From the Depths: BloodBorne, #2

By James Keith

Something lurks in the waters off the South Carolina coastline. The local newspapers are riddled with stories of washed up sharks and whales, but are quickly debunked as nothing more than boating accidents. 

 

Until the attack on the Tiernan Blue Shipping Company vessel... 

 

Dispatched for marine repairs, the crew thinks this will be a job like any other until their boat is struck by something below. Automatically, a distress signal is sent out. 

 

Upon hearing the distress signal, a team of Navy seals rush to the vessel's aid. Diving to the depths they come face to face with true terror. With time running out can they evacuate the ship before the creature strikes again?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Keith
• Release date: Aug 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393601302

Book preview

Prologue

Just off the sandy coast of South Carolina, not too far away from the shore, a horrific accident occurred. At least, it was suspected to be an accident. Under usual circumstances, the Atlantic Ocean was not a highly dangerous one. There had been instances of trouble and even fewer fatalities. The Tiernan Blue Shipping Company specialized in transporting engineering equipment all over the world. This equipment was then used for marine repairs. They were a global company. Any industry which relied on freight by sea, was largely dependent on Tiernan Blue’s services. At any one time, they would have hundreds of ships moving cargo from place to place. This required a vast network of rescue teams and control centres working tirelessly to ensure business ran smoothly at all times. If any problems arose, help would immediately be dispatched to assist and rectify.

The Honey Skimmer was an old rusty small a-class boat in Tiernan Blue’s titanic fleet. Its primary job was to bring tech up and down the east coast of the USA, as opposed to the long-haul routes completed by the larger ships in the fleet. It was mostly used for short notice deliveries, due to its relatively high speed and local availability. On this occasion, it was on a short voyage from Florida to Virginia, up the east coast. On board, were crates filled with various apparatus some of which contained new military weaponry and technology. It was crewed by a skeleton team. There was no requirement to over-staff such a straightforward journey. All that was needed were enough men and women to make sure the boat got through its voyage. As it turned out, the vessel was gravely under crewed for what lay ahead. An unpredicted storm was blowing across the ocean. Gale force winds battered the ship, the crew battling to keep it on a level. The chains keeping the crates fastened to the deck creaked as the boat lurched from side to side, they were strong so should hold... 

There was nothing new about a storm for the experienced seamen. Policies, procedures and endless training material had been produced for specific times like this. However, this was a particularly catastrophic storm. The waves were high and fast. Winds howling with fierce intent, gusting at gale force. The crew members felt as if the ocean was speaking to them, sending them a warning to get away. It sounded as if the wind was talking to them, telling them to turn away. Rumbling thunder appeared to not just come from the sky, but from the infinite depths of the water, beneath them as well. It was impossible to tell what was driving rain and what was the torrential splash coming from the waves crashing against the starboard. The crew were experienced, unfortunately there were simply not enough of them to deal with such a torrid situation. The watch scrambled all over the boat, attempting to batten down the hatches and to check the bilge. As they moved from spot to another, the boat would tilt, and they would slide back to where they came from. The captain tried to radio through to the local control centre. However, when he tried to speak, the deafening din from the storm drowned out his efforts. His Mayday went unheard. Out of options, he was forced to use archaic Morse Code. 

SOS. Save our souls. A simple request in the face of imminent peril. With the state of the weather, there was little hope of getting saved from the air. Any helicopter would not make it. A smaller boat would be entirely useless. They would have to wait for a larger vessel… if help came at all. 

Their best bet was to the boat in the best way they could and pray. The storm showed no signs of passing. Having done all that they could to secure the tech equipment and batten down the hatches, the crew ventured to the orlop deck to await their fate. Some held the storm rail and others hunkered inside, they listened to the sounds of the ship being lashed by the gusts. The waves were relentless. Thunder rumbled without pause. Below them, the water churned. An energy pulsed from within it, one the crewmen couldn’t explain. 

It was something sinister. 

Something… wrong. 

The charcoal sky was illuminated by bright flashes of lightning. Vomit filled any spare bucket below the deck. Even the most seasoned of sailors struggled to contend with the violent storm and current. It was as if the Honey Skimmer was being rammed by another vessel. 

The ship swayed dangerously from side to side as the seconds ticked passed. Finally, one wave sealed their fate. The men inside listened as the wave crashed dead astern, it was like no sound they had ever heard before. They could hear the slack of the ropes, the rigging snapping with almighty force. Fouled rigging. Despite the crews’ efforts, the ship was turtling. The men were overboard. Relying on their training, the crew were able to escape into open water. Life jackets securely fastened; they boarded a lifeboat. Aiding any who needed it, no man was left behind. Safely aboard, their only hope was to hold on for dear life. Miraculously, their distress signals were picked up by another crew and they were rescued with no fatalities. The reports written about the incident all stated the same thing. It was a storm unlike any other. The waves were a force none among them could explain. Further to that, the wave that hit the boat was totally unique. It bore greater resemblance to one boat ramming another, rather than a simple swell of water. The tech lost would need to be recovered. But one fear remained… the crew aboard the salvage mission could suffer a similar fate.

Part I

Derek traced his fingers along the cold, high strength alloyed steel metal of the submarine. The feeling of the steel drawing the heat from his skin reminded him of his humanity, which grounded him. It brought him back into the room and kept his psychological feet firmly on the ground. In truth, his feet were on a titanium floor ground, hundreds of feet below the ocean’s surface. This was his sixth time on the job, his adrenaline was already kicking in and pumping him up. He could feel it throbbing through his veins. The mix of fear and excitement was totally unique. The only equivalents might be climbing up a mountain alone or going into outer space. The fear comes from being stuck in somewhere so remote, that no one will be able to save you in a crisis. The excitement is injected by the same thing. Some people live off the fear. They take great enjoyment in relinquishing control of their life… and death. Derek certainly had these inhibitions, but also a strong consciousness to override it. This meant that he was constantly in a state of apprehension, halfway between enjoyable anticipation and intense fright.

Derek was fairly new to his job and to the local area. He moved there to pursue his ambitions of working in some sort of aquatic industry. Nothing gave him more joy than, watching the sun dance on the ocean’s surface. The waves ripping through the undisturbed sea, or – mostly – speeding through the water far below the surface. Derek loved going to the beach when he was a child although growing up in Michigan made it hard to do. Whenever he got the opportunity to go, he grasped it with both hands and off he went.

Derek had decided to move to South Carolina a year ago and began working as soon as it was possible.