Megalodon, Rookie Burwick [i like reading books .TXT] 📗

but not wasn't quite as bad. The body lay stretched across the base of the stairway, the face's dead gaze glaring up at the ceiling. He had no idea whose body it was, considering the fact that it really wasn't easy to tell. He waited a for more seconds before heaving himself back up onto his feet, holding his breath tight as he took another step towards the body. The face was the most punctured. The rest was still in one piece with an occasional blood leak or flesh wound. But the face appeared to be caved in, with most of the flesh missing. Despite him holding his breath, the smell still made it into his nostrils, and he couldn't help but feeling nauseous again. He carefully stepped over the body and continued up the stairway.
   He almost fell right back down at the sound of the voice again, making him jump. It was coming from the control room. He hurried through the doorway and entered inside only to be greeted by a field of dead bodies. But, like many other things, that didn't stop him. He hurried past the horrid sight and grabbed up the radio.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" he asked, and then waited.
Seconds passed before someone replied. "This is the USS Tulsa, what do you have to report?"
"We've been hit by. . .something. Requesting help."
"Who is this? Captain Skith?"
"No, this is Dr. Arlo Conworth, I'm a guest on the USS Freedom."
"Please put captain Skith on the line."
"I'm afraid. . .that won't be possible."
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone on board this ship is dead!"
"Even the captain?"
"Yes! Something hit the ship, and killed them all! I'm the only survivor!"
There was a pause. "We're sending help your way as soon as we can, Dr. Conworth."
"Thank you."
"Stay calm, and don't mess with the ship's control."
"Got it."
He let go of the radio and set it back down. But then, he froze. He heard a loud groaning noise from behind him, and spun around to find captain Skith standing up.
"Captain! You're alive!" he sputtered.
"Y-y-y-eah, I am," came the slow reply.
"How badly are you hurt?"
"Not too bad."
He quickly helped the old man up.
"I called out for help to the USS Tulsa, and they're sending help in about thirty minutes, I'm guessing."
"No. . . we can't. . . wait that long."
"What do you mean?"
"That thing that hit us. . . was a shark!"
"Shark?"
"You heard me. . . a shark. . ."

 

                                       *  *  *

 

Liam Dob opened the door to his corders and stepped out into the hallway. Shutting the door behind him, he glared around hazily and tried his best to look awake. He had hardly slept the previous night due to checking on the computers now and then, and doing various bits of paperwork. He hated to admit it, but the ship still had insurance issues that hadn't been dealt with just yet.

He made sure no one was looking before he quickly reached up and rubbed his eyes and his temples. It felt good, but it was a shame he had to do it. He should've stopped before twelve, but he just had to get caught up on everything. Thanks to Dr. Lissiter and Dr. Jacob's arrivals, he had been over-worked and too busy to deal with the smaller and maybe even simpler stuff. He let his arms drop back down to his sides, then turned and opened the door to the control room. Jane spun around in her chair and greeted him with a wide smile.

"Good morning sir," she said.

"Morning, Jane. What's to report?" he asked in reply.

"Nothing major, besides the computers are still acting up."

"I thought Robinson fixed that."

"Well, so did I. But now, I'm not thinking so."

"Get him back down here around ten o'clock and have him fool with it some more."

"Yes, sir."

He paused and looked out the window. Unlike the previous morning, bright sunlight shone through, and slightly blinded him. He squinted deeply for a moment, but then decided to just turn away. That didn't work much better, though.

"Sir, I tried to contact the USS Freedom this morning, but haven't had a response," Jane's voice made him jump.

"Why did you contact them?" he asked.

"I need this week's status report on Dr. Conworth's work. They've been sending me one every Tuesday."

"Oh, well try again."

"I've tried twice already."

His face lit up with worry. Skith, the captain of the massive combat vessel, was always good about responding or at least having his guys respond.

"Well, just be patient. They'll respond."

He turned and glared out the open doorway when Jane didn't respond. The sound of the yells sent off by the commanding officers below on the deck echoed off the metal walls of the bridge, and soon reached his ears. It was faint, yet it was also loud in some ways. To him, it was both faint and loud. To someone like Jane, it was probably just loud. He stepped out and took in a deep breath. Compared to the stuffy and hot stuff inside, it was heaven. He squinted hard until his eyes adjusted, then he looked around. The water sparkled in the bright, refreshing sun like diamonds on a gym mat, and the sky was clearer than a freshly cleaned glass. He walked forward a little more and peered over the railing to see the trainees doing their duties, as some might call it. All they were really doing was everyday workouts such as sit-ups and some push-ups. He didn't see the purpose of this, but the commanding officers seemed to know otherwise. They were the guys with the experience in such a thing as handling trainees.

"I don't know sir, they're just taking too long," he heard Jane call out.

"Jane, stop worrying. Skith is just busy, or something. You never know," he had to yell for her to hear, thanks to her station being so far away.

He turned and watched her nod, then turned back to watch the trainees. His eyes shifted from one man to another, and saw them all doing different exercises. That was almost too far. If one man did a push-up, all of the men should do em'. Or at least, that was his take on it. When he had first joined the Navy, he had been a trainee like everyone else, and had to do everything these men were doing. Only every other man did it at the same time. Really, it was a silly thing to worry about, but he didn't have much else to do.

The fact that Skith hadn't replied still bothered him. The guy was a well-organized, well-trained, and very experienced guy. He knew what to do about lots of different situations, and had saved the lives of countless people. But now, he couldn't respond to a small thing like a checkup call. That was worth worrying over.

"Okay, what is it Larsson?" Jane's voice came in suddenly. Her tone made him even more jumpy. It was filled with fear.

"Yes, yes," she went on. "Okay, got it," she turned to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Larsson has made contact with someone on board the USS Freedom, and they need help. Fast."

"Help?"

"They were hit yesterday morning, and have been on backup power ever since."

"Get a few SEAL's out there to get them back here."

"This person that contacted us is the only survivor, Liam."

He gulped. Something BIG must have hit Skith's ship. Something really big. Only one word popped into his mind at the sound of Jane's words. Megalodon.

 

                                           *  *  *

 

Ryan Skoth was the head of the Navy SEAL's VBSS team. He had lead them against countless life-or-death situations and missions, and had done his best to keep them from harm. He had almost seventeen highly-trained men who were nothing but ruthless killing machines ready to strike.

He stood at the top of the staircase, watching the commotion down below him. His men trained daily for any task that might come up, and he wasn't going to stop for anything smaller than just that reason. At the moment, his men were doing the same thing the guys on deck were doing; exercising, weight-lifting, working out. Whatever you wanted to call it. He just knew it at training. There hadn't been a task for his men to commence for weeks now. The last thing he and his men were ordered to do was to take out a small terrorist rig off the coast of Washington D.C. just a few months back, but ever since then, things had been quiet. He couldn't help but light up a cigarette. For him it was so addictive to smoke, and he knew it was a nasty habit. He took long drags of black smoke, then took it from his lips and exhaled. His face disappeared behind a cloud of smoke for just a moment, then re-appeared.

"Sir,"  a voice called out. He turned to see Lieutenant Cling Driff approaching him from the right. He smiled and nodded a greeting.

"Morning, Driff. What's new?" he asked.

"We have orders from the captain to send off a VBSS team out to the USS Freedom. Apparently they need some serious help."

"Excellent. Get the men ready for action. Prepare the boats and weapons, and let's get going."

"Yes sir."

The younger Lieutenant hurried away to carry out his orders. Ryan watched as he began rounding the men up, one-by-one as he ran around the room. The guy was un-experienced and nervous, two things that bothered him. He hated men who couldn't pull it together and bucker up to the bar. The experience he had with Lieutenant Driff was not the best one, and he imagined it would only get worse.

He took another deep drag from his cigarette and puffed out smoke seconds later. It felt so good that he smiled. The best part was, smoking was now allowed down on the bottom level of the ship. Mainly because no one really cared about that part of the ship, and they had too many smokers on board as well. He turned and marched swiftly down the stairs himself, and headed straight for Driff, who was at last standing still. The man smiled as he approached, but it was the typical nervous smile.

"Driff, do you have the mission report yet?" he asked.

"Oh, yes sir. Sorry I totally forgot," Driff replied, handing him a few pieces of paper stapled together at the top right edge.

"Thank you."

He turned away and began flipping through the three pages that consisted of the document. He read each page carefully, and soon understood. It was a real simple mission; nothing to exciting, but his men needed something to do. All that was required of them was to get over to the USS Freedom, rescue some people, and make it back with them alive. It was almost too simple. He turned back to Driff and handed the sweaty Lieutenant the papers.

"Are the men ready?" he asked.

"Two more minutes, sir," came the reply.

"Right. We need this done quickly. From what them papers say, those aboard the USS Freedom are in deep trouble."

"Got it, sir."

He eyed Driff for a moment, then took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out.

"You really shouldn't do. . ."

"Shut your mouth, Driff."

The nervous smile returned. "Sorry, sir. I'm sure you know I'm into the no pollution thing."

"Oh please, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Driff."

"Right."

"We're ready, sir," another deep voice cut in.

They both turned and saw their head solider, Dean Avon, standing stiff and firm  just a few feet away.

"Excellent. Gather them all up here and I'll explain the mission."

"Yes, sir." The solider turned and whistled to every man in the room that was dressed in battle clothing, and moments later they all regrouped in the center of the room.

"Now men, we have today a simple but important task," he began. "We must get over to the USS Freedom and check things out. Something's gone wrong over there, and we've been called to take care of it. Now, we're going to all board two