Vengeance from the Deep - Book One: Pliosaur

by Russ Elliott

  The ship continued to list from side to side until it slowly steadied enough for Nemo to find his feet. He stepped back out onto the main deck. Rubbing his shoulder, he found Nathan in a similar state of confusion. “You okay?”

  Without a response, Nathan walked over to the opposite side of the ship. His mouth open, wide eyes looking upward, fixated on the arm of the crane. Nemo turned around, joining Nathan’s gaze. The crane was still swaying back and forth with its thick steel arm bent down, facing the water, a foot of severed cable extending from its end.

  “It took the bait bag, crate . . . everything all the way up to the arm of the crane! That’s got to be thirty-five feet above the surface!” said Nemo, gazing up in disbelief.

  Nathan tapped him on the shoulder. “Wait till you take a look at this!”

  Nemo looked down and saw the mangled side rail bent down onto the deck. He slowly stepped closer. Looking over the bent railing, he saw a huge indentation that ran straight down the hull all the way to the waterline. Shiny metal glistened through a series of long, jagged parallel marks. Nemo walked around the section of bent railing and gasped. “Look at the size of that indentation and all those scrape marks. Its skin must have scraped the paint off!”

  “Look at the top of the crane’s arm,” said Nathan. “The paint’s been scraped off there too . . . must have been from its nose!” He looked around the deck and paused. “Wait a minute––wasn’t Freddie over here?”

  Pushing a loose crate aside, Nemo spotted a single hand gripping the bottom rail. He looked over and found Freddie. He was wide-eyed and shivering with his free hand clutching the strap of his camera. They quickly pulled him on deck. Still not a word came from his trembling lips. Carefully, they walked him over to midship and leaned him back against the outside wall of the stairwell. His fingers remained locked around the camera strap.

  Nemo looked him dead in the eye. “Well, man, did you see it?” He shook him by the shoulders. “Can’t you hear me? Did you see it?”

  Freddie slowly raised the camera. “I . . . I got it. This time I got it!”

  ~~~

  Huddled in the video cabin, everyone on board anxiously waited behind Freddie while he connected a cable into the computer to download the image from his camera. The second the file’s icon appeared on the desktop, Freddie clicked on it.

  “What’s taking it so long?” asked Nemo in an impatient tone.

  “It’ll be up in a second, it’s a fifty-meg file. Come on, baby . . . be there! Be there!”

  Freddie continued to chant until the screen flushed white. “Yeeessss!” Freddie screamed in victory as the enormous underbelly of the creature materialized on screen. At the top of the screen, was a hint of the gray, tiger-striped lower jaw, while just beneath the surface, a wide paddle fin stretched out of frame.

  Nemo slapped Freddie on the back. “All right, man! It’s just the underbelly, but at least it’s something.”

  Freddie jumped up in excitement. “It was just a hunch I had while shooting that dolphin swimming toward the starboard. When it suddenly made a U-turn, I thought something must have scared it coming from the opposite direction. Then I recalled how quickly the two great whites disappeared from under the bait bag. It wasn’t because we lifted it higher from the surface. No way! They sensed what was coming!

  “So, I ran back to port. As soon as I got in position, I saw a huge dark shadow coming up fast. It was so big; it looked like the ocean floor was trying to surface! Just as I positioned the camera, an enormous gray blur flew out of the water, swallowed the bait bag, line, crate, and all. Its momentum carried it into the side of the ship just beside me. The impact felt like a bomb going off. And then all I could hear was its skin digging into the metal as the deck dropped from under my feet. Fortunately I was able to hook my arm on the side rail before I went over.” Freddie was breathless with excitement and fear. Nemo seemed unfazed by Freddie’s revelations and stared at the monitor. “Hmmm, now the only problem is, how are we going to lure it back to the ship? We’re out of beef and only have a couple gallons of chum left.”

  “Wait a minute. You want to lure that thing back? We’re lucky the ship’s still afloat!” Nathan pointed at the computer screen, his finger shaking. “It looks big in the picture. You should have been down there when I saw it. You . . . you can’t bring it back. We’ll all be dead. Besides, we got the shot,” said Nathan, slamming his fist on his thigh. “Captain, we don’t need any more bait!”

  “Yeah, I’m with Nathan,” Freddie nodded. “The ship can’t take another hit from that thing. The photo looks good to me. I vote we make port. Let’s set up a press conference in Cape Town . . . or better yet, a bidding war for the photo!”

  Nemo shook his head. “It’s not enough! I want underwater footage. I want to capture the creature alive, moving and swimming. The photo is a good start, but we need more. And not a word of this leaves this ship until we have the beast on film. Understood?” He smiled wickedly at Freddie. “Don’t worry. There will be plenty of time for bidding wars.”

  “Captain, how are we supposed to get underwater footage?” asked Nathan. “You saw the condition of the sub and the crane! Besides, who in his right mind would go down there in a sub that size?”

  Nemo shook his head. “I’m not talking about taking the sub down. What I’m planning on doing is using a few of the spare whale cameras. We can attach the suction cups to the hull of the ship. We could use a rope to lower someone down from the side rail with the rescue harness. Then, all they have to do is point the cameras at the bait bag from just below the surface. But we still need bait!”

  “Well, who’s the lucky individual who gets to go down in the water and attach the cameras to the hull?” asked Freddie. “I’m not lining up for that job!”

  Nemo looked around the cabin. “We’ll worry about that after we figure out the bait problem.”

  Freddie noted, “If they’re down there too long, they will be taking care of the bait problem.”

  “Don’t give him any ideas,” Nathan muttered. “Maybe it’s time to do a little fishing. Simple. We could use the rest of the chum for bait. With any luck, we could probably land a couple of sharks large enough to do the job.”

  Nemo glanced toward the doorway. “A little dog catching might work better.” He grinned menacingly.

  Nathan stepped in front of the captain. “Look, how about a deal? I’ll be the one to go down and set up the cameras if you’ll just leave the boy’s dog alone?”

  “What good will the cameras be to us if we don’t have any bait?”

  “What good will the bait be if you don’t have any cameras?” countered Nathan.

  Nemo looked at him in confusion. “But it’s just a dog . . . we could get the boy another one.”

  “You never had any pets when you were a kid, did you?”

  When Nemo turned to walk away, Nathan said sardonically, “Don’t worry. If we don’t get it on film, I’m sure someone else will.”

  Nemo stopped dead in his tracks. “Aw-right! Aw-right! I’ll leave the boy’s mutt alone . . . for now. You just take care of the cameras. But if we don’t have any luck fishing, we’ll revisit this topic.”

  Erick walked by and stopped in the doorway. Nemo gave him a snarl on his way out. After the captain was safely out of earshot, Erick looked up at Nathan and asked, “What were you guys talking about?”

  “Nothing much . . . just fishing strategies.”

  Chapter 36

  BLACK DECEMBER

  Kate trailed the squadron of naval helicopters while John stared below at the glistening waters of Hermanus. With every passing minute, he felt a growing sense of unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d missed something. “No, Admiral,” John said into his headset, “I just think we’re staying too tight to the coast. What if the creature is headed farther out?”

  ~~~

  Inside the lead helicopter, Admiral Henderson gasped. “Look, John,” he growled, “we don’t have the air p
ower to effectively cover a larger area. We must hold our course and try to corner it. I’m certain the beast will not venture past Cape Point.”

  John’s voice crackled, “What’s so significant about Cape Point?”

  “That’s where the warm waters of the Indian Ocean meet the cold Atlantic. It’s an instant twenty-degree temperature drop, and I don’t think the creature will find to its liking. Trust me,” he said reassuringly, “this creature of yours is living in its final hours.” He lowered his voice, “But listen, no matter what happens, we’ve got to keep a lid on this. The last thing I need is another Black December on my hands.”

  ~~~

  Inside Kate’s helicopter, John shook his head. “I wish he wouldn’t call it my creature.” He lowered the binoculars. “But what was that part about Black December?”

  Kate’s eyebrows arced. “That was intense. Mom used to talk about it . . . she was young when it happened.” Kate kept one eye on the water while trying to remember. “It was in Natal, December of ‘57. Six tourists were brutally attacked by great whites. One person was completely bitten in half.”

  “What did they do?”

  “It was an all-out war on sharks. Spotter planes were hired to locate them from the sky. Rewards were offered for every kill. Hotel owners tried all kinds of nets to protect the beaches. Otherwise, they knew no one would ever set foot in the water again.

  “Hundreds of sharks were slaughtered. Their carcasses were on the covers of all the local newspapers in an attempt to give the remaining tourist a sense of security. It was like the real life version of Jaws, except taken to a further extreme. They even brought in a naval frigate to drop depth charges to thin out the shark population. It was practically a war zone.”

  “So that’s when they started using shark barrier nets?”

  Kate nodded. “After Black December, they set up a special anti-shark organization. Back then it was called the Natal Anti-Shark Measures Board, designed to cut down on the number of sharks. But now they’ve turned their efforts toward protecting the sharks and the swimmers, a difficult task. They’ve set out nearly four hundred nets at forty-six different beaches. So far I’d say they’ve been quite successful.”

  Kate gazed down at the water. “But after all the years, the locals still remember Black December and wonder if the nets will be enough to keep it from ever happening again.”

  John’s eyes drifted down to his watch. “I hate to mention this, but . . . do you know what today is?”

  “I know,” Kate said. “December second.”

  ~~~

  “First a bait cutter, then a chum slinger, and now a fisherman!” muttered the chef in a French accent from the stern of the Nauticus II. His left hand held a ball of string leading to the water.

  “And a poor excuse for one at that!” said a voice from behind. The chef turned around and looked up at the towering figure of Captain Nemo standing with his hand on his hips. “And if no one catches anything soon, you’ll be able to add dogcatcher to your long list of professions!”

  On his way over to offer the chef some more bait fish, Nathan caught the last part of the conversation. He sat down the bucket of bait and said, “I know what we can do . . . why don’t we try the radio and see if any fishing boats are in the area? We can offer to purchase their catch. We could just tell them we need the fish for research we’re conducting.”

  “That might work,” grumbled Nemo. “I’m sure there has to be someone out here having better luck than the cook here.”

  The chef looked back and said, “I don’t see you doing any better!”

  Nemo glared at the chef. “I haven’t dropped a line yet, and I’m still tied with you.”

  ~~~

  With the sun sinking toward the horizon, Kate continued to head west, following the squadron of helicopters. John diligently searched the sea through binoculars.

  But he couldn’t shake the sense of hopelessness gnawing at his gut.

  After a few moments, he lowered the binoculars. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

  “I know,” Kate said. “It’s kind of like when you’re on the freeway and think you missed your exit, but just keep driving.” She glanced over. “Think we should go back?”

  “We’ve been searching for four hours and haven’t seen as much as a whale carcass. And that’s Cape Point just ahead. There’s no way the pliosaur moved this far since last night.” John’s frustration grew, “We missed it; I can feel it. All along, the admiral has had us searching too close to the coast—too shallow. The creature has headed farther out.”

  Kate worked the stick, banking the chopper into a turn. “I’ll tell the admiral we’re headed back for fuel. There’s still time . . . we can look around the Dyer Channel, then work our way out before dark.”

  The chopper turned tail and headed east, following the coast.

  ~~~

  From the ship’s bridge, Nathan continued to make calls to any boats that may be on the same frequency. “This is the Nauticus II. We’re a research vessel in need of some baitfish. We’re trying to attract a rare species of marine life. We’ll pay top dollar for anyone out there with a good catch. Hear that, anglers—top dollar for your catch. Any takers?”

  “Nauticus II, this is Jimbo’s Baby. I read you!”

  “Jimbo, you have anything on board that can help us out? Over.”

  “Exactly what kind of fish you looking for? Over.”

  “Black marlin, sailfish, tuna, pretty much anything will work. Over.”

  “We’re on our way out, haven’t even dropped a line, but if you have a few hours, you can call us later. Over.”

  “Okay, thanks anyway. We’ll let you know. Out.”

  After repeating the message half a dozen times, Nathan began to tire. He sat down to take a sip from his water bottle. He looked through every window on the bridge and still didn’t see any other boats on the horizon. “Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time,” he muttered.

  ~~~

  Kate guided the helicopter through a long, sweeping turn. Giving the binoculars a break, John scanned the waters below with the naked eye. After covering hundreds of miles of coastline, they were finally back at the Dyer Channel.

  “Well, here we are!” Kate announced through her headset. “After searching all day. . . right back where we bloody started!”

  As they moved into the channel, John could make out Geyser Rock, a brown, rocky island housing thousands of Cape fur seals. Across from it were the long flat sands of Dyer Island. The rocky outcrops and inland areas were speckled with thousands of cormorants, gulls, jackass penguins, and other marine bird species native to the island. In the background, silhouetted mountaintops rose majestically behind the small town of Gans Bay.

  He was amazed at how much smaller the channel looked from the air rather than from the old fishing boat he and Vic had taken out. At a lower altitude, he could make out a stretch of boat debris collected on the rocky shoreline. It was surreal, John thought, starring at the same waters that almost claimed his life less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “You’re one lucky bugger!” Kate shook her head, looking at the debris.

  John reached out to the radio switch on the console to connect with Tom, who was still with the squadron. It had been a couple hours, and there was still an outside chance that the Navy had come up with something. Switching frequencies, John paused, listening.

  Kate veered the chopper around, “There’s still a good bit of daylight left. . . . guess we’ll take a look farther—”

  John held up a finger, listening intently to his headset. Again, he listened to the ship’s plea for bait.

  He looked curiously at Kate, “Listen. There’s something about that call. Nauticus II . . . I saw that ship on the news last night. They were researching the giant squid. Now they’re making calls for bait fish to lure a rare species of marine life.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but a giant squid is a rare species of marine life,” assured Kate. “T
hey probably just ran out of bait. Squid do feed on fish.”

  “Thanks for the marine biology lesson,” John said. “But if I were looking for bait for a giant squid, I would have said ‘giant squid,’ not ‘a rare species of marine life.’ Just listen.”

  Kate listened in as the ship repeated its request for bait.

  John gave a suspicious grin. “A funny feeling tells me they’ve seen something.”

  Kate’s eyes lit up at the thought.

  “Only one way to find out,” John grinned and motioned Kate to patch him through. Kate flipped a switch on the instrument cluster, and John spoke into his headset, “Nauticus II, think we can help you out with the bait. What are your coordinates?” He looked at Kate. “Or where are you in reference to the Dyer Channel?”

  He listened for a moment, then gave Kate an I-knew-it grin. “Eight miles south, straight out,” he confirmed. “And what species of marine life are you trying to attract . . . reptilian, huh?” He again grinned at Kate. “Well, this marine reptile wouldn’t happen to be about eighty feet long and sixty-five million years old, would it?”

  ~~~

  From a white-knuckle grip, Nemo released the port side rail of the Nauticus II. He was beside himself. He swung his gaze from the setting sun and locked on Freddie. “A living pliosaur, I can’t believe it! But it had to be . . . it’s the only logical explanation. And this Paxton character has one of its teeth—all nineteen gorgeous inches worth.” He looked at the camera dangling from Freddie’s neck. “And we’ve got the only photograph of it.” Nemo grabbed Freddie by the arm, looked him dead in the eye. “But I guarantee you, my friend . . . by sunrise, we’ll have much more than that!”

  Nemo’s crooked smile faded when he saw Nathan appear on deck. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What?”

  What are you doing topside? You should be making calls for bait!”