Kronos

28

Under The Titan-Gulf of Maine

Pain wracked Andrea’s body as her insides tore.

She’d moved so frantically to avoid the freight train of a shark that she’d pulled several muscles in her legs, arms, and chest. But the most painful of pulls came when the great white locked its jaws upon her fin, nearly taking her toes off, and yanking it from her foot. With the giant’s jerk, the muscles of her right leg stretched like the strings of an over-tightened harp.

If not for the shark’s total dedication to devouring the rubber fin, breaking away would not have been possible. Even then, her chances of escape remained slim as she feebly kicked her way toward the back of the Titan, relying on one bare foot and one finned foot to propel her forward and outrun the ocean’s top predator.

As she kicked, a burn filled her chest. She’d been holding her breath. Worse than that, she had yet to replace the regulator that she’d spat out when she screamed. Reaching back for the regulator caused multiple fresh muscle pulls to protest painfully, but she pushed past the pain and found the regulator hose dangling from her air tank. As the regulator met her lips and she took a deep breath, her strength returned. But she was nowhere near the stern of the Titan. If the shark gave chase, she’d never make it, injuries or not.

She dived under the Titan in an attempt to remove herself from the shark’s field of view. In the end it wouldn’t help much, but she refused to make an easy meal of herself. Sharks had evolved to sense their prey using more than eyesight. They could smell a drop of blood a quarter mile away. More than that, the shark’s ampullae of Lorenzini, jelly-filled canals in its head and snout, could detect the electrical fields emitted by all living things, especially panicking, thrashing prey trying to escape.

Andrea doubted the shark had ever lost track of her, but she had no other recourse.

Upon reaching the bottommost portion of the hull, Andrea discovered something that lent her hope. A second portal, extremely large, glowed at the center of the lower hull. If it turned out to be another viewing port she’d be eaten for all to see, but if it was an open bay.

She kicked hard and yanked at the water with her hands. As the bright light from the portal illuminated the water, she could clearly make out small waves rippling in the open space.

Even as a massive, dark silhouette circled the light, once, then twice, she kept moving forward. The shark was taking its time, unaware of the escape route.

As Andrea angled up toward the open hatch, she sensed the water behind her shifting, driving forward. The shark charged from behind. Andrea clawed toward the hatch, only five feet ahead.

Overcome by fear and instinct, Andrea pulled herself upright and turned around, arms outstretched, facing her attacker. A moment later and she would have lost her legs in the shark’s jaws. And though her action saved her legs by pulling them away from the shark’s jaws, she faced the open maw of a twenty-eight-foot superpredator head-on. She kicked up, grasped the shark’s head, and took the impact in the gut. The force drew all of her breath from her and knocked the regulator from her mouth.

With her body wrapped around the snout of the shark, her limbs were safe from being snapped up by the shark’s mouth, but she could feel the lower jaw opening and closing, snapping at her legs and scraping against her wet suit. She was about to become a frog in a blender.

Andrea screamed, expelling the last bit of air in her lungs, filling the water with a bubbly howl before jabbing a thumb into the shark’s eye.

With a sudden jolt, her backward motion stopped, and the shark vanished into the gloom. She saw it circling again, moving fast, agitated. It would be back…and soon. Andrea looked up and found herself directly beneath the open hatch. But unless she could fly, it did her no good. She surfaced, took a desperate drag of air, quickly shed her air tank, weight belt, and regulator, and pounded toward the edge of the thirty-foot pool.

She swore she could feel the shark behind her again, but had no energy to turn around and face the monster. She knew it would only end in her demise, and this time she had no desire to look death in the face.

Andrea winced as her hand struck metal. She reached the edge. She threw an arm up over the edge and found the floor surface wet and slippery. She dug in, feeling her nails scratch against the cold floor. She began pulling herself out, grunting with exertion. But her tortured muscles, burning lungs, and bruised ribs fought against her, pushing her back into the drink. As she gripped the edge of the hatch again she glanced back and saw the shark shrinking the distance between them, its jaws open wide and its white, nictitating membrane covering its black eyes, protecting them from the struggles of its prey.

Her spirit broken, Andrea let go of the floor, prepared to meet her maker, whoever that might be. But before her hand slid beneath the water and her body into the jaws of the shark, a crushing pressure took hold of her wrist and yanked her up out of the water. She became airborne and collapsed onto the bay’s metal floor.

Exhaustion quickly set in along with a kind of numbness that came softly over her. Her field of vision dwindled to that of a peephole, and her body fell limp. She looked toward the pool, where her rescuer stood. A tall, beefy man, whose attire suggested a jovial or comical personality.

As her vision faded to black, she heard the man’s dull footsteps clang against the metal floor, growing closer. As he spoke, his hot breath, which smelled of popcorn, seemed oddly close to her face. “Well, well. Look at what the fish dragged in.”

If Andrea had been conscious enough to see the man’s lust-filled eyes, the bent smile, and rough beefy hands advancing toward her hips, she would have known how wrong her assumptions about the man had been. If she’d known he had a history of violence against women, she would have been thankful for being unconscious.

Remus slung Andrea over his shoulder and exited Ray’s Bay, whistling a happy Hawaiian tune. He knew he couldn’t do anything to the woman until Trevor questioned her, but then he’d have his way with her. The fact that she’d survived an encounter with Laurel meant she was a fighter; and he liked a woman who fought back. They reminded him of his wife.

May she rest in peace.