The Executive Officer-a younger man with sharp eyes and slick black hair-asked, “How do they stack up against things like the Hivvans?”
Reverend Johnny answered, “Like a fiendish puppet master pulling the strings.”
Brewer said, “There has been plenty of speculation that this Voggoth thing is the big cheese. Not so much direct command, but kind of orchestrating the whole thing. That’s our guess, at least.”
Farway asked, “And you kicked his butt off the North American continent?”
Johnny beamed with pride. “Smashed him with divine wrath, praise the Lord.”
Farway leaned close to Johnny and said, “I wouldn’t be too happy about that, Reverend.”
“Oh? And why would that be?”
“Got to figure, that probably doesn’t sit too well with this Voggoth thing. Why I just bet he’s been steaming over that for a while now.”
Brewer and Johnny shared a glance. Jon spoke, “That’s the type of thing that keeps me up at night. I wonder what’s going on in Eurasia and the Far East. I wonder what The Order is planning. Given the tricks they pulled on us in the first year alone, I’ve got to figure they’re up to something big.”
A buzzer blared in the room startling Jon and the Reverend, both of whom nearly jumped from their seats. Empty plates rattled as the passengers’ knees knocked the tiny dining table.
The Executive Officer grabbed a wall-mounted phone.
“XO here…aye…rig for silent running,” he hung up and spoke to his Captain as they all stood. “That was the D.O. We’ve got inbound. Big.”
The steady hum that Jon had listened to the entire trip faded as he followed the naval officers through the tight corridors to the bridge. Main lighting dimmed in favor of red emergency lights. The crew moved quietly to secure loose objects.
Brewer and Johnny stood off and watched the command crew work.
The XO and the Captain approached the sonar station. Unlike those Hollywood movies Jon remembered, no noise came from that station. Instead, he saw a monitor that appeared to display sound waves. That display outlined some kind of blob: the sonar contact.
“Two hundred meters and closing,” the XO announced. “Helm, watch your trim.”
Jon felt the boat move, flattening in the water.
Without the hum in the background, he suddenly realized that the water was not silent. It made noise- sometimes a groan, sometimes a raking sound. Subtle, but there nonetheless. No doubt the rhythm the Captain had come to know during his years beneath the surface; the rhythm that had changed when the bad things came to the world.
“One hundred fifty meters and closing,” came the XO’s update.
“Fire control,” the Captain looked to the weapons officer. “Get two fish on deck.”
“Aye,” the young sailor responded and communicated the order to load torpedo bays.
“We don’t have the right angle, Sir,” the XO reminded the Captain quietly.
“I know. I want to be ready this time. Just in case.”
A noise from outside the submarine shimmied through the ship, shaking the hull. Men onboard raised hands to ears; Jon felt himself cringe. The noise sounded something like a ghostly moan or an animal’s cry.
“Jesus Christ,” the sonar operator said a little too loud.
“Easy, son,” the Captain placed a hand on the seaman’s shoulder.
“It’s on collision,” the XO said. “Planesman, take her down another fifty at twenty degrees.”
The Captain added to the order, “Nice and steady…nothing sudden. Fill the auxiliaries if you have to.”
The indistinct blob dominated the sonar display. It was huge.
“One hundred meters and closing,” the XO informed.
Jon felt the sub descend deeper into the northern waters. He held on to the bulkhead doorframe to steady his balance. As he did, he spied Reverend Johnny. The poor man sweated bullets.
“Steady…steady everyone,” the Captain whispered encouragement.
“Seventy-five meters.”
A sound in the ocean surrounding them started low and grew louder and louder. A gushing, turbulent roar, as if an underwater tornado spun in their direction.
“Helm, take us down another fifty. Fill those tanks,” the XO ordered as he watched the sonar.
The diving officer repeated the order.
Louder. Louder.
“Damn thing is big. Biggest one yet,” the Captain said.
“Fifty meters.”
The image on the sonar display grew better, more defined, showing outcroppings-almost like tendrils- sprouting from the main blob.
The rushing noise grew until it filled the bridge of the sub. Jon tried to block it out of his ears but failed; the chaotic cacophony bounced through the tube of steel and reached right into his mind. The boat shook, buffeted by some maelstrom on the other side of the hull. The red lights flickered.
Farway shouted, “Hold on!”
It sounded like being stuck in a wind tunnel of water. The vibration increased ten fold. The boat sloshed sideways and down like a surfer caught under the curl of a crushing wave.
Jon staggered. Several muffled cries came from the crew.
“It’s right over us!” The XO yelled the obvious.
“Diving officer, I need more weight!” The Captain commanded.
“Aye!”
Reverend Johnny slammed his palms into his ears and cried out, “Be gone, beast! I say BE GONE!”
“Hey, hey,” the XO reported. “It’s moving off. Target is moving off.”
The vibration slowed. The sound reached its pinnacle…and then eased. Whatever monster passed the Newport News, it paid no interest to the submarine. Apparently, what had once been one of the most dangerous predators in the deep was now just another fish, an inconsequential fish at that.
Slowly the roaring subsided and the monstrous blob on the sonar display faded away.
Jon Brewer backed into the bulkhead and slid to the floor of the control room.
His body…his hands…even his sanity shook uncontrollably.
14. Shadow Falls
Name: Shadow
Secondary Name (s): Walking Death; Blackness; The Dark
Classification: Giant ethereal
Organization: Solitary Chaotic
Physical Characteristics: Five to ten stories tall and lanky; completely black in appearance-no features discernible. No physical examination ever conducted, does not show up well in photography (video or pictures).
Description: Information incomplete.
Notes: Only confront a shadow if armed with multiple heavy weapons.
— Anita Nehru, Hostile Database 3 rd Edition
“General, Sir! I believe we should take cover, Sir!” Woody “Bear” Ross boomed.
Stonewall answered, “I do believe you have presented a reasonable course of action, Cap-”
Before Stonewall could finish “Captain,” Woody pushed his superior officer into a drainage ditch alongside the road.
The bombs hit a few yards from where the men had stood. Instead of the typical BOOM or BANG, the Hivvan weapons made an electronic buzz as the ‘blast’ created a deadly energy field several meters in diameter.
No shrapnel. Instead, patches of dirt and chunks of pavement melted and warped.
