Hell Below

By Matthew Robert Smathers

Blackmailed to find a cursed U-boat? Treasure Hunter and thrill seeker Mark Reynolds finds himself embattled against the forces of evil in this debut Action/Horror/Thriller by shipwreck explorer Matthew Smathers. When a secret society threatens his life, Mark Reynolds must enlist the help of dive master Andréa McCawl, and her wisecracking best friend Jack Walker to locate and salvage the wreck of a world war two submarine, impossibly located where no such vessel should exist. Together, they must use their wit and skill to solve a 70yr old mystery, and escape with their lives… but, as tensions escalate and the body count rises, the trio soon begins to realize that the greatest threat lies not from their dangerous associates beside them, but rather beneath them in that Hell Below.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781665501644

Book preview

PROLOGUE

THE DIVING DEVIL

February 1944

Somewhere in the South Atlantic

A dull gray moonlight reflected on the clear ocean, and the rays danced across the surface, projecting a near-perfect reflection on the flat, calm sea. The shimmering ripples were abruptly disturbed as a cigar-shaped craft raced through the black of night, amid a clatter of machinery, and accompanied by the distinct sound of distant singing. A chill formed and ran down the spine of Kapitän Lieutenant Johann Pheifer.

Shrugging it off, he returned his gaze to the dimly illuminated waters and hazy moonlight. With a scowl, he lowered his glasses and cast an eye toward the brightly illuminated sky. Drumming his fingers on the cool damp rail, he recalled the rough start to this otherwise uneventful voyage.

The weather had been grueling since they left the port of La Rochelle, though thankfully, it had kept the Allied patrols to a minimum. He was grateful that things had cleared up. This rare calm had allowed him the opportunity to run at maximum speed. However, the calm was bittersweet. For several days, his command had traversed nearly the entire South Atlantic without even the barest hint of prey. His men were getting anxious.

He returned his gaze forward and watched casually as a sheet of spray washed over the ancient net cutter affixed to the stem of his command. He couldn’t help but grin a devilish grin. This vessel under his feet was an old but tested craft. Though smaller in comparison to the fatherland’s latest and most advanced vessels, there was still something to be said about standing on the conning tower of the old warhorse.

The captain trained his eyes forward to the darkness beyond, and the chill returned; it was a bad omen. A voice down below broke the Captain from his thoughts: Propeller noises bearing three zero zero degrees, Herr Kaleun, quite distant.

As if on cue, the lookouts aimed their glasses in the direction given, but the sea offered no glimpse of their quarry.

The captain merely scratched the week’s worth of stubble on his chin and gazed forward. His mind wandered idly as he gazed into the dark unknown, and he contemplated the safety of the cargo down below in which the Führer himself had entrusted to his care. It seemed like hours before he turned and bent down over the hatch, his mind made up. Steer course three zero zero, all engines ahead full.

With a shudder, the U-boat lurched forward like a predator tracking her prey.

Barely visible on the horizon, but range closing by the minute, was the pitch-black outline of a two-funneled freighter. Her only giveaways were a thick trail of black smoke set against a dark blue sky and an even darker outline that blotted out the stars.

Damnation!

The entire bridge crew jumped at Captain Jackson’s sudden outburst.

His cabin boy had just entered with coffee and momentarily thought the outburst had been his doing.

Of all nights to encounter engine trouble! Those bastard U-boats are still thick as flies out there!

The first officer composed himself and gave the captain a sideways glance. Perhaps it would be prudent, sir, to turn about and make for the nearest port.

The captain merely shook his head frustratingly. I am well aware that we should follow with prudence, number one, but ours is the only hospital ship in this vicinity. We cannot turn back until we’ve accomplished our mission, and that is why it bothers me that we have no alternative. The captain broke off and grabbed the engine room telephone. Chief, how much longer am I to be without power? Are the generators still down?

In a few more minutes, Captain. Engine one is up and charging the dynamo, but we’re still working on number two to restore the full power output.

The captain nodded, hung up, and sighed heavily as he recalled all their previous problems. Everything, it seemed, was faulty: the ship’s switchboard, lifeboat davits, cabin ventilation, and now this sudden engine and dynamo failure. The captain shook his head, but he had to grin. Water had flowed through a tiny hole in the deck during the last squall they’d encountered and managed to work its way into the ship’s electrical insulation pipes. It was a truly remarkable feat, considering the pipes were six decks below his feet.

The first officer jumped in, "Chief, those lights are of the highest priority, and we must have them on as soon as possible. She’s an old girl, the Mercy, and it’s a miracle she’s still even able to sail at all."

The captain chuckled lightly as the 1st officer hung up the phone. He paused to refill his pipe and contemplate his officer’s words. A miracle indeed, he thought as he lit his pipe. Having been built in 1900 by the Bethlehem Steel Works, she was originally meant to take tourists on leisurely island cruises around the Florida Keys. She’d survived typhoons, hurricanes, and even a rogue wave striking her stern, yet the stout ship had survived them all.

The captain exhaled on his pipe as he remembered the first time he had seen her. She was a mess, streaked with rusty cables and blotches of mismatched paint, and her boat deck was cluttered with woefully outmoded davits that carried lifeboats that looked no safer than the vessel they sat on. She had been reactivated to serve as a hospital ship due to shortages in the nearby friendly ports.

The captain shook his head. Less than twenty-four hours before she was to be towed for scrap, the Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor and decimated the naval resources there. This had left the West Coast undefended and the East Coast without any proper navy.

Hastily converted into a rust bucket hospital ship, eh? he said aloud to no one in particular, earning him a glance from his crew around him. He noticed their stares and chuckled. Sorry, boys. I couldn’t help but think about this being our first voyage since the so-called refit. All we did was sit on our asses and float at the dockside as a floating ward.

The crew visibly relaxed, and his cabin boy approached the captain. Coffee, sir?

The captain gave him a pat on the back. "Relax, Jim. My boy, the Mercy may be old, but she’ll get us there."

Jim nodded, grinned, and went down the ladder to the decks below.

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I cannot identify her type, Herr Kaleun, the lookout said. She appears to be a twin stacker, roughly twenty-five thousand tons. Captain Pheifer had a peculiar glint in his eye, and when he spoke, it was straight and firm. Number one, prepare tubes one through four for surface firing. Helm, come right to course three three zero. Navigator, reduce standard speed.

"Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!"

The captain broke off to study the vessel in his line of sight. He could make out nothing, but why should he worry? No friendly vessel would be plying these waters—only outmoded merchantmen whose holds were full of the materials necessary to help the Allies win the war. He glanced at the emblem beneath him on the tower, and its insignia filled his blood with energy. He couldn’t help but feel a strange presence nearby. The captain shook off the spell and returned his attention to the mystery ship, which was clearly visible less than eight miles away. The U-boat was poised just slightly ahead of the targeted vessel, and within minutes, they’d be ready to fire point-blank at her.

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Captain Jackson nervously paced the bridge and glanced for the twentieth time at the ship’s clock above the main helm. It’d been too long, and he was getting worried. Those lights were the ship’s only mode of protection. He

The first officer said, Captain, it’s the chief engineer on the phone.

The captain didn’t miss a beat. He swung on his heels and grabbed the phone from his first officer. Chief?

The lights will be on in a few minutes, Captain. We have the secondary engine running, and we’re slowly bringing up the power to the main dynamos.

The captain heaved a sigh of relief. Thank you, Chief. That’ll be all. Give my thanks to the crew.

It will be done, Captain.

The captain went to the port bridge wing and gazed aft at the darkened outline of his ship. It seemed to melt into nothingness only a few yards away.

Number One?

Jawohl, Herr Kaleun? answered the young lieutenant.

It is time. Prepare to fire torpedoes one and two on my mark.

The first officer snapped a crisp salute. Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!

On the Mercy, the timing couldn’t have been better. The cabin boy had retired to his quarters in the stern, and the lone deck watch was changing shifts. The captain was still affixed on the port bridge wing and was tapping his foot nervously. He began to worry again. It felt like some unseen force was lurking in the shadows and was taunting his very soul. The captain glanced nervously at the pitch-black sea surrounding his darkened ship and nervously blew a plume of smoke from his pipe.

On the silent U-boat, Captain Pheifer received the word he had been waiting for: Herr Kapitän, torpedoes are ready for firing.

The captain nodded and took one last, prolonged look at the mystery vessel, which was now less than a thousand yards away. Very good. Number one?

"Kaleun?"

"Torpedo one, gyro angle zero. Torpedo two, gyro angle plus two degrees. Torpedoes Los!" With a shudder, the U-boat rose higher in the water, and the torpedoes lightened the forward trim, followed in quick succession by a gurgling hiss. The two messengers of death left behind a sparkling wake as they skimmed just under the surface toward their target.

On the Mercy, the captain made up his mind to phone the engine room again.

With a blinding glare, every light on the ship’s superstructure snapped on, and the red crosses followed suit less than four seconds later.

A blinding glare cast across the water and temporarily stunned the lookouts on the U-boat. They had their glasses trained on the vessel ahead. With a single blink, the captain gazed at the floating light show and cursed under his breath. "Fer Damnt."

The first officer came up from below. Herr Kapitän, fifteen seconds to— He saw what everyone else saw: a white, rust-streaked ship with brightly illuminated red crosses amidships. Oh Mein Gott!

Time seemed to slow, and on the Mercy, the change of watch paused to light a cigarette. When he spotted a reflection off the U-boat’s conning tower, he dropped his cigarette and screamed, U-boat off the starboard quarter! Torpedoes!

Captain Jackson snapped his head to the side and ran across the bridge to the starboard wing. Full speed astern!

It was too late.

An ear-shattering explosion followed by a mushroom of flame and water erupted from the liner’s midsection. Down in the engine room, the first boiler room was taken out instantly. Water came rushing through the gaping wound and into the auxiliary engine room where the chief engineer and his repair crew were resting on the portside catwalk. They’d regained their balance—and took no more than a glance at the massive inflow of water opposite them—and ran topside while the chief continued to gaze down at the rushing water below.

The death blow came from the second torpedo, which angled a few degrees ahead of the first, entered the ship and struck a submerged dynamo. It erupted in slow motion, arced out from the water in a sheet of spray, and sailed across the room, impacting the port-side directly beneath the chief engineer. As soon as he felt the shock of fear from the blast, it killed him.

The explosion burst through the port hull plating, and a fireball ripped through the decks. An explosion of flame and soot erupted from the number one funnel.

As Captain Jackson regained his footing, the second explosion sent him down again. He looked up just in time to dive for cover as the mangled and flaming number one funnel began to fall. The structure just missed him as he dove onto the bridge wing, but his comrades in the bridge were not so lucky. The funnel smashed the center of the bridge and brought the paneling down on them.

From their position on the nearby U-boat, the crews were knocked flat by the concussion caused by the explosion.

Only Captain Pheifer remained standing, and his eyes reflected the fiery wreckage ahead of them. It had been a perfect hit—one not to ever likely again occur in the history of warfare—and with two well-placed shots, he had turned the rusty hospital ship into a floating funeral pyre. The holocaust is complete. She’ll be at the bottom of the ocean in short order. He raised his glasses and took note the crew and hospital staff coming up from the stern quarterdeck. A lifeboat was hanging stubbornly from its davits, and he lowered his glasses, his eyes not leaving the flaming vessel. Number one, fire torpedo three, gyro angle minus two degrees.

The first officer looked at him with a pale face and horror in his eyes. Herr Kapitän, we cannot do that. It is a hospital ship! He looked up at the ungodly glint in his commander’s eyes and the unmistakable glint of a pistol that was aimed squarely at his gut.

Repeat the order, number one. The captain snarled through clenched teeth.

The XO looked up, stood at attention, and said, Herr Kaleun, I refuse.

Only Jim on the stricken Mercy heard the shot that resounds across the water, but he had more pressing matters at hand. He pounded his bloodied fists on his cabin door, which was wedged shut from the explosion and blocked from the other side by a set of overhead pipes that had dislodged and blocked his escape. He screamed and pounded for help, not knowing that no one could hear him. A few decks above his head, a mass of people were crowding into the last remaining lifeboat. His cries for help went by unnoticed among the confusion. Jim took a running leap at the door and crumpled in agony. The door didn’t budge, and he’d only succeeded in dislocating his shoulder. He limped to the porthole and gazed out its broken glass. In the dim but fiery reflection, he could see the U-boat. Now no more than a few hundred yards away, it appeared to be at a standstill. He chanced a glance forward, but he could see nothing beyond the curtain of fire amidships.

When his gaze returned to the ghostly U-boat, he could vaguely make out the form of three men on its tower. He spat in disgust and returned to bashing the door with a fallen pipe.

On the deck, Captain Pfeifer gazed down at the crumpled form of his XO. You have always been such a sentimentalist. I knew you’d cause trouble. The captain leveled his gun at the XO’s head.

And I … always knew you were a monster. The XO spat blood. See you in hell, Herr Kapitän.

The captain smirked. Not before you. He pulled the trigger, kicked the XO’s lifeless corpse over the side, and turned to the men around him, all unsure of what to do. Standing orders of the Führer. We are to leave no survivors who can give away our position. Without any show of emotion, he turned and bent down over the open hatch. Fire torpedo number three!

The U-boat shuddered once again as the silver and red torpedo cleared the tube. The crew watched its wake trail towards the stricken ship in utter indifference.

The captain’s eyes followed the torpedo as it streaked toward the listing liner, its head packed with five hundred pounds of explosives. It smacked into the ship’s hull slightly aft of Jim’s cabin, and the concussive wave of pressure blasted his door off its hinges and ensured his escape. However fortunate it may have been, it meant little to the lifeboat and its occupants who were all but obliterated by the fireball.

With a scream of protest, the Mercy began to roll over. She lurched hard and landed on her beam ends. The survivors were thrown astern into the burning oily water, and the captain catapulted from his perch on the port bridge wing into the sea. A wave of water rushed up the stairs, scooped up Jim, and washed him out of the ship just as the boilers popped with a resounding boom. With flames belching from its remaining stack and lower portholes, the Mercy disappeared amid a wave of bubbles and burning oil, leaving behind a small cluster of survivors mixed in with the wreckage.

Jim grabbed a deck chair fragment and held on for dear life. He gazed across the nightmarish scene, and the sight brought a chill despite the warm water. He could faintly see the captain’s blackened face illuminated by the flames among a large group of survivors clinging to an overturned lifeboat. As Jim swam toward the capsized craft, the beam of a searchlight snapped on.

The beam lowered and revealed its source: the German U-boat. Jim shook his head. The murderous craft slowly moved among the survivors and stopped abeam of the overturned boat. A group of men with machine guns lined the decks and aimed at his comrades in the water. However, they did not fire.

Jim saw the skipper on the bridge and felt an intense need to swim away.

Hey, you!

Jim looked back.

Captain Jackson’s fist was raised in the air.

Captain Pheifer looked down in amusement as the crew trained their guns on the man.

Yes, you, you murdering Nazi bastards! Who the hell do you think you are attacking an unarmed hospital ship?

Captain Pheifer’s expression hardened. You must be the captain. My condolences to your loss.

I don’t want your sympathy, you damn kraut! Jackson’s eyes burned with an intense hatred.

Captain Pheifer’s eyes burned with an unearthly glow. It pains me to no extent to see you and your men suffering. He smirked. That is why I am going to remove myself from this dreadful situation. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Kapitän. The U-boat’s skipper bent down and barked a few commands in German, causing the men on deck to lower their machine guns and stand down.

With a rumble, its engines fired up, and it sailed off into the growing fogbank and smoke, vanishing from sight.

Jim scanned the fog for any sign of the U-boat and swam back to the overturned lifeboat.

Captain Jackson put an arm around Jim and said, It’s all right, Jim, my boy. We won’t be in the water long. Our ships are patrolling this zone all the time. I’m sure it won’t be long before—

He was cut off by the sound of rushing water and pounding machinery.

All eyes scanned the ocean for the source of the sound. A shadow approached through the fog. It began to get darker, and its features became more discernible. The U-boat had returned and was bearing down on them!

Captain Jackson shoved Jim overboard and shouted, All hands, jump for it! The bastards are going to run us down!

Jim’s eyes widened in horror as the prow of the sub sliced into the overturned craft. Beneath its net cutter, in glowing white paint, were the numbers 666. His horror-struck mind barely registered its significance as he was struck by the extended diving planes, which mercifully dulled him from the pain of being drawn into the propellers as the diving devil drove on through him and his shipmates.

In its wake, it left a trail of blood, terror, and gore. Not a soul was spared, but as the sub sailed away, something strange began to occur. The blood in its wake began to blend with the fog that arose from the ocean depths. The U-boat, the crew celebrating its total victory over the helpless hospital ship, sailed unknowingly ahead. The milky red fog closed in and enveloped the U-boat, which vanished without a trace.

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PART I

THE NIGHTMARE

BEFORE THE DREAM

CHAPTER 1

Azusa, California

Present Day

T he mountains of the Angeles National Forest were usually quiet and serene, home to myriad wildlife, many of which were just starting to appear thanks to the arrival of spring. However, shrill winds continued to blow throughout the canyons therein, keeping many of the animals tucked away in shelter.

That same icy cold numbed many a prospector on his hunt for gold back in the glory days of the California gold rush. Even today, pockets of color elude the weekend warriors whose hopes are filled with the prospect of riches. Abandoned mines are plentiful, and people sometimes hike up to prospect the shafts and look for pockets or veins that have gone unnoticed.

However, during the spring thaw, very few people are around. The lack of tourists is in large part due to the raging river. Higher up in elevation, the rising temperatures cause ice and snow to melt, and the runoff turns the river into a raging torrent of white water. Only a select few daredevils attempt to prospect the river at this time, and even fewer dare to contemplate crossing under such arduous conditions. Earlier, several trees had been uprooted due to the rising floodwaters.

Dude, we can cross here, said one of two men on the riverbank.

A fallen tree had made a bridge mere inches above the boiling current.

The taller of the two turned his gaze from the tree to his partner. "You have got to be kidding me." His expression was a mix of amusement and horror.

He was tall and lean, and a faded fedora covered his ash-blond hair. His dark eyes, flooded with concern, scanned the log from behind square, half-rimmed glasses. He frowned. As I said before, you must be crazy.

His partner was stockier and wore street clothes and a cowboy hat. He was grinning from ear to ear, and his voice was full of optimism. Now, look. It’s easy. We’ve already crossed twice, and that gold mine ain’t that far away, is it?

The man in the fedora again gazed at the log crossing, and his expression turned sour. Well, Mark, let’s have it.

After staring for another long moment at the log, Mark turned, smiled, and slapped his friend on the back. All right, Travis. You lead the way. Show me how it’s done.

Travis threw up his hands. You’re the designated leader, bro.

Ah, but it’s your idea, good buddy, Mark said with a smirk.

Travis gave a sour look and stepped onto the log. Slowly and methodically, he made the crossing, pausing only to grip a branch for added support. On the opposite bank, he sat atop a rock in triumph. All right, you saw me. It’s easy. Now come over—and let’s go!

Mark shrugged and began to slowly cross, grabbing the same branch. Halfway across, he froze, Did the log just move? He gauged his balance, but the log stayed still.

Travis looked at him from the riverbank and shook his head. There he goes being overly cautious again. Hey! What’s wrong? he shouts.

Mark opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat.

At that instant, the water rose, and the log shifted.

Mark screamed and fell backward into the icy water. The current shoved his body under the log, and his face slammed against the trunk.

Travis jumped into the water against the log and grabbed Mark by the collar, but he might as well have tried to lift a car. The current had pinned him firmly.

Mark knew he was dying. The surface was less than two inches away, but he could not reach it. He’d gulped air mere seconds after hitting the surface, but his vision was becoming dark. His lungs were burning for air. He wrapped his arms around the log to keep from being swept away, but couldn’t pull himself up.

Travis was struggling to pull him up against the current, but it was no use. He looked up at the sky, and his vision blurred as his oxygen ran out. Shutting his eyes tightly, he silently prayed, Lord, this is it. I need your help. I trust you. He let go just as the stars popped behind his eyes. Travis froze in shock. One second, Mark was there, but the next second, he had vanished under the surface.

Mark was shot out by the current and sent sailing in somersaults beneath the raging water, crashing against the rocks below. When he finally broke the surface, his gasp for air was only rewarded with water. On the verge of blacking out, divine intervention stepped in. One of his numb feet wedged into a cluster of rocks, and the current launched him onto the riverbank.

Travis was in a panic. He had lost sight of Mark shortly after he broached the surface. He ran along the riverbank, hoping that he hadn’t been washed away. It was a shock and a relief to find him on a small bank between the trees. He yanked Mark to his feet. Mark, are you okay?

Yeah, Mark replied weakly. What took you so long?

Travis said, Well, you see, I ran into this hot girl who you scared while you were drowning, and I did what any red-blooded man would do. I stopped to comfort her.

Mark stood up and grimaced. Ah, damn it. I think I twisted something. My chest hurts, and my knee feels like it’s on fire.

Travis extended an arm and hoisted Mark up. C’mon, oh, fearless leader. Let’s get outta here. I’m just going to have to get all that gold by myself some other time.

Mark grinned. Hey, I may have lost my hat but not my life. Maybe next time you’re up here, you’ll keep an eye out for it?

Travis looked at him with a sour expression. Bro, unless that stupid hat has washed up alongside some babes, you can count it as lost.

It was Mark’s turn to shoot a sour look. Always with the women, eh, Travis?

Of course. What else is there to do with our youth than drink and live it up?

Mark shrugged. "Okay, so some pretty babes, right? What babe in her right mind would be out here in this cold? A member of the polar bear club?"

"Dude, if that were the case, I would totally let her ride my north pole." Travis grinned.

Mark said, I can’t believe you said that.

Hey, not every chick is going to be turned off by me. They dig it. Travis eased himself over a large pile of debris.

Maybe so, Mark replied, but I’d rather settle down with one true woman instead of playing around with so many. I mean, where’s the meaning to it all?

Travis’s eyes glinted sharply. Look, man. You just do it your way, and I’ll do it my way. We’ve had this discussion before, so just drop it.

Mark felt it was best to give up and give in. He’ll never see the light outside so many women. One of these days, he’s going to get himself in trouble. Regardless of whether he’s right or wrong, I just can’t look at