Kronos Page 17

  Trevor groaned as the bathroom’s view clouded with steam, blocking his view of Andrea’s stellar body. He looked at Remus, whose smile had turned to a grimace. “You know, we’re really going to have to turn the water temperature down at some point. This is bloody ridiculous.”

  Pursing his lips, Trevor sat up and leaned forward, never taking his eyes off the screen displaying an image of the steamy bathroom. “I think, perhaps, we misjudged Atticus’s attachment to the woman.”

  “I bet he’s gay,” Remus said with a snort.

  “Mmm. At any rate, it’s quite possible his rescue of her was merely an act of conscience. I swear to you, morality boggles my mind.”

  Remus turned to him. “But you believe in God.”

  “Indeed, I do. I just happen to disagree with Him. Besides, I’ve got O’Shea to wipe my slate clean. You know, you should really think about going to confession.”

  Remus laughed. “No thanks. I’m looking forward to hell.”

  “A prince among devils, is that it?” Trevor stood and stretched. “Ahh, well. Off to bed with you then. Tomorrow’s going to be quite the day. No use in spending the night trying to see through steam.” With that, he flicked a switch on the desk, and the wall of monitors went black.

  Remus stood, scowling at the now-blank monitor where Andrea had only moments ago stood naked before their eyes.

  “Having seen the fruit, you long to eat it that much more, eh?” Trevor asked with a smile, reading Remus’s one-track mind with ease.

  Remus just nodded.

  Trevor rubbed his back like a consoling father. “All in good time, dear Remus. All in good time.”

  Andrea had just finished rinsing an exotic shampoo from her hair when a cool draft snapped her out of the South American jungle and back onto Trevor Manfred’s ship. She spun around and found a figure, concealed by steam, standing at the shower’s entrance.

  “Who’s there?”

  Andrea sighed with relief. It was Atticus.

  It was Atticus!

  A quiver filled her voice as she replied, unsure of whether or not she should cover her nakedness. “I…I don’t—”

  “Did the Coast Guard send you? Are you here about the creature? To stop me?”

  “No, Atti. I’m here for you.”

  “Why did you bring the photo?”

  “I promised your wife…Maria…in the photo. It’s stupid, but I promised her I’d take care of you.”

  “You broke into my house?”

  “You left it unlocked. Your brother—”

  “You saw Conner? What…what did he say?”

  “He knew you would go after it.” Andrea’s heart beat like a double bass in a heavy-metal anthem. She was shocked as the next words escaped her mouth. “He said it’s a rare woman who will drop everything and search the high seas for an old friend.”

  Andrea felt a wave of heat rush through her body as a shadow moved toward her through the steam. She sighed with relief and a little bit of disappointment when she saw only Atticus’s hand, holding a towel. She took it, and stepped out of the water, wrapping herself up.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “No.” Andrea could feel her emotions rising as Atticus grew closer. “He said, ‘welcome back to the family.’”

  With that, Atticus was through the steam, standing in a pair of boxers and a T-shirt. She felt oddly comfortable in his presence.

  “It’s been so long,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “How is it possible, then?”

  “It’s not just me?”

  Atticus slipped his hands around her waist and let them linger on the small of her back. She pulled him closer, and they stumbled back into the water, soaking both towel and clothes. Their bodies meshed together as rivulets of water cascaded down the valley where their bodies met. He pressed his lips against hers, letting them linger, his top lip on her lower. He pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

  “I have to finish what I started here.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you won’t try to stop me?”

  “No. I’ll help.”

  Andrea fell into Atticus’s embrace, lost in her emotions, swept up in the moment, and for the first time in a long time, felt loved and alive. This was worth the risk, she thought. In that moment, she realized how empty her life had become since losing her Abigail. But somehow through chance of fate—or the will of God—they’d found each other; or rather, she’d found him—dead—and brought him back. Now he was returning the favor, bringing her back to life.

  33

  The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  A loud, angry thumping pulled Atticus from his sleep. He sat up quickly and found the bed empty. Andrea was gone. The banging continued, and flashes of Remus pummeling Andrea sprang into his mind. He leapt from the bed and vaulted into the living room where he found Andrea reaching for the door.

  “Hold your horses,” Andrea said as she opened the suite door.

  Atticus slid to a stop behind Andrea as the door opened to reveal O’Shea, dressed in his black priest’s clothing. His eyes opened wide as he took in Andrea’s form, standing in one of Atticus’s Navy T-shirts. It fit her loosely, but it was clear she wore nothing but panties underneath.

  “Holy…” O’Shea whispered before Andrea’s voice diced his unpriestly fantasies to ribbons.

  “And what kind of priest are you supposed to be?” Andrea grumbled, before moving to close the door on O’Shea.

  “Hold on,” Atticus said as he approached, wearing only his boxers. “He’s not exactly a normal priest, and you’re not exactly dressed like a nun. Besides, he saved your life.”

  Andrea shot Atticus a confused look.

  “He tipped me off that you had been captured,” Atticus said.

  Andrea offered O’Shea a half smile. “Then I owe you my thanks.”

  “Think nothing of it,” O’Shea said, “Just do me a favor and put on some clothes. I may be a priest, but I’ve yet to be castrated.”

  Andrea smiled and left for the bedroom.

  As soon as she was gone, O’Shea punched Atticus lightly on the shoulder. “You devil. A regular action hero, saving the day and getting the girl.”

  “Nothing happened,” Atticus said.

  “Sure,” O’Shea said with a lopsided grin that told Atticus he’d never believe anything other than the two had been up all night having sinful sex.

  Only then did Atticus notice that O’Shea was slightly out of breath and sweating. “Did you come by for a reason?”

  “Oh! Right.” O’Shea said. “It seems we’ve located Kronos again. Same pattern as yesterday, following the fish. Trevor thinks it’s a feeding pattern and that it will rise again today around the same time as yesterday.”

  Atticus squinted in thought. “It’s possible. Daily routine isn’t uncommon in many animals, but ocean predators are typically opportunistic feeders because it’s not always certain when the next meal will be found. Then again, I doubt this thing has any trouble finding something to eat, so a routine of feeding might make sense.”

  When Atticus finished speaking, O’Shea’s face turned curious—squinted eyes, pursed lips.

  “What?” Atticus said.

  “I was expecting a mad dash to the bridge, followed by a quick dive in Ray to face and kill the beast, not hypotheses from an oceanographer. Beauty, it seems, truly can kill the beast.”

  Andrea was suddenly at Atticus’s side, fully dressed in her shorts and blue T-shirt. Her feet were bare, as she’d worn no shoes, only her flippers. “If you’re going to do this, get dressed, and let’s get it over with.” She shoved Atticus’s clothes into his arms and moved past O’Shea into the hallway.

  O’Shea smiled. “Or not.”

  “Which way to the bridge?” Andrea asked.

  “I’m not sure Trevor—”

  Andrea blew past him.

  O’Shea looked at Atticus questioningly. Atticus shrugged. “She signed a waiver.”

&
nbsp; Andrea never slowed. Atticus fumbled with his pants as he quickly attempted to pull them up. “Better follow her,” he said to O’Shea. “Keep her out of trouble.”

  O’Shea moved to follow Andrea, then paused. “Where are you going?”

  The lightness that had been in Atticus’s voice disappeared. “I’m going to kill it.”

  “Heading straight for Ray?”

  Atticus nodded, as Andrea’s thumping footfalls on the stairs reverberated down the hallway. “Keep her out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  O’Shea nodded, then ran after Andrea. “Godspeed, Atticus” he shouted back before heading up the stairs.

  As Atticus, fully dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers, tore off down the hall in the opposite direction, he doubted even God could help him. He would become the devil himself, death and destruction incarnate. As he ran toward the stairwell that would take him into the depths of the Titan, each step quickened his pulse and charged his rage. He would soon be a perpetual-motion machine of pure hatred, and it would fuel his mad quest to kill a creature that shrugged off a titanium harpoon as though it had been a flicked toothpick. Had anyone been in the stairwell as Atticus descended, they would have mistaken for a wild creature, grunting savagely, on the hunt.

  It wasn’t far from the truth.

  O’Shea burst onto the bridge to find Trevor and Andrea laughing over a cup of coffee. Trevor noted the concern on O’Shea’s face. “Come to keep me in line, Father?”

  “I just…”

  “Fear not, good man, I am not immune to the charms of a woman whilst she is a guest aboard the Titan. Freed of her burden to the U.S. government, she’s rather a delight.” He clinked his mug with Andrea’s and took a sip.

  Andrea met O’Shea’s eyes briefly and rolled her own, silently letting him know the feeling of kinship was far from mutual. In fact, O’Shea knew from experience that Trevor’s own benign assertions were simply a ruse meant to befriend an adversary before he moved in for the kill…sometimes literally. He’d heard enough confessions to have no doubts about that.

  “Sir!” the captain shouted. “We’re tracking the creature, but now there’s something else, something smaller, but—”

  “Yes, yes,” Trevor said. “Our hero has taken the call as we knew he would.”

  Andrea straightened. “What?” She looked at O’Shea. “Where’s Atticus?”

  He pointed to the green screen the captain stood over. It displayed several small dots representing fish or other small sea creatures. A hazy large blob could be seen, followed by an immense mass. Moving toward the larger of the two readings was a small oval. Trevor stood next to Andrea and pointed at the fast-moving oval.

  “You see? Atticus has decided to meet his fate head-on.” He traced the direction the oval was heading straight out. It met with the larger blob. Trevor tapped it. “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.” Trevor smiled wide and gazed at Andrea through crazed blue eyes. “Beware Kronos. For the monster is now hunting you!”

  Andrea stood silently, her feelings of safety now far removed.

  “You’ll be happy to know,” Trevor said to Andrea, “that we planned ahead for Atticus’s lone assault.” He flicked a switch, activating a panel of five monitors at the back of the bridge. Four showed a view from each side of the submersible, providing a 360-degree view. The fifth showed the sub’s interior, where Atticus sat, wearing a scowl and a sinister gaze.

  “Can we speak to him?” Andrea asked, attempting not to sound overly eager.

  “Indeed, but we won’t, lest we cause the locomotive to falter in its course.” Trevor said. “Atticus will meet his destiny as he wished—on his own.”

  Remus entered the bridge through one of the outer doors, wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt and a grin. He glowered at Andrea for a moment, then took the captain’s position behind the helm.

  “As we all do,” Trevor finished, fixing Andrea with a suddenly serious gaze. “Remus, commence the chase.”

  O’Shea fought the urge to retch. He knew Trevor well enough to realize that Andrea wouldn’t survive the day if Atticus didn’t. If Atticus didn’t survive, he needed to find a way to get Andrea off the Titan. He had no idea how he’d accomplish such a task. And so, for the first time in his life, he prayed—not offering the sort of prayer he’d concocted over the years for Trevor’s benefit, but an honest-to-goodness prayer to the God of the universe, whoever that might be.

  34

  The Titan—Gulf of Maine

  As Ray rocketed forward twenty feet below the ocean’s surface, Atticus kept his eyes locked forward. Some might call his current state of mind a throwback to earlier times, when men hunted and killed prey with their bare hands, as that had required such a fixated concentration. But most would believe those days, when men had savagely killed for food, were long past. But Atticus knew otherwise. He’d seen the savagery of man, and at times, had become its embodiment.

  As now.

  The recent emotional wounds buried so desperately over the past few days were allowed to reopen and fester. The enmity built within him, surging and billowing out like a mushroom cloud, eradicating his sensibilities and absorbing his hesitation. The rage channeled his core to a laser focus, beaming through the ocean, boiling it away.

  As he closed the distance to his target, his adrenaline pumped with anticipation of a life-or-death struggle. He ground his teeth and focused his eyes on the distant blue. Then he saw it.

  A wave of shadow moving through the water below.

  He was already above it!

  Without thought to the possible consequences of his actions, Atticus spun Ray upside down and plunged, nose first into the depths like a diving fighter jet. His thumbs jittered over the torpedo-launch button. He knew a single torpedo might have little effect, but Ray carried ten, and the cumulative effect might be enough.

  The shadow emerged from the depths at two hundred feet down, just fifteen feet shy of the ocean shelf’s floor. Atticus caught his breath, and the sight of the thing nearly sapped his determination. The shadow he’d seen from a distance with Trevor and O’Shea appeared inconsequential compared to this. He was a crab attacking a great white, and just as the great white would ignore a crab, Kronos paid little attention to the approaching submersible.

  Atticus continued his dive, intent on each torpedo hitting its mark. He cruised in toward the massive horse-shaped head, and was momentarily struck by the peaceful movement of the beast. Its rhythmic up-and-down undulations propelled it through the water, guided by long pectoral fins and very small lateral fins. Atticus realized Trevor’s comparison to the Kronosaurus wasn’t too far off. If only the creature’s torso were about one hundred feet shorter. Its mouth lolled slightly agape, revealing devilish teeth. And its eyes…Atticus stared at its eyes, haunted by the memories that returned with its gaze.

  With a rage-filled scream, Atticus hit the yellow button, powering Ray toward Kronos at speeds that almost guaranteed a collision. Then, with quick flicks of his thumbs he launched all ten torpedoes, aiming straight for Kronos’s head. After launching the torpedoes, Atticus quickly realized that Ray was still accelerating and gaining on the torpedoes, just seconds away from detonation. He swung Ray low, beneath the torpedoes, and as Kronos’s body arced, he spun Ray between its body and the seafloor, zipping through the momentary arch just before it closed.

  A second later, the ocean convulsed as ten explosions pulsed through it, each one sending a shock wave rolling out from the point of impact. Caught from behind, Ray flipped end over end. Atticus cut the engines and side-slipped to the bottom like a coin tossed in a wishing well. Ray landed on the seafloor with a jolt that sent up a plume of sand.

  As the sand settled on top of Ray, Atticus heard a deep bellow reverberate through the waters. A death wallow? Had he succeeded?

  The wail turned into a roar, angry and energetic. Kronos had taken ten
torpedoes at close range and the only thing Atticus had achieved was to enrage the beast. He took some consolation in the fact that he was, like a real ray, concealed beneath the sand. But the fight was far from over. He thumbed the trigger for the electric-shock cables. They worked like stun guns, each locking onto the target by piercing or suction, then unleashing an electric current through insulated cables that kept the charge from being dissipated into the water. Unlike a stun gun, the charge unleashed was enough to kill a whale ten times over…or the entire crew of a U.S. Coast Guard cutter.

  As the remaining cloud of silt settled, and the view cleared, Atticus found himself in a dire situation. No longer undulating, the whole mass of Kronos’s body slowly glided in a circle around Ray, propelled only by its four fins. It had located him instantly, and was apparently making up its mind as how best to kill him. He watched as the head moved past, following just behind the tail, its body forming a massive ring. One great eye glanced at Atticus. He was sure it could see him inside Ray.

  Perhaps that’s why it had yet to attack? If the creature held any intelligence, like that of a whale or a dolphin, it might be curious as to how a creature could survive in the gut of another. As the body passed by again, its long front flippers pushed it forward and grazed the seafloor with every beat, casting sand into the waters around its sleek, black-topped, white-bellied body.

  For an instant, Atticus saw the creature for what it was—not a freak of nature or killing machine, but a miraculous creation, unique in every way.

  Then he thumbed the shock-cable trigger and waited for the head to pass again. A shot to the open eye should do the trick. The snout appeared from the right, then the eye again, still watching him. He waited as the head came into range, preparing to surge out of the sand and fire. He’d have a front row seat to watch the thing boil in its own skin.

  Atticus held his breath. He could feel his heart beat behind his eyes.

  With each beat he imagined faces of the living and the dead.