White Shark

by Peter Benchley

  "This thing is partly human," he said to Franks, "or used to be. So it should be able to be killed like a human being, right?"

  "I wish I knew for certain," Franks said. "Kruger altered the central nervous system, so he — it — lives on a very primitive level. I would say he would be as hard to kill as a big shark... which reminds me, Mr. Chase, I never told you his code name. The Nazis referred to it as Der Weisse Hai... ‘The White Shark’."

  Tall Man returned from the wheelhouse. "I couldn’t get through on the radio," he said, "But it doesn't matter, Rollie'll be on the case by now... we're too late."

  "What d’you mean?" Chase said.

  "The radio's like a friggin’ Chinese fire drill, everybody yakking. Some kid was killed over on Winter Point. His buddy swears the kid was killed by a yeti."

  "A yeti?" Franks said.

  "The Abominable Snowman," Chase turned to Tall Man. "Let's go." He started for the door. "The Mako can get us to town in—"

  "Simon... the thing may not be in town."

  "What d’you mean?" Chase said.

  "The kid, the survivor, said he saw it dive into the water and start swimming eastward."

  "Eastward? What's to the east of Winter Point? There's no land out there except... oh my God." The only land to the east of Winter Point was OspreyIsland. "Call Amanda on twenty-seven, tell her to take the kids and—"

  "I tried," Tall Man said. "There was no answer."

  43

  "Cool," said Elizabeth.

  "Awesome," said Max.

  The children stood on the rocks seaward of the sea lion pool, watching Mrs. Bixler's vintage speedboat zoon out of its cove and approach in a high-speed turn. As the boat banked, the late-day sun glittered on the polished mahogany hull and the stainless-steel fittings; it looked like a fantasy spaceship.

  Max loved the boat, had begged Mrs. Bixler to let him drive it. "Not till you get to be my age," she had said with a smile. "Only an old fool like me drives an old boat like this one."

  Amanda stood behind them; behind her, the sea lions rocked back and forth on their flippers, barking for their supper.

  In the shed ten yards beyond the pool, a voice came over the speaker of the VHF radio. "Osprey Base, Osprey Base, Osprey Base... Osprey Mako calling Osprey Base... come in, Osprey Base."

  The voice echoed off the cement walls, unheard.

  Mrs. Bixler was wearing an orange life jacket, sunglasses and a baseball cap turned backward so the bill would shelter her hairdo from the wind. She slowed the boat as she neared the rocks, and the roar of the big GM V-8 engine lowered to a growl. She picked up an ancient megaphone from the seat beside her and called through it, "I'm going to town for Bingo; probably spend the night with Sarah. I'll get hold of the police when I get to shore, make sure Simon reported in. They probably already sent a backup boat. I'll call you if there's any news."

  Amanda and the children waved. Mrs. Bixler pushed the throttle forward, and, like a racehorse suddenly given its head, the boat leaped forward, banked around the point and headed west toward the mainland.

  In the shed, the voice said again, "Osprey Base, Osprey Base... come in, Osprey Base..."

  "Time to feed the girls," Amanda said, and she stepped back toward the pool. "Then we'll go up to the house and I'll fix us some supper." She took Elizabeth's hand, faced her and said, "I'm glad your mom said you could spend the night."

  Elizabeth nodded and said, "Me too."

  Max stayed out on the rocks, looking out to sea. "I wonder where Dad is," he said. "It's getting late."

  "On his way home." Amanda hoped her voice carried more conviction than she felt. "We'll set places for him and Tall."

  They fed the sea lions, returned the leftover fish to the refrigerator and stowed the plastic balls, rings, triangles and other training tools in the shed. As she pulled the door closed behind her, she felt a faint vibration in the air, similar to that of a voice. She looked around, but couldn't locate the source, so she shut the door.

  The sound was muffled now, nearly inaudible: " Osprey Base, this is Osprey Mako... come in, Osprey Base..."

  When they reached the top of the hill, Max looked down and saw the heron standing in its tidal pool. "I should go feed Chief Joseph," he said.

  "Tall will do it," Amanda said.

  "But he may not get in till late. I can—"

  "No," she said curtly, and she realized she was nervous... not afraid, for there was nothing to be afraid of, but apprehensive, anxious... but about what? She didn't know. She smiled at Max and softened her voice. "Tall likes to do it, it's his ritual."

  They continued on toward the little house where Amanda lived.

  * * * * *

  Mrs. Bixler was perched on the back of the front seat of the boat, steering with her bare feet. The sea was oil calm, and the planing boat left a blade-straight wake in the flat water. She felt young and free and happy. This was her favorite pastime, her favorite time of day, cruising into the setting sun. Already the water tower and white houses of the borough were turning pink; soon they would turn blue-gray; by the time she reached shore, they would be the flat gray that was the harbinger of night.

  Something in the water ahead caught her eye. She dropped her feet from the wheel, stood in the seat and held the wheel with one hand.

  A dorsal fin, tall and perfectly triangular zigzagged through the water; behind it, a scythelike tail slashed back and forth.

  A shark? What was a shark doing around here this late in the day? A big shark, too, probably fifteen feet long.

  She turned the boat and followed the fin. The shark seemed to be behaving erratically. Though she was hardly an expert, she knew enough from listening to know that this shark wasn't just traveling; it was feeding, or about to. It was hunting.

  As she drew near, she saw a glint of metal behind the dorsal fin: a tag. One of the Institute's tags. This was Simon's great white shark.

  At the approach of the boat, the shark submerged and disappeared. Mrs. Bixler waited for a moment, but the shark did not surface again, and so she turned back toward shore.

  She couldn't wait to tell Simon; he be fascinated — excited, even thrilled — to know that his shark had shown up again. Now that he had recovered the sensor head, he could locate the shark and...

  Something else in the water, dead ahead. A man. Swimming. At least, it looked like a man, though it was bigger than any man she had ever seen, and it was swimming like a porpoise, arching his broad back out of water and kicking with his feet together.

  The damn fool, she thought. Swimming out here, at twilight.

  She realized that the man was what the shark was hunting.

  She accelerated toward the man, praying she could reach him before the shark did, praying she'd be strong enough to haul him aboard, praying...

  Suddenly he was gone, too. Submerged, just like the shark. She stopped the boat and looked around, waiting for him to come up. He'd have to surface, he'd have to. He'd have to breathe.

  Unless the shark had already gotten him. Or he had already drowned. What could she do then?

  The man didn't reappear, and fear seized Mrs. Bixler. It was a vague but profound terror of something she couldn't identify.

  She put the boat in gear, jammed the throttle forward and aimed the bow of the boat toward the mainland.

  44

  It filled its lungs and dived. When the motor noise had receded, it turned and searched the darkness for the shark.

  The cells of its brain were recovering like explosions of sparks, and with each explosion it knew more and more about itself.

  And so it was not afraid; it was galvanized. It felt not threatened, but challenged. This was what it had been created for, programmed for — to fight, and to kill.

  It knew its limits and its strengths. In the water, it was vulnerable only on the surface. Underwater, it had no equal.

  It felt the shark first, a surge of pressure in the water. Then it saw the gray shape, the conical head, the gapin
g mouth.

  Still, it was not afraid, for it knew it had an advantage; it had a brain that could innovate.

  As the shark charged, relentless but unthinking, the creature ducked away and blew air from its lungs. Confused by the blast of bubbles, the shark hesitated; it rose up, exposing its white belly.

  The creature flexed its fingers and lunged forward, driving its claws deep into the soft flesh, pulling downward. The flesh separated. The claws pushed deeper, and now blood billowed from the ten slashes in the belly.

  The body of the shark twisted, contorted, and each movement tore more of its flesh. Viscera swelled and oozed through the wounds.

  The claws withdrew. The shark hovered for a moment, then began to sink away.

  A searing ache suffused the creature's lungs, but it forced itself to watch until the shark was consumed by darkness.

  Then it surfaced, drew a deep and nourishing breath and savored its triumph. It felt fatigue, but fatigue relieved by elation. It was back, whole again. It was Der Weisse Hai.

  Now it must seek land, where it could hide and hunt. Using its webbed hands, it turned in a slow circle, until it located its goal: a single light on a lone island, not far away.

  45

  It was nearly dark when Chase and Tall Man reached the island; a sliver of pink still lit the western horizon, but the sky overhead was a blanket of blue-black, broken by the golden dots of the evening's first stars. The only lights on the island were in the windows of Amanda's little house.

  The tide was high, so Chase could drive the boat close to shore without fear of hitting submerged rocks. Tall Man stood in the bow and shone a powerful flashlight on the passing land.

  Everything seemed normal, undisturbed. The flashlight's beam fell on a raccoon feeding on a fish on a flat rock, and the animal froze, its eyes glowing red. A fox fled the light, scampering away into the underbrush. Only the sea lions seemed agitated, huddled together by the mouth of their den, rocking back and forth.

  "Maybe it turned north," Tall Man said. "Napatree would've been closer for it than here."

  "I hope," said Chase. "I still want to get Amanda and the kids into town... just in case."

  "She won't want to leave her sea lions."

  "I don't plan to give her a choice." Chase had made up his mind on the way back from Block: if there was a chance, even a remote possibility, of that thing coming to Osprey, he would evacuate the island. They could return tomorrow, in daylight, with the police and as much heavy weaponry as they could muster, and scour the island from end to end.

  When he had circled the island and seen nothing out of the ordinary, no dead animal or fresh trail, Chase returned to the dock and swung the Mako into its slip. He turned off the motor, and stepped onto the dock. "Stay here," he said, looping the bow line over a cleat. "I'll go get them." He started up the path.

  Tall Man stood on the dock, listening to the sounds of the night: crickets, birdcalls, the lap of lazy waves on the shore. Suddenly he sensed that something was out of place, or missing; it took him a moment to realize what it was. The heron. Where was Chief Joseph? Normally, by now the bird would be standing in the water by the dock, demanding food with its irascible glare. He looked over the side of the dock, but the cove was completely dark, he couldn't see anything, so he returned to the boat, fetched the flashlight and shone it on the tidal pool.

  The bird wasn't there. Where had it gone? He swung the beam up to the boulders, then to the shore.

  Amid a tangle of brush he saw a feather: long, blue-gray. He walked up the path, stepped into the brush, parted it with his hands. The brush felt sticky, and when he shone the light on his fingers, he saw blood.

  He yanked a clump of brush out by its roots, clearing a space. There, in the dirt, was the heron's head. It had been torn from its neck, and its eyes were gone.

  A rush of panic flooded Tall Man's chest. He turned and ran toward the house.

  46

  "Because there aren't any guns," Chase said to Amanda. "I don't like them, I've never kept any around."

  They were in the kitchen. Max and Elizabeth sat on the floor; they had been playing War with two decks of cards.

  "I can't leave the sea lions, Simon," Amanda said. "They're like my children. I couldn't do it."

  "You have to. We can't defend ourselves here. If that thing comes ashore here—"

  "I won't go. You take the kids to town, leave Tall Man here with me. We can bring the big boat to the dock, I'll try to get the girls aboard, and—"

  The kitchen door flew open. "It's here!" Tall Man said, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.

  Max started, and repeated Tall Man's words for Elizabeth.

  "Where?" asked Chase.

  "I don't know, but it killed Chief Joseph. It's here, Simon. Somewhere."

  Chase looked at the children. "We can't leave, then."

  "Why not?"

  "We don't dare take the chance. It could be anywhere. Suppose it's in the bushes by the dock."

  "It would've jumped me," Tall Man said.

  "Maybe not, maybe you're too big, but it'd sure as hell go after one of the kids."

  Amanda started for the door.

  "Where are you going?" Chase said.

  "To get the girls, bring them up here."

  "Are you nuts?"

  "They'll follow me. I'll be quick about it."

  "I don't care. It's pitch black out there. Three hundred yards each way. You'll never make it."

  "I have to." Amanda unlocked the door. "I'll stay out in the open, I'll be able to see it coming."

  "They're animals, Amanda!" Chase said.

  "Not to me." Amanda gestured at Max and Elizabeth. "Not to them."

  "I won't let you."

  "You can't stop me."

  "Yes, I can." Chase took a step toward her. "If I have to, I'll tie you down."

  "Stop it, Simon," Amanda said, and she opened the door and darted out into the night.

  Chase ran to the door and looked out, but Amanda was already rounding the corner of the house and running down the lawn.

  "Well, shit," Tall Man said. He picked up a butcher knife from a rack over the sink, slipped it into his belt and took the flashlight from the counter where he had put it.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Chase said.

  "Maybe you were right, Simon, maybe it won't go after six foot of redskin Terminator." Tall Man stepped through the door and was gone.

  When Chase had locked the door, he looked at Max and Elizabeth. They had stopped playing cards and were sitting side by side, ashen, holding hands. He knelt beside them, put a hand on theirs and said, "This'll be okay. It's probably hiding somewhere. We'll get the police here at first light, and—"

  "But Dad..." Max said. "What if..." He let the rest of the thought go unspoken.

  Chase didn't answer, for he had no answer. Instead, he forced a smile and said, "Hell, Max, can you imagine anything getting the better of Tall Man?" His mind raced, flitting between possibilities like a mosquito in a crowd of people, trying to decide where to land. If the thing found Tall Man, or Amanda, if Tall Man didn't kill it, what could they do? They couldn't shoot it, couldn’t stab it, couldn't flee from it.

  There were no answers, and yet Chase knew one thing for certain: he would do anything, including sacrifice himself, but Max and Elizabeth were going to survive.

  He stood up and turned, and as he glanced through the door into the living room, his eyes fell upon the steel cylinder bolted to the floor.

  Max saw him looking a the cylinder and said, "What about the decompression chamber... you called it Dr. Frankenstein?"

  "What about it?"

  "We could get inside and lock it. The thing could never get in."

  "It doesn't lock from the inside," Chase said. "The only way—" He stopped, for an idea suddenly appeared in his mind, inchoate, like a cloud. He didn't rush it, but let it slowly take shape until it became a possible answer.

  47

  Tall M
an caught up with Amanda halfway down the hill. He had shouted to her, told her he was coming, and why, and she had stopped running. As they walked, he swung the flashlight from side to side.

  They heard a bark, then several more — quick, high-pitched, frantic.

  "No!" Amanda yelled, and she started to run. Tall Man reached for her, to stop her, but she was lighter than he, and quicker, and on the downward slope the best he could do was maintain a distance between them of ten feet.

  She reached the pool area first; he stopped beside her. They could hear the sea lions barking, a cacophony of shrieks, but they couldn't see them. Tall Man shone the light toward the sounds.

  Two of the sea lions were huddled against the side of the equipment shed, rocking on their flippers, their heads bobbing as they barked hysterically. He swung the light to the right.

  Something was crouching by the rocks on the far side of the pool, something huge and grayish white. They could see only its massive back, for its head was bent out of sight. But as the light fell on it, it rose and turned.

  Amanda screamed. Tall Man felt his heart jump and adrenaline surge through his arms and shoulders.

  It was as large as an ape and as gray as ash. Through the blood that covered its face they saw the glitter of steel teeth, and through the gore that dripped from its hands, long steel claws. Its body was hairless; the sinews in its arms and legs stood out like whips; where once had been genitals, now there was but a crudely stitched patch of mottled hide. Its eyes, as the light struck them, gleamed like reflectors.

  Behind the thing lay the partly eaten carcass of a sea lion.

  The thing opened its mouth, uttered a glottal roar and took a step forward.

  "Go!" Tall Man said to Amanda.