Kraken Island, page 8
The explosions grew louder and closer as the giant squid continued on its course straight towards a head-on collision with the Nightstalker. Surely that thing has to be hurting, Wall thought. Nothing could shrug off so many hits.
The squid was now too close for Wall’s crew to use anything but the ship’s cannons to strike at it. Bullets ripped into the water and Wall hoped they shredded the flesh they met there. This thing wasn’t a fictional Godzilla, though it did seem nigh impossible to kill.
Wall grabbed hold of the arms of her command chair, hanging on with white knuckled determination as the Nightstalker lurched in the water. The squid had rammed into her but not with the force it had the Blackthorn earlier. Wall could tell from the sound of crunching metal that the ship had taken damage, but the Nightstalker had held together against the impact. She didn’t know if it was because the squid was finally wounded to the point of being weakened or if it was simply because the Nightstalker was a far larger vessel than the Blackthorn had been. Wall started to yell for a damage report, but Franklin was already on it.
“We’re taking on water!” he shouted at her. “Seventy-five percent of our forward weapon systems are offline including the CIWS.”
“Causality report,” Wall ordered.
“Twenty in the forward section known dead so far, more wounded. Reports are still coming in!”
“Ma’am!” Sonar Tech Carter shouted at her above the chaos that had taken over the bridge. “The contact is angling away. It appears to be headed out to swing around and build speed for another run at us.”
“Keep firing at it with anything that still works!” Wall raged. “Odds are we won’t survive a second hit like that one!”
Wall stabbed her personal comm. line. “Brannon, you better have those lifeboats loaded down and ready. We may need them sooner than expected!”
Wall closed the channel before Brannon could respond, returning her attention to the crisis she was dealing with. The squid had turned and was in route for the Nightstalker again. Her XO and crew were already doing all they could to slow the monster. The remaining functional deck cannons thundered and chattered, hosing the waves with a barrage of heavy fire. The forward torpedo launchers were lost and the aft ones useless with the creature coming in from the front. Wall slammed a fist into the arm of her chair in frustration. Nothing she and her crew did appeared to be enough. She felt helpless as Carter counted down the seconds to the next impact.
When it came, it brought death with it. The squid darted under the ship at the last second, its tentacles grasping upwards and around the Nightstalker. The metal of her hull whined and buckled under the creature’s grip then gave in. Water poured inside the destroyer, flooding her lower levels. Wall listened to the cries of the men and women dying over the ship’s intercom. Their desperate pleas for help tore at her very soul. There was nothing she could do for them though. She couldn’t even help herself.
****
Over an hour had passed since the USS Nightstalker had been pulled downwards to a watery grave. Brannon sat on the beach of the island as the rest of the Reapers, except Vander and Zahn, worked to help the ship’s other survivors unload the meager amount of gear they had been able to save. Only three of the smaller boats and life rafts Brannon had overseen getting into the water had reached the island’s shore. There were fifteen people, fifteen, counting himself left alive from those aboard the Nightstalker. Zahn was missing. The Reapers had themselves up among the small crafter fleeing the sinking ship to ensure that some of them made it. Zahn hadn’t. Missing was perhaps an overly generous label to the newbie’s present state given the situation. Brannon wasn’t ready yet to admit that the kid was dead, so missing it would remain for the time being.
The night was dark but Adam, Malcom, and two crewmen from the Nightstalker had managed to get several fires going along the area of the beach where they came ashore. The fires were dangerous if there were still any of the smaller squid creatures on the island, but Brannon had allowed them anyway. With Vander on watch, they would see the things coming from a good distance out at the tree-line and have time to make a proper stand if it came to it.
It was going to be a long night. Brannon didn’t dare lead the survivors into the island’s jungle in the darkness. The squids, if they were still here, had enough advantages already. He needed time to get an inventory of what he had at hand. One thing was he knew for sure without even waiting on an inventory report from the others: They had no long-range comm. gear. He supposed it didn’t matter, not with that giant monster out there emitting EM interference anyway. Brannon was sure the monster was hurting. He had gotten a glimpse of it as it rolled the Nightstalker in the water and took the ship down. The thing’s body had been a mess of burnt, mangled, and bullet-peppered flesh. From the looks of it, the thing should have been dead but it wasn’t. Somehow, it was continuing to hang on. Brannon wondered if squids regenerated. He knew certain types of lizards did. If the thing had such an ability, it would explain a good deal about why it wasn’t rotting at the bottom of the ocean like by all rights it should be.
“Hey, Colonel!” Adam called to him. “Look what I found!”
Brannon broke away from his thoughts and looked over at Adam. The soldier was hoisting a minigun and waving it at him with a wide grin on his normally grim face.
“Did you find any ammo for it?” Brannon asked.
Adam nodded excitedly. “I call dibs on this baby.”
“You got it.” Brannon faked a smile.
Malcom approached Brannon as Adam went back to sorting through the gear being lugged from the lifeboats and took a seat on the sand next to him.
“You starting to believe me about just how screwed we are yet?”
Brannon did give a laugh then, a real one. “I never said I didn’t believe you before.”
“Could have fooled me with all that pep-talk-style crap you were throwing around.” Malcom spat into the sand then suddenly got serious. “Look, I want you to know I don’t blame you for this. Everybody’s time comes someday and if this mess is mine, well, it’s not like you held a gun to my head to get me to come.”
“I did everything but that though,” Brannon admitted. “I’m sorry, Malcom.”
Malcom shrugged. “What’s done is done I guess. I’ll confess I was freaking out some back on the ship, but I think I’ve got it together now. Seeing all those hundreds of folks die as the Nightstalker went down sort of put things in perspective. There will be a lot of folks crying in the states when the word of what happened to their loved ones comes in.”
“Assuming it gets declassified.” Brannon matched Malcom’s shrug with one of his own.
“Oh, they’ll make up something I’m sure. It won’t matter. Dead is dead no matter how you spin it.”
“You got a point there,” Brannon agreed. “Glad to see you’re doing better too. Like I told you at the start, I need you on this one, Malcom.”
“Dang straight you do.” Malcom punched him in the shoulder. “Now you wanna tell me why I can’t even go take a leak without Adam following me? I knew the guy was messed up, but I didn’t think he had become a pervert too.”
“That’s my fault,” Brannon chuckled, keeping his voice low. “I sort of asked him to keep an eye out for you. It’s his job to make sure you see your family again.”
Malcom gave a surprised grunt. “That’s pretty sharp even for you. Two birds, one stone, and all that. Giving him a purpose may just be what he needs to hold it together. Guess that means I am going to have to endure him following me like a puppy, huh?”
Brannon nodded. “Until we get off this island at any rate.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“I’m not the one calling the shots, sir,” Malcom said gruffly. “We need you sharp and you know it. Nothing you can do tonight anyway. You get some rest. I’ll handle everything that needs doing until the sun comes up.”
Brannon started to protest and then thought better of it. “Thanks,” he said.
“I’ll leave you to it then, boss,” Malcom told him and got to his feet. “Trust me, I got this.”
****
Brannon awoke to the rapid fire cracking of the M82 Vander had brought to the island with him this time. The high-powered, semi-auto weapon had a distinctive sound. Brannon rolled onto his feet, sweeping up his own M-16 in the process. His eyes scanned the beach around him, searching for the smaller squid creatures. There were none to be seen other than the mounds of splattered, black pulp Vander’s fire had reduced the ones that had been near the tree-line to.
“Easy!” Malcom said, slipping up behind him. “Vander saw those things coming a good way out and just waited for them to be easier targets on the beach before dealing with them.”
Brannon made a fist with his left hand, rubbing at his eyes. He held onto his rifle with his other as he collected himself. “Those were the only ones?”
“They’re all we’ve seen so far.”
“No sign of the big one? No doubt that thing has the reach to come after us on this beach,” Brannon reminded Malcom.
Malcom shook his head. “No sign of that thing since it pulled the ship under. Thankfully, it’s been a quiet night. Could it’s too hurt to try or could be it’s just leaving us alone because it sees us as food for any of its babies left alive here.” Malcom paused and then gestured at a nearby fire. “Vander’s got some coffee going if you want some.”
Blinking in surprise, Brannon asked, “Vander has coffee? Are you serious?”
“Apparently, he carries his own stash with him. Offered to share some of it this morning. As weird as that kid is, I kind of like him today,” Malcom laughed, lifting a metal mug at Brannon.
Brannon headed to the fire where the coffee was and removed a mug from a backpack of survival gear resting on the beach beside it. He poured himself half a cup and took a seat on the sand, staring into the crackling blaze of the fire. The weather was warm but not so hot as to make the heat of the fire too uncomfortable. He took a sip of the coffee and smiled at Malcom who had followed him.
“This stuff is pretty good,” he admitted.
“You know Vander. Everything has to be the best of the best, even his rations,” Malcom chuckled. “We moving out today?”
“Don’t see how we have much of a choice,” Brannon said. “We can’t stay on this beach. The elements will get us even if the squids don’t.”
“You really think there are enough of those things left on this island to be a threat? I mean, the two destroyers of DESRON 44 ripped this place a new one. Just look at those trees up there.”
Brannon glanced at the tree-line and saw what Malcom meant. Many of the trees were splintered, others blackened from fire. Nearly all of the undergrowth surrounding them was dead.
“We’re playing it safe until we know for sure,” Brannon answered.
“I’m all for doing that,” Malcom agreed, “but if help comes, we’ll be easier to spot out here.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Brannon asked.
Malcom had no answer.
“We know those cultists had facilities all over this place. Could be there are some, maybe even underground ones, that survived what DESRON 44 did to this place.”
“Wouldn’t count on it,” Malcom snorted.
“Even so, finding one would make all our lives a lot easier until help does come and any kind of real structure will be a lot safer than just sitting around out here.” Brannon gestured up and down the beach.
Brannon slugged down what was left of his coffee and got up. “How are the survivors from the Nightstalker’s crew holding up?”
“Varies.” Malcom frowned. “Most of them are the marines that were helping us load up the gear, but we got ourselves a cook, a sonar tech, and an engineering mate too.”
“Always has to be a cook and never one like Seagal.”
“I hate Seagal. Never seen a movie I liked with him in it.” Malcom shook his head.
“Me too, but you have to admit, a cook that can fight is better than a guy who went through basic years ago and has spent his days frying eggs.”
“Guess so,” Malcom half-heartedly agreed.
Malcom’s expression shifted suddenly as if he was just remembering something that needed to be said. “Oh, and boss, the sonar tech, it’s that Andy guy.”
“Carter from the bridge?” Brannon blurted as it hit him that Wall had to be dead. “How in the devil did he make it out?”
“No idea, but you can ask him if you want.”
“I think I just might … when we get time for things like that,” Brannon said. “Right now, we need to get our gear up and our butts moving. This daylight isn’t going to last forever and we’ll need to find somewhere to hole up before night falls. Are the helmet comms. still working?”
Malcom nodded.
“Then send Vander on ahead. He can handle himself out there and works better alone anyhow. Tell Adam he’s on point. You’ll be bringing up the rear. I want a Reaper back there with eyes I can trust.”
“Yes, sir,” Malcom saluted and then rushed away to get the survivors of DESRON 44 geared up and moving into the jungle.
****
Vander was long gone by the time the other Reapers and the surviving folks from the Nightstalker got moving. Adam was on point, his minigun ready. Brannon walked with the marines that made up the column’s middle. Some patches of the jungle were burnt to the ground and were nothing more than blackened clearings of ash. The rest though was just as Brannon remembered it. Brannon kept his eyes on the trees. If the squids attacked, they would almost certainly use them. They traveled much faster swinging through the tree tops than they did on foot or club or whatever the heck you called it. When the squids walked, they reminded him for the tripods from H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds, only they were supported solely by two long tentacles that ended in hooked clubs. He would have never believed how fast the squids could move in such a fashion had he not seen it himself. The strength of their two main tentacles was staggering to behold. He remembered the torn metal he had seen inside the cultists’ compound and shuddered as a chill passed through him despite the heat of the sun.
He hadn’t sent Vander on ahead to warn the group of any squids that might be waiting on them in what was left of the jungle. Brannon had sent the sniper on to find them shelter. Vander would be able to move faster alone and was more than able to take care of himself. If they found shelter, it would likely be because of him. As a sniper, Vander was much more in touch with his surroundings than anyone else in the group. He was likely to spot something the rest of them might very well overlook.
Brannon noticed a squid hanging from a tree not too far ahead of the column. Adam had seen it too and motioned for everyone to stop. Brannon moved to join Adam on point.
“One of them things is up there, Colonel.” Adam gestured at the creature with the barrels of his minigun.
“One isn’t a problem,” Brannon assured him. “We just need to figure out some way to take it out quietly.”
Adam snorted. “Don’t see that happening, sir.”
Brannon sighed. “Yeah, to tell the truth, I don’t either.”
“We could go around it, give it a wide berth. That would lower the odds of it coming after us alone.”
Brannon shook his head. “We leave this trail and we’re screwed. Going around it would put us deeper in the trees.”
“Beginning to regret you sent Vander on ahead? I’ll bet my left foot he’s got a silencer on him somewhere.”
Brannon smiled. “We need Vander out there. I’ll deal with the squid.”
Bracing the butt of his M-16 against his shoulder, Brannon raised the weapon and took aim at the squid. He knew he needed to pull off the whole “one shot, one kill” thing that snipers always went on about. The problem was that he was shooting a creature that he didn’t even really know where its major organs were, not another human being. He aimed carefully for the thing’s central body mass and hoped that single three-round burst there would do the trick.
Brannon was about to squeeze the trigger when gunfire erupted from the rear of the column. The squid he was aiming for started moving. Brannon took his shot, but the squid was too fast. His rounds dug into the tree where the squid had been hanging as it propelled itself forward. It came, flying through the air, at him. The barrels of Adam’s minigun spun, turning the squid into little more than a red mist before it ever hit the ground.
“Thanks.” Brannon nodded at Adam. Adam gave a shrug as the two of them turned to see Malcom and the marines from the Nightstalker engaged with a group of squids attacking the rear of the column. They were professionals, quickly spreading out and establishing a wide field of fire. The cook was carrying a pump-action shotgun and held back with Andy behind the marines’ pincer formation. Andy was clutching the M-16 he carried in a white-knuckled grip as Brannon reached him.
“You know how to use that?” Brannon shouted over the gunfire.
Andy shook his head in the negative. “It won’t fire.”
Brannon reached over and flicked off the weapon’s safety. “I suggest you learn fast.”
Adam charged into the center of the marines, adding his fire to theirs. The barrels of his minigun spun as he belted out a war cry, holding down its trigger. Adam swept the stream of fire from the minigun over the mass of squids swinging through the trees. Squids died by the dozens, their torn and mangled bodies dropping to the jungle floor.
“Fire in the hole!” one of the marines shouted, lobbing a grenade into the trees. The explosion did little to the squids still in the trees, but it blew apart of several of the ones who were scrambling along on their two primary tentacles towards the marines’ position.
“Sir!” one of the marines called to him as Brannon put a burst of rounds into a squid that was mid-leap between tree limbs. The thing’s body flopped to the ground leaking black blood and lay there twitching, its tentacles whipping about wildly.
