Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I discovered an orange box in the ocean, and I really wish I hadn’t...

Episode Date: December 24, 2021

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concourse is applicable. Before the story, I would like to thank my new patrons, Nicholas, Chris, and Elsie. If you'd like to support the podcast, head over to my Patreon page where you will receive new exclusive scary stories every week for just $5 a month.

Go to patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. The link is also in the description below now back to the story we weren't supposed to take the boat out after dark and we really weren't supposed to take the boat out joyriding after sundown with a cooler full of beer it's a shame that Jody and I didn't follow the rules if we hadn't gone out last night a lot of people would still be alive myself included I don't have a lot of time to post this I can already hear them trying to get in the door if anybody receives this. If anyone believes me, share my story. Don't let this die with me. This all started

when Jody spotted that damned black box floating on the ocean. Move the spotlight a little to port, Jim, Jody called out. I think I see something in the water. Jody was leaning over the side of our little speedboat. Well, it was technically the oil rigs speedboat, used mainly for scouting sites. But that night, we were taking it for a spin off the clock. I sighed, plopped my half-finished beer into a cup holder, and complied with Jody's request. The spotlight skipped across the black water.

It was a calm, clear night, all stars and barely any waves. Before the light caught up to where Jody was pointing, I noticed what must have caught his eye. There was a small red flash. Then the area was illuminated, and I saw the box. It was an orange container, a little larger than a cinder block. Jody began hunting around our small boat for one of the fishing nets.

He found one and stretched it out to snack the box as we passed by. He set the object on the deck, and I came over for a closer look. Flight recorder Do Not Open was written on the side of the box in big white letters. Under that was a series of symbols I didn't recognize. They were like hieroglyphics, more pictures than one. words, but appeared to be nonsense. A row of unreadable scratches and lines. And under that, a phone number. Do you think there's a reward? Jody asked. We tried to pilot the boat back into the dock at the rig quietly. It didn't matter. Sawyer was waiting for us. Before he could start chewing us out,

and assigning extra night watches as punishment for borrowing company property, Jody held up our find. Sawyer stopped mid-rant. It looks like a black box, you know, like from a plane, he said. But it's not black. It's orange, I pointed out. Yeah, they're orange so you can find them floating, dumbass, Sawyer said. The black box part is a figurative and whatnot. There's a phone number, Jody cut in. Do you think there's a reward? After some debate, the three of us decided to wake up Patrick. Pat was a former Navy guy. A burly, quiet fellow who never talked about his service, but gave all of us the impression he'd seen some crazy shit. Sawyer and I went to grab Patrick, while Jody guarded the box.

I shouldn't have left him alone, but I didn't realize how dangerous the situation was at the time. Like Jody, I had visions of big government reward checks bouncing around my mind. I should have known better. Sawyer and I snuck into the crew quarters, moving carefully past rows of bunks with sleeping drillers, and Rigg support staff. I shook Pat awake gently, but he shot up so fast that, for a moment, I thought he was about to hit me. Before that could happen, he seemed to recognize me and calm down. Please don't startle me like that, he asked in a way that made it clear he wasn't making a request. For a second, I was terrified of Patrick. I could imagine all of the rumors about him

serving in the special forces as being completely true. Then his big, goofy grin split his beard, relaxed. It was just bad. I have something to show you, Sawyer whispered. Come with us. Jody had moved the box to one of the storage rooms. The four of us huddled around a small table, surrounded by cleaning supplies, while Patrick looked over the flight recorder. As he read the writing on the box and the strange symbols, something changed in his face. His usual friendly smile dried up like a lake in a drought. He had a weird look in his eyes.

and his whole complexion seemed to almost shrink. He was terrified. Where did you find this? Pat whispered. He ran one shaking hand over the indecipherable markings. Do you have any idea what this is? Jody grinned. Our winning lottery ticket.

That's what it is. This is something top secret, isn't it? More than top secret, Pat said, slumming back into his chair. I've heard rumors but didn't. think it was real. Those markings. There, it's better not even to talk about it. Did you find this in the ocean? Yeah, I said, trying not to catch Pat's panic, floating about half a mile from the rig. Pat pushed the box towards me. You should ride back out and throw this into the sea. Get it far away from all of us and hope they're not able to track it. Who would be tracking it? Sawyer asked.

Pat just shook his head. Jody was fidgeting. in his seat. I recognized that behavior from him. There was something Jody wasn't telling us. Hear that, Jody? I asked. Pat advises we dumped the box. If you get the boat ready to, I already called the number, Jody said. I'm sorry, I just, well, I didn't see any harm. I thought we'd all get a reward. I thought, Jody looked around the table. Sawyer and I shared a glance. Patrick looked like somebody just told him he had cancer. What did they say when you called? Pat asked. That they're on their way.

Patrick stood up without a word and walked out of the room. Jody pulled the flight recorder close. Maybe things will work out, Sawyer said. With nothing else to do but wait, we all left the storage room. I wandered back to the crew quarters and slipped into my bunk. I woke up to the wild screech of our alarms. Every siren on the rig seemed to be going off at once, a wailing hurricane of shrill whistles and bells.

Somebody threw open the door to the crew quarters. The lights came on, then immediately died. They were replaced with the red glow of our emergency backup system. What's going on? A voice shouted. Another raised voice asked, Is there a fire? A new word swept through the room like a fever.

Pirates. People were getting dressed, bumping into one another. The whole room calm, but walking that tight rope right above an animal panic. I was pulling on my boots when I heard the first gunshot. The soft pop. caused the entire room to freeze. It sounded like it was coming from above us, probably from the deck. I held my breath in the silence that followed. It didn't last long. Muffled gunshots began going off rapidly. I don't have any military experience, but years of action movies and video games

led me to guess somebody was firing an automatic weapon with a silencer. Several automatic weapons, actually. That was enough to send a few people into a panic. First one, then a handful. Then a dozen members of the crew ran out of our quarters, knocking over bunks and co-workers in their flight. Most of the folks around me stayed calm, though. Patrick was standing on his bunk, trying to direct everyone towards the exits without starting a stampede. I heard that pop, pop, pop, pop noise again, but louder, closer. Patrick went flying from his bed, like he'd been slapped by an invisible hand. More crew fell around me.

That's when the panic finally took hold, and we ran, the included. A great herd of terrified men and women were trying desperately to get out of that red room. I managed to squeeze through one of the exits just as I felt something whoosh past my ear. There was a numbness, followed by a strange burn. I touched my cheek and felt blood. The lower tip of my earlobe was gone. Someone grabbed my shoulder from the crew quarter side of the door. I turned to see Sawyer reaching for me.

A small red blossom visible on his throat. More gunshots rang out. And Sawyer spun, then fell. I ran. I got a good look into the crew quarters before I fled. Several figures dressed in black wetsuits with ballistic masks were fanning out across the room. They would stop now and then to fire a few rounds into crawling bodies on the floor. In the brief glimpse I got of the invaders, I saw high-tech goggles, vests, and assault weapons

outfitted with silencers and lasers. The killers didn't look like any pirates I've ever heard of. These men usually had rusty boats and Soviet-era rifles. No, the people attacking us looked fresh out of a military recruitment ad for the special forces. The next hour is a blur. It was chaos below decks as I ran through the rig's narrow hallways, dodging metal beams and slumped bodies. The muffled dump of gunfire was never far away.

It echoed around me, seeming to come from every blind corner and shadow. The red emergency lights failed half an hour after the slaughter in the crew quarters. I managed to pull a flashlight from one of the emergency cabinets outside of the medical bay, but I was too terrified to use it for more than a few seconds at a time. My worst moment came when I heard gunshots from just around the corner. I ducked into a nearby open door, turning on my flashlight for a split second,

just long enough to see that I was in a staff break room. There was a couch in the corner. I ran for it, then wedged myself into the gap between the couch and the wall. I held my breath. It was pitch black in the room. Footsteps began to fall nearby. There were several people very, very close. I've sworn I saw a flash of light, a voice muttered. It was a man, American. Anybody got eyes on a tango? Another voice replied. Negative. Room appears clear. All tango's uniform. I squeezed myself closer into the

wall, wishing I could disappear. I think we're good to go, Oscar Mike, the first voice said. But honestly, I can't see shit through these new NODs. I miss the old model. Take it up with command, an authoritative voice cut in. Now cut the chatter in Charlie Mike. I heard footsteps head towards the door, then fade down the hallway. These weren't pirates. These were our own guys wiping us out. It took me another 20 minutes to make my way in the dark, towards the communications room. I had to get a message out, a call for help, something. There was no real plan driving me forward, only an impulse. I didn't want to die alone in the dark without anyone back home knowing what happened. When I finally made it to communications, the heavy metal door

was locked. I slumped in the doorway, exhausted and out of ideas. Every now and then, I'd hear another gunshot or worse, a scream. They'd find me soon enough. There was nothing left but waiting. I looked at the locked door. I was so close. Feeling half delusional, I leaned over and knocked against the metal. A moment later, something knocked back. I sat stunned for a breath, then began to tap out a message in Morse code. It's Jim, in danger, all clear, open, please open. I read. I read, repeated the message just in case, then I waited. It was the longest minute of my life. Just as I was about to start pounding on the door, I heard the locks click.

The door swung open and strong arms pulled me into the dark room before slamming and sealing us in again. Who is in here? I whispered. I heard cursing, and then the click of a flashlight. It was Jody. I thought you were dead, he whispered back. Have you tried calling for help? Jody shook his head. They're jamming us. Can't seem to get a connection. We need to drive the satellite. Even if we can't get a direct line, maybe we can send the message out there for someone to find. If we do that, Jim, I don't think anyone will hear us in time to send help. I took a deep breath. I know. I wish we'd never found that damn box, Jody spat. He shined the light in the corner and revealed that he'd brought the flight recorder with him. So much for a reward. Why do you still have that?

I don't know. I was thinking maybe if worst came to worst, we could try to use it to negotiate our way out of here. These guys don't seem like the negotiating type, Jody. Yeah, he sighed, moving the light away from the box. I'm sorry I called the number. You couldn't have known what would happen. Jody whistled. Whatever is in that box, whatever they've got on that flight recorder, they sure are killing a lot of folks to keep it secret. I thought about the weird symbols, almost like runes, and the way Patrick reacted when he saw the object. What do you think is on that recorder?

I asked. Aliens? Jody guessed. Or maybe proof of an ancient civilization? Or maybe just something about illegal government experiments? Or specs for some new superweapon? Who knows? Who cares?

They'll kill us no matter what the secret is. We sat in silence together for a few minutes. Someone tried to open the secret. the door. Jody held one shaking finger to his lips. Something began slamming into the door. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! I said, scrambling for the communication controls. Jody was right. We were being jammed. But every now and then, the satellite feed almost gets a connection. They've been working on the door for half an hour. I'm amazed it's held this long. Maybe they're too afraid of the oil to risk explosives, but sooner or later, I know they'll get in.

Jody is curled up in the corner, clutching the black box like a teddy bear. I've got this message ready to go. The next time I get even the thinnest sliver of signal, I'm going to fire this off on multiple frequencies in every direction. All I can do is pray that somebody gets this, that someone knows the truth. Goodbye, Mom. If you ever hear about this, just... Please just know I did my best. These guys are professionals.

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