieving the bouncing ball from the floorboard. After one more shot, Kevin finally gave up on his sleep. He looked up, squinting, and moaned, “M-o-o-o-m-m. Tell him to stop.”
“Billy! Stop tormenting your little brother. His head’s not a basketball hoop. Seven in the morning is way too early for this!” Margaret Bergh said from the driver’s seat without turning around.
Kevin closed his eyes and turned his face back toward the corner of the seat. “Why do we have to go so early anyway?”
Margaret said, “You remember how it was last time when we left at nine? It was so packed we had to drive around for forty-five minutes just to find a parking place. Not this time.”
Through the corner of his eye, Kevin saw his older brother drawing the ball back for another toss.
Kevin shouted, “Stop it, butt-breath!”
“Butt-breath. Did you call me butt-breath?”
Kevin turned to face his older brother. “Yeah, and that’s what Tammy called you in school yesterday.”
“Did not.”
“That’s what Johnny told me.”
Billy dropped the beach ball, then self-consciously cupped his hand beneath his mouth. He exhaled several times, carefully sniffing after each breath. He looked back at Kevin. “My breath doesn’t stink.”
“Does too. You’re just used to it.”
Billy’s chubby cheeks widened into a smile. “Okay. Let’s see if you can tel
l the difference?” He leaned close to Kevin’s face, exhaled, and said, “This a breath . . .” Then, he turned around and put his rear end within point-blank range of his little brother’s face and . . . PEEEERRrrrrrrt! “Tell the difference?”
“Mo-o-o-m-m-m. . . . Billy farted on me!”
The young brunette yelled back again without turning around, “Billy, what have I told you about that?”
Billy scooted up to the edge of the seat. “No, Mom. I was just letting some air out of the beach ball. It was just the air coming out of the ball!”
Kevin looked over the driver’s seat, “Nuh-uh, Mom. It was the air coming out of him!”
Margaret’s tone became more aggravated. “Billy. For the last time, leave him alone, or I’m going to turn around and go back home!”
Margaret reached over and turned on the radio, hoping a little early morning jazz would calm her nerves. She paused a moment to listen to the news: “And the search continues this morning for three fishermen who are still missing after a bizarre whale attack at yesterday’s Motanza fishing festival. The mysteries surrounding the attack continue. Scientists now question why a harmless plankton feeder would lunge into a net filled with huge tuna. Considering that the throat diameter of a humpback whale is only eight inches, sources insist that a two-hundred-pound tuna would not be on the menu. We’ll have more on this controversial attack on the news at ten. Now here’s Ed with Sports Rap.” She reached over and turned off the radio, having lost interest in jazz, concerned by what she’d just heard.
Their van crested a small hill, and through the windshield the sprawling Paradise Beach appeared beneath a multicolored sunrise. Billy scooted up to the edge of the seat. “Cool, there’s no one here. Not a single car in the parking lot!”
Margaret grinned as she slowed the minivan into a parking space. “How do you like that, boys? The whole beach to ourselves. No trouble finding a spot today.”
After unloading everything they needed from the van, the family headed across the beach. Even though it was seven fifteen a.m., the beige sand was already hot to the touch. Eventually, they stopped at a spot about twenty yards from the shoreline and began to set up camp. Farther to their right, a long pile of rocks formed a jetty that separated the west side of the beach.
Setting up her lounge chair, Margaret noticed the boys eyeing the rocks. “Don’t even think about it. No climbing on the rocks; it’s way too dangerous. And no one goes into the water until I’m ready to go with you.”
The duo reluctantly sat down on a large beach towel while their mother lathered up with suntan lotion. She set the bottle in the sand and eased back in her chair.
~~~
Fifteen minutes later, a shadow crossed the young woman’s face. Billy waved his hand back and forth just above his mother’s sunglasses.
“Is she already asleep?” whispered Kevin.
Billy smiled. “Told you she wouldn’t last long at this hour.”
The two boys looked at each other with a silent laugh, then tiptoed across the beach towel. Once they reached the sand, Billy looked over at Kevin . . . and it was on! “Race ya to the rocks!”
Billy’s longer strides got him there ahead of his younger brother, and he scurried up the eight-foot-tall pile of stones. Several seconds later, little Kevin reached the first large gray rock and followed his older brother up. As Kevin neared the top of the pile, he heard his brother’s voice from above. “Woooo! Check it out!”
Kevin looked over the top of the rocks and saw Billy pointing toward the beach on the opposite side. He stood up beside his brother and saw a huge beached whale sprawled along the shoreline. They quickly climbed down the other side of the rocks and raced across the sand toward the massive gray body.
Kevin yelled ahead to his brother, “Do you think it’s still alive?”
“I don’t think so!” shouted Billy without looking back.
They walked the length of the enormous creature while it lay halfway on its side with its massive underbelly parallel with the water. They stopped behind its head and faced the water. Kevin stepped closer and touched the cold, gray flesh. “Look how big it is. I wonder what it died from?”
Billy waded into the water and disappeared behind the whale. “Well, I think we can rule out natural causes.”
Kevin walked around the massive head and into the water beside his brother. Then he saw the ten-foot bite mark behind the whale’s head. “Wow! What a big mouth that shark must have had!”
“Yeah! You could park a car in that opening!” added Billy. Kevin stepped past his brother and waded closer to the whale. He walked into the center of the enormous wound that surrounded him like a tunnel. He stared in awe at the surrounding wall of flesh. Large chunks of blubber wobbled beside his feet with each breaking wave.
Kevin looked down at the water just in front of his feet, “Hey look! What’s that?” A wave rolled back from the beach revealing an enormous white spike-like object half buried in the sand.
“Is that a tooth?” Kevin asked excitedly, and leaned over to inspect it more closely. Just then, he heard the whining sound of a boat’s engine coming up behind them. A loud voice echoed across the water. “Hey, you kids get away from there!” Kevin looked up and saw a naval patrol boat just off shore.
“Kevin, let’s book!” yelled Billy running, splashing through the water.
Kevin started to follow his older brother, glanced back at the tooth, and then at the approaching boat. He weighed his options, then quickly ran back to the tooth. He dug his fingers into the wet sand just above the blunt end of the tooth’s root. Straining every muscle in his small body, he pulled until he felt the tooth release from the suction of the wet sand.
Billy looked back at his younger brother. “Come on! You’re gonna get us busted!”
Holding the tooth close to his body with both hands, little Kevin raced to his older brother who was waving him on. Billy looked at the huge tooth in Kevin’s hands. “Hey, cool! Want me to carry it for you?”
“No way . . . it’s mine!”
“Okay, okay. Let’s just get out of here.”
After the two boys reached the rocks, Billy looked at Kevin. “You better not show that to anyone, or they’ll take it from you.”
For once, Kevin didn’t doubt his brother. He carefully climbed up to the top of the rocks, never letting go of the giant tooth with either hand—not even to balance himself.
~~~
The patrol boat slowly slid into the shallows. Lieutenant Vic Greeman jumped over the gunwale and pulled the boat onto the shore beside the whale. A female in uniform leaped into the water behind him. As the two approached the massive carcass, the woman laughed with relief. “Wow! I was a bit worried there for a moment. From the water, it first looked like one big bite mark. But now that we’re closer, you can see that the wound looks more like the result of several scavenger sharks feeding from the same area.”
“Sharks wielding chainsaws,” added Vic. “It’s sloppy, even for a feeding frenzy. See the deep puncture marks around the perimeter; how they appear to pull through the flesh toward the wound?” He sloshed closer. “No doubt some of this is the work of scavengers, but not all of it.”
“And the wound’s long triangular shape is quite odd.” added the lean, attractive black woman. Kelly Willingham waded through the water beside the wound. “It’s also strange how the rest of the carcass appears to be unmarked, except for these.” She stopped where there were four deep gashes across the whale’s flank. She ran her fingers along the evenly spaced slashes. “Maybe it’s time to give Hong Kong a call.”
“Hong Kong?”
Kelly grinned. “To see if Godzilla’s gotten loose again.”
Vic didn’t share her sense of humor.
Kelly was quick to regain her seriousness. “So what do you think? Three beachings in two days, all within eight miles of each other.”
Vic looked out over the water. “Yeah there’s something going on out there all right. There’s a t
heory that when whales beach themselves like this, they’re running from something. Something’s scaring them in.” He recalled his son watching the Motanza footage on the news the previous evening . . . and all of the damage created by a supposed humpback whale. “Yeah, there’s something strange going on out there. It’s like the local sea life is going berserk.”
“But this is the first one with any damage,” said Kelly, stepping toward the larger wound. “All the other whales apparently just beached themselves and couldn’t make it back out in time.”
Vic waded up beside Kelly. A wave rolled into the wound, washing over the lower layers of white blubber and retreated between their ankles. “Three beachings in the same general area within such a short time period? It does seem to strengthen the theory of the whales trying to get away from something. Already the local fishermen are spreading rumors about an increase in the shark population. Maybe, for once, they have a point.”
Vic stepped closer to the immense opening in the whale, “I don’t know. We’ve been protecting the great white for several decades now. Maybe it’s starting to catch up with us. Maybe there’s a price to pay for being the first nation to declare the great white as an endangered species. When we get back in, maybe I’ll give the boys at Dyer Island a call to see if they’ve noticed an increase in shark activity.”
Vic turned to a thumping in the sky—a news helicopter with a huge red number eight on its underbelly. Descending, the chopper swung sideways so the cameraman filming from the cargo bay had a clear view of the carcass.
Vic shook his head. “Great. That’s all we need.”
~~~
Little Kevin couldn’t resist taking one more look at his prized possession. Ignoring his mother’s call from downstairs telling him it was time for lunch, he again opened his second dresser drawer. He marveled at the eighteen-inch white object—he’d measured it himself—as it lay on the blue towel, dwarfing his collection of shark teeth lined up beside it.