Seafood

 

Aboard The William Beebe

7:35 a.m.

 

Jonas opened the cabin door.  Mac entered, giving him a scowl.  "Late night?" he said accusingly.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I hope you're more focused on avenging Dief's death than on fucking Celeste."

"You're way out of line.  Celeste and I went into town to pick up supplies.  We had dinner, that's all.  Nothing happened, and nothing will."

Mac held up his hands.  "Fine.  My fault."

"And as far as killing the Meg, you don't have to lecture me on being focused.  I'm Captain-fucking-Ahab, remember?"

"Have you come up with a plan?"

"Yes."

"Good."  Mac rubbed the back of his neck.  "Look, I'm sorry, Jonas.  I'm just a bit on edge."

"I know.  Dief was a good guy."

"Yeah, he was."  Mac pinched his nose, wiping back a tear.  "We should have blown this motherfucking fish away years ago."

"Is your new chopper ready?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go find Angel."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Vancouver Island

10 miles south of Barkley Sound

 

Andrea Jacobs held up her hand, signaling the rest of the group to stop paddling.  She pointed to a spot one hundred yards ahead.

Turning around in the seat of her kayak, she glanced back at the others and smiled.

Her husband, Ronald, gave her a thumbs-up in the kayak directly behind her.  Karen McNeil, the group's leader, slid her craft into position to his left.  Andrea's staff writer, Shirley Kollin, gave an encouraging wave from the front of her two-seat kayak, her husband, Jon, seated behind her, busy reloading his camera.

Andrea maneuvered the bow of her kayak to face south.  Then she sat back and waited, her adrenaline pumping.

It had taken more than two years of prodding before Andrea's travel editor had finally agreed to green-light a feature article on Vancouver Island.  Lying to the west of the city of Vancouver, parallel to the main coast of British Columbia, the island, the largest in the eastern Pacific, possessed the kind of dramatic geography, variety of wildlife, and contrasting weather conditions that made it an ideal spot for vacationers who enjoy rugged, get-back-to-nature experiences.  Arriving in Port Hardy by ferry, the two couples had spent their first week hiking mountain trails and exploring the granite peaks and alpine glaciers, which ran like a spine along the center of the island.  Andrea had photographed majestic snowcapped mountain peaks, hoards of nobly crowned elk, bald eagles soaring in flight, and even several black bear pulling salmon from a stream—but it was whales she was really after, big ones.  That meant exploring the cold and hazardous ocean waters off the island's western coastline.  Andrea had to convince Karen McNeil that their group was experienced enough to handle the rigors of sea kayaking, the best method for getting close to the pods.  And so they had put in at Pacific Rim National Park that morning, staying relatively close to shore as they traveled north through rough coastal waters.

Now all their effort was about to pay off.

Andrea pulled the hood of her dry suit over her head, then positioned her face mask and snorkel.  Her heart fluttered with excitement.  Securing the underwater camera around her neck, she grasped the paddle tightly and waited.

With a great kwoof of air, the killer whales surfaced, the shiny hooked black dorsal fins of the females dwarfed by the three-foot bladelike fins of the males.  Remaining close to the surface as they closed on the kayakers, the pod of Orcas rose and dived in a gentle, rhythmic pattern.

Andrea sucked in a deep breath of air and rolled sideways, plunging herself and the rotating kayak into the icy Canadian waters.  Suspended upside down, secure in her seat, she watched in awe as the pod emerged through the misty deep-blue underworld.

Aiming the underwater camera, she quickly snapped off a dozen pictures as low-frequency whistles and high-pitched clicking sounds filled the water all around her.  As the pod glided to her right, a thirty-three-foot male appeared out of the mist, moving in to take a closer look.  Andrea's heart pounded wildly in her chest as the incredible creature hovered five feet away, the mammal's mouth large enough to engulf her entire upper torso in one bite.  She took several more pictures, overwhelmed by the sheer majesty and intelligence of the creature, then watched as it swam away, disappearing into the blue haze with the rest of the pod.

Pushing down hard with the paddle, Andrea flipped herself over, feeling her husband's assistance along the back of the kayak.  She spit out the snorkel and gasped for air, her face tingling from the cold.

"That was absolutely incredible!" she announced to the group.

Her husband tossed her a towel.  "You take years off my life every time you do that."

"Isn't the water freezing?" Shirley asked.

"It's really not that bad," Andrea said.  "The dry suit keeps me warm.  My cheeks just freeze up a bit."  She turned to Karen.  "I thought you said Orcas preferred the eastern coast of the island."

"Our local pods do," the group leader said.  "Johnstone Strait, which is on the northeastern side of the island, is the summer home to thirteen resident Orca pods.  The group that just passed by are transients."

"How can you tell?" Jon asked.

"Only transients stay to the ocean side of the island.  They prefer to hunt seal and sea lions on their way to the Bering Sea.  Our locals prefer fish, and their pods are much larger in number."

"Orcas are great, but you can photograph them at Sea World," Andrea said.  "What I want to see are the big whales."

"They'll be a little farther out," Karen said.  "What I suggest we do is continue to stay within a half mile of shore.  In about an hour we'll cross Barkley Sound on our way to Ucluelet.  At that point we'll be in open ocean and should run into some grays, perhaps even a pod of humpbacks.  Are you sure you're up to handling six-to-nine-foot swells?"

"We'll be fine," Andrea said, winking at Shirley.  "If the men can't handle it, we'll leave them ashore."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jonas watched the shadow of their helicopter pass over Cape Flattery lighthouse.  Moments later, they were flying over water, heading northwest, approaching Vancouver Island.

"Welcome to Canada, eh," Mac said.

Jonas ignored him, staring at the ocean.

"What's the matter, Jonas?  You've hardly said a word all afternoon."

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Celeste, or the shark?"

"Both."

Mac lifted his sunglasses and looked Jonas in the eye.  "Take my advice and keep your distance from both."

"I told you.  I'm not interested in Celeste."

"Come on, pal, you're not the least bit attracted?"

"No comment."

"She came on to you last night, didn't she?"

Jonas grinned.  "You might say that."

"And you just turned her away."

"Told her I wasn't interested.  We'll never by anything more than friends."

"Friends?  Christ, Jonas, wake up.  You'd be better off fucking her once and getting it over with than to elevate her to a position of trust."

"Actually, we've had some pretty interesting talks."

"Aw, well ain't that sweet.  Maybe you guys can take an aerobics class together when you get back to Monterey."

"And what makes you such an expert on women?  I don't know anyone who thinks with his pecker more than you do."

"Hey, even my pecker's smart enough to know when someone's playing me for a fool.  You think Celeste would be shoving her tits in your face if she wasn't after something?  No offense, pal, but you're ain't exactly Mel Gibson."

"Maybe she's lonely."

"Wrong.  Celeste is cold-blooded.  She doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself.  If she's making nice with you, it's only because she needs you."

"Needs me for what?  Maren's handling everything."

"Don't fool yourself.  There's a reason she brought you along, and it's not to play footsies under the breakfast table.  Stop being taken in by all that false charm she turns on and off like a faucet.  The William Beebe ain't the Love Boat.  Celeste is nothing more than a female version of Benedict."

"That's another thing.  She told me Benedict has had his way with her sexually since she was fourteen.  I can't tell if she loves him, or fears him."

"Probably both."  Mac banked to the west, guiding the helicopter across the Strait of Juan De Fuca toward the Canadian border.

Jonas focused his binoculars on Vancouver Island, looming ahead on the horizon.  "Okay, Ann Landers, tell me something.  If Celeste fears Benedict, why won't she leave him?"

Mac grinned.  "I'll answer that one for you in one word:  power.  He's got it, and she wants it.  I'll bet she's still spreading her legs for him."

"Then why is she interested in me?"

"I told you, Jonas, she wants something.  You've heard the saying that men use love to get sex, and women use sex to get love.  Well, Celeste uses sex to manipulate people into doing what she wants.  And that's when she's the most dangerous."

The chopper descended over the southern tip of the island.  "Should I head over deeper waters or follow the coastline?"

"Coastline."  Jonas focused on a pod of Orcas making their way north.  For the next several minutes, they rode in silence; Jonas scanning the surface.  Somehow, he hoped to detect some type of disturbance or whale remains that would indicate the presence of the elusive albino predator.  He felt frustration building inside.  Angel hadn't been sighted in nearly three days.

This is hopeless . . .

"Mac, do you think people can change?"

"Oh, boy, she's really got her claws into you, doesn't she?"

"Actually, I was talking about me."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

With a resounding blast from its horn, the ferry, M.V. Lady Rose, pulled away from the docks at Bamfield, continuing its ten-hour round-trip journey to Ucluelet.

Fourteen-year-old Kevin Blaine rested his forehead on top of the polished wooden rail, feeling the reverberations of the ship's engines as he kicked the iron support post with his foot.

"Kevin, knock it off," his older sister, Devon, yelled.  "You're annoying the other passengers."

"I'm bored.  Why can't I skateboard?"

"I told you, it's too crowded on deck."

"How much longer till we're in Ucluelet?"

The nineteen-year-old grabbed her brother by his arm.  "Kevin, will you shut the hell up, you're driving me crazy.  I swear to God, if Mom and Dad ever make me take you to Port Alberni again, I'll kill you first."

"I'm hungry."

"Here," she said, slapping a ten-dollar bill into his hand.  "Now go.  I don't want to see you again until be dock."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The predator made its way north against the strong currents of Imperial Eagle channel, remaining close to the rocky coral bottom as it continued its search.  Swinging its elephantine head from side to side, the Megalodon inhaled a troughful of sea, its olfactory senses detecting the faint acrid odor or urine.

A half mile away, as adult male sea lion pirouetted gracefully just below the waves.  At just over six hundred pounds, the mammal feared only the Orca pods.  Survival instinct told the agile bull just how far it could stray from shore in order to escape attack.  With visibility at over just thirty feet, the large male, always on the lookout, would not venture more than fifty yards from shore.

The hunter moved swiftly along the seafloor, quickly closing the distance between itself and the heartbeat of the sea lion.  Ascending slowly beneath its prey, the Megalodon searched the sunlit surface, homing in on its unseen meal.

Sensing danger, the sea lion propelled itself quickly toward shore.

The female detected a dark silhouette of movement along the surface.  She launched upward from the bottom, whipping her muscular tail in swift calculated strokes.

The bull registered the disturbance below.  Trapped on the surface, it twisted and thrashed, attempting to deflect the impending bite of the unseen predator.

The Megalodon burst through the surface, eyes rolled back, jaws fully hyperextended, engulfing the sea lion in one horrific bite.  The pinniped's blubbery girth was instantly crushed beneath the fifty thousands pounds per square inch of pressure, sending streams of blood and excrement gushing out from between rows of razor-sharp teeth.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

It was just after four in the afternoon when the five kayakers moved beyond the last of the Broken Group Islands of Barkley Sound.  Heading into open ocean, Ronald Jacobs noticed a bald eagle circling overhead as they passed the final vestige of land for the next several miles.  He stopped paddling, following the flight of the majestic bird until it perched in the upper branches of a fir tree three hundred yards away.

"Okay," Karen said, "it's four miles to Ucluelet.  Watch for swells, it can really get nasty out here."

"Looks like we've got company," Jon said.  He pointed south.  A ferry was approaching in the distance.

"That's the Lady Rose," Karen said.  "She'll be taking us from Ucluelet back up the channel to Port Alberni tomorrow afternoon."

"We're not leaving until I can get some underwater photos," Andrea said.  "What happened to those whale pods you promised me?"

"There's forty to fifty grays that spend the spring and summer months feeding between Barkley Sound and Clayoquot Sound, which is another thirty miles to the north.  There's always a few minke whales about, as well as humpbacks.  Be patient," said Karen, "we'll spot something before too long."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Kevin Blaine leaned over the starboard bow and spit, watching the wind carry it twenty feet back before it hit the water.  Most of the other passengers on the Lady Rose were either napping on the rows of wooden benches, or had gone inside to get out of the weather.

He stared at the blue ocean, hoping to see a whale, when an ivory blur, half as long as the ferry, soared into view well below the surface.  Kevin leaned out over the rail as far as he could, gawking at the creature, which was moving parallel to the boat.

Seconds later, it descended, disappearing from sight.

Kevin ran to his sister, who was lying on one of the benches, working on her tan.

"Dev, I just saw something huge.  I think it was the Megalodon!"

"Go away."

"You're not listening—"

"Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a diet Coke."

Kevin ignored her and ran back to the bow.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

"There," Karen said, pointing ahead to their left.  "Looks like we're in luck.  They're feeding off phytoplankton blooms."

"What's that?" Ronald asked, paddling harder to keep up with his wife.  He paused as a series of seven-foot swells lifted his kayak, soaking him with freezing water.

"It's that white stuff that looks like bathtub foam," Karen said, rolling with the swell.  "Every spring the sun causes the phytoplankton to bloom like crazy.  Small larvae and fish feed off it, attracting baleen whales."

They approached to within fifty feet of the feeding pod.

"What kind of whales are these?" Shirley asked.

"Grays.  I count five, maybe six adults, and a calf.  Let's not get any closer."

Andrea pulled the dry-suit hood over her head and positioned her face mask.  She checked her camera for film, verifying a new roll.  "Wish me luck," she said, rolling sideways into the ocean.

Even wearing the dry-suit, the chilly water took her breath away.  She looked around, realizing immediately that she was still too far away from the pod to see anything.  Then, just as she was about to roll upright, she spotted a ghostly form gliding through the deeper waters directly beneath her, heading toward the whales.

Paddling hard, Andrea pulled herself back into an upright position.  "I can't believe it," she said, water pouring off her face.  "I just saw a belukha whale!"

'Are you certain?" Karen said.  "Belukhas usually don't venture this far south."

"I'm telling you I saw it."  She picked up her paddle.

"What are you doing?" her husband asked.

"The belukha was heading toward the pod.  I need to get closer.  I'm too far away to shoot."

"Too late," Shirley said, pointing.

The grays had stopped feeding.

"Something's spooking them," Karen said.  "They're closing formation."

Without warning, the pod began moving en masse toward the kayakers.

"Oh, shit—stay close and hold on!" Karen yelled.

The thirty-ton leviathans tore up the surface as they accelerated at them, sounding seconds before they would have struck the kayaks.  The four boats tossed wildly about, spinning and crashing into one another.

Andrea sucked in a lungful of air and rolled sideways, her camera already positioned in front of her mask.

A series of eight-to-ten-foot swells rolled at them, lifting and dropping the kayaks precariously.  And then the sea calmed, the whales out of sight.

"Everyone all right?" Karen asked.

"I'm freezing," Shirley said.  Jon removed a towel from one of the watertight compartments and handed it to his wife.

Ronald turned to Andrea's kayak, which was still inverted.  "At least someone's enjoying herself."

"Let's go home, Shirley," Jon said.  "I've had enough wilderness to last me a lifetime.  The next time your magazine wants to do a wildlife piece, suggest Manhattan."

Ronald reached out to help his wife flip her kayak right-side-up.  that's when he saw the cardinal-red cloud pooling around the craft.

"Andrea!" Ronald spun the kayak over—and screamed.

Shirley stared, then turned and retched over the side.  Karen and Jon looked on in shock, clutching their mouths.

All that remained of Andrea Jacobs was a gushing scarlet stump of mangled flesh, the lower torso still wedged in the kayak, severed at the stomach.

Ronald stopped screaming as the seven-foot stark-white dorsal fin surged out of the surf.  It circled the group twice, then submerged.

"It's the Megalodon," Jon rasped, holding on as the kayaks were lifted by another series of swells.  He leaned forward and caught his wife's head as she fainted.

Ronald's eyes bugged out as an unearthly glow appeared beneath him.  He gasped in horror as the enormous head rose vertically to his left, engulfing the remains of his wife and her kayak in its powerful jaws.  Two vicious chomps—and the shark slid back into the sea, leaving only a paddle and a section of bow bobbing on the surface.

"Move!" Karen yelled.  "Split up!"  She paddled south, heading for the ferry.

Jon watched her go, then reached forward and slapped his wife hard across her face.

"Shirley, wake up," he yelled, shaking her.  Feeling her stir, he released her head and began paddling toward Ucluelet, two and a half miles to the north.

Still in shock, Ronald Jacobs remained motionless in his kayak and wept.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jonas focused his binoculars on the ferry, then spotted something else.  "Looks like a kayak.  It's heading straight for the ferry—"

"Jonas, behind the kayak—one o'clock!"

Jonas searched the ocean.  "Oh, fuck . . ."

"Hold on—"  The helicopter soared past the Lady Rose as Jonas desperately attempted to hail the ferry on the radio.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Alone in the bow, Kevin watched the woman paddle furiously toward the boat.  He ducked instinctively as the helicopter soared overhead, then spotted the dorsal fin and realized what was taking place before his eyes.

Spinning around, he searched the deck, locating the life ring.  He tore it from the rail as the Lady Rose swung to port to intercept the woman.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Groaning out loud, with her shoulders, arms, and back aching from the anaerobic effort, Karen switched sides, paddling on her right as she headed toward the ferry.  Blisters on her hands began bleeding; her tears and the splashing salt water were blinding.

Fifty yards . . .

She focused on the bow, her mind racing, wondering how she would possibly reach the rail that towered fifteen feet above her head.

Then she spotted the boy tying off the rope.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The predator rose, jaws agape, its eyes focused on the silhouette of the fleeing kayak.  In the murky water the figure resembled another sea lion.  The Megalodon closed to within forty feet, then detected the larger creature changing course, approaching its prey.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Kevin felt the ferry cut its engines.  He looked up to see three members of the crew running toward him.

Calling to the woman below, he reached out and tossed her the ring.

Physically exhausted, her arms trembling, Karen guided the kayak alongside the moving ferry.  She managed to free her lower body from the boat, but was unable to muster the strength to pull herself upward.

The three crewmen pushed Kevin aside and grabbed the rope.

Karen felt herself being hauled upward.  She held on tight, praying the monster would spare her.

A crowd gathered.  Unable to see, Karen climbed up to straddle the rail.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Mac hovered the chopper eighty feet above the deck of the ferry.  Jonas watched the scene below, breathing a sigh of relief as the crew reached out and pulled the woman to safety.

"Can you get off a shot with the grenade rifle?" Mac asked.

Jonas peered down the scope of the weapon, searching for the creature.  "She's too deep to see, and I'm getting a bad reflection from the sun.  I can't tell how close she is to the ferry."

Reaching beneath the seat, he pulled out a large handgun resembling a starter's pistol.  Lodged in the barrel was a small transmitter attached to a seven-inch barbed hook.  He pulled the safety off the pistol, then activated the transmitter.

"Where'd you get that?" Mac asked.

"Had the Institute deliver it while we were in port.  It only transmits over a three-mile radius, but—"

Without warning, the Megalodon rose from the sea, its vertical momentum sending its upper torso high into the air as its jaws clamped down on the empty kayak.  Falling forward, the leviathan slammed sideways against the ferry, its weight knocking the Lady Rose hard to starboard.

Most of the ship's passengers and crew found themselves sprawling on their backs.  Kevin Blaine had squeezed his legs around the rail, holding on precariously as he gawked at the gargantuan beast, its huge pectoral fin so close he could have reached out and touched it.  As the creature's upper torso slammed hard against the side of the ferry, the rail jolted out from under him and he tumbled forward, twisting in midair, catching a glimpse of blue sky before plunging into the icy sea.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Afraid he might hit the ferry, Jonas lowered the grenade rifle and grabbed the pistol.  In one motion he aimed and fired, the barbed arrow and transmitter exploding from the barrel, puncturing the Megalodon along its exposed underbelly.

Bouncing off the vessel, the monster rolled sideways back into the water.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

A strong swimmer, Kevin quickly righted himself underwater and kicked hard to the surface.  More cold than scared, he looked up, waiting for someone to appear at the rail with a rope.

Devon picked herself up off the deck and rushed to the rail, shocked at having witnessed her brother fall.  She quickly spotted him treading water, waving at her along the surface.

"Kevin, hold on—"  She saw the end of the nylon rope tied off on the rail and started pulling in the slack, the life ring appearing from across the deck.  Grabbing the flotation device, she tossed it overboard.

The ghostlike demon had reappeared.  Gliding gracefully on its side, it opened its mouth, its lower jawline moving silently across the surface.  A channel of water streamed into the dark tunnel of the widening orifice.

Devon freaked out.  A dozen passengers yelled and screamed in her ear as she motioned wildly for Kevin to grab the life ring.

Kevin's smile disappeared as he saw the expression of terror on his sister's face.  He turned around.

The ivory head, lying on its side, was barely visible.  A small wake closed, revealing a black hole in the sea, outlined by pink gums and sickening teeth.

A rush of panic washed over him.  Ignoring the life ring, he tried to swim away, but an overpowering current grabbed him, dragging him backward in the water.  For a surreal moment, Kevin felt the bizarre feeling of sliding feetfirst down a hole, water rushing along either side of him.

A torrent of ocean washed over him, pushing him downward.  Daylight disappeared.  For a suffocating moment, the boy clawed in complete darkness along the slimy surface of the monster's tongue.

And then he tumbled backward, crushed into oblivion.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jonas slammed his face against the cockpit door and howled in rage as the creature disappeared beneath the waves.

Mac shifted the hovering chopper to autopilot, too shaken to even grip the joystick.  For the next several minutes, the two men could do nothing but seethe, their eyes closed tight, the horrifying scene refusing to cease replaying in their minds' eyes.

"Chopper, come in, this is the captain of the Lady Rose.  Chopper, come in—"

"What," Jonas said, not recognizing his own voice.

"Chopper, the woman we rescued says there are two more kayaks out there.  Half a mile northwest.  Reply, please, over—"

Jonas looked at Mac; his friend's face was red with rage.  Mac gripped the joystick, the airship leaping forward.  "We're on it," Jonas yelled, his own adrenaline pumping.

Retracing the woman's direction, they searched the ocean, quickly spotting the kayak.  The chopper swooped downward.

Mac hovered the copter just above the surface, watching a series of incoming swells.  "Do it fast, Jonas—"

Jonas unbuckled his harness and moved back to the cargo bay.  Pulling open the sliding bay door, he reached out for the unconscious man and grabbed hold of one of his arms.

Jonas hauled Ronald Jacobs from his kayak and into the chopper—as the airship leapfrogged over an eight-foot swell.

"Is he alive?" Mac asked.

"He's breathing, but he's in shock."

Jonas covered the man with blankets while Mac circled to the east, looking for the other kayak.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Out of breath, and his muscles trembling from lactic acid buildup, Jon Kollin was forced to stop paddling.

"Shirley, I need your help," he rasped.  He rubbed the sweat from his eyes and tried to focus on the sliver of land, still a half mile away.

Shirley dipped the end of her oar into the water, attempting to paddle.  "Jon, I can't, I'm going to be sick again."

Jon was looking behind them, watching the ferry in the distance.  "Something's going on back there."  He reached overboard, splashing water onto his face, the cold helping to revive him.

"Shirley, look at me."  As his wife turned, he drenched her with an oar-splash of water.

"Goddamn you—"

"Now pick up your paddle and help me row," he ordered.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The Megalodon continued circling below the ferry, waiting for more prey to appear, when a thrumming sound resonated somewhere in the distance.  The baritone vibrations continued, enticing the shark away from the boat to investigate.

As it closed on the source, the beating abruptly ceased.  The shark circled, confused, waiting for the voodoolike beats to reappear.  Instead, another sound caught the creature's attention, this one moving along the surface.

The female whipped its caudal fin, homing in on the remaining kayak.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jon glanced up from paddling to see the reassuring glow of lights coming from a building situated at the entrance to a private pier.  "Straight ahead, Shirley," he yelled, stroking harder.  "We're almost there."

Shirley turned, then stopped paddling, staring at the expanse of ocean behind them.

"Shirley, don't stop—"

"Jon . . ."  Her brown eyes widened with fear.

The dorsal fin was closing on them.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jonas continued listening to the beeping of the homing transmitter as he scanned the choppy surface, the fading light from the setting sun making it difficult to see.

"Signal's weakening.  Try circling back."

The helicopter banked away from the Broken Group Islands, racing for the southernmost tip of Ucluelet.

"Mac—there."  Jonas pointed.  "Looks like they're heading for that pier."

"And look who's escorting them in."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The muscles in Jon Kollin's back burned, his forearms ached.  His hands were so sore from bleeding blisters that he could barely maintain his grip on the paddle.

A sudden movement caused him to turn to his right.  Out of the sea rose a three-foot wake, buffeting the kayak sideways.

The ghost surfaced, gliding effortlessly on its side, its luminescent skin tinged with an orange glow from the fading sunlight.  A soulless gray eye looked up at Jon from just below the waterline.  The jaw quivered open, exposing the points of its teeth.

Shirley shrieked.

Adrenaline and fear drove Jon's oar through the sea.  He continued staring at the shark as he paddled, mesmerized by its impossible size.  Tearing himself away, he searched for the end of the pier.

Forty yards ahead.

The fish slapped its tail along the surface and submerged.

"Oh, God—oh, God—this is it," Jon yelled.  "It's coming up from under to attack, just like it did before.  Shirley, free your legs from the kayak and get ready to jump."

She stopped paddling, twisting her body loose.

"I'm free, now you," she called out, balancing on her knees as she paddled.

Jon fought to pull his lower body from the boat, his legs feeling numb from sitting too long.  His arms shook with exhaustion and adrenaline.  As one leg pulled free, he saw the water turn white beneath them.

"Shirley, jump—jump!"

The Megalodon's head launched from the sea, its eyes rolling back as its jaws widened to sandwich the kayak.  Shirley and Jon felt their boat rising beneath them and jumped.  The giant bear trap of a maw snapped shut, crushing the empty kayak as the two boaters flew through the air and tumbled into the sea.

The blast of freezing water sent Jon into action.  Righting himself, he quickly kicked to the surface, only to feel the creature's submerging bulk momentarily drag him back down again.

Jon's mind screamed at him to kick harder.  He resurfaced, relieved to see his wife already swimming to the pier less than twenty feet away.  He raised a dead-tired arm to stroke, terrified to find he could barely move, his muscles heavy as lead.

Shirley reached for the edge of the dilapidated dock and pulled herself up, scraping her arms as she rolled onto the decking.  She sat up, chest heaving and screamed as loud as she could, "Jon, swim faster!"

Below the surface, the Megalodon shook its head to and for, unable to locate its prey among the remains of the kayak.  A second later, it honed in on the telltale vibrations along the surface.  The shark turned, whipping its head and tail back and forth in an effort to regain its forward momentum.

Jon had reached the edge of the pier but was beyond exhaustion, unable to even raise his hand out of the water to pull himself to safety.  Shirley reached down and grabbed her husband's wrist.  Tug as she might, she was unable to budge the two-hundred-pound man.

Then she saw the surface churn thirty feet behind him.

The terror in his wife's bulging eyes was enough.  Adrenaline pumping, Jon scrambled onto the pier, then grabbed Shirley by her waist and leaped sideways.

The head of the rampaging beast struck the wharf, obliterating two of the wooden pilings., sending an entire section of the deck crashing into the sea, Jon and Shirley with it.

Like a mad bull lusting after blood, the Megalodon turned its jaws upon the swirling debris, chomping along the surface as it blindly searched for its prey.

Jon pushed his wife up a short wooden ladder as four-foot waves crested over his back.  As he climbed onto the damaged pier, he turned to see the shark gliding in from behind.

He grabbed Shirley's hand and ran, hearing the dull thud of their footsteps across the weathered wooden planks, the crashing sea on either side of them.

Sensing the vibrations of its fleeing prey, the Megalodon slipped beneath the pier, homing in on the source of the sounds.

Jon turned as the pier shook.  The decking behind them exploded into splinters as the monstrous shark, in its madness to feed, smashed its triangular snout upward through the wooden planks.

"Faster," he yelled, trying his best not to stumble as he pulled Shirley toward the gated entrance to the private pier.  "Damn it—"

A fifteen-foot-high chain-link construction fence blocked their escape.  The barrier continued to their right, fastened to the side of a seafood restaurant situated on an adjacent pier.

Jon tried the gate while his wife ran to the side of the restaurant, pounding on a metal fire door.

Without warning, the wooden planks beneath his feet fractured, driven upward by the predator's conical snout.

Jon grabbed onto the fence, clutching the aluminum links between his fingers, holding on for dear life as the decking beneath his feet collapsed into the sea.  Swirling below the dark waters and splintered planks was a white glow.

"Jon, this way!"

Jon swung himself sideways, stepping gingerly over the gap and onto a wooden walkway bordering the side of the restaurant.  Shirley grabbed his hand, pulling him through an open gate and onto the pier supporting the main dining area of the restaurant.

"Shirley, wait, we're going the wrong way—"

"There's a balcony out back.  We have to go through the restaurant to get off the pier."

Shirley led him past bay windows encircling the glass-enclosed banquet room.  Startled patrons looked up from candlelit dinners, unaware of the creature circling beneath the  pier.

Shirley banged on the outer glass balcony door.  Jon saw the luminescent fin rise.

A waiter walked toward the door, shaking his head.  He pointed to the side, directing them to the front entrance—as a tremendous force shook one of the pilings supporting the pier.

Jon banged on the thick glass.  "Open the fucking door, or I'll kick it in!"

The waiter backed away as another man, obviously a manager, approached unlatching the door.

Shirley yanked open the door.  Jon practically pushing her into the lavish dining room.  They stood there, dripping wet, catching their breath.

"Madame, you cannot—"

"Get everyone out of here," Shirley yelled, "the pier's collapsing!"

Shirley led her husband past the stunned diners, searching for the way out.

"Madame, monsieur—"

"You heard my wife, Frenchy, get everyone off this— "

With a colossal boom, the entire restaurant shook in an earthquakelike upheaval that shattered the bay windows an sent patrons and their entrees toppling onto the floor.

Above the din of protests and screams, Jon heard a tremendous crack, as one of the damaged pilings collapsed beneath the pier.

The restaurant began to tilt.

Jon grabbed Shirley's hand and ran, pushing and shoving through a maze of tables and dozens of people now scrambling toward the front entrance.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Hovering high above the melee, Jonas and Mac could only watch as the back end of the restaurant cracked off and collapsed, tumbling into the sea.