I Found A Journal From Someone Who Worked On An Oil Rig And The Entries Are Freakishly Disturbing
November 7th: 10 PM
[The writing at the beginning of this entry is a little light and messy.]
I have to write this quick. Don’t have a lot of time before this all begins.
We quickly headed out of the living block. Ed and Bill went to the comms room and the rest of us headed for the end of the drilling module where the sub was docked. We had to huddle close together and anchor ourselves on whatever we could as we headed through the platform. The winds out there are so bad, it causes the rain to sting. And when I got hit by hail, it would nearly break the skin. Reminded me of the time I went to a paintball tournament with my cousin. It was like getting nailed with paintballs constantly. I can feel the bruises all over my body right now.
We got to the sub on the cellar deck. It was still tethered fine, but it was swaying back and forth in the wind. Doc Tyler got in just fine, but Pete had a hell of a hard time. He nearly slipped off the hatch at one point. He would’ve gone right over and into the water. Luckily, the Doc grabbed him and shoved him inside. They closed the hatch, and I lowered them in. The sub went down quick, and just for a second, I thought I might’ve fucked up and hurt them or worse. I looked over the rail and managed to see the Doc through the big reinforced circular glass window. He looked a little pissed, but he gave me the thumbs up. I didn’t wait to watch them submerge. The storm was too much. I hauled ass to the comms room. When I got here, Ed and Bill were already talking to the Doc.
I’m going to try to keep up with what’s going on as it happens. I’m scared shitless, but I want to remember everything about this. If they see what it is, I have to record everything they say. Ed says the gear is recording, but that shit’s stored on old giant magnetic tape rolls. I’m not counting on that or taking it with me.
Doc and Pete have been in the water coming up on about 10 minutes. Communication’s been good so far. Doc’s at the helm and Pete’s crammed behind him. They’re about half of the way down the spar hull now. The radio reception is a little scratchy, but you can tell when it’s the Doc and when it’s Pete.
Doc: “Turbulence is starting to subside. We’re leveling out a little more.”
Pete: “Fucking humid as hell.”
There’s some clicking noises. I hear the hum of a small motor or something.
Pete: “That’s better.”
It sounds like he belched. Fucking company man.
Doc: “Passing one of the strakes. Visibility’s pretty shit down here. Water’s dark as hell.”
Pete: “God damn. You see that?”
Doc: “We’re near the bottom of the spar hull. The north row of mooring fairleads is totally gone.”
Ed: “Do we have the resources to repair and reattach the lines?”
Pete: “You’re not hearing us Ed, it’s fucking gone. The entire damn bulkhead has been ripped the fuck out. No mooring lines, no fairleads, no fucking hull.”
Doc: “We’ve got water in the spar way above where it should be.”
Pete: “Too much more and the bitch’ll start to capsize.”
Doc: “We have enough sheet metal to weld a patch on it. That’ll take–”
[The pencil mark at the end of the sentence runs hard into the paper and trails off. The next part of the entry is written even sloppier and more rushed.]
Shit. I fell over. It hit the spar again. There was another thunderous noise that reverberated up the spar, and I heard Pete yell and the Doc grunt over the radio. Now there’s just loud static noise.
Ed: “Tyler, come in! Tyler, do you read? Pete, do you read?!”
Bill: “Fuck, I nearly split my skull.”
Nothing. God damn it. They’re probably fucking dead in that…
Doc: “Ed, we read.”
Me: “Holy shit. What the hell’s going on down there?”
Pete: “The spar hit us.”
Doc: “After something hit the spar… I saw something, Jake.”
Oh Jesus. Doc doesn’t sound scared, how the fuck does he do it?
Me: “What did you see, Tyler?”
Doc: “I don’t know. Maybe a light. It was behind the spar for a second, then the hull bashed against us. Our propeller’s damaged. I’m trying to get it back up. Standby.”
Pete: “You didn’t see shit, Tyler. It was just a rogue wave that pushed the rig into us.”
I can hear Doc murmuring and grunting a little. There’s a loud engine sound. It dies out quick.
Doc: “Fuck.”
The engine sound again. It dies out quicker. Silence.
Doc: “We’re starting to gain more depth. Motor’s dead.”
Ed: “God damn it Tyler. There has to be something we can do.”
Doc: “We’d need a fully prepped dive and rescue team already in the water. It’s too late for us, Ed.”
Pete: “Bullshit it is! Get out of the way, Tyler!”
There’s a bunch of racket. Both men start yelling. There’s a loud thud and Pete let’s out a painful sigh.
Doc: “Sit. Down.”
More silence. Not much.
Doc: “Ed, Jake, Bill. If at least one of you makes it out of this, tell Nancy I’m sorry. Tell her that…just, that I’m sorry.”
Ed knows him better, but I’m pretty sure Nancy is Doc’s ex-wife. I know they have a kid. God damn it, Doc. God fucking damn it.
Doc: “Wait… gotta’ be fucking kidding… I see it, Jake.”
Me: “What do you see, Doc?!”
Doc: “There’s a light out there. It’s pitch black down here, but I can see a light.”
Pete: “Oh my god.”
Doc: “I can’t tell how far it is… oh shit. It’s getting closer. It’s blue. Oh shit oh shit. Uh. It’s not just a light. Holy fucking shit, Jake! It’s fucking huge! Oh god, all the teeth are —”
Both men are screaming, then a loud metallic sound and static. “Teeth. Oh god, all the teeth.” Those were the last words on the broadcast. Those words are in my head. We’re all fucking dead men. None of us are getting off this rig alive.