Megalodon by Rookie Burwick (best ereader for pc TXT) 📕

      By

Rookie Burwick

 My cousin Josh.

 I would like to thank the following individuals for their time and effort in assisting me with my reasearch.

 The USS Freedom was your typical US Navy Littoral Combat Ship, except a bit bigger than the Independence class ships. It was almost 418 feet long, with a speed of 44 knots to match. The bridge stuck high in the misty morning air like a needle in hay, with the radar pole reaching out toward the heavens. The ship was truly a good and strong one, mostly thanks to its build and crew.  It was located in the waters near the waters off Virginia, and was headed for the southern borders of Africa, which was the longest journey its crew had ever experienced. Or, at least the battleship's crew. The USS Freedom was just a ship belonging to the shoreline patrol section of the DERSON. It didn't really have much of a place, except in watching the waters near the shores of the US for incoming threats both above and under the surface. They were ordered to patrol the waters around Hawaii for a week, then spend two more weeks patrolling the Gulf of Mexico, then the waters off the coast of Florida.

  The ship sailed very slowly through the morning mist, creating a very eerie effect on the ships at its sides, which also were naval ships. They all belonged to DESRON 23, a fine mix of good shoreline patrols.  The air was cold thanks to the thick breeze that mixed into it, along with the fog itself that gloomed everyone experiencing it. There wasn't a single sound out there on the bridge besides the waves rolling gently by. But no one could see those waves.

Inside, everything was just as quiet, with everyone hard at work inside the main control room. The time was about six thirty-four in the morning, and the sun was just beginning to really brighten the surface of the water beyond the fog.

Captain Ronald Skith stood there on the balcony, staring out into the empty grey color of the fog, wishing it would lift sooner than later. He hated the fog more than anything about the sea. It bothered him for a reason he wasn't even sure of. Or maybe it wasn't the fog at all. He couldn't lie to himself. The fog wasn't the thing that bothered him. It was the other ships in the shoreline patrol factor of the DESRON that really bothered him. Despite the fact that his ship was the biggest, a different ship had been placed as the head commander for the whole operation. He didn't want to be so hasty or selfish, but he did like to be in control of things. His ship was the biggest, the fastest, and the most well-built of them all. He had expected the Naval Headquarters in Washington D.C. to assign him as the head. But no. They had to assign a smaller ship, with a less experienced captain. That had angered him from the beginning. But, he always bit back at that anger with regret for being so selfish. Commands were commands, and he couldn't change them.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching him. He took a deep breath and tried to look pleasant as his XO, Chaplin, approached. As always, he wore his slightly small uniform coat that pressed up against his thin form while his trousers hung a little loose just below his knees. His black hair seemed bleaker than usual today, probably because the sun was shining down on it.

"Good morning, captain," the young man smiled.

Skith shook his hand. "And good morning to you, Chaplin. Anything to report?"

"Not at the moment sir. I just thought I’d remind you of your meeting with Dr. Chenworth."

"Ah yes, the kooky, new age weirdo."

"Yes, that one."

"Well, thanks for the reminder. When was it scheduled for again?"

"It's set for. . ." Chaplin looked down at a clip-board in his hand. "Four o' clock, sir."

"Right. Tell him I'll be there."

"I shall do, sir."

There was a silence for a moment.

"Is there anything else, Chaplin?"

"Oh no, not at the moment. I was just looking out into the fog."

"I see. Get back to work, Chaplin. Deliver that message to Jacobs, then do your normal duty."

Chaplin only nodded in reply, then hurried away. He watched until his young XO was around the corner, then turned back to the sea, and continued to stare. Despite the fog, he still loved to be outside. He had joined the Navy almost six years ago after spending his earlier days deep sea fishing. This small Littoral Combat Ship was just a dust speck on a piece of paper compared to the ships he'd been on over the years. Battleships and aircraft carriers were his favorites. He preferred the bigger ships, mainly because the smaller ones made him un-comfortable. They were a bit too small for his liking and, as far as he was concerned, there was no real reason for these Combat ships. Who would attack the shorelines of the US?

The thought only made him shrug. He didn't understand the silly notion, but he had to deal with it. He only had two more months before returning back to shore, then it was off to Hawaii for vacation with his wife, Darla. That made him smile. He would finally have a break. Sure, he was only forty-six years old, but he still needed a break. He took another deep breath before removing his yacht cap and straightening out his light grey hair. He placed the cap back on his head and straightened out. Another thing he wasn't overly fond of was how he always had to have a certain appearance. It had been exhausting from the very beginning.

"Captain Skith, please report to the control room," a loud voice boomed over the microphones.

He jumped at the sound of it, but hurried away moments later. He hurried up the railed stairway, his footsteps thundered loudly through the railing as he walked up. At last he reached to the top of the staircase. and swung inside the control room.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Captain, come here and look at this!" Chaplin replied from behind the crowd of people gathered around his seat.

"What's going on? Is it serious?" he asked.

"I would say so, sir."

He hurried over to Chapin's station and peered down at the small sonar screen. Then he saw it. The massive blimp, heading straight for them. He looked up and glared through the window and watched in horror as, even through the thick fog, the tall and massive dorsal fin rose out of the water and cut through it, just waiting to smash into them. He shut his eyes tight, and waited, hoping it was all an illusion. He opened them again, it was gone. He sent up a prayer of thanks, and looked back to the computer.

The massive object was still there, and headed straight for them. Then, the USS Freedom was hit. It lurched forward with a sudden jolt of force. Her engines blew. Everyone on the deck fell over board and into the cold water. Everyone inside the bridge fell to the floor, either dead or unconscious.

Sparks flew. Screams echoed. Metal creaked, and the shark the lurked beneath the rugged ship swam effortlessly into the waters beyond.

 Dr. Marlin A. Jacobs sat in the back seat of the Harbin Z-9 chopper that glided slowly through the thick morning fog, it's windshield slick with wet mist. He stared out the two large windows up in front of him, and felt a pang of nausia. He was so amazed at how thick the fog actually was. Neither him nor the pilots could see anything on the outside. Seated next to him were two naval men who both held small weapons in their hands. No one had said a word since the depature of the chopper, which had taken place miles back in Florida. 

He leaned forward and cleared his throat before speaking.

"How close are we?" he asked.

"Oh, maybe eight minutes tops," the co-pilot replied.

"That long? How can you tell through this fog?"

"Radar. That's how."

"Oh. It must be some strong radar."

"Indeed it is, Dr. Jacobs. Indeed it is."

He leaned back again, and relaxed, a little. He never had felt comfortable with the idea of being flown out to the USS Tulsa, but that's the way it had to happen. Aircraft had never been on his list of likings. He hated being in the air with the possibilty of dying. He just couldn't take that kind of worry. Surprising enough to everyone else inside the chopper, he was a weapontry engineer and former marine biologist. The captain of the USS Tulsa had called him there for the same reason the other combat ships of the DESRON had. A tip-top secret project for only him, his fellow scientists, and the Navy to know