Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Creatures From the Kara Sea

Episode Date: June 1, 2022

🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep �� Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The sound in my headphones comes from out of nowhere. A corresponding line suddenly appears on my waterfall display. Contact, bearing 090. I say, pulling my left headphone fully over my ear so I can listen with both ears. Classify. The sonar chief says from behind me, his voice slightly muffled. Copy. I reply.

Then turn to Burke, the other sonar technician. Track it. I tell him. Copy, Burke says. Tracking. Contact holding steady at 090. The sound is strange, but I can tell right away that it's not man-made. Unless the Russians have developed some amazing technology that we haven't even dreamt of yet, not likely. Biologic, I say.

I feel everyone around me relax at the classification. I relax slightly, but I still listen. The sound is like no other biological I've heard. It's not a whale or a school of fish or even pistol shrimp. It's something else. There's something strange about this. It's contact changing direction bearing 060, Burke says. It's moving fast.

I immediately noticed the difference in my headphones. The sound that reaches the passive sonar array on the sub intensifies. Whatever it is, it's loud and it's close. Plotter, how soon until it reaches us? Chief says to Smith. Smith does his quick calculations before answer. 90 seconds, sir. You're sure it's biologic Perez? Chief asks me. Yes, sir, I say.

What about you, Burke? You agree? Chief asks. Yes, sir. Burke says. But I couldn't tell you what it is. There's cavitation, and it's moving fast. Okay. Chief says. Well, whatever it is, it won't mess with us. Maybe it's just a curious whale. The sound changes in my headphones, shifting into something wholly different. Suddenly, there's more than one source, or the thing is making the same noise from multiple points at different times. What the hell?

I say. Sir, it must be a group of something that was traveling in formation, but it's not anymore. Whatever it is just broke up. But it's still moving toward us, Burke says. My mind goes back to the meeting we had the previous day about our mission. Most of the time, enlisted Navy personnel like me aren't filled in on the classified stuff that the captain, XO, and other officers know. But the stuff they told us yesterday wasn't classified.

It was alarming, though. It wasn't really relevant to our mission, but the XO told us that we would be passing close to the Kara Sea. Off the coast of Russia, the sea had been used as a dumping ground for nuclear waste and decommissioned Russian nuclear submarines for decades. He said that over six times the radiation released at the Hiroshima bombing during World War II

was now sitting at the bottom of the Kara Sea. Some of the materials hadn't even been dumped deep. There were plenty of decaying containers with radioactive material in shallow parts of the Kara Sea. So as the sound in my headphones grows louder and remains inexplicable, all I can think of are some strange, deformed sea creatures

swimming up to our submarine. But that's ridiculous, isn't it? This isn't some B-movie made in the 60s. It's real life. Whatever it is, it'll be gone soon. Sea creatures have never been known to attack a submarine, Chief says. I feel like I should object. Like we should do something.

But there's nothing to be done. It's not like we could fire a torpedo at the things. That would be ridiculous. So I just listen as the seconds tick by, waiting for whatever is causing the noise to pass. Submariners often hear things on sonar that they can't directly identify. Maybe once the data is analyzed back in the States, they'll figure out what it is. Maybe it's just a loud bang resonates through the ship, followed by another and another.

All of a sudden, it's as if there are two dozen hammers hitting the hall. I have to rip off my headphones to keep my ears from being damaged. What the hell is that? What's going on, Sonar Chief? Exo says, no one has an answer. We all just sit or stand in our positions, winsing at each new bang. But then it stops. Everything is quiet again.

I put my headphones back on, but hear nothing out of the ordinary. Just normal sounds that passive sonar picks up underwater. Commander Scott comes into the control room quickly, moving faster than I've ever seen. What was that? Are we under attack? I don't know, Captain, Chief says. The fear plain in his voice. Contact classified as a biologic, moving fast toward us.

Then it banged into us. That didn't sound like an it, Commander Scott says. It sounded like a them, and lots of them. What is passive sonar picking up? Nothing, sir, Chief says, pointing to our waterfall displays. He's right. I'm not hearing anything strange anymore. A screeching sound suddenly erupts,

causing me to once again pull my headphones off. Captain, there's something on the hall. It sounds like ripping metal. Scott steps past Chief in the cramped compartment. and looks at the waterfall display, which is showing one thick, slightly wavy line. A representation of the sound, the passive sonar is picking up. His eyes go wide. He reaches his hand out, and I hand in my headphones. He listens to them for about a second, then hands them back. Holy God, something's trying to tear us apart, he says.

Something biologic? Chief says. Not possible. Scott ignores him, turning to dive control. Make all preparations for surfacing. Make all preparations for surfacing. The dive control officer repeats into his radio, broadcasting the order to the rest of the ship. The screeching sound coming from the passive sonar array is now filling the entire waterfall display screen, making it look like static on an old television.

Something shifts, and the entire sub shakes. Alarms start going off. Whole breach! Someone shouts. Emergency blow! Emergency blow! Commander Scott says, I look over in time to see one of the officers

flip the chicken switches next to the helmsman. Almost immediately, I feel the submarine angle up as high-pressure air forces water out of the ballast tanks, making us lighter. 300 feet, Chief says. I lift my headphones to my ears again. 250 feet.

And I don't hear any more screeching. We're going up toward the surface fast. Maybe we've knocked them all off, whatever they are. 200 feet! Everyone's leaning. forward to compensate for the angle. I'm leaning to the side, since my seat faces the port side of the vessel. 150! Hull breach? What the hell could have breached the hull? 100 feet! The tense air in the control room seems a little less so now.

50 feet! There's almost a feeling of weightlessness as the nose plunges through the surface of the water. Then we flatten out, rocking slightly on the ocean's surface. We couldn't have done this if it had been wintertime. Thankfully, it's summer, so there's not a layer of ice to keep us from floating on the surface to survey, and hopefully repair the damage. Commander Scott tells a couple of senior enlisted men to go up and get a visual check on the sub's exterior. We all wait while the XO goes with them to the small arms locker to hand them weapons. They come back up again, and I see that one guy has a shotgun, and the other a 45.

They make their way up to the bridge so they can look down on any. potential threats from above. The whole control room waits silently for them to come back and report. A gunshot rings out, echoing down into the sub's interior. It's followed quickly by a scream at the thud. Suddenly, the men gathered around the vertical ladder to the bridge are all shouting. I can just see the backs of the men there through the narrow doorway from the control room. In the next instance, they're trying to scatter,

which is easier said than done in the cramped space of the submarine. One of them, a big man named Salazar, turns around, moving toward the control room. His eyes are wide with fear. Something dark and wet drops down behind him. And before Salazar can step through the hatch into the control room, something erupts from the center of his chest. He looks down at it. It's a dark-colored, pointed, spear-like thing, sticking a couple of inches out of his flesh and through his blue uniform shirt. Everyone in the control room is silent for a second, wondering.

wondering what the hell is happening. Salazar falls forward, revealing a black, crab-like creature standing about four feet tall. Two black eyes jut forward from its domed shell. Slowly, the creature puts the outstretched and blood-covered front leg down. It clicks as it touches the metal floor. The black eyes stare into the control room, a couple of long antennae waving in the air over its eye stalks. It looks like a crab, in that it has segmented legs that are longer at the front of its body.

at the front of its body and shorter at the back. But instead of two arms tipped with claws, it has two long, segmented arms that end in what looks like three large, sharp fingers, what would be two index fingers and a thumb on a human. It has six legs total, besides the strange arms, and its prickly black mouth opens and closes as if tasting the air. Behind it, Several more of these creatures drop into the submarine and scurry up into a line. One of them climbs up into a wall like a spider, using its legs and finger claws to hold on. Commander Scott stands there, the closest to them, still as a statue. The lead creature turns around, and the rest of the creatures follow suit.

They scuttle off into the submarine. This seems to break Commander Scott's trance, and he lunges over to a radio. Repel borders, repel borders! Use whatever means necessary. Multiple hostels on board. This echoes all over the submarine. And just as soon as he puts the radio up, we hear commotion from the direction the creatures went.

What are those things? Burke asks. I don't know, Scott says. But we need to stop them. Should we close the bridge hatch? I ask. There might be more out there. Yes, Burke, you close the hatch.

Scott says. Daniels, you've recently had your firearms qualification. right? Yes, sir, I say. A little over a month ago. You're with me, he says. You too, Chief. The rest of you, stay put and keep this submarine on the surface. Johnson, get a message to the admiral. After this flurry of commands, Scott, Chief, and I head deeper into the submarine. We go down a level and come across the XO, Delaney. He's sitting prompt against the wall outside the dry storage area. He's clearly dead. His face torn apart to the point. where he's unrecognizable.

The only way we know he's the XO is because of his cloth nameplate. He had been bringing more weapons up from the small arms locker, as evidenced by the two shotguns and three 45 caliber pistols lying on the floor next to him, sticky with his blood. Scott reaches down without a word and grabs three weapons. He gives me and chief a shotgun each and keeps a pistol for himself. We've been hearing screaming and shouting from ahead, So we move quickly through dry storage, finding another two bodies.

They were the cooks, each with a knife nearby. We enter the crew's mess, which is the most open room on the sub. It's about the size of a large studio apartment, with six booths placed around and a place for food to be served. I move in directly behind Commander Scott to see two of the creatures fighting with two crewmen. There's blood everywhere. Bodies litter the floor. These men have no weapons, aside from what they can fight.

find a round, which isn't much. I raise my shotgun up and aim it at one of the creatures, but it's on a man's shoulders. It's sharp legs piercing the guy's back. With its claw-like hands, it takes chunks out of his face, neck, and chest with quick stabs. If I fire, I will probably kill the man. Scott fires first, rushing into the room

and putting the barrel of his 45 directly to the back of a creature that's attacking a screaming man on the ground. He fires four times before the creature stops moving. Taking a hint from him, I move closer to the creature in my sights, almost falling as I step on a body. I get close enough for reasonable accuracy and fire. The creature falls off the man's shoulders onto its back on the floor. It's six legs scrambling in the air.

I step over and put another blast into its belly. It stops moving. The man it was attacking sits down at a booth. He's bleeding profusely out of his many wounds. He puts his head down on the table without a word. I doubt he's going to be alive for much longer. The rest of them are in here somewhere, Scott says. Chief stands at the entrance to the mess, looking at the carnage.

He's either too scared or too shocked to be much help. I remember yesterday's meeting. The reactor, I say. I bet that's where they're at. The reactor. Commander Scott looks up at me with confusion at first, but then a reluctant understanding comes over his face. Let's go!

We move through a stubby hallway and see that the door to the reactor compartment is open. As we move closer to the door, I can hear faint beeping noises from inside the room. It's a dosimeter, or more likely several dosimiters, warned by the reactor technicians, warning of high radiation levels. You hear that? I whisper. Everything is quiet in the reactor compartment, aside from the reactor. the beeping. Scott nods, but continues toward the door. I follow. There are several bodies just

inside the reactor compartment doorway. They look like they've been torn apart in a frenzy. They're each wearing an electronic dosimeter, and all of them are beeping. Look, Scott says, pointing. I look, seeing several of the crab creatures huddling up next to the reactor, as if they're sleeping. They must have damaged the reactor to get at the radiation, I say, raising my shotgun. so I can be ready to kill them when Scott gives the go ahead. But he doesn't. He reaches inside and closes the door, latching it. What are you doing? I ask.

We can't fire guns in there. We'll kill everyone left on the ship. We don't know what they did to the reactor either. We just have to hope someone will get to us soon. Hope that the reactor doesn't melt down in the meantime. Or, God forbid, we attract more of those fucking things. I lower my shotgun. We do what we do what?

we can for the injured crew members, and we stay on the surface as we head away from the Kara Sea to meet up with an aircraft carrier and a couple of destroyers. It's been a couple of hours since the attack, and now I'm back on sonar in the control room. Every moment that passes, I expect those things to try to escape the reactor compartment, but they don't. And as we head through the Barents Sea toward Norway, I finally start to think we'll be okay. We're getting more radiation than is recommended, but the levels this far from the reactor aren't lethal. But then something pops up on the passive sonar, something biologic, something fast,

and it's coming right at us.