by Richard Humphries
The night would be completely
black it was not for the full moon casting an eerie light across the ocean. A metal leviathan cruised steadily through the
waters of the Atlantic Ocean, its sharp bow slicing through the dark emerald waves. The five hundred and sixty seven foot
CG77 USS Kearsarge Ticonderoga class cruiser kept up a steady speed of ten knots. Heavily armed with a pair of MK 45
five inch guns along with several Harpoon anti-ship missiles, Tomahawk Cruise missile, and Mk 48 torpedo launchers, and several
Vulcan guns to shoot down incoming aircraft and rockets; she could easily handle herself in most situations. Though home to
nearly four hundred men and officers, she appeared completely deserted.
Several miles away a grey
object flew low and fast towards Kearsarge. The SH-60 LAMPS MKIII Seahawk was coming in from port side, attempting
to intercept the non-responsive cruiser. The pilot of the Seahawk attempted to radio Kearsarge for the sixth time since
setting out from the USS Normandy, another Ticonderoga cruiser that was moving at flank speed to catch up to Kearsarge.
The pilot shook his head and turned his head to the small cabin behind him. Sitting on the benches were four SEAL Operatives
chosen to board the ship. The group had been placed aboard Kearsarge three weeks before to board Al-Qaeda ships that
were possibly in the South Atlantic Ocean.
so far no response sir.”
Sergeant Joe Brander stopped
studying his Heckler and Koch G36C and gave a nod to the pilot. Standing six one, his brown hair was cut in a Marine style
buzz cut. Brander looked at his men, all were similarly armed and dressed in black fatigues with magazine and grenade pouches,
communication, and small medical kits attached. Atlantic Command in Norfolk, Virginia had decided several hours ago to send
several ships to investigate why contact had broken off with the ship the previous night.
Theories began that Al-Qaeda
had hijacked the ship during the night and planned to use the ship’s missiles against United States property overseas.
Though this theory was shot down because the question arose why there was no distress message sent if the Kearsarge
had been attacked. The ship would have been able to outrun and outgun whatever ship or aircraft attempted to board. Thus far
no explanation could be given to the lack of communication with the ship. Brander had no opinion, his only objective was to
board the ship and establish contact with Norfolk.
“Joe? Isn’t it
possible Captain Talbot lost his noggin and is gonna use the ship for himself?”
Brander looked at one of his
men; Carl Landis had been in the same group of men that had originally applied. Their group had only thirty men before ‘Hell
Week’. Up until that point they had never talked to each other, but they quickly became friends and worked together
as much as they could in order to pass. “No Carl. We were on board her just a few months ago, Talbot seemed stable enough.”
Landis nodded and looked at
the other two men Alex Wiseman and Stuart Waggner. Wiseman was looking out across the black ocean chewing gum while Waggner
double checked his equipment. The pair had in another group of applicants and had met under the same sort of circumstances
Brander and Landis had met. All four of them had seen combat in Afghanistan before being shifted onto a series of US Naval
ships go after Al-Qaeda’s merchant fleet.
The pilot bit his lip as he
moved towards the ship, he had landed on ships plenty of times, but since there had been no contact; he did not if he was
going to receive any incoming fire. A moderate tailwind would make it easier to come down, the fuel supply was nearly exhausted
and he needed to conserve if any bullets or rockets came at them. It was not to be, several moments later, the helicopter
kissed the helipad on the Kearsarge and the Seals jumped out on either side, weapons at the ready.
The area around the helipad
was quickly secure; so far there had been no incoming fire and no sign of life. The pilot shut down the propellers but kept
the engines warm incase things got hot. “Good luck Brander.”
The SEAL turned and gave a
wave to the two men in the chopper and the team moved towards one of the doors leading into the bowels of the ship. Wiseman
moved to one side of the door and placed his hand on the handle while the rest of the team covered. It opened smoothly into
a dark hallway, but a horrible stench hit the men seconds after fresh air from the outside pushed it out. Waggner gagged slightly
but no bile rose in his throat. With a flash of the hand from Brander, he moved into the ship.
The single beam of light from
the flashlight on the rifle’s muzzle did not detract from the scene before him. Long smears of crimson lined the walls
of the ship while pools of blood collected on the floor. Waggner moved slowly forward, but stopped several meters in. He bent
down and pulled a brass pistol bullet shell from one of the small pools. The rest of the team moved into the hallway, though
they were stunned by the carnage, they did not let their emotions show as they began to make their way towards the bridge.
The pilot, a man named Kevin
Donneger and his co-pilot Carlos Mendez waited for the men to return. It had been twenty minutes since the SEALs had entered
the ship with updates every four minutes. Donneger looked over at Mendez.
“I’m going to
piss over the side. Be right back.”
Donneger disappeared around
the other side of the helicopter and Mendez continued to pace around the bird. Several minutes went by with no word from the
pilot. Biting his lip, Mendez pulled out a Heckler and Koch MP5 from the chopper and slowly moved around the helicopter, nothing.
Mendez continued around to the back and looked at the area of the deck below the helipad. Moonlight from above illuminated
the scene. Donneger’s headless corpse lay on the deck, blood flowing from the stump of his neck and several large gashes
in his side where his insides were sticking out.
Bile rose in Mendez’s
throat as he tried to force it down. It was then he noticed a large shadow right next to him. He slowly turned, his heart
smashing against his ribs as sweat poured from his forehead.
Mendez opened his mouth to
The bridge was a disaster.
Blood coated the walls and floor, the windows were shattered and most of the equipment was gutted. The lights were flickering
as the four SEALs entered through the door. Brander gazed at the destruction for only a few brief seconds before the team
moved and cleared the main area. Jesus Christ what happened? Blood and casings everywhere but no bodies Brander thought
“Sir, found someone…at
least I think.” Landis said. The operators moved around and crumpled behind one of the consoles was a twisted form of
blue, red, and white. Wiseman gently reached forward and grabbed the thing and gave a slight tug, pulling it out more into
the faded light. It didn’t appear to be a man, at least not anymore. The midshipman had been torn apart, the stomach
was torn wide open, ribs were smashed, large chunks of meat from the legs were missing, as well was the face. “What
in God’s name happened? No AK-47 could have done that.”
Waggner knelt down and gave
a low whistle. He reached out with the barrel of his G36 and gently pressed it under the corpse’s arm to flip it on
its back. When the SEAL lifted gently the arm fell off and the floor with a dull thump, only a few seconds past before a scream
filtered through the halls. The group quickly brought their weapons to bear on the door, but it quickly entered Brander’s
mind that it was Mendez doing the screaming. “The chopper.”
Moving quickly, guns at the
ready the operatives backtracked through the dark, blood soaked corridors to the door leading to the helipad. Wiseman moved
to the side of the door and placed his hand on the handle, with a signal from Brander, he flung open the door and the three
other SEALs came out and made a triangle formation before Wiseman joined them. There was another round of ‘sweet Jesus’
between the men.
From the light of the moon
and the flashlights on the end of their rifles, they could see the side of the helicopter was painted a dark crimson color.
The windows were shattered and from the flashlights more blood was smeared on the inside of the craft. The only noise coming
from the Seahawk was the crackling static of the radio. Brander moved slowly forward, no shell casings were on the ground,
just long smears of blood, and bits of cloth and meat. Pointing the muzzle of the G36 into the cabin through the front windshield,
he could see the instrument panel was completely gutted.
“What in God’s
name...” He muttered quietly to himself. Taking a step back, his right foot took a second longer to strike the deck
and there was a slight squish to the step. Brander moved his foot and knelt. From his gun’s light he could see a small
mound of red-white jam, the remains of an eyeball. There were two questions burning immediately in his mind, how did the eyeball
get there and where was its owner? Brander scanned the deck; his eyes locked on and followed a streak of crimson on
the grey deck heading towards the stern. He motioned with his hand and the rest of his team moved from securing the rest of
the helipad to moving towards the edge where the streak ended.
The SEALs spread out and moved
slowly towards the edge of the helipad. Brander peered over the edge of the helipad, but saw only the crimson streak continuing
towards the stern of the ship. His eyes scanned the blackness ahead and made out the shapes of the ship’s stern Harpoon
missile launchers and five inch gun. He moved towards the stairs and with cover from his team, moved down the short flight
of steps and back onto the deck. The commando froze as he saw something twitch from behind the Harpoon launchers. The rifle’s
light only caught the launchers and Brander moved slowly around and motioned for Landis and Waggner to follow and for Wiseman
to cover their rear.
Brander moved slowly around
to the right of the launchers with Landis moving in on the left with Waggner. The soldier made sure his rifle was charged
and the selector switch was to full automatic. Heavy breathing mixed with the tearing of something made Brander slightly edgy,
but if it was a friendly, he could finally get some answers. With only about another few inches before his light would illuminate
the shape behind the Harpoons, Brander took a massive side step and readied to fire. “This….what in God’s
The blood in the SEAL went
colder than the Antarctic, all the training he had received, all the combat he had seen, nothing could have prepared him for
what was sitting a few meters away, his light only illuminated a small portion of the creature, but then the moon broke through
the clouds and allowed him to gaze upon the beast. Something was hunched over the mostly naked and eaten remains of what appeared
to be a man and from the few remaining tatters of clothing, Brander was able to guess it was the co-pilot Mendez. Brander
blinked, the brief rest allowed his mind to reset and take in the bizarre sight in front of him.
A large creature with a long
wolf-like snout burrowed into the corpse and the jaws wrapped around the man’s liver and ripped it out. Clawed hands
released the corpse to the ground and held onto the meat as the jaws went to work and the creature continued to feed. Brander
studied the animal in awe and terror, most of its upper body seemed to be covered in a dark brown fur, the same went with
most of its arms and legs. The SEAL looked past to see Landis and Waggner standing behind the animal, also locked in morbid
fascination with the thing.
The light from Brander’s
G36 got into the animal’s dead grey eyes and the animal instantly forgot about its meal and whirled to face the man,
the creature showed itself to be a biped as it stood fully erect at a towering seven and half feet, snarling as blood and
saliva dripped from its jaws. Brander didn’t need anyone to tell him the creature was not friendly and it was in his
best interest to shoot it. His finger pulled the trigger and a quick stream of rounds spat out of the barrel at the animal.
The bullets hit home and the animal roared in pain as the lead tore into its hide. Blood and fur flew as the creature shook
from another blast from behind. Instead of going down, the animal jumped easily onto the Harpoon launchers and leapt for the
helipad as more bullets chased it.
Wiseman turned as the he heard
the gunfire and was frozen for a mere half-second as he saw something leap for the helipad. The creature landed on the ground
next to him and its left clawed hand grabbed the rifle as the SEAL spun to fire, the man’s brain didn’t register
fast enough as the animal ripped the gun out of his hand, a clawed hand slashed across the man’s chest, geysers of blood
rocketed from the gashes, and the creature wrapped its jaws around Wiseman’s throat.
The man screamed as the teeth
ripped into his throat, punching into the veins and arteries. Wiseman thrashed and tried to break free, blood gushed through
his mouth and his throat as he fought for his life, the creature had a firm grasp and the constant flow of blood began to
weaken the man. He heard the cries of his comrades, but in an instant, felt the jaws gave a hard twist and snapped his neck.
The animal dropped the bloodied corpse as bullets buzzed around it. The animal bolted back and disappeared through the open
door and into the ship.
Brander pounded up the stairs
and cursed as he saw the corpse of his soldier. Brander felt a twist in his gut as he stared at the corpse before being drawn
by the crackling of automatic fire. Standing up, he quickly linked up with his other two men who were standing near the door
leading into the ship.
“That thing went in
there sir. Jesus, I have never seen the likes of such a thing in all my years.” Landis gasped. Brander took point, the
adrenaline still running hard through his veins, whatever the thing was it could bleed, that means they could kill it. The
creature made no attempt to conceal itself, as it continued to unleash howl after howl as it barreled through the hallways.
The men stood outside for a few seconds longer before Brander took the lead and led the group into the ship.
They moved swiftly, wanting
to gain ground on the creature and prevent it from finding a place to hide out. As they moved through the halls, the cries
of the creature ringing down the metal walls, Brander could not keep thinking about it. First question was how did it get
on the ship? The ship had not made port in weeks and an animal of that size would be easily spotted. Was the ship transporting
it? Brander flushed the ideas of how it got on out of his head and he felt his stomach twist as the next thought came to mind.
There had to be more, just had to be, one single animal could not kill nearly four hundred men, but since it showed itself
to be able to absorb a lot of lead, it was plausible it killed some men and the rest were held up in the bowels of the ship.
It was then the howling stopped.
Brander slowed down and paused
before an open door. Pressing himself against the bloodstained wall, he inched towards the edge of the entrance and peered
into the darkness. Some dying lights were on, giving the vast room a bit of illumination. The mess hall lived up to its name,
tables, chairs, utensils, and some severed limbs were scattered across the room. As Brander scanned the room, he spotted what
seemed to be their quarry, but as a light swung gently on its cord, it showed a young midshipman pinned to the wall by one
of the table legs. A pool of blood had collected and dried on the floor under him, his head lay limp on his chest, but Brander
could see his throat had been ripped out.
Giving a few brief hand gestures,
the three men moved into the room. They moved slowly, carefully navigating around the limbs and knocked over tables. Brander
spun around several times, checking their rear and wiped the sweat from his brow. He tried to slow down his breathing, his
heart was running wild and he was sure the creature could hear it. He gently panned his gun in front of him and it landed
a few meters in front of him, right on the animal’s face.
The creature snarled and leapt
from its hiding spot, trying to move around the humans. All three men opened fire with short bursts, but the echoing noise
would make one believe all were firing full automatic. The bullets smashed into the tables and chairs, spending chunks of
metal flying as the creature tried to weave through the hail of lead. Brander’s G36 ran dry and he wasted no time exchanging
magazines and recharging the weapon. He brought it up again and continued to fire as the creature ducked behind some tables
and made a dash for the door, this time moving awkwardly on four limbs. Brander lined up the creature in the iron sights and
waited for his next shot. He squeezed the trigger, the rifle spat out a stream of rounds and they peppered the animal’s
head and neck. The animal cried out in pain and stumbled, leaving it venerable as the other SEALs tore into it with their
Blood and fur exploded from
the animal as the 5.56 bullets tore its upper body apart. Brander finished off another magazine and shouted over the automatic
fire to stop. His ears were ringing and he worked his jaw to try and get rid of some of it. The creature had stopped moving
and blood was visibly flowing from the countless wounds. Brander breathed a sigh of relief, as did his men who could only
smile. Brander, his chest heaving from breathing moved slowly forward and picked up a chair leg. Remembering how fast the
animal had moved on Wiseman, Brander simply threw the leg at it like a javelin, managing to get it a few inches into the flesh.
“I think its dead.”
“Question is what is
‘it’ Joe.” Landis commented. Brander nodded, but for now they could relax slightly, other thoughts were
gone. They could find radio parts in the ship and if needed cannibalize whatever remained of the Seahawk’s radio and
call in for immediate support. He continued to stare at the thing, breathing was heavy behind him. “You guys okay? Breathing
a bit hard.”
“What do you mean?”
Waggner asked. Brander arched an eyebrow, stood and turned around. “I thought…oh hell.”
Brander’s gaze went
past his two men to the door at the far end of the mess hall. At least six creatures, all resembling the animal on the floor
behind them, were visible near the door. Their jaws snapped and long tongues lashed across their teeth as fresh meat was only
a few meters away. The humans began to slowly step back from the group and as they did one creature advanced by a few steps,
allowing two more to enter the room. Waggner reached into his pouch and removed a flashbang grenade. He gently pulled the
pin and waited as they moved back. His mouth and throat were dry; he turned his head slightly to see his commander and Landis
with their rifles at the ready. He showed them the grenade in his hand and Brander nodded.
turned around and released the handle and began counting in his head. At three, he hurled the grenade at the creatures, before
turning around and bolted for the door while Brander and Landis fired a few bursts before moving after him. The grenade exploded,
ringing the ears of the men, but the creatures howled and their assault was thankfully delayed. Brander turned his head as
he reached the door; the animals were covering their eyes and stumbled around. Another snarl drew his attention, he turned
his eyes to the animal on the floor, it was moving, the bloodied face snarled and the animal began to try and stand. Oh
Christ. What is going on?
Brander slammed the door shut
and locked it just as one of the animals slammed into it. The door rattled again and again as the animals slammed themselves
into it. Brander didn’t wait for the door to open or to wait for the animals to go around, he moved after Landis and
Waggner, who were now readying to close another door. Brander jumped through and the door was slammed shut and sealed. They
had to reach the bridge; it was probably the safest place on the ship. Brander’s head and heart were pounding as the
group moved towards the bow of the ship. The howling began again and they had only moved for a few minutes before one of the
animals leapt from one of the adjacent hallways and got in front of them. Two more joined it and more snarls from the rear
drew their attention as the rest came up.
Landis looked around, another
door to their right was slightly ajar and he knocked it open. The animals snarled and the SEALs jumped into the door and began
to close the door. An arm shot through the crack, the clawed fingers grasped for the men, searching for its prey. The arm
grabbed Waggner’s vest and began to drag him towards the crack. Brander and Landis tried grabbed Waggner and just barely
managed to keep him from being pulled through. Waggner thrashed and with his bare hands used every pressure point he knew
of to get the animal’s arm off him, but to no avail. His fingers moved around his body and he pulled his Heckler and
Koch USP automatic pistol from its holster and pressed it against the animal’s wrist. Blood and bone shot up in geysers
as the .45 slugs blew several holes in the creature’s wrist. The animal howled in pain and Waggner continued to fire
as the arm withdrew. His last bullet struck at the base of the middle finger, sending the appendage flying to the ground.
The door slammed shut and it was sealed. Within seconds, the creatures began to scratch at the door.
The men collapsed, their clothes
clung to their skin as they sweated profusely and gasped for air. Brander looked around the dark room, bunks and more bunks.
The man stood and moved slowly down the short hallway, taking a few seconds to look at the bunks lining the walls. No blood
and no corpses were in this part and the other door leading into the room was sealed shut. Brander gratefully collapsed onto
a bunk, his muscles relaxing as he landed on the sheets. Landis and Waggner came forward, both studying the severed finger.
Brander sighed, business before pleasure.
As he moved to get up, he
knocked over a small box, it opened as it hit the floor and there was a rattling as something exited from it. Brander shined
his rifle’s light down on the floor; a glint came from a syringe resting against the wall. Waggner walked up to it and
picked it up. The syringe was filled with some clear substance, the soldier guessed it was probably heroin somehow smuggled
on the ship. He sat on one of the bunks and twirled the syringe in his fingers. “What are we gonna do boss?”
Brander had been thinking
about that since finding the helicopter destroyed. The idea of using one of cruiser’s helicopters had passed
through his mind, but none of them knew how to pilot it. With all of the creatures out there, they had a bigger problem. They
had at least discovered why the Kearsarge had broken off contact with command with Norfolk. That information had no
importance unless they got it someone. Brander sighed. “Lets rest for a bit and comb this place for any journal.”
The minutes ticked slowly
by, the snarling and scratching had the door had died, but none of the SEALs were eager to open the door and discover if the
animals had left. Brander idly leafed through the pages of a journal and stopped at the last page. His heart began to pound
as his eyes moved over the words, absorbing the meaning and his mind tried to kill that, telling him it wasn’t true.
“Carl, Stuart…listen to this. Last page of the journal of Midshipman Daniel Marshall. ‘It isn’t long
now. Bob has lost his syringes, they can’t be found anywhere. None of us can spare any and hope to make it back to port
without changing. I have tried to switch shifts with him and get him down here before nightfall. Talbot won’t allow
it. Damn him. We have all bonded and worked to keep the secret between us. We are all old enough to think as humans in our
form, but Bob isn’t. He is far too young. The moon still holds its sway over many of us to some extent. It isn’t
long before the moon rises and the change begins. There is no other recourse. Everyone has to die. May God have mercy on the
souls of this ship’…that is it.”
“What the hell was he
rambling about?” Waggner asked. Landis picked up the finger from the floor and the syringe. He removed the cover from
the needle and dripped some of the liquid on it. The seconds ticked away before the smell of cooking flesh reached the noses
of the men. There was a thin line of smoke coming from the spot where Landis had dripped the liquid. He placed the finger
down as the burning continued for a few more seconds before stopping. Before Brander could protest, Landis dripped some onto
his finger, nothing happened. No burning, nothing. There was a dead silence in the group as their eyes gently moved up to
meet each other. None of them spoke, they could not think of anything to say. No comment could be made on the reaction on
the severed finger to the reaction on Landis’s finger.
Three hours had passed, Brander
knew the Normandy was still speeding towards the Kearsarge and would be there in less than an hour. The scratching
had ceased long ago and so far no suggestion had been produced about the origin of the animals. Some ideas had entered the
man’s head, but thus far he had yet to speak as they sounded too silly to be taken seriously. As he sat there, he knew
they didn’t have much time, if those animals could take out the whole of the crew of this ship, they could easily kill
the crew of the Normandy, and many of those people were his friends.
“Right, do you guys
have any idea what those things are? I say they are werewolves.”
Landis and Waggner looked
at each other and shrugged. Waggener spoke. “Why not? The one that got Wiseman was still moving after we pumped a few
magazines into it…and they do resemble those things in that movie…Carl what was it called? From the early eighties.”
“Uhhh, An American
Werewolf in London?”
“Na, the other one.”
Waggener slapped his hand
against his rifle. “That is the one. Look just like those fellas.”
Brander smiled slightly, for
a brief minute the tension had been relieved. “Right, now we all agree on what we are facing, I think I should make
mention we can’t let them get off the ship.”
“The only silver we
got is the stuff in the syringe I think and I ain’t gonna get close enough to one to use it. And, why would a werewolf
have silver?” Waggner stated.
“Well, my guess is that
it isn’t pure silver nitrate.” Brander said. “I am just shooting stuff out here, but my guess is it is diluted
in some way or mixed and the wolf injects it into him or herself while still in human form to prevent changing. But, that
isn’t important. The thing is we can’t kill them with lead, we gotta blow up the ship. There is only one way to
Landis caught on quickly what
his friend was brewing. “We don’t have a radio, plus how are we gonna get off the ship before we are hit?”
Brander sighed, his gut twist
and he felt butterflies in his stomach at the same time. “The ships radio, if it hasn’t been torn apart too badly.
Claim…say…terrorist got hold of the ship and we have been fighting the whole night, but there are too many. I
dunno, something that will get a Harpoon or torpedo launched at this ship. Getting off. We can’t…maybe in a slim
chance we can’t, but I doubt it. So, do we make a run for the bridge? For one I am doing things the democratic way.”
The door slammed shut and
was sealed as a werewolf slammed into it. The animal snarled and Waggner slammed in his last magazine into his G36. The SEALs
were sweating profusely and had expended most of their bullets on the sprint to the bridge. Brander went to the back of the
bridge and opened the door to the radio room. The radio had been hit too, but it didn’t seem that bad. “Stuart.
Get to work on the radio.”
Waggner moved past Brander
and went to work trying to repair the radio. Brander looked out the broken bridge windows and into the night. The full moon
was still bright in the sky and now Brander cursed it more than he ever did during night time operations. The werewolf howling
intensified and Brander cried out to Landis as two of the massive animals suddenly appeared in the shattered windows. The
humans didn’t waste any time letting loose with lead and the roar of their weapons in the confined space overcame the
howling of the wolves. Glass, fur, blood, and lead intermixed as the werewolves were torn apart.
One tumbled backward and fell
with a dull thump onto the deck, the other fell into the bridge. Brander and Landis were upon the animal in seconds, firing
more bullets at it and when their magazines went dry, switched to their pistols as they reloaded with their other hand. The
werewolf stood up, howling and swiped at the two men. The claws came within inches of opening Brander’s chest. The animal
was covered in its own blood, its hair was now matted it its body and Brander could see in the gun flashes the bullet wounds
healing on the creature.
The werewolf was not stupid
and it followed its partner back through the window and onto the deck. Its wounds would heal and the humans were still a long
way from being safe. Landis hurled a grenade out the window and after the explosion, moved to the window and looked down,
the deck was blackened from his explosion and several large and small pools of blood covered the deck while smears of crimson
covered the front of the bridge.
He turned around and smiled
at Brander. He didn’t anticipate the speed of the werewolves. Brander’s warning came too late as a werewolf head
appeared behind Landis and the jaws wrapped around the man’s neck. He screamed and jerked forward, the teeth buried
in his neck ripped the tender meat and blood began to flow like a river. As Brander moved forward, Landis’s chest exploded
in a shower of blood, gore, and bone. The SEAL skidded to a halt as in the clawed hand, Landis’s heart beat for the
last time and the body was dragged out of the window before Brander could remove himself from the position.
“Sir! The Normandy!”
Waggner called out. Brander turned and ran into the radio room, static covered most of the werewolf noise and he didn’t
see Waggner collect his rifle and head out into the bridge. Brander gasped for air, his best friend was now dead, the only
thing he could do was to make sure those things never got off the ship. “Smiley Three to Normandy… Smiley
Three to Normandy come in you lazy sons of a…”
“We’re here. Where
have you been?” The angry voice of the ship’s commander came over the static.
“We were ambushed after
we landed by terrorists and have been slugging our way to the bridge. Two of my men dead…the whole crew of this ship
is probably dead too. I dunno how they got it, probably an inside job. Look captain, you have to fire a Harpoon into this
ship or else they will attack US targets overseas and US shipping.”
Captain Mark Dante held kept
the headsets firmly in place and heard something else besides Brander in the back round. The career officer licked his lips,
the other radiomen were not listening, he was recording everything and he wanted to be the first to hear what Brander had
to say. He opened his mouth just as he heard gunfire and a scream punch through the headsets and the static. “Brander!
What is going on?”
“Fire a Harpoon or you
have killed more than you can reason!” Brander yelled over the radio before exchanging it for his rifle. Waggner was
on the floor of the bridge, his guts laying around him as two werewolves stood triumphantly over their meal. One bent down
and bit into the man’s head and twisted, breaking his neck and finally putting him out of this misery. They were soon
joined by the others and they focused their attention on Brander. The SEAL raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.
Dante stood on the bridge,
his first mate continued to relay messages from the missile stations. Two Harpoons would be launched, he had only told his
men it was in the best interest of national security. His charcoal colored eyes stared across the black ocean, in the light
of the moon he could see the dim shape of Kearsarge twenty miles away. He looked over at his first mate as he was informed
the Harpoons were ready. “Fire.”
Brander fell onto his knees,
his hands grasping his intestines as they hung limply from his open stomach. Warm blood seeped through his fingers and leaked
through his mouth. He looked up at the werewolf towering over him, the saliva from the jaws dripped down onto his face while
his blood on the claws hit the floor. The werewolf raised its hand to deliver the final blow.
It was the last thing Brander
saw before he was engulfed in fire and his world went black.
Dante watched as the Harpoons
slammed into the other cruiser and tore it apart. Several other explosions continued to rip the vessel apart and sent Seahawk
sitting on the stern of the ship into the air briefly before plunging into the dark water. Dante had the Normandy move
within a mile and half of the ship and come to halt. Staring at the burning hulk, he waited patiently before the dark waters
of the Atlantic added another ship to its extensive collection.
He gave command of the ship
to his first mate so he could get some rest. Dante headed back to his cabin, his head bent in sadness and shame. His career
was probably over, he knew there would be an inquiry, but the recorded radio would help and probably set him free. He shut
the door to his cabin and placed his head against the cool metal. Several minutes passed before he walked over to his desk
and pulled a pair of black box from the drawer.
the boxes to reveal at least forty syringes filled with clear liquid. Should be enough to last the cruise.
Dante rolled up his sleeve,
removed a syringe from a box and injected himself with silver nitrate.
Copyright Richard Humphries 2006
'Sea Wolves' is Richard
Humphries' first horror story that he has completed. His love of horror came around when I saw George A. Romero's 'Dawn of
the Dead' back before his junior year of high school. He had seen vampires, wolfmen, the mummy, and the Creature from the
Black Lagoon on AMC on Saturday mornings but never a zombie. The shock from the movie spurred him into horror. He currently
owns a large amount of horror DVDs including some rare gems like 'Cannibal Holocaust'. Currently he has several more story
ideas in his head and hopes to do a short horror film with some classmates at his school.