Clickers III Read Online Free Page A

at the distressed marine life, unable to turn away. Then she did the only thing she could think of—she began screaming at the top of her lungs for help. If her co-workers shouted in response, Jennifer couldn’t hear them. The cacophony from the beach was too loud. But soon enough, she saw figures rushing towards her from the direction of the research station. She shouted again, frantically waving for their attention.
    The first two people to arrive on the scene were Paul Phillips, an expert on polytheistic gods of the South Pacific, and his research assistant Lawrence Stine. Both hailed from Oxford University. Phillips was pompous, belligerent, and quite often said things to deliberately provoke in an attempt to garner more attention for himself. His assistant blindly echoed whatever nonsense the doctor proffered, seemingly having no genuine thoughts or theories of his own. Jennifer loathed both men, but at that moment, she was happy to see them.
    “Help,” she shouted a third time, pointing at the beach.
    Phillips and Stine stared at her almost contemptuously. Then their gaze turned to the shore. They paused. Their eyes widened. Their jaws went slack.
    “Dear God,” Phillips gasped. “What in the world…?”
    “They’re beaching themselves,” Jennifer said, annoyed that she had to state the obvious.
    “I can see that. But why?”
    “Could be a tsunami,” Stine suggested, staring at the mass of flopping, struggling bodies on the sand.
    Jennifer shook her head. “No. Look at the ocean. The tide isn’t rushing back out the way it would before a tsunami. And there have been no indications of earthquakes on the monitors. If there had been, we’d have heard. This is something else.”
    More staff and researchers arrived, attracted by her cries. Each of them expressed dismay as they spotted the beaching. Then, almost moving as one, they hurried across the sand, and moved among the creatures. Some of the researchers cursed. Many were overcome with stunned silence. A few wept, especially when encountering the dolphins, that chattered at them in an almost pleading tone.
    “Jen!”
    She turned at the voice, and saw Dr. Edward Steinhardt trudging toward her. He wore wading shoes on his feet, and his wet pant legs were rolled up to his knees. His long, graying hair was pulled back in a ponytail. His face was slate grey, and his expression was one of shocked disbelief. Jennifer ran to him.
    “Are you okay?” Edward asked. “Susan, Wade and I were sitting on the veranda, playing cards and drinking margaritas, when we heard you cry out.”
    She nodded. “I’m fine. I just…what can we do?”
    “I don’t know. This is entirely out of my realm of experience.”
    The surf rushed in, lapping at their feet and ankles. As it slowly receded out again, it deposited a layer of white foam and a school of tiny, flopping fish. Wincing, Jennifer stepped backward, trying to
    avoid the unfortunate creatures.
    “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “I’m fine,” Jennifer repeated. “Why are they doing this, Ed?”
    “I don’t know. As I said, it’s not my area of expertise. I’ve never heard of a beaching on this large of a scale. I suppose an earthquake could be the culprit. Or perhaps a predator?”
    Jennifer’s stomach fluttered. Before she could respond, Susan Ehart and Wade Collins walked over to them. Both seemed excited.
    “There’s a shark over there!” Wade pointed. “It’s just lying there in the surf, snapping at anyone who gets too close. What the hell is this? What’s going on?”
    “We don’t know,” Ed told him. “Right now, all we can do is—”
    A scream cut him off. All four of them turned towards the ocean. Dr. Phillips and Stine were waist-deep in the surf. Both men were frantically pointing farther out to sea. The group on the beach followed their directions. Jennifer’s stomach fluttered again.
    CLICK-CLICK…CLICK-CLICK…
    “No.” Jennifer clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails