Betsy Toog sat at her desk in the Coast Guard station of Destin, Florida, reading a magazine. It was a quiet night, and her duties were few: if the phone rang, she answered it.
She was twiddling a finger in her ear when it rang. She wiped her hands quickly and picked it up. "Destin Coast Guard Station, this is Betsy speaking, how can I help you?"
Nothing but the whisper of the wind came through the receiver.
"Hello? Hello?" Betsy asked. "Is anyone there?" She took a glance at her computer's screen. It showed that the caller was somewhere in the gulf. "Can you hear me? Please respond." Betsy's supervisor noticed, and walked over. "There's nothing on the other end," Betsy said to him.
Chief Petty Officer Mark Lopez felt the spray of the dancing gulf as their boat bounced through the waves. He was leaning on the railing of the ship's starboard side, gripping tightly the picture in his hands.
"CPO Lopez, good morning," the vessel's commanding officer, Chief Warrant Officer Alexander said, leaning against the railing next to Lopez. "Nice day, isn't it?"
With boiling gray clouds over them and a tumultuous Gulf of Mexico under them, few people could say this weather was nice. "I suppose so, Captain," Lopez responded. "For a duck, perhaps."
CWO Alexander laughed and took a sip of coffee. His body rocked back and forth with the boat to keep his cup steady. "I really don't mind it."
Lopez moved to put the picture he held back in his pocket when Alexander stopped him. "Hold on now. Is that your new one?" He asked. Lopez took the picture out again and opened it up.
It showed him with his wife, two girls, and an infant in his wife's arms. "Yes sir. We decided to name him David, after Ana's grandfather. He raised her."
"Good name. Handsome, like his father," Alexander said. He handed the picture back carefully and took another sip. He licked a few drips off his bristly gray moustache. "You ever been this far out in the gulf?"
"No sir. Before I transferred I mostly did duty in the Keys."
"Did you ever go into the Triangle?"
"Yes sir. There's no reason for us to fear it; everything that's happened inside it can be explained away by human error or violent weather. It's all just confirmation bias."
"Remind me what that means, CPO."
"It's when you only notice things that fit with what you think. Boats and planes disappear all over the place, but people started noticing it happening in the Bermuda Triangle, so they thought it was special," Lopez explained. Alexander nodded. "The most interesting thing that could there was something with methane hydrates."
"Oh, I know all about those," Alexander said. "They create low-density pockets of water that sink a ship and crush it up, right?"
"Yes sir, that's it."
Alexander took a long drink. "And the ship we're headed to?"
Lopez hesitated. The ship that had contacted the Destin Station was reported called the Third Coin. The station had reported its communications working exactly as they should, but no answer came when they tried to contact it. Alexander's ship, the Macaroni, was set to investigate.
"Hard to say. Most likely it's an electrical system that shorted out and we can't pick up," Lopez said, rubbing his arms to get the chill out. "Could be a lot of things."
"You don't think it could be something supernatural?" Alexander asked with a sly grin under his moustache.
"No sir, I don't. Not even for something this strange."
Alexander shrugged and finished his coffee. "Then you won't mind being part of the team to investigate?"
"Of course not, sir. Semper Paratus." Alexander chuckled and clapped Lopez on the shoulder before leaving him alone at the railing. Lopez put the picture of his family safely in a pocket and watched the water crash around the hull of the boat.
Four hours later Lopez and Seaman Ed Verne looked at the dot on the horizon that was the Third Coin.
"Do you know what the name means, Chief?" Verne asked him. Lopez shook his head. "You never saw anything like this when you were in the Keys?"
"You mean Bermuda, don't you Verne?" Verne, after a pause, nodded. "No, none of us ever saw anything like this. Some similar things. One ship had a virus on it that got everybody sick. Countless ships that went off course or had their comms malfunction."
"What do you think this is?"
Lopez shook his head. "I don't know. It's probably nothing. That's why I'm going to be the one leading the crew when we go on board, if we have to."
"Not afraid of anything, are you Chief?" the Seaman asked.
"I've got a new son. I'm afraid of not being able to provide for him, for one. I'm afraid he won't ever get to know his dad until he's in high school because his dad's off on the water all the time." He looked at Verne, still a relatively young man. "Not things that mean much to you, I suppose."
"A little bit, Chief. I have a niece that I love, but I don't get to see her much. My brother and sister-in-law life in Tennessee." Lopez nodded.
A voice from the open bridge called down to them. "Chief! Verne! The CWO is going to brief soon!" They looked up and found Petty Officer Jennifer Reed leaning over the railing. "He requests your presence!"
Lopez looked at the Third Coin, now a bigger and identifiable shape in the water, and followed Verne up the steps to the bridge. They waited until the rest of the crew was there. There were a total of ten Coast Guard on the small ship.
"We've tried to establish contact with the Third Coin, but nobody's responded," Alexander said. "We're going to have to get up close to them. Hopefully we won't have to do any kind of boarding maneuvers, but in that case, CPO Lopez will be leading the team, as well as PO3 Reed, Seamen Verne and Danson, and Seaman Recruit Tammen." A little cheer went up, and the youngest person on the boat was clapped on the back a few times. "You chosen your specialty yet, son?" Alexander asked Bret Tammen.
"No, sir. But . . . I have been considering food service or gunner's mate, sir," Tammen said.
"Good, that's good son. We could always use someone that knows how to sling a meal on these expeditions. Back to the Third Coin, that's pretty much all we know. Are there any questions?"
"Captain, what level of force are we advised to use if we board?" Reed asked.
"That has yet to be determined, Officer. But . . . " Alexander thought for a moment. "If no contact is made, we go in prepared. Sidearms and rifles at least. Reed, you may of course elect to use your favored weapon." The woman nodded. "Anything else?"
Muttered instances of "no sir" were heard. Alexander nodded at the helmsmen, who steered them closer to the motionless ship.
"Third Coin!" Alexander yelled through a megaphone once they got close enough. The two boats bobbed some fifty or a hundred feet away from each other. The Third Coin was a ship maybe two hundred feet long. It looked like a fishing boat. There was a crane trailing in the water. Nobody could be seen. "This is the United States Coast Guard. Please respond."
The other ship was silent. "Third Coin, this is the United States Coast Guard, please respond. If you don't respond, we will board your vessel."
Lopez, standing next to the Captain, watched the ship with his arms crossed. Nothing moved. Alexander turned to him. "Get your team ready, Chief; you're on." Lopez nodded and headed down. The Macaroni started moving closer. The Third Coin towered over the smaller ship, every dimension it possessed was greater. The boat was a large trawler, a ship that operated by dragging a net behind it to catch the fish. Lopez estimated its crew to be around about four dozen.
"Suit up!" He ordered when he entered the crew area. "We're drawing alongside now. Reed, you're bringing your Remington?"
"Yes sir," Reed said.
"Fine. Get your vests and weapons ready."
"Third Coin!" Alexander yelled with the megaphone. "We are boarding your vessel!"
Lopez heard his Captain shout on the motorized raft as Seaman Danson piloted it along the port side amidships. The wet air and steel sky did nothing to improve the mood of the five sailors that climbed up the ladder there after tethering the raft.
Lopez directed Reed and Danson to check the bow; he, Verne, and Tammen headed toward the bridge. They wore Kevlar vests under life jackets, carried rifles, and had pistols strapped to their hips. Belts held handcuffs, pepper spray, flashlights, and more.
The deck of the boat was empty. Only the lonely spray of the gulf and the creak of the ship as it rolled on the waves could be heard. Lopez led the way up to the bridge.
Before they reached the enclosed area, he heard Reed talk to him through his walkie-talkie. "Chief, we're at the bow. It doesn't look like there's anybody here, over."
"What have you investigated? Over." Lopez spoke into his box. He waited a second.
"The deck's totally empty, and all the storage at the front of the ship is deserted. Can't find a thing. Over."
"Have you found anything that leads below deck yet? Over."
"Yes sir, but-" inaudible words came through. "Seaman Danson says the lights don't seem to be functioning, over."
"Okay. Why don't you check out the rest of the deck and then meet us at the bridge. We'll head below after that. Over and out." Lopez dropped his walkie-talkie to his belt. "Let's head into the bridge. SR, why don't you do the honors," he said to Tammen. Tammen nodded and went around the corner to the door that led into the enclosed bridge. The young man gripped the handle and pushed the door. It creaked open slowly; Tammen had to press with his shoulder to get it open all the way. He stepped in.
Immediately, he cried out and jumped back, bringing his rifle up. Startled, Lopez looked past him.
Lying propped up against the bridge console was a human. Its lips were pulled back, and a leering rictus sat on its face. Teeth and gums showed, stained yellow and red. The eyelids of the face had done something similar, and it looked as if the eyeballs were popping out.
"Don't fire, Tammen," Lopez said. He stepped in. He kept a firm grip on his rifle despite himself, getting closer to the body. It looked like a Cuban or Puerto Rican male. He had short black hair and mottled skin. Lopez crouched down in front of him. Heart pounding, he extended his hand to feel for breath. He touched the neck. "He's dead."
"Jesus," Verne said. He and Tammen stood behind Lopez. "Why does he look like that?"
"No idea. But . . . I'd say be careful. Could be a pathogen or disease or something like that. Don’t touch him. Verne, contact Reed and tell her what we found, I'm going to call the Captain."
"You got it, Chief," Verne said, and reached for his walkie-talkie.
They heard a slump and the door slammed behind them. All three whirled and found another body, an African male, lying in front of the closed door. The wild, unending grin and wide eyes stared at them. The three of them waited for their hearts to start beating again.
"H-he must have been s-sitting on the other side of the door," Verne said, keeping his rifle trained on the body. "He fell over and pushed the door shut. That's all."
"Yeah," Lopez said. "Captain, this is Lopez, over."
"Copy, Chief. What have you found? Over."
"We've found . . . two bodies. On the bridge. One confirmed dead, the other assumed." Lopez jerked his head in the bodies direction while looking at Verne. Verne checked a pulse. "They both have something . . . their lips and eyelids have dried out or something. It's . . . quite the sight. Over."
There was a pause. "Have you found any survivors yet? Over."
"No sir. Other than the bodies it doesn't look like anything's happened here, over."
"That's a pretty big 'other than,' Chief. Over."
"Yes sir, I agree. What's our next step? Over"
The door to the bridge thudded, and all three sailors jumped. Verne and Tammen trained their rifles on it. "Chief? You in there?" They heard Reed shout from the other side.
"Reed and Danson are here, Captain. Over and out." Lopez took a deep breath and walked up to the door. "Verne, see if you can find a blanket or something. I still don't want us touching the bodies." He turned to the door. "Reed, we're here. Don't come in yet, we need to get something out of the way."
Verne found a pile of blankets and a beaten yellow coat, and handed it to Lopez. Lopez wrapped the coat around the body that lay across the door and pulled it aside. All the while the stiff gaze drilled into him.
Reed and Danson stepped in, and the other three explained the bodies.
"Are we still going below?" Reed, white-faced, asked. Lopez paused and then nodded.
"There could be survivors down there. Maybe even something to explain this," Lopez said. "Come in Captain, this is Lopez, over."
"I hear you Chief, over."
"We're going to head below deck now, over."
"Copy Chief. We've relayed what you told us to Destin, over and out."
"All right people," Lopez said, dropping his walkie-talkie to his belt, "let's move out."
"Who has point, Chief?" Reed asked. She held her Remington shotgun in her hands tightly.
"You do, if you want it so badly," said Lopez. Reed nodded and went out the door. The others followed her, with Lopez bringing up the rear. He sent one last glance at the corpse slumped against the console. It smiled back.
Reed led them to a door that went below deck. It smelled strongly of fish and sour water. They pried it open, revealing a dark ladder down. All five of them brought out their flashlights. Reed clipped hers to the front of her shotgun.
Danson went down first, with the rest of them lighting his path with their flashlights. When they all got down the ladder they were in a small room with a door on the wall in front, and one to their right. Lopez tried the light switch. "Power's off. That must have happened after they tried to contact Destin. Let's try to find the crew quarters first. Any clues?"
"I suspect most of the hold will be space for fish," Reed said. Pointing at the door to their right, she said "probably in that direction."
"Full steam ahead, then," Lopez said, and pushed the door open.
They walked through the belly of the vessel, pointing their bright beams down hallways and into dark corners, until they found the crew quarters: tightly packed rooms that had four beds each. They held personal items like books and magazines, pictures of family and games. Most were empty.
One room had bodies in it. All four beds were taken up. All four of the corpses had the same taut, stretched grin and achingly wide eyes. All four otherwise looked like they were peacefully resting. The creak of the ship as it rocked was the only noise as the five of them looked in at the scene, sharp shadows thrown on the wall from their flashlights.
Lopez went in slowly, and hunched down by one of the bodies. He felt for a pulse and found nothing. Shaking his head, he went to the one above, with the same result. "Dead."
"I don't like this, Chief," Verne said.
"Then you can go wait topside while the rest of us investigate down here," Lopez responded without looking. Verne said nothing, and apparently decided to stay with the group. "No scratches, no bandages, no bruises or wounds," Lopez continued. "Nothing to hint disease except for the mouth and eyes. Does anything here sound familiar to anybody?" He asked. "Anybody have any knowledge of diseases or bacteria?"
"I was a pre-med student in college," Tammen said, shaking his head. "But I don't know anything about this."
"Really?" Danson asked. "A pre-med but you're considering cook as a specialty?"
"I didn't really like it."
"Look at this," Lopez said. He had been looking through some of the items in the room. "A written note. It looks like a letter that hasn't been mailed yet. Can't wait to see you again . . . " Lopez scanned the letter, written in Spanish. "Plan to send this from Miami . . . lots of fish, good harvest."
"Nothing about a sickness?" Verne asked.
"Nothing. There's nothing here but 'work is hard, times are good, and love you all.'" Lopez turned the note over and found nothing on the other side. "That's all." He stood. "Let's see what else we can find."
They went down the hallway past the rest of the crew quarters until they hit a door. Reed pushed it open, and a wave of stench hit them. "Eugh. There must be a million fish in here."
It was a good estimate. They found bins full of fish carcasses and ice from one end of the long, wide room, possibly long enough to reach to the other end of the ship, to the other. The five of them made their way through it, stepping carefully, shining their flashlights everywhere. The smell and the darkness and the roll of the ship dizzied them.
Reed's flashlight caught something, and Lopez heard her breathe out a swear. "Chief . . . " Lopez pointed his flashlight in the same direction. Hundreds of teeth and staring eyes glinted.
"Oh Christ," Verne muttered, as the five of them picked their way to the pile of bodies. They were smashed against the far wall of the hold, dozens or even hundreds of bodies of all ethnicities pressed together, all with the same face.
Lopez looked, feeling a rolling, clenched fist in his stomach. Some of the bodies were pressed with their faces against the wall by the bodies on top of them. Blood from busted noses and battered skulls pooled on the ground.
The boat creaked, a piece of machinery shifted, and five flashlights stabbed in its direction. It was a fine, tangled net, and it shifted back into its original place with the bob of the ship as they watched it.
"Chief," Verne whispered. "What do we do?"
"Okay. Okay. We get topside and get back to the Macaroni. I don't know what happened here, and I don't really want to be the one to find out," Lopez said. "Let's get out of here. Reed, lead the way."
The woman nodded and started to forge her way back to the ladder they had used to descend. The ship's rolling motion increased, and Lopez heard the whistle of wind over his head. When they found the room with the ladder in it Lopez looked at the door at the top of the ladder with some confusion. It was shut. "Did we shut that?"
Reed started climbing the ladder; Lopez and Tammen trained their lights on the top. Verne and Danson chased the shadows away with shaky arms. Reed threw open the door when she got to the top and looked out. "It looks like a storm might be coming in."
"Shouldn't the Captain have contacted us?" Danson asked. Lopez nodded to Tammen and the young man shouldered his weapon to start climbing.
The wind screamed around the damp corners of the ship as they walked back to their raft. Being in the meager light of the threatening clouds helped Lopez's mindset; he could think clearer. The wind and spray washed away evil thoughts.
"Captain, this is Lopez. We found a lot more bodies below deck. They were all pressed against a wall . . . like they were trying to stay away from something. We're heading back to the raft now, over."
No response came. Lopez clicked the button on his walkie-talkie a few times, and failed to hear the tell-tale buzz of transmission. "I think my battery died," he said as the group approached the ladder that led down to their raft. "Someone else contact the Captain."
Danson put his hand on the ladder leading down, then lunged back. He fell gripping his rifle and pointing at the ladder with harsh thrusts of his finger. Lopez ran to it and looked down.
Lying face up in the center of the raft was one of the bodies. Even from thirty feet up he could see the stretched smile. Its limp foot hung over the side, trailing in the water. Reed, Verne, and Tammen came to the side of the boat and looked down, each reacting. Lopez kept silent. Tammen backed away and pressed his body against the wall that was behind him. Lopez saw his chest rise and fall quickly.
"All right, nobody panic," he said. "Reed, try getting the Captain. Tammen, take deep breaths." He went back to the railing. "Hey down there! Can you hear me?" He shouted.
"Chief?" Danson asked.
"He might still be alive. Or something," Lopez responded. He cupped his mouth. "Hello? Can you hear me?"
The body didn't move. Lopez dropped his hands to the railing. "What do we do?" Verne asked. Lopez looked at Reed, who held her walkie-talkie. She shook her head. Lopez looked up at the growling sky, and didn't enjoy the look of it.
"Let's head back to the bridge. We can't reach the Captain on our walkie-talkies, but there might be some way from there. We'll have to get the emergency power running."
The five of them made their way back to the bridge. Lopez felt the other four pull tight like strings as they walked. Even he was nervous. Something had happened on this ship. Perhaps it was happening still. Tammen tried to reach the Macaroni with no luck.
"Chief, why can't we reach the Captain?" He asked Lopez. Lopez shook his head.
"I'm not sure. Maybe something on their side. Maybe all of our walkie-talkies are busted. Maybe something in the atmosphere." They got to the bridge. "Verne, you had an electrician's mate specialty. See if you can hook up the emergency generator." Verne nodded. He had his lips pressed together. "We-"
"Chief," Tammen stammered. "The bodies are gone."
Lopez glanced around the cabin. Both of the corpses were missing. No amount of them remained. Not even the slick rain coat that Lopez used to wrap the body that had fallen against the door. "What . . ."
"Damn it. I want off this boat," Verne said. "There are lifeboats. We can lower one of those and go back to the Macaroni. Those things are zombies or something."
"Stand down, Seaman. Don't go jumping to conclusions."
"Conclusions!? Chief, what do you think is going on around here? A frigging practical joke?"
"Calm down, Verne," Reed said. "If you get the generator running we'll be able to figure out what's going on."
"Chief," Tammen cut in. "Where's Danson?"
They split into two groups. Lopez and Verne searched aft, Reed and Tammen looked around the fore. Verne found him.
Verne trailed behind Lopez, gun clutched tightly to his chest, calling Danson's name with a weak voice. They walked through a stinking hallway that was some level under the bridge. At times it was dark enough to use their flashlights, and Verne pointed his down a dark passage after Lopez walked past it. "Chief!" He called, sounding almost strangled. Lopez returned and shined his own light. He didn't like what he saw.
As they got closer to the body his fears were confirmed. The prominent white teeth reflected the light back at them. Danson's eyes were peeled wide, nearly popping out of their sockets. "Keep a lookout," he told Verne, and bent down over Danson.
He couldn't find bruises or scratches, not even a puncture wound, as if from a needle filled with poison to kill and distort the victim. Danson could be alive if not for the insane smile, and wide eyes. Lopez felt for a pulse.
"Permission to speak, Chief?" Verne asked. Lopez knew he would regret it, but he nodded. "What. The. Fuck. I think we've officially gone over the edge to crazy. We need to get out of here before we all turn up like this. We take the raft back to the Macaroni. If we can't do that, we take the raft back to the mainland. It won't take us very long, especially now that . . . we have less to carry."
Lopez tilted his head with the tilt of the boat. "Chief, Reed and Tammen could already be dead!" He pointed at Danson's body. "Or whatever this is! I don't think we have the capabilities to figure out what happened here anymore!"
"You're right," Lopez said. He stood. "Let's find Reed and Tammen, and see what we can do about the body in the raft."
They turned around.
In the damp light that managed to get through the clouds, slumped at the end of the hallway, were the two bodies from the bridge, one of them still wrapped in the yellow raincoat. Their heads rested against each other.
Verne clicked the safety of his rifle off. "They can move, Chief. They're following us around. They're zombies or something." His voice had no strength. he was trying to speak above a whisper but couldn't. "Chief."
"We don't know that," Lopez said. His mind churned. He tried to find a logical explanation. "It could be anything." He tried his walkie-talkie; it was still busted. He licked his lips. "Follow me."
He walked at the slumped bodies carefully, keeping his eyes on them despite the ship's rolling. He felt a gentle spray from the sky.
They reached the two bodies with their legs spread across the floor. He stepped over a pair of legs; Verne watched the body through his sights. "Verne, think about how it will look if you shot a body during a routine search."
"Ain't routine," Verne responded, though he did lower his gun. "Nothing about this has been routine."
"Maybe not. It doesn't matter. Come on. I got my eyes on them. They won't get you." Verne nodded and joined Lopez. They walked out of the covered area into greater light; Lopez felt his heart thunder. They got to the main section of the ship and saw something running at them. Verne put his gun up, but Lopez again had him lower it. "It's Tammen."
The Recruit, breathing hard and looking like he'd been hit by lightning, nearly collided with them. He tried to say something, but the words got caught in his throat. Lopez clamped his shoulders. "Bret, take a deep breath. Where's PO Reed?"
Tammen pointed behind him, toward the front of the boat. He kept pointing, jabbing his finger over his shoulder. Lopez looked, seeing nothing. A thought crashed through his head. "Tammen . . . is Reed alive?"
The young man shook his head.
"We were walking pretty close along the fore," Tammen explained. The three of them sat in the bridge. Verne fiddled with the generator switches. "We were calling Danson's name and shining our flashlights everywhere. We didn't find him," he said, looking up at Lopez with shame.
Lopez shook his head. "We did. And our friends from the bridge."
Tammen nodded. "Well, we were looking everywhere -- there are a lot of little nooks because of all the parts and stuff up there, for the crane -- and at one point I realized that Reed wasn't near me anymore."
"Just like when Danson disappeared," Verne said. "He was just gone."
Tammen nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, I looked around for her, and . . . and I went around a corner." He started shaking. "She was stood up in a dark corner with the smile, and the eyes, looking right at me. The moment I saw her, she fell over onto her face." He sucked in a breath. "It was all I could do to check her pulse. Then I found you."
"How long were you two separated?" Lopez asked.
"I don't know. I didn't notice when she disappeared. It wasn't that long, though. Maybe ten minutes total until I found her."
"That's even less time before we found Danson." Lopez sighed. "Any luck with the generator?" He asked Verne.
"No. We'll probably have to find it and switch it on. After that we'll be able to use the systems from up here." Verne looked at Lopez. "What do we do?"
"As I see it, we have two options. We either turn that generator on, or we head back to the Macaroni." Lopez hesitated. "That will mean pushing the body on the raft into the water. No way we're going to get it back to the ship. Either one."
"Maybe it's moved by now," Tammen said.
Lopez shot his a glance. "I'm not convinced they can move. There's an explanation that we aren't seeing."
"What do we do?" Verne asked again.
"We go back to the Macaroni. Whatever's going on here, it isn't safe."
"No shit," Verne said. "Uh, no shit, sir. So? Are we going?"
"After me," Lopez said. He exited the bridge, with the other two following him. "Stay together. One person has to be in your sight at all times. Stay as close as you can. And Seaman, turn that safety back on." Lopez heard a click.
They got to the raft without event. The body was still lying in the middle with its foot trailing in the water. "I'll deal with that," Lopez said. He climbed down the ladder.
The raft tilted on the accelerating water. He went to the body, moving carefully to keep his balance. The corpse was one of those they'd found in the room with the bunks. Lopez gripped its arm and leg on one side and heaved, spilling it into the water. It sank with a splash, and without struggle. No water rose from its lips. The stony eyes faded as the gulf swallowed it. Lopez waved the other two down.
Either the Macaroni had drifted, or the Third Coin had; their journey was farther than it had been the first time. The raft sputtered them toward their boat. Lopez called a few times, but nobody answered. They climbed up after tying up the raft.
The small deck of the Macaroni was silent. After spending so much time on the comparatively much bigger Third Coin, Lopez felt closed in. He didn't like it.
He liked less the empty bridge and silent deck. The three of them stood looking out over the water, finding nobody and nothing. They all knew what would be below deck.
"We have to look," Lopez said.
"You look," Verne said. "I'm staying up here."
"Not by yourself, you're not," Lopez said fiercely. "None of us are going to be alone for even a second. I'm not giving you a choice, Seaman. You're coming with us."
Verne took a deep breath. He nodded slightly, looking pale. "Tammen? Any objections?" Lopez asked.
"No sir," Tammen said.
"All right," Lopez said. He sat there for a second. Something was moving the bodies, and something was turning his crew mates into dead starers. There was no doubt that whatever it was had gotten onto this boat. They needed to be careful. "Safeties off, boys. Try not to shoot at any of our people."
Tammen and Verne clicked their rifles. Verne looked somewhat reassured.
Their boat didn't have the big crew cabins the Third Coin had, just smaller areas for their equipment and a public area with tables and chairs. They looked there first, finding nothing. Verne tried flicking the switch when they were inside; the lights stayed off. They only had the guts of the ship left to check.
A little bit later they were back on the bridge. Lopez was leaning against the railing, watching the Third Coin bob. Verne was at the bridge's console, trying to get power to it with dull stabs of his fingers. Tammen floated on the raft.
They'd gone down one more level, to the machines of the engine and the boat. The room was shut off from the light outside and pitch black. All they could hear was the splash of waves through the bulkhead and a slow drip of water. They flicked on their flashlights and searched, quickly finding CWO Alexander and the other crew members.
The drip they heard was blood pooling under one of the crew, a man who had been torn to shreds by the power of the engine. His face, just a few feet from the mangled torso, had smiled back at Lopez through a curtain of dried blood. The other four crew looked clean and untouched, save their stricken faces. Alexander's bushy moustache partially hid his crooked teeth. Lopez started to take a step forward when Verne grabbed his arm.
Lopez looked, and found Verne pointing behind him. Tammen was gone. They found his corpse on the raft, which had come undone from the boat and begun drifting away. Lopez and Verne watched it from the railing under the bridge, nearly the same place they'd been talking about their fears and families before boarding the Third Coin. Neither man talked.
They went to the bridge, and Verne tried to raise the power. Just like the Third Coin, the Macaroni was dead in the water. There was a backup generator, but they would need to go down into the room with the dead crew members to turn it on. Verne said he wanted to try a few things before electing to go back there, but nothing was working.
"What can we do?" Verne asked Lopez. "We're stuck here; we're dead."
"Not yet."
"As soon as whatever's going on here has a chance, we're dead. We'll turn into a puppet or a zombie or something. We have to get away from here."
"Don't you think I know that?" Lopez yelled back. "You think I'm standing here thinking about a crossword?" Verne recoiled, and Lopez sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." He looked at the gray sky. "What time do you think it is?"
"I don't know. Maybe fifteen hundred," Verne answered.
"It'll get dark a lot sooner than normal with those clouds. I don't like our odds in the dark."
"So what do we do?"
"How cold do you think the water is right now?"
"I couldn't say. Pretty cold, probably. Why?"
"We might need to swim. The raft still works, probably, but the only way we're going to get to it is if we swim. It's not that far. It looks like it's about a hundred feet out right now, but getting farther all the time."
"We won't be able to take our rifles," Verne said.
"Or our Kevlar. But none of that seemed to help anybody else. What do you think?"
"I think it's a last resort."
"Fine." Lopez looked around the bridge. "What else can we do here?"
"Not much," Verne said. "We'll need the backup generator for anything here. It's dead."
"Let's give that a try first, then," Lopez said. Verne picked up his rifle.
They stood in front of the door that led under the ship. "Keep your hand on my shoulder," Lopez said. "I don't want to feel the pressure let up for anything. Keep your flashlight in your other hand." Verne nodded, and squeezed Lopez's left shoulder in a strong grip. Lopez opened the door and shined his light in. The room hadn't changed. Dank liquid still puddled on the floor; five shocked faces stared at them.
"Where's the generator?" Lopez asked.
"That looked like it over there," Verne responded, shining his light at a plastic box. "Do you know how to turn it on?"
"No. Let's switch." Lopez turned around and squeezed Verne's shoulder. Verne went to the backup generator and stared at it.
"Okay, let's see if I can remember how to do this. Uh, hmm." Verne started fiddling with the box, checking the cords and buttons.
Lopez was left keeping his flashlight moving in the darkness, never letting it stay still for too long. The open door let in white light, and as Lopez stared at it he began to imagine a long, fanged head peering around the side of it, startling him. Every second he came to expect it to appear; every moment it didn't he knew it would be the next. He heard a grunt and a chug, and the little box started roaring.
"Okay!" Verne shouted. "That's got it! Hopefully it'll actually work. I also hope that-"
The box sputtered out, coughing smoke. Verne tsked and looked behind it. "Ah," Verne said. "I thought this was going to happen." He sighed. "Not enough gas."
"What?! Not enough gas in a backup generator?" Lopez asked. "Then what's the point? Can we find more?"
"Look there," Verne said, pointing at the ground. A puddle of what Lopez thought was blood was near the generator. "There was enough, but it either leaked out or was cut.
"So no more," Lopez said. He gripped his flashlight tightly. Verne shook his head. "Come on then." He nearly dragged Verne back into the light and up to the bridge. The storm was getting stronger, but was just wind and water from the sky so far.
"I guess we need to get swimming," Verne said. He put his rifle down and unclipped his belt.
"Yeah," Lopez said. The raft still drifted. It looked like it was heading for the Third Coin. The distance looked about a hundred and fifty feet now. "It's still not too far, but it'll only get harder for us if we wait." Verne dropped his Kevlar vest with a thump and took a deep breath, and then started to fit his life jacket back over his head. Lopez started taking off his armor.
They also got rid of their boots, sidearms, and knee pads. The only thing they kept were their flashlights, thankfully waterproof. Lopez thought about getting rid of his shirt, but decided that he would want it after getting out of the water. Lopez lowered himself down the ladder first, stepping carefully with his bare feet.
The waves jumped up to brush his bare feet.
He leapt in, submerging himself in an instant. A shock of cold staggered him. His jacket brought him back to the surface and he took a deep breath, trying to find the raft. Each small wave obscured his vision. He heard a splash and a gasp next to him. Verne's head appeared. Lopez found the raft and pointed; it was nearly up against the Third Coin. Verne nodded and started swimming with an awkward front crawl. Lopez followed him, fighting the life jacket to propel himself forward. The cold water soaked into his skin.
Thankfully the raft wasn't far. It had floated next to the Third Coin, and the two of them reached it after a few painful minutes. Lopez hooked his arm around the edge of the raft, brushing against Tammen's body. He thought he felt it move, and pushed away, drifting out. He watched the raft as Verne got to the ladder that led up to the deck of the Third Coin. It didn't move again. He swam it to the ladder, and Verne tied it up. They sat and rested, trying to regain their strength.
After a few minutes, Verne said: "Do we just get in and start going?"
Lopez shook his head. "We'll freeze if we do that. I say we go on board and try to find blankets or coats or something to wrap ourselves in."
Verne nodded. "Okay. I'm going up now." Verne made his way up the cold, slick ladder. Lopez started after him when he was ten rungs above the water. When Verne got to the top he watched Lopez climb up after him.
Lopez pulled himself up and felt the sting of the cold floor on his feet. "There were a few blankets in the bridge," Verne said. "I say we try there first." Lopez nodded and they set off. They kept their eyes on each other, shining their flashlights on every dark spot they found. The storm started to intensify.
Rain had started to fall harder when they got to the bridge. Lopez opened it and stepped in; Verne came in behind him.
Around the walls of the bridge was every body from the boat, and the bodies of Danson and Reed, lined shoulder to shoulder. Each person grinned at the body across from them and fought in a staring contest.
"Find the blankets," Lopez said. "Find the blankets and let's get out of here." Verne didn't respond. Lopez used his hand to search behind him and found nothing. He turned around.
Verne stood, nodding. Lopez's heart pounded. Verne walked into the bridge slowly as Lopez shut the door and pressed against it. Verne found the pile of blankets and handed one to Lopez, who started drying himself off, wiping away the extra water and trying to squeeze out his clothes. He threw the sodden blanket on the ground and took another one, wrapping it around himself. He took a look around the room, then up to Verne. "Away we go." Verne, with a blanket wrapped around himself as well, nodded. They left the bridge and shut the door.
Lopez paused. "If I open that door again," he said, "Do you think we'll find them moved?"
Verne paused and looked behind him. He found the Chief staring at the closed door and leaning toward it. "Will I discover something?" Lopez said, one hand drifting out at the door's handle. "Will I understand?"
"Chief," Verne said. Lopez looked at him. "Don't do it. We still have a chance to leave with our lives."
"Yeah, I guess," Lopez said, but he didn't move. Verne grabbed his arm and pulled him. Lopez shook himself out of his stupor and walked with him, over the slick, cold walkway.
A noise from behind them made them stop. They'd heard a step. It was not camouflaged sound, turned into a step by their attacked minds. It was not the clang of something falling off of a shelf. It was not an echo, or a whistle of the wind. It was not the scuff of a suspended rope dragging over a lose piece of metal. It was a step.
It was a low, almost unheard sound. On any other day it could have blended right in and become nothing more than a noise that their brains did away with, so as not to distract them from the things that really mattered, like their next meal or their mounting paperwork. But on this cold and haunted boat the simple, everyday sound pulled on them, and let them know the answer was just behind the door. Their brains, as they do, split, telling them both to run, run as fast as they could to safety and warmth . . . and it told them to open the door and finally know the truth.
Another step landed. The dark pulled in around Verne and Lopez, the wind tugged their blankets, the rain matted their hair. Another step, closer, louder.
Verne squeezed Lopez's arm and dragged him toward the stairs. Lopez went with him, finally freed from the capturing question. They ran for the raft.
They heard a door open.
"Don't look," Lopez panted as they ran. "We can't look." Verne didn't respond.
They got to the ladder going down, and Verne went first, hand over hand and trying not to let his blanket escape him. When he was halfway down, Lopez went, listening for sounds that got closer and made his heart burst. One rung after the other he went until he reached the raft.
His stomach curdled. Verne's limp body was piled over Tammen's, his face a familiar leer. Lopez shot a look above him and found nothing. The rain got in his eyes.
He untied the raft and started the motor; it took off from the boat and headed for the open water. He knew what he was doing was not safe. He didn't care. As soon as he was more than fifty feet from the Third Coin, he dumped the two bodies into the water, taking Verne's blanket for himself. The storm pulsed as he piloted the raft away from the two ghost ships, north toward Florida and safety.
Shapes and shadows of the storm attacked him more than the rain and the lightning. Water soaked him and the blankets around him. He was lost; north was any direction he wanted it to be. The raft would soon run out of gas; he would soon run out of everything. He was drained. The adrenaline that had raced through his body for the entire day burned his veins.
With numb and hurting fingers he reached into his pocket and brought out the picture of his family.
"Here we are," the man who was the Captain on board their boat said. "These are the coordinates. No ships though. Are we at the right place?"
"Yes sir," the helmsman said. "The coordinates were relayed to us before we lost contact."
"So there should be two boats here, but instead there are zero."
"Yes sir."
The Captain looked around. It was a week after the storm. "Well, they aren't here now. Perhaps they drifted?"
"Report says that the Macaroni dropped anchor. Even if it had capsized in the storm, it would still be here."
The Captain chewed his lip. "Was that poor fellow lying? I hate to think it, but a man in his state of mind could have made it all up."
"Captain Alexander of the Macaroni reported the same thing that Chief Lopez was talking about when they brought him ashore."
"Well, the boats aren't here now, and we can't just drive all over looking for them. Let's head back."
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