Jeremy Robinson - Kronos

After finishing his shower, he dressed in casual clothes rather than the military garb he’d brought. He was still serious about his intentions-to kill the beast-but he felt silly for bringing along equipment that would serve no purpose on a sea hunt. Dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt with navy across the front, he exited his room into a long hallway.

The dim light of the hall revealed three doors on either side. He looked into all of them and each led to another VIP suite. Atticus headed down the hallway, not exactly sure where he was going, but he felt no apprehension about moving about the ship on his own. He passed a door and heard a loud beat from behind it…repetitious…catchy…familiar.

He pressed his ear against the door and was instantly transported back to his teenage years. He was eighteen and at a Rolling Stones concert with Andrea. One of their songs captured his imagination, and it had become his theme song while in the SEALs-the song he imagined that his enemies heard before he paid them a visit. It seemed strangely appropriate to hear the song again; after so long, he still remembered every word to “Sympathy for the Devil.” In his mind, the song was about him, and he was the Devil. But he didn’t want sympathy…only vengeance.

Atticus knocked on the door. For some reason he felt compelled to know who was listening to the music. The beat shut off in an instant and the door opened a crack. Atticus was surprised to see the priest, O’Shea, peeking out. Atticus couldn’t help but smile.

“I never thought I’d meet a priest who was a fan of the Stones,” Atticus said.

O’Shea smiled. “We all have our vices.” He opened the door, motioning for Atticus to enter. “You are actually just the man I wanted to see.”

O’Shea led Atticus into the suite, which looked to be a cross between what a priest’s chambers would look like: a crucifix (though it was large enough to have come from a church…and probably had), a small desk sporting a Bible and pages of notes, and a minimum of decor. On the other hand, the three laptop computer stations situated on a U-shaped desk in the center of the living room spoke of a man possibly more in touch with modern technology than with God.

O’Shea saw Atticus’s eyes lingering on the laptops. “Knowledge is power, my friend, and saving the few souls on this ship that care to listen will take a lot of knowledge. I can’t count on one hand the number of people here willing to hear the good word.”

Atticus smiled. “Well, don’t add me to the handful either.”

“No? I took you for a God-fearing man.”

Atticus suddenly grew uncomfortable with the topic. Discussing God with a priest could only lead to argument, and if Atticus were to consider God at that moment, after what he’d been through (and where he was going), he knew that belief would cause him to curse God rather than praise him. That road was better left not traveled.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?”

O’Shea picked up on the hint easily enough and let the subject drop. “Ah, yes. I’ve been doing some research on your little beastie.”

“First of all, it wasn’t little. Second, how can you do research on something no one has ever seen before?”

“That’s where you’re wrong. There have, in fact, been more than two hundred sightings of the creature since the United States was first colonized in the 1600s.” O’Shea sat in a black-leather, swiveling, computer chair and rolled a second one toward Atticus. He used the touch pads on all three laptops to, bring their screens to life. On each was displayed several Firefox Internet browser windows containing various articles.

Atticus caught one of the headlines, obviously from an old newspaper.

A Monstrous Sea Serpent

The largest seen in America

Has just made its appearance in Gloucester Harbor,

Cape Ann, on August 14, 1817, and has been seen by hundreds of Respectable Citizens.

The next one that caught his eye was much the same.

The Real Sea Serpent

That came ashore at Old Orchard, Maine, in June 1905

~ The Most Marvelous Mammal in Creation.

In fact, all of the articles were very similar, each telling of a massive creature spotted in the waters of the Gulf of Maine. Atticus went numb as his mind soaked up the possibilities. The creature had been around for untold generations. It had been seen by hundreds of witnesses, yet had never been confirmed to exist by science-let alone discussed by anyone in his profession. He’d spent his life at sea, primarily in the Gulf of Maine, and he had never even heard of it.

He spotted a book on the desk next to one of the laptops. Its cover featured a picture of a sea serpent, obviously an old print. It was eerily familiar in some ways, but so wrong in others. He picked it up and read the title: The Great New England Sea Serpent, by J.P. O’Neill.

Atticus must not have heard O’Shea talking because he was repeating his name over and over. “Atticus. Hello. Atticus?” “Yeah, sorry,” Atticus said. “This is just a little unexpected.”

“You’re telling me.” O’Shea took the book from him and flipped through the pages. “Look at this,” he said, holding the open book up for Atticus to see. “This thing, which can only be your creature, has been spotted hundreds of times all over the Gulf of Maine.” The pages O’Shea flipped through contained dates, places, and names for all of the sightings. “And these are just the reported sightings!”

Atticus recognized most of the hundred-odd cities named: Gloucester, Lynn, Penobscot Bay, Nahant, Salem, Portland, Kennebunk, Boston Harbor, Rockport, and Portsmouth. All were cities strung along the coasts of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine that gilded the entire Gulf of Maine. Next, the numbers and professions of the witnesses struck him. In some instances the creature had been seen by more than two hundred people at a time. Other sightings had been reported by fishermen, lobstermen, ship captains-even the Coast Guard. All were people accustomed to life at sea. If the creature struck them as unusual, as it had Atticus, who better to judge between shark, whale, or something else entirely?

“Why don’t more people know about this? Why didn’t I?” Atticus asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

O’Shea shrugged. “The Loch Ness Monster became a tourist attraction. It was good for the community. But this just didn’t catch on. Perhaps the no-nonsense New England atmosphere was simply too much for the creature to pierce? The world knows how strong-willed and stuck in your ways you New Englanders can be.”

Atticus smiled. He knew O’Shea was trying to lighten the mood. He flipped through the pages of the book one more time, stopping at drawings of the serpent and descriptions given by witnesses. As before, he noted that several details were accurate, while others fell short. It was at least 150 feet long and showed a black coloration on top and white beneath. Its double-decker-bus-sized head looked like a horse’s. It undulated up and down as it swam, like a mythical marine serpent, but it had large fins like a whale’s, two in front and two in back. And its eyes were lemon yellow and split by dark serpentine pupils. Atticus jolted from the memory. He suddenly recalled more details, and it jarred him to the core. For a moment he felt terrified of the water, thinking twice about facing that thing again.

Then the door burst open.

“Don’t you ever knock?” O’Shea blurted out at the brightly Hawaiian-clad Remus.

“Trevor wanted me to get you,” Remus said to Atticus, totally ignoring O’Shea. “We’re tracking the creature and will be on top of it within the hour.”

As Remus delivered his last bit of shocking news, Atticus felt the Titan lurch into motion, making his feet unsteady and his stomach constrict uncomfortably. But rather than give in to his fear and misstep, he righted himself, followed Remus, and set his mind to the task; it was time to face his fears.