Apex Predator Thriller Series Collection (Including the blockbuster new shark park thriller, Salechii) Read online

  And imagine what he found entering the sub? A nice little pod of jellyfish.

  Okay, time to abandon the wait it out plan.

  The next time the male latched on, Callum used the force of the shaking to hurl himself out of the sub, past the jellyfish and into open water. Where of course the female was waiting for her snack. Which she would have gotten if a QX hadn’t swam in between them, kicking her snout, diverting her course.

  Callum didn’t struggle against the QX whisking him toward the shore.

  Anything to get away from the sharks and jellyfish, and oh yah, the mines.

  His lungs started to complain. He tapped the robot’s shoulder and pointed up. Using his odd but strong tail. The robot changed course and they crested the surface. Callum gulped air.

  “What are those?” Shalie asked in his ear.

  “What are what?” Callum asked, not really wanting to know at this point.

  * * *

  Shalie pointed to the radar and thermal imaging scans.

  “Not sure,” the captain answered. “Maybe just some flotsam?”

  “The tide is going in and those are coming out,” Shalie explained.

  “Callum, you’ve got some unidentified objects headed your way.”

  “What exactly do you mean by unidentified? How large? How fast?”

  With the loss of the sub, Shalie felt like she was flying blind. All she had were the monitors that really just showed her ghosts of images. She really couldn’t “see” anything which was downright maddening.

  “QX4 swim out to meet the unidentified objects,” Shalie ordered. It was slightly risky, but he was made out of titanium. Far better for the robot to make first contact.

  She made another executive decision, since they had given up on catching the bullies, it made little sense to have two extremely expensive robots on the deck waiting to work the cage.

  “QX9 and 13, get in the water, help with the evacuation of the team.”

  She got no verbal answer. Instead she watched the QXs run across the deck and dive into the water in perfect synchrony. They didn’t even make a splash.

  “Whatever they are,” the captain stated. “They are on the move. There are at least six more.”

  Shalie ran every sea creature she knew of through her head. Nothing registered. Their shadows were too big for a sea snake and too small for any kind of dangerous shark. They were four to five feet at most. And small sharks like that didn’t move together and certainly wouldn’t enter a dust up with a couple of bull sharks. Especially since no blood had been spilt yet.

  Yet.

  That was kind of the key word wasn’t it. It was only a matter of time before blood was spilt and then it was game over. She had yet to witness an actual feeding frenzy and she certainly didn’t want to see one now.

  Worried, Shalie locked her fingers together to stop them from wringing themselves raw as the objects got closer and closer to Callum.

  * * *

  “Watch out!” Shalie screamed in Callum’s ear.

  He shoved off the QX instinctively as an object lunged at him. What the hell? It moved fast and decisively, yet unlike anything he’d encountered in the ocean before. But whatever it was, was definitely a predator. Callum had felt its large teeth glance off his leg.

  Then what appeared to be a floating log suddenly lashed out and would have taken Callum’s other arm off if it hadn’t been for the QX who put his own forearm out and took the bite.

  “Croc!” Callum shouted. He had to remember that they were on land. Indonesia was rife with crocodiles. They lived on these islands hunting on the ocean side as well as the fresh water rivers that crisscrossed the land.

  The crocodile tried to pull the robot down under the water. That was the croc’s MO. Drown your victim. He tried to go into a death roll, but the QX wouldn’t participate. With its titanium feet, he dug in, keeping the croc above water.

  Callum scrambled up the bank only to realize the rest of the crocs were sunning themselves in the late afternoon sun.

  “Dad!” Dillon called out from across the lagoon.

  “Stay back!” Callum yelled. He was in it deep enough, he didn’t need his son endangered as well.

  The QX used his other hand to grab the croc by the neck and started squeezing. Even a croc had to breathe occasionally, but not very often. The croc seemed wholly unimpressed by the attempt.

  “Incoming!” Shalie yelled in Callum’s ear. Incoming what?

  Then he saw it. The ripple in the water. The dorsal fin breaking the surface. The male bullie lunged and grabbed the croc by the tail. Only then did it let go of the QX.

  Turning, the croc lashed out with his jaw filled with sharp two inch teeth. The large crocodile sunk his teeth into the shark’s fin.

  There was blood in the water now as more and more crocs slipped into the water.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Callum said. Neither the land nor water was going to be safe in a few moments.

  The QX snatched Callum’s good hand and pulled him to his titanium chest. It was a little like getting smothered at your mother’s bosom, but Callum didn’t complain as the robot ran at top speed, using his tail to correct course over the ragged coastline.

  “Take a deep breath,” the robot warned.

  Callum barely had time to comply as the QX dove into the water, using his jet propulsion to speed them away from the feeding frenzy behind them. The crocs and sharks didn’t give them any heed, however the jellyfish? The jellyfish were everywhere.

  The QX spun and rotated, trying to keep the jellyfish from attaching to Callum. In the process though, several dozen latched onto the robot. They were dragging an entire string of tentacles behind them.

  Kaboom. At first one land mine went off, which set off a chain reaction. Soon the entire lagoon was exploding, sending water, crocs and sharks high into the sky. The blast wave hit, throwing Callum’s small party forward as well.

  Which was great. All the closer to the boat.

  As they raced out of the lagoon, Dillon and QX59 caught up with them. Together they escaped the doomed inlet. The QXs rose to the surface to give Callum the chance to breath.

  Up ahead the Salechii rocked gently in the water.

  “Behind you!” Shalie yelled.

  * * *

  Dillon glanced over his shoulder to find two dorsal fins speeding toward them. This pair of bullies were laser focused. Even a feeding frenzy and exploding mines couldn’t distract them from their original target.

  He looked forward. Could they get to the boat and out of the water before the bullies caught them?

  “Two birds, one stone,” his father said cryptically.

  Dillon raised an eyebrow. What was his father talking about?

  “Shalie, open the bay.”

  A loud clunk answered him as the bay door started to lower.

  “No…” Dillon said as they sped forward. “You aren’t really thinking of…”

  “Yes, I am,” his father said with possibly the widest smile Dillon had ever seen.

  This was happening. He clung tighter to Quax as the robot really used his jet propulsion to keep ahead of the bullies which was a chore. Dillon could see the black of their eyes.

  Dang.

  As they hurled toward the boat, one of the sharks lunged and caught his dad’s QX by the foot. Dillon watched in horror as the robot and his father were dragged back.

  “No worries,” the QX said, detaching his foot and carrying on.

  You had to love the robots. Within moments the QX and his father were back to even with them.

  “Prep the doors!” his father yelled.

  With the sharks hot on their tails, the QXs raced into the bay, then up the ramp and somehow, twisting sideways, minimizing their profiles, dodged into the smaller door that led to the upper deck.

  The sharks hit the metal hard, but it held, keeping the sharks in the bay.

  “Drop the outer doors!” Callum yelled.

  Shalie must
have been at the control panel as the bay doors immediately swung closed, capturing the two bullies in their bay. The whirl of the endless pool motor started, giving the sharks fresh water to “breathe.”

  The sharks were none too happy about it though as they began to thrash, trying to get out of their new confines.

  Dillon shook loose Quax’s embrace and ran to the door panel, cranking up the AC/DC. At the same moment the veterinarian shot each shark with a tranq. Whether it was the music or the medicine, both sharks calmed down, slowly, lazily swimming side by side in the tank.

  His father clapped him on the shoulder. “See? Easy Peasy.”

  Yeah, right.

  Dillon’s insides thrilled though, thinking of what it was going to be like having all of these sharks in one place.

  He believed the word awesome was created for just such an event.

  “Salechii, here we come.”

  SALECHII: A SHARK PARK

  PROLOGUE

  Dave, or as he liked to be called, Skinny Jimmy, sat on his surf board, letting the ocean rock him to and fro. It was a gorgeous sunset. The skies were colors that no words could really do justice. What could you call an orange so deep and bright that it burned into your soul?

  Skinny was the happiest out here. Just him and the water. Just about everyone else had paddled in, giving up on the day. The waves were two to three footers at the most, calf kissers really, barely enough to bother with the effort of getting up onto your board. The ocean was more lapping at the shore than crashing into it today, but Skinny had faith.

  There was a Pacific storm coming in, it should hit the next morning. Normally in front of a storm like that, the advancing winds would kick up the surf. But not so much this afternoon. He hadn’t caught a decent curl for hours. And he’d ditched out of work early just to surf the magnificent sets that should have been here by now.

  He’d catch hell for it at work of course. Sandwich making, apparently was a very serious business or so his boss, Rusty thought. The guy was only eighteen months older than Skinny yet strutted around the store like he was Russell Crowe in Gladiator. Although Rusty didn’t think the centurion really cared all that much about how toasted the Rustic bread was.

  Skinny let the rocking motion of the ocean dissipate any negative feelings. He didn’t want to think anything harsh while he was out here. This was his life’s goal. To go pro. But how could he compete unless he got enough practice time? He had to get good at ducking into the curl, riding the wave into the break if he was going to start winning some competitions.

  But he was in Northern California. Not exactly the hot spot for surfing. Not like So Cal or Hawaii. But he had to earn enough money on the circuit to be able to move to those Meccas of surfing. Or the grandmother of them all, Australia.

  But first he had to do his time in Bodega Bay. A small coastal town at the apex of where California jutted out into the Pacific Ocean. It had the best surfing along the Northern Coast. Not that it was all that great, but it was what Skinny had.

  The setting sun beat down on him since he was facing away from the beach, and all of those distracting girls in swimsuits. No, he was facing the ocean, trying to watch the water for indications of a big wave coming. They should have been here by now. But as the light waned, even Skinny had to admit he probably should go in like the rest of his surfer rat buddies. If he didn’t, the Coast Guard certainly would chase him in. Skinny was already a little close to the jetty.

  The Coast Guard got all nervous if a surfer got too close to the rocks. And after dark? No way, no how they are going to let him stay out here. At any moment that little red and white boat was going to zip around the jetty from the harbor and yell on that big horn of theirs. And if you didn’t comply? They’d never let you in the water again. They knew each surfboard like a fingerprint.

  And Skinny’s wasn’t hard to miss. It was a bright canary yellow with orange flames licking up the side. Unbiased, Skinny knew his board was wicked. Wicked and very recognizable.

  Maybe he could stay for just a few more minutes. He would hate to waste the tongue lashing he was going to get from Rusty, his parents and his teacher since he’d also blown off his English paper to be out here. Of course, he’d had over three weeks to read IOld Man and the Sea, and hadn’t even cracked the spine yet.

  His teacher thought giving him some dusty old book with the word “sea” in it would get him to read? Not while there were Bruce Brown movies to watch. Skinny would watch each frame, trying to figure out how the surfing greats did what they did.

  You’d think how much his parents bitched about his ADHD they would be happy that he could focus and have a single-minded purpose like he did with surfing. Couldn’t they see that this was his destiny? That this was what he loved and wasn’t that what all the new age gurus said? Find your passion and the money will follow?

  Not according to his teacher and parents. They were all about the almighty buck. But were they happy? Hell, his mom started gargling with vodka in the morning and nobody really believed that his Dad was out in the garage working on his tools. More like binging on internet porn. Gross.

  And his teacher? He was pretty sure that she had caught the oxycotin train out of town. So who were they to judge him? He was clean. Not even pot. He couldn’t give his parents one more reason to ground him so that he heard a thousand times a day, “you can’t just waste your life floating on a stupid board.”

  They didn’t get it that something you had to float for hours to catch just one great wave. And sometimes that great wave didn’t come. You still had to float it out.

  Or so he hoped.

  Sighing, Skinny kicked his legs that dangled over his board, turning him toward the shore. He could barely make out the lifeguard station in the dim light. Maybe it was time to go in.

  But something out of the corner of his eye stopped him. Was that a swell way out on the horizon? Was the ocean finally coughing up a decent wave? He leaned over, paddling around to face the shore. This time though it wasn’t to go in, but to catch the wave that was brewing under the surface. Skinny looked to his left, then this right. There were only two guys still out. Both way on the other side of the breaker.

  This was his wave. No having to fight off the mob to catch it.

  Skinny looked over his shoulder. The wave was building. This was it. He looked back to shore to calculate the distance so he could ride the wave as far in as possible. It was super high tide. Another reason why he’d blown off work this afternoon. He could ride the wave practically to the shore.

  He squinted. What the hell was going on over at the beach? A couple of the guys that had wimped out and gone in early to chat up the girls on the sand, were jumping up and down, waving their hands in the air.

  Yah, yah, yah, guys, I got it. A big wave is coming.

  Sometimes it was easier to see the wake on the beach than it was from the water. Skinny glanced to his left. The other two remaining surfers were paddling toward shore. Probably getting ready to jump on that wave. Or not…

  They were paddling way too fast, running way ahead of the wave, which could only mean one thing.

  Shit.

  Skinny almost didn’t want to turn around and see what was behind him, but he had to. There was a dorsal fin breaking the water, aiming straight at him. He’d never seen an actual live shark before. He’d watched it on Shark Week of course, but in real life, never.

  His mouth went dry and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He had the urge to just scream, irrationally, tap dancing on his board, yelling his lungs out. And even that wouldn’t justify the panic he felt jangling along his nerves.

  This was another reason the Coast Guard discouraged twilight surfing, it was when the Greats came out to hunt. And given that Bodega Bay jutted miles out into the Pacific, right where the Grey Whales migrated and hence the Great White Sharks that hunted them, Bodega Bay had the highest shark attack rate in the country.

  A warning horn went off. One blow mea
nt that a fisherman had sighted a Great White out in deep water. Two horns, which were blaring at this moment, meant a shark had been sighted within the bay. The third horn that went off now meant one had been seen within the swim zone.

  A little late, guys. Thanks a lot.

  Skinny knew he couldn’t paddle into shore fast enough. The shark would catch him before he was half way in. No, his only chance was the wave. Maybe he could lose the shark in the curl.

  So with every ounce of muscle he had, Skinny paddled, jumping up only at the last second as the wave swelled underneath of him. It crested just at the right time. He was up on the curve, right where he should be.

  The Great White seemed unfazed though. It was still swimming straight for him, then the fin disappeared under the water. Maybe he’d given up, confused by the churning water of the wave.

  And this was the best wave Skinny’d ever ridden. The best that he’d ever ridden. He’d ducked under the curl, riding along the smooth water. Then he saw a fin pop out, not a dorsal fin but a pectoral fin. The damn shark was riding the tube along with him.

  Shit.

  Within moments, the shark closed the distance. The shark’s face broke out of the curl, half of his body in the water, half out. Skinny could see the shark’s rows and rows of sharp teeth. His black eye, glaring at Skinny as if to challenge him to try and get away.

  The shark lunged, taking a bite out of his board. If Skinny hadn’t moved his foot, he would have lost it. The board became unstable and there was no way Skinny could ride it any longer. Just as the Great White lunged again, Skinny pitched off the side, giving himself over to the churn. With a wave this large, the wind was knocked out of Skinny as it tossed him around like laundry in a washing machine.

  He had to stop himself from struggling. Struggling only made it worse. He had to focus on his breath, or more particularly holding it, for up to two minutes. But Skinny had been practicing. He’d wanted to go pro. He could do this. He could override his body’s natural instinct to try and suck in a breath.