The Captain stepped forward, his boots echoing on the wet deck. “Get the torch. We’re opening it now.”
But as the first spark hit the metal, a sound came from inside.
The Sound from the Deep
The sound wasn’t a thump. It was a rhythmic, metallic clink-clink-clink.
The crew scrambled back, their hearts hammering against their ribs.
“Is there someone in there?” Miller gasped, his face turning the color of ash.
The smell hit them next—a strange mix of ozone, expensive perfume, and something ancient.
It’s been underwater for months. Nothing should be alive in there.
The Captain gripped his sidearm. “Cut the hinges. Fast!”
The blue flame of the torch sliced through the steel, sending a shower of sparks into the dark night.
The heavy door groaned, then swung open with a violent, pressurized hiss.
A thick, white mist rolled out, obscuring the deck and the men standing on it.