Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) (13 page)

He jammed his carbine into Ballantine’s ribs and the man grunted, but didn’t move.

“There’s no need, Jason,” Ballantine said, “the tracker isn’t onboard the Beowulf III. Just like the Thornes aren’t onboard, either.”

Tank Top took a step back and narrowed his eyes. He watched Ballantine closely then looked out the bridge windows at the crew that had started to gather on the upper deck outside.

“The tracker is with the Thornes,” Tank Top said, “that’s why the shark is heading for my ship.”

“You may be dumb, but you certainly aren’t stupid,” Ballantine said.

“No, I’m not,” Tank Top said. “Know what else I’m not? Patient.”

He walked to the door of the bridge and stepped out onto the landing, and aimed his M4 at the crew below then glanced back at Ballantine.

“How about you call your Team?” Tank Top said. “You get on your com and have them swim ass back here with that tracker. However they were going to place it on my ship, have them do that to the Beowulf.”

“Beowulf III,” Ballantine said.

“Beowulf III,” Tank Top sighed. “Whatever. Just get on the horn and make it happen. If that shark even scratches the MB, I’ll cut your crew in half.”

Lake started to reach for the Desert Eagle he had tucked away on a small shelf under the wheel, but Ballantine put a steady hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“You sure you want me to recall my Team?” Ballantine asked.

“I want my employers to recall that fucking shark,” Tank Top said.

“They can’t do that,” Ballantine replied.

“You don’t know that,” Tank Top argued.

“Like you said, Jason, I’m the one tha
t
woul
d
know,” Ballantine replied.

“No more talking,” Tank Top said. “I’ve already told you what to do. Call your Team.”

“Very well,” Ballantine replied.

***

“Grendel?” Ballantine’s voice called out over the com. “Abort mission. We’ve hit a snag. Return the tracker, and yourselves, to the Beowulf III immediately. No time to explain, just do it.”

“That was an open channel,” Darren said, “he didn’t switch to the Team channel.”

“Which means he has no desire for us to do what he says,” Thorne said as he fired nonstop at a diver that was coming right for him. The man got about five feet away then stopped as the rounds pierced his wetsuit and then detonated, ripping him to shreds. “Pull the tracker and drop it.”

“What?” Kinsey asked, as she followed Darby’s lead and her knife blades ripped open another diver. “What the hell for?”

“We need that shark to follow it,” Thorne said. “That’ll give us some time to work things out and take this ship.”

“Take this ship?” Shane asked, as he checked his brother’s leg. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Ballantine contacted us over an open channel,” Darby said as she swam towards the small box magnetically stuck to the Monkey Balls’ hull. “That means that the B3’s crew is in jeopardy. They’re probably being held at gunpoint on the upper deck, ready to be executed one by one until Ballantine gives in.”

“Jesus,” Max asked as he pushed his brother away and looked down at the wound in his leg. The compression suit had closed over it and the pressure kept the wound from bleeding more, but as soon as the suit came off he’d need serious medical help or he’d probably bleed to death. “How do you know that’s what’s going to happen?”

“That’s what I’d do if I had taken our ship,” Darby said, her hand closing on the small box. She yanked it free from the hull then held it out. “We take their ship and get us some leverage.”

“Get us some?” Kinsey laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Max.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Max asked.

“Depends,” Darby said as she opened her hand and let the small box fall. It descended quickly and was lost from sight in seconds. “There. Now we climb.”

“Hold on!” Darren shouted as he wrestled with a diver.

The two men twisted and turned in the water, thrashing about each other as they threw punches and tried to rip at each other’s rebreathers. The diver got his fingers up underneath Darren’s mustache and pulled hard, tearing the thing off Darren’s face.

Everyone heard Darren cry out then turned to see Darren holding his breath as he ripped the diver’s face mask off and jammed his thumbs into the man’s eyes. Blood and milky white fluid poofed out from the collapsed eyes. Darren yanked off the man’s rebreather and slammed a fist into the diver’s throat. The man’s mouth opened wide and a deluge of bubbles poured forth.

“Damn, Ditcher,” Shane said, knowing Darren could hear him, even though he couldn’t respond anymore. “You really fucked him up.”

The diver reached for Darren blindly, but he found only open water as Darren kicked away then slid the man’s rebreather up over his shoulders and placed the mouthpiece between his lips. He took a couple of deep breaths and got himself under control before he swam around behind the man, grabbed both sides of his head, and twisted as hard as he could.

The man’s neck snapped and Darren let the body float down and away from him before he turned and gave everyone a thumbs up.

“Now, he really fucked him up,” Shane said.

“We need to get out of this water,” Darby said and pointed to the deep darkness below them. “I believe the thing went that way.”

“It’s probably not going to be happy that it’s chasing a tiny box that isn’t food,” Max said.

“Can you climb?” Thorne asked as he swam up to his nephew.

“Do I have a fucking choice?” Max replied.

“Not in the slightest,” Thorne said.

“Then yeah, I can fucking climb,” Max nodded.

Team Grendel all placed their hands and feet on the hull of the Monkey Balls and let the magnetic feature take hold again. Once they were sure they were affixed properly, they started to climb up the hull, hand over hand, foot over foot.

***

The small box was swallowed up like a tiny grain of rice in a black hole.

The massive shark immediately sensed that something was wrong. The signal told it that it had found its target, but there was no satisfaction to the completion of its task. It had been sent out before, and it knew there should be satisfaction.

There should be the crushing of metal and the screaming of men. There should be taste of blood and bone, engine oil and diesel fuel, fear and terror.

None of that happened when the signal in the box finally cut off, having been caught by its seeker.

The shark whipped its gigantic tail and turned its body back towards the surface of the ocean. It was a thing of beauty and a marvel to behold if anyone had been deep enough to behold it. Nothing in the history of the world had moved with such speed and grace. At least, nothing the size of the shark that rocketed up towards the many shadows that it now considered its new targets.

The thing intended to have its taste of blood and bone, engine oil and diesel fuel, fear and terror. It intended to feel the crushing of metal and hear the screams of dying men.

As far as the shark was concerned, its mission was completed and now it was on its own to wreak as much havoc as it desired, and it intended to feed that desire for as long as it could.

Chapter Five- Water Red Is Desire Fed

Seven shapes were above.

Seven shapes for it to choose from.

Targets all.

No need to worry about where to start, the shark planned to get to each and every one of them in short order. In very short order.

The first shape was three times its length, but the massive beast did not care. Three times, five times, twenty times- the shark feared nothing other than not fulfilling its desire to hunt and kill, seek and destroy.

It swam under the shape, circling around as it studied the hull and keel with its black eyes. First one direction, then a quick whip of its tail and it was swimming in the opposite direction. It circled, circled, circled, taking in as much information as it could about its prey.

Then it dove.

Deeper than it had been during its entire journey, the shark swam until the light was nearly gone and the water so cold that it felt itself beginning to slow involuntarily. The temperature was how it knew when to stop and bring itself back around so it was pointed at the surface once again.

It left the frigid, muscle slowing cold behind as its tail pumped back and forth, using the resistance of the deep water to drive it on, ever upwards to its goal. Faster and faster it went, never slowing once, never taking its eyes off the target, never letting its senses get distracted by the other shapes, the other sounds, the other smells. Those would wait, would still be there when it was done with what was getting closer and closer with every second.

Then it struck.

Its mouth wide open, a thousand sets of teeth gleaming in the filtered light above, the shark hit the first Mexican destroyer about fifteen feet from the rear propeller. It tore into the drive shaft as it clamped down with all its strength.

Steel and iron were treated like paper and cloth as the gigantic teeth sawed from side to side until a massive chunk of the ship tore free and fell past the shark, destined to spend centuries on the ocean floor.

The shark didn’t slow, wasn’t satisfied by the one attack, needed more to quench its unquenchable desire for destruction.

It raced along the length of the hull, again its black eyes sizing up its prey. It could smell the oil and fuel it had released into the water and it knew the loud sounds would begin soon. In seconds, were the sounds of emergency claxons ringing out far above the water’s surface. The noise reverberated down to the shark and drove it on since it knew the prey would want to fight back.

In seconds, the water’s surface was pierced by large barrels, which to the shark’s nose, smelled of death.

The first explosion was meters from the monster, well out of range to do any damage other than hurt its fine tuned senses. The second explosion was closer and the third was closer still. The fourth hurt as fire and heat burst against the shark, sending it back to the deep for another run.

The creature knew to wait, wait for the attack to stop before making its rocket ascent again. It couldn’t quite keep track of how many explosions there were, but it could keep track of the time between them and then the long silence that filled the water when the last barrel had detonated.

Up it went.

With the drive shaft ripped apart, the destroyer leaked fluid like a wounded fish leaked blood, and just like blood, the smell of the shaft fluid drove the beast on. It pushed the monster to an even faster speed than its first attack so that when teeth met metal once more, a huge portion of the bottom of the destroyer was in tur
n
destroye
d
.

Through the hull, the abomination tore. Its head thrashed back and forth as it pushed itself up into the guts of the ship. Terrified men, men that thought they would be safe below decks, screamed and tried to flee, but they were no match for the teeth of the beast or the pull of the grand ocean.

Arms, legs, heads, all floated through the blood filled seawater, having been separated from their previous owners. The shark slammed from side to side to widen the hole it had made, wanting to get farther up into the belly of the ship and to the poor souls that still clung to the thought that if they only made it to the upper deck they would be safe.  They would be able to hail the other destroyer and find rescue.

Even if they did escape the quickly sinking ship, there would be no rescue waiting for them as the shark withdrew from its mortally wounded prey and turned its attention to the slightly larger shape that was steaming quickly away.

As powerful as the second destroyer’s engines were, they needed time to get up to speed. The shark did not. With only a couple thrusts of its tail, the shark was rocketing towards the destroyer at three times the ship’s current speed. The beast didn’t bother with the rush up from the deep tactic and instead rammed the destroyer close to the bow, knocking it off course, and tearing a hunk of steel plating right from the hull.

Again, the sound of annoying claxons rang out over the water and filtered down to the shark’s ears. The monster knew that was the sound of panic, and it brought its bulk around for another run. More steel fell away as it slammed into the hull again and again until the first third of the bottom of the ship looked more like a crumpled wad of paper than the front of an ocean war machine.

With the hydrodynamics of the ship compromised, the ship started to list starboard while the bow began to dip down. The shark saw how its prey was wounded and calculated the many angles of attack it could take.

It could keep hammering at the same spot or it could try to weaken a different area. It could come up at it and pierce the hull as it did the first destroyer, or it could simply bite off the propeller and bring the ship to a dead stop. Even with the engines still going, the monster knew it could crush the propeller before the blades did any real damage to its mouth; it had no doubt.

The shark knew that the more time it spent on the destroyer, the more time it allowed the five other targets to escape. Its desire was torn between wounding the destroyer pitifully until the last blow was nothing short of mercy, or taking the ship down quickly so it could move on to the next target, and the next and the next and the next and the next.

It shoved all thoughts from its mind then shoved all metal from its way as it shredded the middle of the hull. There was a shriek of gears and a small explosion as the engine room was pierced. The fire and flames surprised the shark enough that it withdrew quickly for a final attack, but as it swam out and then back, it saw the destroyer begin to split in half and knew the prey was dead.

While the second and last destroyer separated and sank to the ocean floor, the shark sized up the five remaining ships. Two were close together and presented easy targets, but three were trying to flee in different directions, and that infuriated the shark, sending it into a rage it had no idea it was capable of. To have three targets think they could escape was an insult to the shark’s sense of supremacy in the ocean.

It knew, on some level that nothing else on the planet could match its ferocity, its size, and its death dealing drive to kill.

The three fleeing ships needed to be taught what it meant to be in the presence of greatness.

***

The first ship was a cutter not quite twice the length of the shark. It sped its way east, the crew giving the engines everything they had despite the risk they’d snap a shaft and end up dead in the water. The alternative was to be cautious and most certainly end up dead in the water.

The captain of the ship announced over the PA how proud he was to serve with the fine men and women that made up his crew. Many he knew from their days as children, years before they were recruited into the same pirate gang.

Being from the same clan made them one family, even if they did not share blood with each other. The captain knew his First Mate’s brothers and sisters as if they were his own brothers and sisters. He knew his Chief Engineer’s mother as if she was his mother, the man’s uncle as if he was his uncle. The captain had spent many afternoons watching his children play with the children of the crew, just as he had played when he was younger.

As he stood on the bridge and stared at the horizon that never grew closer, he realized that his twenty-eight years on Earth had not been enough. He had spent half of those years on the sea with his mates, hunting and taking what they wanted from whomever they wanted. He’d spent so much time capturing shipping vessels that he couldn’t remember when he’d last been with brothers and sisters, mothers and uncles, his children and the children of his crew.

The sea had been his home, his work, his salvation, his prison.

As the first impact hit the cutter dead on, the captain knew the sea would be his grave.

***

Like a tuna’s belly, the cutter was ripped open.

The shark had barely hit the side of the ship, but the cutter wasn’t double hulled and designed for battle like the destroyers, so all it took was a glancing blow to cripple it. From the belly of the crippled ship came candy. Small, person shaped nuggets of flavor and fear.

The shark opened its mouth and swallowed eight men whole, their screams never heard as their mouths gaped and their lungs filled with water. Into the gargantuan maw they went, hands scrambling to paddle them out of the giant toothed nightmare they found themselves in.

Then chomp, they were gone, and crushed by a jaw that barely felt their soft, malleable bodies. What was flesh to a monster built to shred steel? It was almost like air, as it had less substance than the water that flowed through its gills and breathed oxygen into its bloodstream, but flesh was delicious.

The shark wanted more. It wanted to eat all of the flailing nuggets of candy that floated this way and that, caught in the pull of the ship that had started to sink quickly. The flesh morsels, the not even close to bite sized treats, filled the water, but the shark ignored them, knowing they weren’t going anywhere without its permission.

Its senses could hear and feel the screams and movements of the people still trapped inside the ship. It wanted to taste their panic and fear, to devour it all in huge, gulping bites.

The shark came about and rammed the cutter once more, taking most of the bow off. The seawater rushed in to fill the open hold and more men were flushed from the gash in the ship’s side. The beast ignored the men that were forced out into the open water, it wanted the ones that refused to come meet it, and it wanted the ones that hid and fled from its might.

Men scrambled to climb above the water level that was quickly filling the ship. They grabbed at ladders and the extended hands of their shipmates, but it made no difference as the shark wedged its way inside the torn open bow. The monster was relentless, its hunger insatiable. Men were cut in half; their bodies almost pinched shut from the incredible force of the shark’s jaws. Torn into bits by sawing teeth or crushed completely by more than ten tons of pressure per square inch, the men that could not escape the beast were turned into bloody flesh confetti.

In minutes, the cutter was sunk. The shark withdrew and let the steel carcass slip into the dark waters below. It had grown bored with the dead and dying men. It wanted to hunt, to find, to feed on fresh terror.

It turned its attention to the next fleeing ship and rocketed through the water towards a new target for its bloodlust.

***

Men fought each other for space on the few, and feeble, lifeboats that the pirate cutter had. Two lifeboats that held eight men each, with a crew of twenty-four, did not make for good survival math. Words were exchanged, then blows, and then weapons were drawn.

Gunfire punctuated the humid South Pacific air as men that had been friends and allies just minutes before turned into bitter enemies. AK-47s, 9mm, .45s, and even .22s were emptied above deck, and below, sending blood across the sun warped boards and dripping off the sides of the ship, down into the water that held nothing but certain death.

The captain tried to get order restored as he shouted down at the fighting men from the hatch of the bridge, but a stray bullet hit his temple and he fell back, unconscious. The First Mate took the captain’s incapacitation as a chance to abandon ship himself and he wasted no time stepping over the bleeding and dazed man to get to the ladder that led down to the deck below.

The First Mate only made it a couple of rungs before his legs were shredded by automatic gunfire. The slugs ripped into his calves and thighs, tearing flesh and shattering bone. He screamed as he lost his grip on the ladder and fell fifteen feet towards a pile of corpses below. His spine snapped as he hit and all the breath was knocked out of him. His scream was choked off as everything from his chest down went numb.

The First Mate could hear the crew battling each other, but he couldn’t turn his head to see the chaos and bloodshed. All he could do was stare straight up at the blue sky above and pray that the shark would pass them by.

As the ship began to jolt and shudder, the First Mate knew his prayer had fallen on deaf ears. No deity above was looking down on his plight, ready to offer a holy hand of saving grace. There was no heavenly salvation coming for him or any of the crew.