Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I'm a Marine stationed aboard a Nuclear Submarine. We found something hidden in the depths.

Episode Date: July 13, 2022

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Are you seeing this? Wilson asked as he pressed his headphones closer to his ears. We were sitting in the claustrophobic, damp, sonar room, searching for any signs of movement out in the deep oceans surrounding us. A blip had appeared on our sonar, notifying us of a rapidly moving object approaching from 15 nautical miles away. It was large, and based solely on its size alone,

I doubted it could be a living organism. On the other hand, its beat was far too quick to be an enemy, or allied submarine. Silence fell upon the rest of the crew as the mysterious object closed in on our location. We were working on identifying it, trying to figure out if it was worth waking our captain from his well-earned slumber. The audio signature doesn't match anything I've ever heard before. It's bizarre, Wilson said. even though our hydrophones marked the very peak of military hardware, able to detect feeding shrimp off the bottom of the ocean miles away,

they couldn't recognize this noise. Wilson sat frozen in his chair, desperately trying to put his three decades' worth of experience to the test. But it was to no avail. And if Wilson couldn't figure it out, it's getting closer, I mumbled, before reading out the object's constantly changing location. How was this possible?

It has to be another submarine, Russian, maybe Japanese, Wilson suggested. Better hope for the latter. We're not supposed to be in this region, I responded. Our executive officer, Anderson, had already assessed the situation and was worried enough to alert Captain Banks. We needed his permission to initiate stealth protocols, given that we hadn't the faintest idea what we were facing. Best case scenario, it was a system malfunction. Worst case, an enemy vessel. Even though full-out combat was unlikely, our presence in hostile territory just might be enough

to start an international incident. Something's not right here, it's too large, I repeated. Though the scans weren't always accurate, we estimated the object to be 300 meters in length, almost twice as long as our largest submarines. Can't be, Wilson insisted. Even the typhoon class vessels aren't that big. But its size wasn't what worried me the most, but rather the impossible depth and speed it traveled at. We were pushing the boundaries at almost 500 meters,

but the detected object was moving at twice our depth and three times our cruising speed. If I didn't know better, I would have called it an impossible. possible feat. The sound it produced was far too loud for a stealth vessel, but obscure enough to avoid automatic detection. It was akin to a whale's mating call, but produced a far deeper pitch, pulsating with a repeating rhythm. Paradoxically, the sound appeared natural, yet all too foreign. Only when I listened to it for a good 15 minutes did I realize that it looped, Almost like a song played on repeat, as if someone was sending a message desperate to be read.

I don't like this, Wilson said. We need to leave. Though his impulse to escape resonated with the rest of us, it was a decision that could only be made by Captain Banks himself. But for such a decision to even be considered, we'd need the support of an executive officer. Our officer without authority still seemed unfazed by the approaching threat. I almost let out a sigh of relief as I felt the submarine decelerate. The engines fell silent and the lights dimmed. It was clear that we'd been ordered to stop,

if only to remain undetectable from whatever was heading our way. Captain Banks entered the sonar room shortly after, taking the XO to the side to get briefed on the situation. Due to the uncertain nature of the situation, the captain had decided to stay put as we waited for the object to pass beneath us. Regardless of what exactly it was, we couldn't afford to take any risk,

and at the depth it was traveling, we should have been in the clear. All the while, I kept calling out the object's position, trying to hide the fear building up within me. 2,000 meters, I called out. The thing was moving closer, ascending from the depths as it approached us. As it got closer,

the same bizarre rhythm in craters. increased in intensity. 1,500, I continued. The thing was moving faster than any underwater vessel known to man, surpassing the quickest animals on the planet despite its terrifying size. 1,000. While it had moved to shallower waters, it was still a couple of hundred meters below us. It was still hope, albeit with a dangerously narrow margin.

500! That's when I noticed its speed changing. To our collective horror, it started slowing down, still moving at impressive speeds, but seemingly affected by our presence. 300. Whatever we were about to face, it knew where we were. 200. Pearls of sweat formed on my forehead.

In a few seconds, it would be straight under us. The captain ordered all personnel to report to their designated stations and to prepare for a possible battle. Then it halted directly beneath us. Just a hundred meters deeper than our position. The crew fell silent, and the audio we'd picked up suddenly ceased. If not for our sonar readings confirming its location, it might as well not have existed. A minute passed as we waited for something to happen.

I wondered if a preemptive attack might have been our best shot at survival. But short of dropping a ton of mines on the thing, we had few means with which to fight something more than twice our size. Then I wondered what it looked like, but even with cameras on the underbelly of our vessel, there wouldn't have been enough light to penetrate the darkness at our current depth. We were essentially blind, except for a dot on our radar,

showing little more than the size of our stalker. Five uncontrollable minutes passed, which felt like an eternity. And there was nothing we could do, except to wait for something, anything to happen. Then, as abruptly a silence had fallen upon us, it was shattered with an ungodly shriek originating from directly below us. With the ungodly sound, we also detected sudden, rapid movement,

shooting up towards us at impossible speeds. Brace for impact! Captain Banks let out, far too late for anyone to get to safety. Loud alarms howled through our ship as it violently shook from the impact. Those not firmly locked to their safety. seats were flung around by clothes inside a dryer. With that single crash, half a dozen men had their backs and necks broken. We detected another horrific shriek, breaking its prior rhythm with constantly lowering pitch.

With it, loud clunks resonated through the room. A pressure wave shot through our sector, popping our ears as it passed. Hold breach in the control room. Wilson yelled. Before rushing to repair the damage, we attempted to reach the crew further back via radio. But with power intermittently cutting out and possible fatalities, we had no way of assessing the situation. In a state of shock, I could do little but wait for orders

and pray that my training kicked in. But orders would not come, as the captain was lying unconscious in a corner. Captain! Wilson called as he rushed to his aid. Just from his awkward position, we could tell that the captain had died on impact. Without banks in charge,

the role fell to the executive arms. officer. Wilson, Peterson, with me to the control room. Henderson commanded with as much confidence as he could muster. The control room was on the same floor, a bit further back on the submarine. The door was kept closed, but luckily it hadn't been locked due to the crash. Wilson entered first, letting me follow behind it. Anderson came in last only to assess the damage before taking control of the rest of the ship. While calling for backup was essential, stabilizing the vessel was our main priority before making a swift escape to the surface. Before us lay five crewmen, dead in three feet of water. Several beams shot into the room at high pressures, leaving us with limited time to seal them off.

Still, if we were able to at least patch the damage up, the control room would be left semi-functional. We stepped over our dead friends, hurrying to fix the damage. Only then did my training kick in, allowing us to quickly stop the heavy flow of water. Peterson, you hearing this? Wilson asked once the last drop of water had entered the ship. I readied my ears, and just beneath the howling alarm, we could hear the faint sound of metal settling under pressure. Since we hadn't yet reached critical depths, I could only assume that whatever had attacked us was holding on in an attempt to crush us. us. How is it doing that? I asked, not really expecting a response. I don't know, but we better

not stick around for an answer. Wilson shot back as he tried to get the comms working. Hello, do you copy? He asked as the radio came to life in a static mess. This is leading petty officer Ian Wilson reporting from the control room. Please respond. He was trying to contact the crew at the torpedo room, but none responded. Either they had perished during the first attack, or the station had flooded beyond the point of usefulness. Either way, with a monstrosity outside trying to crush the sub, we had to fight back with any means possible. We rushed back to the sonar room where Henderson had gathered the remaining survivors.

He had shared our train of thought and had sent a team to assess and repair any damage done to the torpedo tubes. What remained in the rest of the submarine was a skeleton crew ready to fix any hull breaches. As long as the creature is latched onto us, we can't launch any to our torpedoes without risking irreparable damage to the submarine, Wilson argued. Do you have any other suggestions? Either we fight back, or this monstrosity pulls us down to the abyss, Henderson said. Do we even know what the thing is or what it looks like? I asked, while simultaneously trying to come up with an escape plan. We got some photos, can't tell you much,

except for the fact that it's biological, Henderson explained. Good, Wilson chimed in. That means it can bleed. Wait a minute. What if we don't arm the torpedoes? I suggested. The impact might be enough to hurt the bastard. Probably won't kill it, but might force it to let go. Given that it's hanging directly onto our torpedo ports, Anderson said.

It's the only chance we have. He nodded an agreement, telling us to personally relay the information to the attack crew in lieu of functioning comms. Wilson already stood ready by the ladder, prepared to dive down into the bowels of our submarine and fight whatever threat we faced. Help isn't coming, Anderson explained,

which means we have the luxury of firing at will without being questioned by high command. With that, we headed downstairs towards the torpedo bay. The bow was filled with water that went waist high. Half a dozen bodies littered the way. Most had been killed by the creature's first impact, while others had been pinned to the floor under various pieces of debris, forced to drown in a few feet of water with no help in sight.

A handful of crewmen had gathered by the torpedoes. They'd already sealed any leaks, but the water pumps would need more attention before being functional. Still, the torpedo tubes were above water, remaining operational. Disarm the torpedoes. I ordered. Disarm them? We want to kill the bastard. One of them responded. The torpedo shoot out at 100 knots. While it won't kill the creature, it might cause it to let go instead of killing us all in the process. I explained.

The men glanced at each other, relieved that their suicide mission had turned to one with a faint glimmer of hope. They redirected their attention back at me, nodded in agreement, before proceeding to disarm the torpedoes. It would only take a minute, rendering them little more than metal chunks to be shot at a creature strong enough to crush us underneath its own weight. It was a futile plan, but the only one we had. We rapidly loaded up the six functioning torpedo tubes and prepared to fire. We just had to pray that some of them would hit the attacker at a reasonable speed, hopefully hard enough to make it let go. Fire!

Wilson demanded with a raised hand. As demanded, the torpedo operators initiated a barrage of non-explosive warheads. From the six loaded, only four word to life, launching their content out into the dark ocean before us. Most seemed to miss the mark, floating harmlessly into the open waters. But a couple hit, each causing the monstrosity to slip slightly off the sublime, letting out agonized yells. It worked!

Wilson let out. Again! At unparalleled speeds, the crew mounted the torpedo tubes once more. Even doing most of the work manual, it was an impressive sight. Wilson ordered another barrage, this time only loading up the functional tubes. Four torpedoes were shot at the creature. It winced in pain, finally letting go of our submarine. It shook as we fell free from its grasp, but we weren't yet free from danger.

We had to deter the monster from attacking for a second time, but that time with proper fire power. Prepare to fire live torpedoes. Wilson ordered. Another barrage of four torpedoes were loaded, that time filled with actual explosives. I called Henderson over the radio to ask for exact locations, praying that the comms were back up and running.

With our own computers barely functional, we had to rely on our fresh captain's instructions for a successful hit. LOD James Peterson here. We've armed the torpedoes. We need the thing's exact location to get a hit. Do you copy? It's retreating into the deep, 50 meters directly below our position. Fire it will.

Henderson said on the other end. I relayed the instructions, and Wilson gave permission to fire the load. A few seconds passed between the torpedoes leaving the tubes. Before we had two confirmed impacts, only noticed by shockwaves reverberating through the ship. It had been a successful attack, and our ship was finally free of the monster's grasp. The crew let out a few tired cheers, relieved to be alive, but horrified by the loss of so many crewmen. Exhausted, we took the majority of the crew back to Henderson, who'd moved his team further back to the control room.

But what greeted us were not relieved faces, but ones filled with utter panic. People were scrambling around, desperately trying to fix damage I couldn't see. The nuclear reactor is severely damaged, Anderson said meekly. If we don't fix it, we're going to suffer a meltdown within the next few hours. With a nuclear reactor located in the dead center of the submarine, we had several access points. But with a reactor suffering a meltdown, we couldn't safely enter from any of them. Running the backup engine would keep the submarine running, but it wouldn't buy us enough time to return to shore for emergency repairs. We would have to deal with it ourselves, or risk the agonizing death of every man.

on board. Under normal circumstances, its thick walls protected the crew from catastrophic radiation poisoning. But during a meltdown, the released radiation would reach one quarter of that measured after the incident at the Fukushima power plant. How much time do we have? I asked. Two hours, maybe less, Anderson said. So, we fix the damn thing, Wilson suggested. His statement froze us in place for a moment. It was the most reason. solution, but it came at catastrophic sacrifice for the poor bastard who took the task upon himself. Whoever goes inside the reactor is going to die. You do realize this, Anderson asked. And if no one goes, we all die. I'll do it then, Anderson said. His face pale as a sheet.

No, you won't. This ship needs a captain. You're not allowed to sacrifice yourself. Besides, I'm probably the only sucker left on this boat alive that has actually dealt with nuclear. reactors up close, Wilson explained. There were no words needed. We all knew Wilson had provided the only plausible solution. Like the Marine he was, he was willing to give his life if it meant the rest of us could live. Either way, if nothing was done, we'd be killed by radiation

or by the monstrosity from the depths returning for seconds. I escorted Wilson towards the nuclear reactor, ready to do whatever I could as he attempted to repair the damage. There were radiation shields aboard the sub, but they do little to negate the massive dosage of radiation Wilson would absorb as soon as he entered the reactor. It doesn't have to be you, I argued as we got close, knowing full will that no one else could repair the damage before we suffered a total meltdown. He ignored me and got suited up for the mission. While it wouldn't save him, it might buy him a few extra minutes to work on the reactor. I ain't got nothing.

nothing to say. I'm just doing my duty. No family to say goodbye to. Nothing back on the mainland waiting for me. This was always where I'd end up, kid. Just let me do this one thing. Without further hesitation, Wilson entered the reactor room. I stood outside, watching them through cameras placed on the inside. They were meant to give a safe view of the reactor to determine the damage before entering. But most of the time, the disruption wasn't visible to the naked eye. Yet, Wilson headed straight for the problem and set to work. It would take about ten minutes for the symptoms to set in, at which point death would follow shortly after.

Just the act of opening the door had exposed me to an unhealthy dose of radiation, but the sickness I'd experience would pass within days, while Wilson would decay within the next couple of hours. Not a single word was spoken as I watched Wilson slowly die. I just stared as he worked, listening to the shrieking creature preparing for its next attack. It was a race against time. One Wilson would lose, but in the act, we might stand a chance. Twenty minutes passed, at which point Wilson's hands were visibly shaking,

our crew had shot out a few more torpedoes, but they were running out, at which point the creature would certainly attack again. Then without speaking a word, Wilson took a step back from their reactor, to observe it. He stood there for a few seconds, making sure the thing was working, before collapsing on the ground. The systems were stabilizing, a fact noticed by Henderson, who gave the order to start an emergency assent. I wanted nothing more than to rush to Wilson's aid and drag him out of the reactor room. But even had I gotten him out, he was already a dead man. Alas, my sorrow would be interrupted by another violent shake of the submarine,

undoubtedly caused by our last torpedo. Alarms sounded throughout the vessel once more, calling each crew member to their station for our ascent. Without pause, I rushed to the control room, where I found Henderson and his team scrambling to reach the surface. We're getting the hell out of here, he said as he saw me. Get to your station. In the state our vessel was in,

the rapid ascent might just have killed every single crewman on board. Still, it was a risk we had to take with the monster still chasing us. With no torpedoes left, we had to rely on speed we didn't have. And pray we could outmaneuver the thing. 400 meters. One of the men called out. It's getting closer. Another yelled.

300. The hole creaked from the rapidly dropping pressure, causing my ears to pop once more. 200! Something hit the submarine, causing another hole breach. It's here! Keep going. Henderson ordered. It hadn't been able to grab a hold of us,

but the damage it caused with each hit was catastrophic. 100! The rapid change in pressure wasn't only harmful to us, but it affected the creature as well. It led out a horrific, soul-shattering yell of agony, still crashing into the submarine. It ripped another hole in the hall, causing the turbines to flood.

If we didn't reach the surface immediately, we'd sink back to the abyss. Then I saw sunlight, just a few rays shining in from some of the newly formed holes in the hall. We closed off the damaged sections as best we could, hoping to remain buoyant until help could arrive. The creature let out one final shriek, but never surfaced alongside us. The damage it had sustained was too much, causing it to flee back to the depths, with the realization that we'd made it up alive. A few of us ventured up to the top side to inspect the true extent of the damage.

Long holes had been torn along the sides, with massive, gray teeth left behind around the torpedo tubes. It dawned on me then that we'd been stuck in the jaw of the ancient being. It had tried to consume us, biting down on the hard metal. The torpedoes had been just enough to rip through the beast's flesh, tearing its teeth out. I do not know what attacked us on that day. nor am I planning a return to the ocean any time in the future. Our submarine was quickly decommissioned following the attack, with false claims that it had failed at sea trials.

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