Awkward Moments

The William Beebe

Alone at the bow, Jonas watched the last rays of daylight darken to crimson and violet.  The wind sprayed mist across his face, howling its high-pitched metallic ring as it whipped across the forward deck.

The fiberglass bow crashed through four-foot seas as the vessel pushed north along the Oregon coastline.  Jonas inhaled the salty air, wiping the moisture from his brow.  He stared at the ocean, mesmerized by its unrelenting swells.

Why must I fear the very thing that brings me such joy . . .?

He was startled to see Celeste standing by his side.

The wind whipped her platinum-blond hair and pressed the gray windbreaker to her figure.  She remained quiet, respecting his solitude.

Several minutes passed.  They watched the horizon turn charcoal gray.

Celeste moved closer, nuzzling against his chest.  "I'm cold."

Jonas started to put his arm around her, then thought better of it and pulled away.  "Maybe you should go inside."

"Are you afraid of me, Jonas?"

"I don't trust you."

"Maybe you don't trust yourself."  She stood before him, her back to the sea.  "It's a terrible thing to live in fear, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

She moved closer.  "I'm just trying to speak honestly with you, Jonas, I know you think I'm a conniving bitch, but there's another side to me, and the truth is, I could use a friend."

Jonas searched the vixen's eyes.  She inched closer.  He noticed goose bumps on her exposed upper thighs.

"I want to tell you something very personal, something I've never mentioned to anyone before."

"Why share it with me?"

"Because I think you can relate to what I have to say.  How do I explain this?  Jonas, have you ever felt trapped by your own destiny?"

Jonas felt cold beads of sweat trickle down his armpits.  "Why?  I mean—do you feel trapped?"

She broke eye contact.  "Never mind.  This is stupid.  Forget I mentioned it."

She walked away, wiping her eyes.

"Celeste, hold it, wait a second—"

She waved him off, then jogged across the deck and disappeared into the ship.

*        *        *        *        *

Jonas entered the galley fifteen minutes later.  He grabbed a tray and silverware and stood in line behind a half-dozen men waiting to be served.

The cook slapped a roasted half chicken and a side of mashed potatoes onto his plate as Jonas moved through the line.  He grabbed a can of soda and an apple, then joined Mac and Richard Diefendorf at their table.

"Where have you been?" Mac mumbled, his mouth full of food.

"Just enjoying the night air.  Have you seen Celeste?"

Mac finished swallowing.  "No, I didn't know it was my turn to watch her.  Hey, get this.  Dief here worked for Singer."

"I thought you were in the Navy," Jonas said.

"Served on the South Carolina for six years," Dief said, pointing to the knotlike protrusion at the center of his receding hairline.  "Had a little mishap and received a medical discharge.  After I left, I took a job designing and testing submersibles for a private outfit in Santa Cruz.  Benedict Singer bought out the owners a few months later.  I was on the design team that built the Benthos.  I was also the pilot who completed the shallow-water test runs aboard the Proteus."

"The sub that went down in the Mariana Trench?"

"That's the one."

"What do you think happened to her?" Jonas asked.

"GTI claims the implosion was caused by a piloting error, but I have my doubts.  I knew the pilot.  Another ex-Navy man.  If anything, he was overly cautious, just the type you'd want maneuvering in thirty-five thousand feet of water.  Personally, I think GTI's covering up something."

"Then why work for them now?" Jonas asked.

Dief grinned.  "What can I say?  They pay well, and I need the money."

Harry Moon spotted them from across the galley.  "Gentlemen, when you're through, the captain would like to see you on the bridge."

*        *        *        *        *

The bridge of the William Beebe, located on the uppermost deck of the ship, was divided into two compartments.  A small, somewhat barren pilothouse lay forward of the command center, which housed the vessel's high-tech computers and electronics.

Captain Morgan stood over a fluorescent tabletop in the middle of the command center, examining a map of the northwestern coastline.  "Professor Taylor, gentlemen, come in.  We've just received another transmission from your shark.  Looks like she's continuing north along the coast."

"How far behind are we?" Jonas asked.

The captain referred to the map.  "This is our present location, two miles southwest of Newport.  Your fish is approaching Cape Lookout, approximately forty-five nautical miles due north."

Dr. Maren entered, noisily sipping a cappuccino.  "Obviously she's following the cetaceans as they migrate to their summer feeding grounds," he said.  "If we let her, she'll lead us right into the Bering Sea."

Captain Morgan looked at Jonas.  "What do you think, Professor?"

"I don't know.  Four years ago I predicted this creature's mother would follow a winter migration pattern.  Instead, we wound up losing her for several weeks.  Let's not forget, tracking a rogue female that is also in estrus—"

Maren rolled his eyes.

"You have a problem?" Jonas asked, feeling his blood pressure rising again.

"No, no, do go on, this is really fascinating," Maren said sarcastically.  "Just keep in mind that while you're lecturing us, Carcharodon megalodon is moving into populated waters."

"What are you suggesting we do, Dr. Maren?" Captain Morgan asked.

"Cut the shark off now, before it moves farther north, or it may never survive the extended return trip to the lagoon.  I've studied the SOSUS transmissions.  The predator has been feeding once every thirty-six to forty-eight hours and almost always at night.  If she sticks to her schedule, she'll feed again tonight, which gives us the opportunity to catch up with her by morning and capture her here."  Maren pointed to the map, his index finger on the mouth of the Columbia River, which divided Oregon and Washington along the Pacific Ocean.

"That's Cape Disappointment," Jonas said.  "You couldn't have picked a more dangerous place to attempt a capture."

"Jonas is right," Mac said.  "You're looking at waves that punish the hell out of—"

"I'm sorry, and you are?" Maren asked, obviously annoyed.

"Mr. Mackreides is our chopper pilot," the captain answered.

"Well, pilot, just so you know, I'm not into playing 'guessing games' like Professor Taylor.  My recommendations are based on SOSUS data and painstaking calculations that take into account everything from the predator's average day and nighttime cruising speeds, distances traveled, feeding patterns, even the average time it takes her to stalk, kill, and feed upon her prey.  And unlike Taylor, here, I have no interest in attempting to handle this creature when it's hungry.  By the time Carcharodon megalodon reaches Cape Disappointment, which I've estimated to be between seven and nine tomorrow morning, she should be well-fed and slightly sluggish."

"Going after the Meg in those waters could be a tragic mistake," Jonas said.

"Professor Taylor may be right," the captain agreed.  "Sailors call the area the 'Graveyard of the Pacific,' and rightly so.  There's a storm front moving in from the west.  We'll be facing fifteen-to-eighteen-foot waves of sheer white water."

"Captain, I'm sure the William Beebe is large enough to handle a few waves."

Jonas felt himself losing his temper again.  "Listen, pal, what you're not taking into consideration is that Dief will be in the Abyss Glider, trying to wrap a cargo net around the Meg in rough seas."

"Enough of this," Maren said.  "Captain, I was hired by GTI to organize this recapture.  What I don't need is some cowboy paleontologist and his pilot sidekick to tell me how to do my job."

Jonas took a menacing step forward.

"What, are you threatening me again?  Go ahead, tough guy, hit me.  Hit me and I swear to fucking Christ I'll sue you for everything you've got."

Jonas hit him.

Maren fell backward, spilling his cappuccino across the map table.  He pulled himself from the floor, blood trickling from his nose.

"That's quite enough, Professor," the captain bellowed.  "Dr. Maren, are you all right?"

"All of you are witnesses," rasped Maren, pinching his nose to stifle the bleeding.

"Sue me, you little shit.  Take me for everything I've got—"

Mac grabbed Jonas by one arm, signaling Dief to grab the other.  "Come on, Jonas, let's get some air."

Mac and Dief led him down two flights of stairs and onto the main deck.  They huddled beneath one of the Zodiac rafts as great gusts of wind threatened to tear the shirts from their backs.

"Man, Jonas, I've never seen you so uppity.  Stop letting that little shit push your buttons."

"It's not just him, Mac.  I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind."

"You're exhausted.  You need a good night's sleep."

"Yeah, well, I'm afraid to sleep—"

Mac grabbed him by the shoulders.  "Listen to me.  You know what needs to be done and you'll do it.  Once you do, the nightmares will end.  In the meantime, let the hotshot fish expert do his job and capture the shark.  He'll place the Meg right in your gun sight for you, then we'll see who laughs—"

"No!"  He stared Mac hard in the eyes, the wind howling in his ears.  "You and Dief—I want you guys to get off this boat."

"Whoa, slow down, pal—"

"Mac, listen to me—we're never going to capture that monster, do you understand?  She's way too big.  She'll sink this boat and kill everyone on board.  This is my battle, not yours.  I want you guys to go.  Take the chopper and—"

"He's losing it, Dief, grab his arm, let's get him inside."

"You're not listening!"  Jonas pushed Dief back.

Mac overpowered his friend, pinning him against the A-frame.  "Now you listen to me.  You're exhausted, do you understand?  Your brain's fried, and you're babbling like a fucking schoolgirl.  So I'm giving you two choices.  You're either going to come with us and get very drunk, or I'm going to knock you out myself."

Jonas closed his eyes.  "Mac, my life's already damned.  I just don't want you guys to die, too."

"How fucking noble of you."  Mac grabbed Jonas by his arm, leading him inside.  "Now that you've officially christened this the 'Voyage of the Damned,' I think it's high time we got drunk."

*        *        *        *        *

One deck up, Celeste stood out of sight, listening intently to their conversation.  She waited until they had left before returning to her cabin.