“On it.” Blake wiped his hands on his pants, turning about, searching for something he could use as Alex went to the main console, the only one that still glowed softly. There was a single square light blinking at its center, and one word printed there — REBOOT.
He placed his fingertips over it, and exhaled slowly. Come on, baby, you can do it. He pressed down, and waited. Images of Joshua flashed through his mind, and his hand pressed even harder onto the glowing button. You damn well better do it, he urged.
There was nothing. Alex imagined the electric drives reaching out to ask the question of the high-energy reactor plants, and receiving empty silence in response. He waited and felt a chill creep up his spine. There was no Plan B. The blinking REBOOT sign had vanished, and the screen remained dark.
Alex could feel eyes on him. If the engines wouldn’t start, they would expect him to come up with something else. He knew there was nothing else. Please, baby, please. He placed his fingertips against the screen, praying now to everything and everyone he could think of.
There was a tingle at his fingertips — static. And then a tiny hum and a sensation of a draft as if the sub was drawing its first breath in years. The nuclear onboard computers and reactors would have been sent into hibernation mode, awaiting a call to arms. But, receiving the call, they fired up, and then bank after bank of light panels came on. Overhead, lights began to cast a soft glow down on them as the machine came to life.
“We got juice,” Casey yelled, as she was able to launch the periscope. It slid up silently and smoothly, and she leaned in to the eyecups. She began to pan. When she finished her rotation, she pulled her head back a fraction. “Yo; clear on all quadrants.”
The speaker pinged, and Rhino’s voice came over the comms. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard the USS Sea Shadow. For your pleasure and protection, we have four torpedoes, conventional fish, and all looking like they just came out of their wrappers.”
Alex smiled. “Good work, and that’ll do… it has to.”
Aimee was one of the first back, trailed by Cate, and then the rest of the team crowded into the small bridge room. They shared information; there were no rations, and the quarters were in disarray. It suggested that the men and women who had survived lived for some time onboard. Perhaps finally venturing out, to their deaths.
Aimee shuddered at the thought of these brave men and women who were destined to have their heads end up as mere playthings, stacked neatly at the water’s edge. She watched as Alex moved fast to the side of the room, and she stepped out of the way, knocking something from a panel top to the floor. It looked like a folder.
Alex turned to Blake. Jennifer was now fussing over his wounds, tying strips of her shirt over the deepest of them. “Here we go, people, pumping… now.” He engaged the pumps and a steady vibration could be felt through the vessel. He straightened, looking relieved. “Good, let’s give it a few minutes to do its job. At least then we won’t tear the Shadow’s belly out on the bottom.”
Aimee bent to pick up the folder, surrounded by a hard plastic cover. She opened and began to read.
“What have you got?” Cate looked over her shoulder.
“It’s a log… of the Sea Shadow.” She frowned as she skimmed the pages. “Log of Commander Clint O’Kane, USS Sea Shadow. Dated 13-Oct-2008.” She looked up. “That’s a day after it went missing, isn’t it?”
“Yes; read it; read that day,” Alex yelled as he and his team rushed from console to console. “Might give us an idea of what the hell happened.”
Aimee started to flip more pages through to the last few entries.
“Here we are,” she said, and started reading aloud.
Log Entry 112. Date 13-Oct-2008. 1300 hours.
Most of the crew rendered partially deaf from rapid depth-compression. Hull has held, and the reason why we are still alive. Somehow, we’ve run aground, and it is impossible to reconcile what we are seeing with the instrument readings — it says we are at a depth of over 6,000 feet, well below crush range. But we are on dry land, or partial dry land. Whatever attacked us seems to have vanished. Did it bring us here? Why? Periscope and view screens show semi dark atmosphere, like twilight. But chronologically it’s all wrong. Sending a crew out to investigate. We will attempt a refloat when they return.
End Log Entry 112.
Aimee’s hands gripped the log tighter. “It proves they made it, and were alive when they got here.” She licked dry lips and turned the page, reading aloud again.
Log Entry 113. Date 14-Oct-2008. 0200 hours.
Last night the thing returned, shaking the submarine, rolling it, and lifting it up. Like a child with a rattle. It’s gone now, but our sanity is being tested. Worse is, there is still no sign of crew. Party gone for over 12 hours. This exceeds orders for exploratory time frame. Sergeant Anderson was leading party — not a man to deviate from orders. Will not attempt a refloat until all crew accounted for. Communications are not working — no signals picked up. We are transmitting and hope to god someone can hear us. We know now, we are in some sort of cave… below the ground. There are other ships, all sizes, some from ages long past. What is happening here? Insane. Some sort of Bermuda Triangle, or perhaps we all died and are really all in hell. I must look for my crewmembers, and will personally lead a second team to find missing men.
End Log Entry 113.
She looked up, feeling a wave of nausea run through her. She could feel the man’s fear and confusion in every word. The other ships might have given the creature nothing but drowned bodies to pick over. But the Sea Shadow and its doomed crew was the first vessel the massive cephalopod had brought to its lair that contained something alive, and something to torment.
Aimee wanted to help. She wanted to save them, or at least yell out to O’Kane and his crew to stay inside the submarine. But it was all too late; years too late. She pushed the images of the piled skulls from her mind once again.
She swallowed a lump in her throat and felt the eyes of the group on her now. Even Alex had slowed in his workings to listen. She looked up at him.
“Go on,” he said softy.
She turned the page.
Log Entry 114. Date 14-Oct-2008. 0600 hours.
It was in the water, waiting for us. It took the men, snatched them up like they were nothing. It must be the thing that dragged us here, and has been stalking us ever since…
Aimee paused her reading. In her mind, she saw the huge Ben Jackson swatted like a fly, and the Chinese soldiers snatched up like they weighed nothing. It would have been a nightmare to tear at these poor submariners’ sanity. She continued, wishing for the log entries to just end now.
It’s been waiting for us to come out the whole time. Sidearms distributed, and we have sealed the hatch, but we know it is out there, we can feel it pressing against the hull. I think it could come in if it wants to. Down to three men — Morrison, Drake, and myself — just enough to run the submarine, but not even sure what we’d do then — go where? We are trapped.
End Log Entry 114.
“Oh god.” Aimee could feel the men’s fear — she had felt it herself. When she had escaped from the caves before, she had then spent time researching the giant creatures. Something that had caught her eye was an ancient Hawaiian tale. The tropical waters of the islands sometimes played host to the giant creatures. Though nothing like the monster down here, the threat to their fisherman was well understood. The Hawaiian ancestors had thought that these many-legged creatures were actually aliens who came to Earth long before humans existed.