An officer stepped forward and pulled out his sidearm, taking a microsecond to aim, then let two rounds loose. The first of the suicide bombers to reach the cable supports on the Al Salam Bridge fell limply to the ground instantly killed by a round to the head. The bomb failed to detonate, much to the relief of the man in the red turban who, by his reaction, seemed to have no intention of dying that day. From a car behind the truck, a man in a white turban and an AK-47 leapt out of the back seat and began to fire at the officer. Fire erupted from the barrel of the Browning .50 caliber machine gun popping off several large chunks of concrete before cutting the man nearly in two. The body and AK-47 landed with a dull thud on the deck of the Shiloh leaving a splatter of blood and the internal components of the skull around the corpse. The coward in the red turban began to run down the bridge to safety.
Gunner wasn’t sure how many exposures he had used but snapped them off as fast as was humanly possible. It was all he had at his disposal. If nothing else, the moment would be memorialized as long as the camera survived.
He could tell that they were yelling something but had no idea what it was, or what they wanted. The Browning stopped firing off rounds and smoke danced in the air like a charmed serpent as it rose from the heated barrel. A warning in Arabic came over the loudspeakers of the Shiloh demanding that the men back away.
With the cruiser’s momentum, the turbine engines were unable to immediately reverse its forward momentum and the Shiloh’s 9,992 long tons continued to slide beneath the bridge. To everyone’s horror, the two remaining men simultaneously fell over the railing, which was immediately followed by the body of the dead terrorist as he was raised off of the asphalt and was ejected from the bridge just as the two living bombers were airborne. The first two landed on the Shiloh a fraction of a second before the third sending a blinding fireball into the sky. The two catastrophic explosions triggered the third with a combined force of a car bomb that knocked Gunner backward on the deck of the Gettysburg despite being a hundred yards away. The flash blinded him. He attempted to look up but could only see white dots and was briefly disoriented. Airborne debris from the Shiloh pelted the Gettysburg and despite being unable to see where it was coming from, he instinctively rolled into the fetal position covering his head.
A series of explosions began to go off and sounded as if it was behind him. Gunner thought for a second that the disorientation was getting the better of him. He was suddenly aware of his position in front of the sixty-two-caliber gun and realized that he urgently needed to move in the event of a response to an additional threat. Gunner opened his eyes and was thankful for the improvement in his vision, but the ringing in his ears was almost as bad as the blast itself. The debris stopped falling from the sky and he moved quickly toward the stairs. He turned back to look at the Shiloh and was astonished by the extent of the damage. Plumes of smoke billowed into the sky as it appeared that the suicide bombers had delivered a deathblow to the entire area of the bridge.
From behind him came a third round of explosions and gunfire. When he ran aft, he could see fire and smoke on the flight deck of the carrier as F/A-18E Super Hornets were ablaze. He couldn’t tell how many due to the dense smoke. On the Kanat Al Sweis Rd., and the Al Ki Mish ten trucks were lined up on each side of the Suez by the carrier and it appeared as if they had initiated an assault using primarily shoulder-launched missiles at the flight deck of the carrier. Automatic gunfire from the Gettysburg and Abe Lincoln were cutting the men down and decimating the trucks as the cowards scrambled to get away, which wasn’t to be. All the visible terrorists were dead in a matter of minutes.
Fourteen soldiers…dead just like that. Gunner thought aloud. Had the Shiloh not been assigned to join the fleet to Venezuela, it may have been the Gettysburg that was passing under the Al Salam Bridge behind the Roosevelt. He certainly would have died had that happened and he was on deck. This thought brought on a measure of guilt as he valued the lives of the fallen. Gunner often thought about the families, the loved ones robbed of a lifetime together. The Shiloh was towed back to its homeport of Yokosuka, Japan for repairs and the Fourth continued on its mission.
He found the unused camera in the stack and took a second look at the clock. If the time and his calculations were correct, he would have an opportunity to get some photos of the islands as they passed to the south of Grenada. Perhaps even get some of the sunrise in the background. He hoped that the quality of the film would do some justice to everything he had photographed, but if not, there was always the camera on his cell phone.
Gunner ran to the weather deck and realized that his clock was an hour off and the northern hemisphere was still void of any vestige of sunlight. He really didn’t mind the darkness. Gunner loved the sea in the morning and getting up early was worth the loss of sleep. There was no moon and a few clouds were visible in the distant sky aft of their position that was illuminated with bursts of blue-white lightning. Beyond the running lights of the Gettysburg and lightning from a storm to the east, it was very dark. The fleet was in formation and all seemed as it should be before the world came back to life for a new day. Gunner looked starboard to see if there was any evidence of Grenada and realized how strong his desire was for a cup of coffee.
The thought of caffeine was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when, without any provocation or warning, the ship’s running lights flickered a few times before going dark. The forward momentum of the Gettysburg quickly dissipated as the turbine engines fell silent and no longer pushed the ship through the sea. Gunner scanned the area and noticed that he could no longer see lights on any of the ships. For the moment, the fleet appeared to be dead in the water.
Like a disturbed ant pile, Seamen began fleeing the lightless cabins below deck and were piling up as they escaped the darkness from the windowless hull by running topside. The hum of the engines was replaced with anxious chatter as hundreds attempted to figure out what was happening. Gunner noticed a light under the water as it moved rapidly toward the stern of the ship from the north. The lights were moving too fast even for torpedoes.
Gunner instinctively ran to the stern as did the majority of those who were topside. Just as the light reached the carrier it separated into four sections and moved at an impossible speed to the bow, starboard, stern and port sides of the carrier. The lights from the objects were bright enough that looking at them should have blinded him, especially since being acclimated to the dark, but that wasn’t the case. The intensity of the light didn’t irritate his eyes. Despite this, Gunner wasn’t sure if his camera was going to be able to capture the images. One of the objects was just under the surface right in front of him. He attempted to use the camera on the phone, but it was dead only minutes after being fully charged. Left with no other option, Gunner began to take photos with the disposable camera. The unidentified objects surfaced and hovered over the water as if to taunt the American military with its ability to render the entire fleet powerless while fearlessly revealing itself.
“No!” he said aloud in an attempt to convince himself that he wasn’t witnessing something alien. He snapped off several more shots and had no choice but to admit that what they were seeing was alien technology.
The vessels certainly didn’t belong to the United States Military. The crafts were oval shaped with very smooth aerodynamic lines. Each appeared to be about fifteen feet wide, ten feet high, and twenty feet long. Gunner didn’t see any visible lights, but the entire metal exterior seemed to radiate light. There was no visible mechanism for propulsion, yet he had witnessed the speed by which the craft traveled underwater and now defied gravity. There was no visible evidence of how that was possible. Gunner then looked for a weapon, a window, or a hatch, but was not able to find anything.
Behind him, he could hear the anxious voices of men as they manually operated the five-inch sixty-two caliber gun directing it toward the invaders on the starboard side. Gunner was between the gun and the hovering craft and quickly came to his senses and moved back. He heard the ord
er was given to take the craft out, which was followed by a series of profanities sparked by disbelief as the guns were as lifeless as the engines. They were unable to fire their weapons. The crew began to move purposefully in all directions searching for a resolution.
As if on cue, the four foreign vessels climbed higher into the air. The popping of the magnesium flash on the disposable camera filled the darkness as Gunner took photos. Profanities and disbelief rang out across the deck as other seamen realized that their phones were dead. None of the crew were able to get any video of the levitating craft. While there was still no physical or obvious signs of any mechanism of propulsion, there was a series of symbols or writing. Gunner made it a point to get a photo of them. He hoped that it would be good enough to use later.
The hovering crafts began to encircle the carrier. A vertically elongated beam of light came from the front of each of the alien craft. They moved in harmony encircling the carrier as if taking a recording. As they moved around the carrier the front remained fixed as the craft were now flying sideways. The light allowed Gunner to see the activity on the deck as men, in accordance with their training, had fruitlessly taken their positions despite being unable to retaliate in any way.
The wind and currents began to move the ships out of formation. The cruisers were the most affected, but the destroyers seemed to be moving dangerously toward the Abe Lincoln.
After making a full circle around the carrier the hovering crafts turned toward each ship in the fleet and repeated the process. As the vessels approached the Gettysburg, Gunner took his final photo. The band of light from the craft passed harmlessly over him. He expected it to have some static effect but seemed to be no more than an average spotlight.
The alien craft moved back to the carrier, which seemed to be the primary focus. Gunner noticed that the form of the hovering craft changed and became more oblong and bullet shaped. The white light took on an increasingly reddish color. His natural reaction was that there was about to be an act of aggression and they were attempting to intimidate the defenseless sailors. It seemed that some kind of confrontation was imminent. In their case, it would be a slaughter since they were weaponless.
Out of his peripheral vision, Gunner noticed a huge bright object in the sky. He turned just in time as seven unknown craft were suddenly upon them and descended on the fleet. Without hesitation, the four hovering craft near the carrier returned to their original shape and color before plunging back into the sea as if no longer able to mock gravity. The seven flying craft, without decreasing speed, shot into the dark Caribbean waters seemingly in pursuit. The lights under the water were darting about suggesting that there was an underwater battle taking place.
The second the hovering vessels had returned to the sea, all power returned to the fleet and the Gettysburg lunged as the engines once again pushed the ship forward. The Roosevelt and the Farragut took measures to avoid slamming into the Lincoln. Gunner was caught off guard and nearly fell down by the unexpected forward momentum.
As he looked to the north, he heard and saw what looked to be an underwater explosion that was quickly followed by a second and a third. After a few minutes, all of the lights faded into the northwest.
Chapter 4
“Okay Phil, if it is there, we will find it…don’t worry. I just checked into the hotel. Outside of our approach for landing, I haven’t seen the beach or the Pitons yet. With all the traversing, it takes a while to get anywhere here,” Logan said into the satellite phone.
“That’s why most people suggest taking a water taxi. It’s quicker and this is not a place to drive if you get car sick. Anyway, you can see both of them from where you are staying. You’re down on Sugar Beach…that’s the base of Petite Piton. Gros should be just to the south of there. I really didn’t think you would be that interested in seeing them,” Phil replied from a landline with his feet kicked up on the railing overlooking the green foliage of the mountain valley beyond the cascading waters of the resort’s infinity pool.
“They’re a landmark. The first thing you see in any ad. Yes, I wanted to get a close personal view. Heck, I want to explore them if it is possible. The sun will be setting soon. I will meet you at the dock in the morning for seven,” Logan tapped the red button and ended the call.
Despite his business ventures and travels across the Caribbean, it was the first time he had the opportunity to visit the island of St. Lucia. The drive from the airport in the south, despite being only forty-five miles away, had taken over three hours. The winding roads seemed to eternally meander through the mountainous terrain. One passenger on the transport had a bout with motion sickness due to the constant crisscrossing and threw up with his head hanging out of the window. By the time Logan would reach Sugar Beach it would seem as if he had been on a tour of the entire island, but in reality, he had only seen a small fraction of it.
The driver had seemed rather odd to him. The tip of his ear looked like it was bitten off in a fight while a hoop earring hung from the remaining lobe. A deep scar ran down the left side of his face from the edge of the eyelid and over the cheekbone. It was his ice-blue eyes that made Logan the most uncomfortable. There was something unnatural about them and he couldn’t stop analyzing the strange man. The driver was stiff and awkward. It seemed that once a minute he was looking up at the rearview mirror studying the passengers, which was rather suspicious after the first ten or fifteen times. The peculiar man seemed to be more focused on the members of the transfer than his driving. When coming out of each right-hand curb or turn, the tires of the minivan briefly slid off the asphalt and onto the gravel and dirt shoulder. Logan had second-guessed the decision to accept the transfer from the airport. After initially conversing with the man, his instincts were to wait and find another driver, but his lack of patience had gotten the better of him. Logan made a bad decision due to impatience, which he had seemed to do from time to time.
In recent years the once safe and peaceful island had turned into a warzone as drug gangs fought over territory. Six people were gunned down in the week prior to his trip and numerous stories of tourists being burglarized and beaten had surfaced during his research on the internet. Logan wondered if the driver was truly the transport for the resort, or an imposter taking the tourists somewhere to be robbed or murdered.
Instinctively Logan reached down with his right hand and felt his hip. The Glock 36 wasn’t there. He normally carried it everywhere, but this was not an American territory and the Constitution did not apply. Here he had had no Second Amendment rights and therefore no gun to protect himself with. The only weapon he had available was the six-inch dive knife he usually strapped to his calf. It was in the bag with his dive gear, which would take a few minutes to access and may all but guarantee his death if it came to the need for it. For the so-called driver, it would be like shooting fish in a bucket.
He felt vulnerable, but the other passengers laughed and carried on completely oblivious to the possibility of any threats as they considered the excitement that was before them during the days of their vacations. They had consumed the campaign by the Ministry of Tourism that had discounted the risks and falsely touted the safety of the island for tourists. Many had traveled numb to any possibility of being victimized. Logan considered that the majority possibly had no idea of the decline of social and economic conditions of the small Caribbean Island. He had experienced the same thing in Jamaica. Often seeing and hearing of tourists who had left the secure resort areas only to become a victim of an armed robbery and sometimes something worse. He wasn’t certain that St. Lucia had declined to the level of Jamaica but would soon find out.
He needed to get his mind off of the negative and tried to take in the natural beauty of the island. Logan was struck by the numerous blue bags protecting the bananas on the endless fields of the product. The island was lush and tropical and reminded him of islands in the South Pacific. The towering palm trees with pinnate leaves and huge seed pods with red and golden dates and the larges
t Australian tree ferns he had ever seen lined the roadways. The vegetation offered seemingly limitless hues of green.
As a former commercial diver, Logan had primarily worked in the Gulf of Mexico, which he preferred since it was close to home. At times, siding with the temptation of lucrative opportunities, he was deployed to work on projects in the North Sea and Brazil. After ten years of working for a company named Dark Waters, Inc, he realized that he needed to make a change in his life and decided to venture out on his own. He formed White Stripe, Inc. The name referenced the diagonal white stripe found on the dive flag that legally had to be flown over any location where a diver was underwater. Within a year of starting the company, he had ten divers working on projects in the Gulf of Mexico, the Florida Keys and off the coast of California.
It was the time he had spent on land in the Keys that had cultivated an interest in locating and salvaging shipwrecks. The adventure of finding a shipwreck and being the first person to dive on it since the tragic day it had met its demise and sunk to the ocean’s floor was more of a fantasy for him at one time. The nudge he needed to be more proactive and truly consider a move into that direction came after a visit to the Mel Fisher Maritime Museum in Key West, which contained some of the items recovered from the Nuestra Senora de Atocha otherwise known as the Atocha. The museum displayed samplings of artifacts of gold, silver and the finest emeralds of tremendous value recovered from an area covering ten square miles. Billions of dollars’ worth of treasure from the Atocha was still on the floor of the Atlantic somewhere off the coast of the Marquesas Islands waiting to be found and recovered. He became intrigued by the potential of what was sitting at the bottom of the oceans and in the rivers from other undiscovered wrecks in the US. This became his new passion. The oceans were littered with thousands of mysteries to be solved and untold billions of dollars in valuables that were waiting to be recovered.
Universal Code Page 6
