“You heard the man,” Trevor said to Remus. “Take the helm and show those lollygaggers how to pilot this ship!”
“Yes, sir!” Remus beamed with pride at being given the station normally occupied by the captain. He stormed off to the bridge, shouting orders the entire way.
Atticus gripped the harpoon gun tightly; bringing it around toward the cloud of herring, now thrashing at the ocean’s surface, panicked and mindless, just as they had been…that day. The boat turned to port and thundered toward the herring. Atticus roared like a man possessed, feeling the thrill of the hunt, the moment of revenge at hand.
Trevor stood beside him, his eyes wide, his lips spread thin in a smile. He was clearly eager, brimming with excitement. And beside him stood O’Shea, taking everything in and doing little to hide his nervousness. While his eyes moved from the ocean to Atticus, his hands clasped together tightly in anticipation.
The herring lay dead ahead. In an explosion of movement, they launched from the water, trying to swim into the sky. This was it. The beast rose. Its prey fled.
You should have killed me too, Atticus thought as he readied a hand on the trigger.
The water beneath the herring bulged then exploded outward. Herring flew through the air while others fell into a massive open mouth. All three men gasped. The beast rose and fell in a fluid motion, like a whale coming up for a breath, but before the first hump had come and gone, the head was up again, taking in more fish. The head rose and fell again, and still the first hump had not submerged. A trail of humps formed behind the head as it moved forward through the water.
“My God,” Trevor said. “It’s a sea serpent. An honest-to-God sea serpent.”
Ten humps in all rolled through the water before the creature’s stubby tail appeared. It pushed forward, scooping up herring and swallowing them whole. Atticus knew that wasn’t how the creature moved underwater. It moved much more fluidly there, but still…
“Fire the damn harpoon!” Trevor shouted. “It’s descending.”
Atticus focused on the creature, whose head had gone down but not returned. One by one, the humps were following the head, disappearing into the depths. Atticus took aim at the largest hump using the harpoon gun’s sight board and held his breath before pulling the trigger. He doubted whether holding his breath would make a difference with the aim of this particular weapon, but it was a habit instilled in him after his training behind a sniper rifle.
The harpoon exploded from the cannon, soaring through the air and trailing a long line of cable. Atticus smiled as he looked over the harpoon gun. He could see that his aim was true.
“There she goes!” Trevor said as he leaned against the bow rail, watching the harpoon fly through the air.
Atticus felt his whole body go rigid with anticipation. As the harpoon closed in on the creature, the world slowed down. Everything became vivid and clear. The nightmare would soon end. With a resounding clang, the harpoon struck the creature’s back…and glanced off. It bounded forward, hit a second hump, and again, with a sound resembling metal on metal, bounced up into the air out over the open ocean-where it exploded.
Atticus grasped O’Shea and Trevor more out of instinct than a belief that they’d be peppered by shrapnel, and tackled them to the deck.
Smoke from the explosion quickly wafted over the deck as the Titan pushed forward. Trevor was laughing beneath Atticus. “Well played! Well played!”
Atticus rolled off Trevor, who sat up and clapped his hands. “Bravo!”
“You’re happy?” Atticus said with a growl as he stood, looked to the ocean, and saw nothing but blue seas ahead. “It got away.”
“And we will give chase again.” Trevor said with a grin. “This is better than I had hoped. The beast is more formidable than I thought. What an adventure! Though I must say, I’m not fond of being tackled.”
O’Shea helped Trevor stand. Before they left, Trevor added, “Fear not, brave Atticus. Your vengeance will be completed. I promise you that.”
Atticus felt little comfort as the men left. He was alone on the deck, alone in the world, and in that instant he realized how empty the world appeared. The ocean had lost its magic. His family was gone. He’d betrayed his ethics.
The crashing of water that was not caused by the Titan immediately told Atticus that a second ship cruised the water next to the yacht. He turned and looked over the port bow. Pounding the waves next to the Titan was a gleaming white, red-striped Coast Guard cutter. While the cutter was dwarfed by the Titan, Atticus still found himself impressed by the power of the ship and the audacity of its captain, bringing it so close to the megayacht.
An oddity at the cutter’s bow caught his attention. As the ships pounded up and down through the waves, Atticus saw a woman, whose black hair caught in the wind, obscuring her face. His heart lurched with familiarity.
Maria.
But when the wind shifted, and her hair blew away, he came eye to eye with a woman of equal beauty but whose scowl spoke volumes.
Andrea.
Her arms were crossed, her shoulders high and rigid. She’d obviously seen his attack on the creature and was not impressed. Maria wouldn’t have been either.
26
The Titan-Gulf of Maine
Atticus didn’t bother asking why the Coast Guard was tailing them. He didn’t much care. He’d come so close to killing the beast and providing some closure to his grief that little else mattered. As for Andrea, he’d come to the decision that she had, from the beginning, taken an interest for personal gain.
Forget our past, he thought. She can’t be the same person she was then. It’s more likely that she sees my high-profile tragedy as a way to make a quick buck. That’s what motivates most people. By becoming part of the action, maybe she’ll score a memoir or film deal.
But if that’s true, he thought, then why am I still thinking about her?
Sporting a scowl any football player intimidating a rival would be proud of, Atticus propped his feet up on the theater chair in front of him, crossed his arms, and waited for the film to roll. He already had his movie deal. It was the sickest, most vile footage ever captured, and it featured his daughter’s death.
“Don’t look so foul,” Trevor said as he leaned over the arm of a chaise lounge and looked at Atticus from across the aisle of his personal movie theater. The front wall held a fifteen-foot screen, while the sloping floor contained eight leather lounge chairs, split by an aisle running down the center. The room was dimly lit by sconces on the walls and a strip of tiny lights running up the sides of the central aisle, adding an authentic atmosphere to the place. “It was only our first attempt at conquering the mightiest beast on this planet. We’ll not cease until we’ve accomplished our noble goal.”
Trevor’s pep talk, while well-intentioned, did little to calm Atticus’s nerves-a man who would soon watch his daughter die-for the second time in four days. Before the following silence became uncomfortable, they were joined by Remus, who held a remote, a bottle of Coke, and a bucket of well-buttered popcorn. Atticus was instantly offended.
“You fucking prick,” Atticus said, jumping to his feet. He stood inches from Remus, crushing the popcorn between them. “Is this some kind of treat for you? Do you plan on being entertained?” The sudden rage-filled outburst shocked Remus into silence, but anger quickly followed. He tried to stare Atticus down, but once their eyes met, he knew in an instant that if they were to come to blows, it would only end with one of their deaths, and he was not prepared to find out whose death that would be. “Do you?” Atticus shouted again.
Remus grunted, which was as close to an apology he could muster, placing the popcorn and soda on the floor. He sat down without saying a word.
Atticus glanced at Trevor, whose eyes were wide. He looked at Atticus and raised his eyebrows, silently communicating that he was shocked that Remus had backed down. The door at the back of the room opened, and a seemingly emotionless O’Shea entered. He was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. In casual clothes, he looked more like a grad student than a priest. He slid past Atticus and took the seat next to him. No one questioned his presence or attire.