to wage war, but it was a start.
“How many crew members on board?” Atticus asked.
“Fifty,” O’Shea answered. “Forty-six, if you subtract the four you’ve killed forty-eight, if you include Remus and Trevor.”
Forty-eight to one…They were the most abysmal odds he’d ever faced in a firefight. As a SEAL he had the support of his squad, intel, satellite surveillance, and often air assaults if necessary. Here he had a con man and a Coast Guard rescue worker against forty-six armed killers, one maniac, and one rich eccentric, who might just be the most dangerous of them all. Still, for his daughter, he’d kill each and every one of them if he had to.
“You ready?” he asked.
Andrea and O’Shea nodded. Atticus kissed Andrea, and said, “Get the word out, then find a way off the Titan. I’ll catch up.” He could sense Andrea was about to argue, but there wasn’t time to stand around. He looked at O’Shea. “Take the road less traveled. Avoid confrontation.”
With that, Atticus bounded up the stairs, taking three at a time. When he reached the first landing, he paused, scanned with the UMP, then continued up-a soldier on a mission with more at stake than ever before.
46
KRONOS
The rapid undulations of the soft floor beneath her told Giona that the creature had accelerated, perhaps running from another attack. She cringed with each jolt, expecting the walls to close in on her, snuffing her out again. Since eating and learning to keep her head near the large, oxygen-providing artery, Giona’s thoughts had cleared. But with the clarity came desperation and depression over what seemed to be her fate-to die slowly inside a sea monster.
And she’d realized that was what the creature was-an honest-to-God sea monster. She had no real idea of its size. Her only view of it had been its open jaws before being sucked in, and an opposite view from the inside out just hours ago. All she could recall of those jaws, other than their grand scale, was the teeth, prodigious and needle tipped.
Sea monster or not, the creature wasn’t impervious. It had been injured in the previous attack. Giona still couldn’t fathom who could assault the creature in the open ocean or how they’d find it. But someone had tried to kill the creature, and whoever it was had yet to give up the chase. The monster’s nonstop movement told her that much. But sooner or later, the creature would slow, and the battle would commence again; she felt sure of it. No matter what happened, death seemed to be following her like a Hollywood stalker, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. If the beast died, she’d die with it. If the creature lived, she’d either be digested at some point, or she’d live for a while in this pocket, but she couldn’t live like this forever.
Better to be dead than go insane living inside this thing, she thought.
With a sigh, Giona leaned her head back on the large, pulsing artery. The slight give in the tissue, gentle pulse of the vessel and the extra oxygen relaxed her. She closed her eyes, did her best to block out the smell, and let the booming bass heartbeat calm her mind and body. Her imagination found a toehold and climbed into the forefront of her mind.
Setting her thoughts free to wander where they might was a technique she often used to find creative solutions to challenges she faced. Whether academic, artistic, or emotional, the clearing of her mind and subsequent freeing of her imagination often provided more ingenious answers to questions than her intellect could achieve. As her mind became more agile, images appeared in place of the darkness, so much so that she could see a three-dimensional world around her. First she was home, in her room. Then at the beach, building a sand castle with her parents. Then she was diving with her father.
With a quickening pulse, Giona focused on the attack. First the whales, then the herring, and then it, emerging from the gloom. She slowed the images in her mind and repeated them again and again, each time seeing it more clearly. The body was massive and moved up and down. That made sense now. It looked reptilian-like a marine reptile-but had fins and smooth, dark skin like a killer whale. She held her breath as she focused on the eyes. In contrast to the violent attack, sharp teeth, and otherworldly appearance, the eyes struck her as somehow different from those of any creature she’d ever seen. They looked like a snake’s, but there was something more… Intelligence. Then she saw the oddity. It wasn’t in the eyes themselves, but in the forehead above the eyes. Unlike any whale, shark, or reptile she’d ever seen, this monster had an expressive face. Nothing like a human or even a dog or seal for that matter, but she could see it. The expression in its eyes, the moment before it sucked her down, weren’t those of a hungry predator. They almost seemed gentle.
The images shattered and fled as Giona’s logic exploded in denial. It was ridiculous to think that this predator- this apex predator- saw her as anything but food. Yet here she was, still alive after five days, contemplating her fate. But what other purpose could there have been in eating her? Could she have simply been in the way as the creature pursued the herring? Or was there something more she had overlooked?
It struck her as a one-of-a-kind creature. Nothing like this had ever been seen before, or if it had been seen, had never been caught and authenticated. If it had, people would know about it; her father would know about it. She’d heard of oarfish growing to enormous lengths and being reported as sea serpents, but there was no way an oarfish could grow to this size without being noticed. Besides, oarfish were silver.
She knew that it couldn’t truly be one of a kind, though. It just wasn’t possible. It could be old, for sure, but not unique. There had to be a whole slew of these creatures so that they could reproduce without genetic defects; but then why hadn’t they been seen before? If even a handful of these giants roamed the oceans, people would see them all the time.
But how could something be unique? How could a creature simply just form in the ocean?
Maybe it’s the mutated spawn of some whale, she thought.
But that seemed just as ridiculous as the other possibility, which harassed her thoughts, vying to be given credence. She’d ignored it long enough, and while she completely disagreed with the notion, it was time to consider whether or not the creature had been created unique. But by whom? A scientist? Not likely. Who else could create a living creature? God?
Giona shook her head. Nothing else made sense.
The problem with this theory is that Giona didn’t believe in God. She didn’t have a problem with people who did, and she didn’t embrace atheism. Nor was she agnostic. She simply hadn’t given the subject much attention. Her mind had been on other things and, admittedly, slightly distracted since her mother’s death. She simply didn’t have time to consider God.
Well I do now, Giona thought.
Not really knowing where to begin in forming her thoughts, Giona spoke aloud, addressing God as though he would respond, though she knew he wouldn’t. “So, if you made this… thing, why? Why create something unique? Why create a creature that can’t reproduce?
“Let’s just assume for a second that you did create it-that all the weirdness about this thing serves some kind of purpose. What is it? It seems to me that the only thing a creature like this would be good for, aside from eating lots of fish like any other predator would be to eat…and keep alive…”
Giona’s voice trailed off as she realized the truth. This chamber she was in. It was perfectly situated to keep a human being alive. The oxygen supply from the artery. The food supplied by the fish. Even the constricting walls that had kept her from being thrashed to death. But why keep her alive inside the beast? What possible reason could there be?
Continuing her dialogue with God, Giona raised her arms in frustration. “At least give me some kind of hint!”
Giona.
She froze.
Was that a voice?
She craned her neck, straining to listen. Perhaps her father had been eaten too and caged in another chamber like this one, shouting her name? She knew it wasn’t true. Her name sounded no more loudly than a
