Extinct (27 page)

Another doubled charge arched through the air.

It landed on a side of the wide head, bounced, came down on the head again, and started to slide toward the water.

The explosion blew skin, eye, and meat high into the air in a gory shower.

CHAPTER 32

The twenty-five-foot shark lay on its side, half submerged in the dark water forty feet from shore. Where its eye and a side of its head had been, a four-foot-wide-by-two-foot-deep crater ran blood down into the brown water, staining it a darker shade in an ever-spreading circle. Behind the carcass, lights along the shore had come on at the sound of the explosions. More than one car had stopped in front of the buildings along Bayview Drive. Two teenage boys walked toward the edge of the water. Carolyn said, “It’s crazy.”

“What?”

“It’s crazy,” she repeated in a low voice. “But at the last, when I could tell it was trying to escape, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for it in a way.”

He slipped his hand around her shoulders. She laid her head against his arm. It
had
tried to escape, he thought, not just swimming away from the boats, but consciously trying to find a way into the channel leading toward the river. Consciously, he thought again, the same kind of obvious thinking it did when it tried to wear away the grass and mud where Fred and the others had been trapped. He stared at the body, thought a moment more, then shook his head.

He was looking at it, wasn’t he? A white shark. And what else could it have been?

“What?” Carolyn asked, raising her face up toward his.

“It just didn’t act like how I would have thought it would have acted.” He smiled a little at himself. “But what does an expert in growing fingerlings know?”

Carolyn raised her head from his arm, looked at the body for a moment, then reached for the wheel and slowly eased the throttles forward, turning the
Intuitive
in the direction of the Bertram on its way into the marked channel leading toward the Sound.

Back above the bridges, the first gray light of dawn was beginning to brighten the eastern sky, and soon the wondering was gone from Alan’s mind.

Why not? It was dead.

*   *   *

Admiral Vandiver sat among the tall cases of equipment in the belly of the C-130 Hercules. Though all the cargo was securely lashed together, it vibrated like a freezing man’s teeth. He frowned at Douglas, sitting against a stack of crates to the side. Douglas looked away. Vandiver leaned his head back against a case, felt his hair start vibrating and, frowning again, sat forward once more. “Real good job here, Douglas.”

Douglas didn’t say anything.

Vandiver waited a moment. “Douglas.”

His nephew’s face came around.

“Douglas, why would a megalodon come all the way from the Pacific to the northern tip of the Gulf of Mexico?”

“Sir?”

“Think about it … thousands of miles, passing dozens of places quite similar, basically the same water temperatures, the same prey, the same everything. To pass all that up almost makes you think it knew where it was headed from the very beginning, doesn’t it? And that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

Douglas started to remind his uncle that all they knew for certain at the moment was that a large white shark had come into the northern Gulf—not a megalodon—but he didn’t.

“Then I realized it didn’t have to make any sense, Douglas. It doesn’t make any sense that the six-gill came to the Gulf.”

Vandiver paused at the questioning expression on his nephew’s face. “Douglas, when you don’t know something just say so. You haven’t heard of the Pacific six-gill shark?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t you ever even watch the Discovery Channel?”

Douglas didn’t answer.

Vandiver shook his head in dismay. “Well, Douglas, the six-gill is another of the deep-ocean mysteries throwing marine scientists for a loop now. I mean that’s where all the modern mysteries are coming from—the depths. Why is it that species that for millions of years never rose high enough in the water to even see faintest light are suddenly emerging into shallow waters now? Something is causing it. Pollution? That’s doubtful. The ocean floors aren’t exactly pristine any more, but to say the depths are polluted in the same sense the land masses are isn’t correct. It isn’t even close. Deep-ocean temperatures suddenly rapidly changing? We have no indication of that. Yet, for some reason, deep-sea creatures
are
coming up all over the world.

“The six-gill isn’t exactly the same kind of case as the megalodon would be, or even the megamouth shark coming up from the depths. Even though no one had ever seen one of the six-gill adults prior to their surfacing, we knew they existed. For years its young came around fish factories along the California coast to feed on what was dumped into the water. A few young six-gills up to eight or nine feet long were caught in some of the deeper bays. But as they aged they moved into deeper and deeper spots until, by the time they were full grown, they were in the deepest trenches—and never rose back into shallow waters again. That’s been true since mankind began. A human had never seen an adult six-gill. Then, in the seventies, the first adult—a sixteen-foot female—was caught by a fishing trawler in relatively shallow water. After that adult six-gills began to be caught in shallower and shallower waters in the Pacific. Then, for some unknown reason, they started migrating, went around the tip of South America and reached the Caribbean a few years ago. Now they’ve moved into the Gulf. One was seen off the Chandeleur Islands last year—they’ve gone as far north as they can. It’s as if that’s where they were headed from the very beginning. As if that is where the megalodon had been headed since the beginning. Why?”

Douglas didn’t speak. The cargo continued to vibrate.

“Why, Douglas? Why the northern Gulf for the six-gill? And, maybe, why the northern Gulf for the megalodon?”

Vandiver stared at the young ensign. “Why, Douglas?”

“Sir, I don’t—”

“Rhetorical question, son.”

Douglas nodded.

“Important question, too, Douglas.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Make you famous if you can figure out why.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make me famous, too.”

Douglas nodded. When his uncle continued to stare, Douglas said, “Yes, sir.”

“Want to know what I think?”

Douglas both nodded and said “Yes, sir” this time.

“I think it might have to do with the lower Mississippi River Basin. It’s the most ancient, large drainage system in North America. Been here since way before the last ice ages. Is home to more so-called living fossils than any other place in the world—creatures that have existed unchanged for tens of millions of years. The bowfin, the paddlefish, the sturgeon—I could name a dozen species here now that have been here since creatures first existed in the seas. And, if you remember, when I told you about the artist’s interpretation I told you that megalodons are cartilaginous, therefore their remains waste away and they don’t fossilize like bony animals. So, basically, other than for a couple of full-body impressions in mud that hardened rapidly, only the megalodon’s teeth have ever been found to let us know it ever existed. Guess where a lot of their teeth have been found?”

“The lower Mississippi River Basin, sir?”

“That’s correct, Douglas. Some of it dry land now that used to be ocean. The teeth have been found all over the upper Gulf Coast. An inordinate amount of remains of other prehistoric sea creatures have been, too; some of them among the largest creatures ever to swim the seas. For one, the basilosaurus—the seventy-foot, giant-toothed whale which would give even the megalodon reason for fear. The Louisiana and Mississippi coasts in particular were a major breeding ground of this creature. Their remains were so numerous that early settlers in those states often used the vertebra for foundation supports for cabins. Many think the same area might have been a breeding ground for the megalodons, too.”

Douglas’s eyes tightened. “You mean … you’re saying … you’re suggesting the megalodon is acting like a salmon, coming back to where it was bred?”

“That’s close.”

“But, sir, the, uh … If a megalodon is alive, it wouldn’t have been born in the Gulf. There wouldn’t have been any born there since man was here. It couldn’t be acting like a sal—”

“Douglas, Douglas, Douglas. I said you were close. It doesn’t have to be exactly like a salmon. There are many animals, fish, and birds that instinctively go to a place to breed no matter where they were born. Not like salmon going back to the headwaters of rivers, or geese that migrate back to the specific pond where they were hatched, but creatures that, no matter where they are born or live, go back to a particular place at one time in their lives—like birds instinctively migrating south before snow begins to fall. And not just flocks of birds whose migration might be a sign of herd behavior—following the leader—but individual birds flying to certain places the fall after they are born. That’s an instinct that has to be passed down genetically—the desire or knowledge has to already be present in the bird when it’s born.”

Douglas nodded now. “You’re saying the megalodons went to the deep trenches for some reason. Driven there, maybe. They stayed there until—”

“Correct, Douglas, until something made them move. Like the French explosion in January perhaps. Now they’re returning to a place they once instinctively came to.”

Douglas’s face twisted in thought. “You’re saying
they?
Something made
them
move. More than one?”

“There can’t be only one of anything, Douglas.”

CHAPTER 33

Carolyn sat in the
Intuitive
’s cabin as she spoke on the telephone plugged into the dockside extension. “Did I wake you, Mother?”

“Heavens no, your father got me out of bed when he saw about the shark being killed on the news. We’ve been up ever since. He woke Paul, too.”

“Oh, he shouldn’t have done that.”

“For once I’ll agree with Fred, Carolyn. Paul was so excited. He’s playing out on the dock now. I think he’s thrilled just to be able to be down at the water again.”

“I’ll come on in a minute then. I want to see him. I’m going to take a quick shower first.”

“Baby, why don’t you stay there and get a few hours of sleep? I know you’re dead. He’s fine. He knows you’re okay. If you come over now, you know between his and Fred’s questions you’re not going to get any sleep here.”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“Throwing dynamite around,” her mother said, and sighed. “If I would have known that I would have had heart failure.”

Carolyn smiled. “I’ll see you in an hour or so, Mother.”

*   *   *

At Carolyn’s home, her mother looked out the window as she hung up the telephone. Paul was playing on the dock again.

*   *   *

Sitting in the wicker chair on the patio, Fred raised his gaze from his newspaper when Duchess started barking.

*   *   *

Paul pushed the little sailboat he had fashioned from a piece of notebook paper out from the dock and looked over his shoulder at the Labrador at the side of the dock looking down the river.

“It’s gone, Duchess.”

The Labrador kept staring. She started barking again.

“Duchess, be quiet.”

The dog barked faster.

Paul looked down the channel.

“Duchess,” he said. “The shark’s gone.”

Suddenly the Labrador stretched her neck out and looked directly down into the water in front of her forepaws, and barked sharply.

Paul came to his feet. He looked back at the paper sailboat about to move out of his reach and started to lean toward it, but didn’t. Duchess was barking continuously now.

Paul stepped quickly off the dock into the yard and called back to the Labrador. Duchess turned and, looking back over her shoulder toward the river, trotted to him.

Paul stared at the water.

Fred stopped beside him. “Duchess see a snake?” He took a step toward the dock.

“No, Papaw,” Paul said. “Don’t go out there.”

*   *   *

Carolyn, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve blouse and carrying the clothes she had worn earlier, stepped out of the bath house and walked behind the line of charter fishing boats to the
Intuitive.

She fluffed her hair with her free hand as she came up the concrete walkway and hopped down into the fishing cockpit.

“I feel a million percent better,” she said as she stepped inside the cabin.

Alan rubbed the stubble on his cheek with the back of his hand.

A horn sounded outside in the parking area.

Alan stepped from the cabin.

Rayanne sat in her pickup as he walked toward her.

She handed his fresh clothes and a plastic bag containing a toothbrush and razor out through the window. “A mother’s work is never done,” she said. “Wouldn’t it have been simpler for me to have just picked you up and taken you to your apartment?”

Carolyn stepped from the cabin.

“Oh, I see,” Rayanne said.

*   *   *

“What in the hell are we doing, Douglas?”

“Sir?”

“The plane is going down, Douglas.”

“They have to offload some cargo here.”

Vandiver looked at his watch, groaned, and laid his head back against the vibrating crates.

*   *   *

Wearing a fresh white shirt and clean khakis, his towel draped around his neck, Alan stepped inside the cabin. He closed the door quietly when he saw Carolyn, fully dressed, asleep, curled on her side in the bunk. He laid his soiled clothes and towel on the sink and stepped to the bunk, sitting down on its side.

“Carolyn,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes slowly came open. She turned on her back and smiled up at him. “Time to go see Paul,” he said. She stared into his eyes for a moment longer, then lifted her hand to the side of his neck and pulled his face down toward hers.

*   *   *

Across the marina, a forty-three-foot Gulfstar Mark IV motor yacht with the sweeping, smooth lines of a sailing vessel began to move slowly out of its slip. The man at the flying bridge was in his mid-fifties, overweight, dressed in swimming trunks, a white dress shirt open down its middle—and had a frown on his face.