by Russ Elliott
John put a hand on Samantha’s shoulder. He glanced at the window and saw Ron pointing to his stomach and shaking his head. He watched as the young man sat straight up in bed with his arms out to his sides as if arguing with the officer. The expression on the officer’s face told John all he needed to know.
Then Ron fell back against the bed in obvious pain, his hands clutching the bandages below his ribs. The nurse pressed a button beside the bed. She stepped in front of the officer and motioned him to leave. Just as the officer opened the door, a doctor and two orderlies ran into the room. They quickly exited with Ron on a gurney.
Samantha stood up and started to cry hysterically. John approached the nurse as she closed the door. “What happened?”
“It looks like he got a little excited during the questioning and pulled some of his stitches loose. Don’t worry. It’s probably just superficial,” replied the nurse. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”
John felt a tremendous sense of relief, but at the same time, ashamed of the fact that his concern was greater for the young man’s story than his life.
He turned to Samantha and held her by the arm. “It’s okay . . . it’s okay. The nurse said he just pulled some of his stitches loose.” But Samantha was inconsolable.
“She said he’s going to be okay, Samantha. Why are you crying . . . what’s wrong?” Kate asked, putting her arm around the girl’s shoulders. Samantha sniffled, her long, brown hair sticking to the tears on her cheeks. “I know. It’s just that I feel so guilty!”
She feels guilty, thought John. Get in line! “Why should you feel guilty? You couldn’t have stopped what happened!”
“It’s just that they were on the beach that day because of me. They were helping us shoot a commercial.”
John held her hands. “You can’t look at it that way. You’re in no way responsible. Trust me on that one.”
Kate tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but didn’t you want to speak with the officer?”
He looked up just as the officer disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.
Quickly excusing himself from the ladies, John raced down the hall. He rounded the corner and lunged for the elevator just as the doors closed. Frantically, he tapped the button, but it was too late. Less than a minute later, he jumped into the next available elevator and pressed the button for the lobby. He watched the numbers atop the doors light up . . . four . . . three . . . The elevator stopped on the second floor.
The doors opened, revealing a stern-looking bulldog of a nurse. Stepping inside, she held the doors open for an elderly man in a hospital gown as he slowly rolled his IV in beside him. John watched impatiently as the man took steps so small, John could swear he wasn’t moving at all. Once the journey ended, John quickly tapped the button for the doors to close.
Finally, the elevator reached the lobby, and John discretely inched his way in front of the nurse, preparing for a quick exit. Sensing John’s strategy, the nurse put a thick arm in front of him and held the door open for the elderly man. John desperately looked over the shuffling man’s shoulders, trying to see if the officer was still in the hallway.
Momentarily, the nurse lowered her arm to help the man with his IV, and John saw his shot. He sidestepped them both and made a break for the hallway. As his footsteps echoed around him, he didn’t slow his momentum until he reached the reception desk. “Did the officer just pass this way?”
“Yes, he just went by about a minute ago,” said the happy young blonde. “By the way, how’s your broth—” Before she could finish the sentence, John was already through the double doors.
He scanned the parking lot, desperately searching for the police car. Then above a long row of hedges, he saw the roof of the officer’s car slowly heading toward the road. With a quick burst of speed, John hurdled a three-foot-high section of shrubbery and landed in the parking lot, slapping his hands on the side of the police car.
The car skidded to a stop, and John ran around to the driver’s side.
His gun half-drawn, the officer looked up at the strange man tapping on his window. The window slowly lowered, revealing the startled officer’s eyes. “Sir, what is it?” said the officer. “Are you okay?”
Breathing hard, John spat out the words, “You were just in with the surfer . . .” He took another breath. “The one that was attacked by the shark . . . Officer . . .” John read the nametag. “Marimba?”
“Yes, I was with Ron. You’re not another reporter, are you?” said the officer, putting his car back in gear as if ready to drive away.
John quickly shook his head. “No. Did he say anything about what really attacked him? What it looked like? Its size?”
The officer hit the brake and took the car out of gear. “He said it was enormous. But judging from the rest of his description, he’s obviously still in shock.”
John leaned his forearms on the door and shook his head. “No, he’s not in shock. What he said was true. Especially about the creature’s size. I know because I’ve seen it. What else did he say?”
Officer Marimba stared at John for a moment, as if sizing up his mental state, then reluctantly answered. “He said it was hideous, like some kind of dinosaur. Had teeth the size of his arm and came up beneath him like a missile with a mouth so big he could have stood up straight in it. And you’re telling me there’s something out there that fits this description?”
John nodded. “Yes, an extremely dangerous marine reptile. Larger than an adult sperm whale.”
“And you’ve seen this creature?”
“Yes,” replied John. “And a lot of other people are going to see it, too, unless we do something about it.”
The officer paused, then said, “He also claimed that the deep scrapes across his abdomen were from this creature’s skin. But the doctor said the scrapes were too deep to have come from the skin of a shark, and most likely came from a run-in with some coral.” Officer Marimba eyed John warily. “Have you gone to anyone else with this?”
John took another deep breath and wiped his brow. “I’ve tried dealing with the Navy several times, but let’s just say they don’t quite believe me. I need proof. That’s why I came here today. I was hoping that Ron would be able to help verify my story. I also have other proof—a fresh nineteen-inch tooth from this creature—but a colleague of mine has it at the moment, running tests on it to prove its authenticity.”
The officer rubbed his chin. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you . . . there’s certainly something going on out of the ordinary out there. If it involves these waters, the place to go to would be the Shark Research Institute in Cape Town.”
“How do you get there from here? About how far is it?”
Officer Marimba smiled. “Go ahead and jump in. I’ll take you over there. I know the director personally. Besides, you need someone that was a witness to Ron’s testimony, don’t you?”
John’s eyes flared with elation. “Great! Thank you, but, first I need to run back in and tell my friend to meet me there.”
“Okay. I’ll wait right here,” replied the officer. John climbed through the hedge and ran back toward the lobby.
~~~
An ear-piercing scream echoed through the Bethelsdorp Elementary School hallway. A little dark-haired girl, still screaming, ran away from a pudgy boy and the thing he held in his right hand. The girl glanced back at the slithering, green object dangling from Tommy’s fingers. They passed a group of students coming out of a classroom, and Tommy gave up chase when he spotted one of his friends. “Hey, Kev. Check it out!” Tommy held up a six-inch snake dangling by its tail.
“Where did you get that?” asked Kevin.
“Caught it this morning in the grass by the bushes behind the cafeteria. You know, the small patch that never gets mowed.”
A gray haired man with a gray moustache stepped from a nearby doorway and glanced toward the boys.
“Well, you’d better put it away before Mr. Bensley sees it.”
The dark-haired girl, Nancy, walked over to the two boys now that the fearsome serpent was back in its home.
“So, whatcha gonna do with it?” Kevin asked.
“I think I’ll bring it to show and share,” Tommy said. “Then I’ll probably let it go back where I found it. So, what did you bring in for show and share today?”
Before Kevin could answer, Nancy butted in. “I brought in my butterfly collection! My daddy just picked up a swallowtail for me last week while he was away on business. Now I have more than two hundred butterflies in my collection. Mr. Bensley said it’s one of the most impressive private collections he’s ever seen!”
“I didn’t ask you!” Tommy blurted.
Nancy stuck her nose in the air and asked, “Yeah, Kevin, what did you bring in . . . your stupid shark-tooth collection?” She laughed and turned away to join a group of her girlfriends as they walked by.
Tommy scowled. “Ooow, she makes me so mad! Thinks she’s so hot because she always wins show and share. Just because her dad travels around the world on business and brings her back some stupid butterfly for her collection.”
“But Mr. Bensley said show and share isn’t a competition,” said a boy listening nearby.
“Yeah, right,” Tommy scoffed. “You see how she acts when her butterfly collection gets all the attention. She knows she blows everybody away. So, Kev, what did you bring in this time?”
For a moment, Kevin wondered if he was making a mistake. For the last two days he’d followed his older brother’s advice and shown it to no one. He’d kept the enormous tooth hidden in his top dresser drawer ever since he found it by the whale carcass on the beach. But he couldn’t resist another day, especially now, after the Keurboom attack on the surfers. Practically everyone in South Africa was talking about sharks.
“So, tell me already! What did you bring in this time? Is it in that bag you’ve been carrying around all morning?”
Kevin felt the long, spiked object pressing against the bottom of the plastic bag in his right hand and smiled. “Not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.”
Chapter 30
THE SHARK RESEARCH INSTITUTE
John felt his tension mounting as the patrol car pulled into the Shark Research Institute parking lot. “Here we are,” Officer Marimba said, popping open his squeaky driver’s-side door. John followed the officer to the entryway of the large office building, passing a fiberglass replica of a twenty-foot great white. John sensed he was finally in the right place. He reached for the glass front door. In its reflection, he saw Kate’s truck pulling into the parking lot, so he waited for her to catch up.
Once in the lobby, Officer Marimba approached the reception desk while John and Kate studied the numerous shark photographs adorning the walls. Kate stopped in front of a black-and-white photograph of an enormous great white hanging by a noose. She read the caption underneath, “Twenty feet long and over four thousand pounds.” She nudged John. “This guy could be used as bait for your creature.”
“Would you mind not referring to it as ‘my creature,’” John reminded her.
A blond-haired man in his mid-forties entered the room from a long hallway. He wore a light-blue shirt with the Shark Research Institute logo on its front pocket.
Officer Marimba shook his hand. “Tom, how’ve you been?” He turned to John and Kate. “This is Tom Hayman, director of the Shark Research Institute.”
After giving them both a warm handshake, Tom asked, “So, what can I do for you?”
Officer Marimba looked at John, who nodded for him to start first. “Earlier this morning, I was at the hospital taking a statement from the young surfer that was attacked yesterday near Plettenberg Bay—the alleged shark attack. On the way out, I ran into John. He has a . . . rather unique story that I think may interest you.”
With a deep breath, John thought, Here I go again. I’ve repeated this story so many times I know it like my own social security number. He started with the usual forewarning. “This may be a little hard to believe, but please hear me out. There is an extremely large marine reptile somewhere along the southern coastline. Now I’m not talking about a really big croc. This creature is somewhere in the eighty-foot range. And I didn’t say eighteen. . . I said eighty!” John waited for a burst of laughter from Tom, but he was holding steady, arms crossed, one hand under his chin.
He’s actually listening, John thought. Now maybe we’re getting somewhere. Thank youuuu, Officer Marimba!
He went on to explain the various details about the creature, including the tooth which was currently being tested for authenticity. “You see,” John said, “the tooth doesn’t match up with any contemporary creature because it’s from a . . .” he hesitated just a beat, “a prehistoric marine reptile. A pliosaur.”
The director’s face never flinched. He stared back at John for a moment, then said in an impassive tone, “Well, I guess that would certainly explain its size.”
John stared at him in amazement. “So, that’s it? You believe me . . . just like that? No dinosaur jokes . . . no smart comments—nothing!”
Unfazed, Tom continued. “First the Coelacanth, then a Megamouth, and now a pliosaur. With all the things I’ve seen come out of these waters, it wouldn’t surprise me if Godzilla swam into False Bay and stepped ashore.” Tom motioned for them to follow him down the hallway. “I’d like to have you take a look at something.”
John laughed gleefully, grabbing Kate by the hands and pulling her into a bear hug. He high fived Officer Marimba, then the anxious trio followed Tom to the end of a long hallway. Pushing through a pair of stainless steel doors, John felt a chill from the temperature drop. The massive space was filled with various types of laboratory equipment. A faint scent of formaldehyde hung in the air. Following the director, they passed a female great white lying on a steel trough-like structure. The creature’s underbelly was slit open. On a smaller table beside the large shark lay the lifeless bodies of six pups lined up in a row.
They then passed a woman in a white lab coat performing some type of autopsy on a juvenile great white. She reached deep into an incision in the creature’s stomach and pulled out a hook. Then she examined a metallic tag just below the shark’s dorsal fin.
Tom stopped. “What’s that? Another hook?”
She held up the large steel hook. “And the tag matches the others.”
The three guests looked around the large room and observed several people examining shark carcasses varying in size and species. “What happened to all these sharks?” John asked.
“Most of them were caught in the shark barrier nets we use to protect our more popular beaches,” Tom explained. “Over fourteen thousand sharks are caught per year in the three hundred eighty-five nets we have along the southern coast. We patrol the nets daily, but unfortunately, about a thousand of them drown before we’re able to set them free. Sad thing is that most of the species we pull from the nets aren’t even dangerous. It’s an ongoing battle, trying to protect the sharks and the swimmers. But so far, the nets seem to be the best solution.”
Kate pointed to the woman who had just pulled the hook from the shark’s stomach. “What’s that all about? She just pulled a hook out of that great white. Aren’t they a protected species?”
“That’s another problem altogether,” Tom said, looking down at the young shark. “Some of the local fishermen have been taking advantage of the gray area of the law. They take paying tourists out and let them ‘hook a great white’ and have the battle of a lifetime. When they reel the shark in, they put a tag on it and cut it loose with the hook still in its mouth. So now they aren’t really shark hunting, they’re just tagging and releasing—real scientific, huh? But what they may or may not realize is this can cause fatal trauma to the shark. Oftentimes, sharks swallow the hooks and receive internal injuries, like this juvenile that Lesley just examined.”
“Is that what you wanted to show us?” Officer Marimba asked.
“Not hardly!” replied Tom with a slight grin. “Follow me back here. Watch your step when we get inside; sometimes it can get a little slippery.” He led them over to an enormous cooler and unhooked the door handle. With a loud sucking hiss, the door pulled loose from the seal, and one by one, they stepped inside the cooler.
“Whoa!” Kate grabbed John by the arm as she slipped and almost fell to the ground. “You weren’t kidding.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Tom said. “A little spilled water in here, and it’s ice. Are you okay?”
Kate nodded but kept a grip on John’s arm. He patted her hand lightly in reassurance.
They continued to follow Tom along a three-foot-wide pathway between a series of wooden pallets containing dozens of frozen shark carcasses. Tom stepped off the path and walked across a few empty pallets. Frozen boards crackled and creaked beneath him with each step. He pointed to a few blood-spattered planks. “Watch out here again; it’s slippery.”
They all nodded an acknowledgement. A few yards farther in the cooler, and they stopped in front of a large storage area blocked off by a plastic-curtain barrier. Tom turned to face the group. “This just arrived on a truck earlier this morning. Some of our colleagues at the Natal Sharks Board discovered this a couple days ago near Paradise Beach. They didn’t know what to make of it, so they sent it to us.” Through the milky plastic, John could see the distorted outline of a huge white object with a dark center. Tom pulled the plastic back. Their jaws dropped.
In front of them was a twenty-foot cube of whale meat with what appeared to be an enormous bite taken out of its center.
Tom looked at John. “This look like the work of your creature?”
Kate immediately snickered as John mumbled, “Why does everyone call it my creature?”
They all moved in closer to the pale wall of flesh. “When you look at the area up close, you can see where some scavengers have fed from it. But there is no way a few scavenger sharks could account for this much tissue loss. Also, when you measure the entire radius of the wound, it’s just too bloody symmetrical.” Tom walked inside the giant bite mark and pointed to a series of deep, parallel incisions that ran vertically through the layers of blubber. “Looks like a massive rake ripped through the flesh. You can also see the areas between the smaller bite marks of the scavenger sharks, where the cut is deeper from the massive teeth.”