by Dan Dillard
Angel knelt and Tina was a distant memory. Every woman was a distant memory. There was only Angel and she filled up his world. He grabbed at her hair and her back and tried to steady himself. What he felt caused him to open his eyes. Strange knobs protruded from her shoulder blades, pulsing with her gyrations. Leo opened his eyes and what he saw was magical, beautiful, and terrifying. Her fingers danced up and down his ribs, then gripped him at the waist, driving him in deeper. The knobs had become long limbs, wings of a leathery sort, and as he climaxed, they unfurled to their full, feathered potential. Leo screamed in ecstasy as Angel let him go. She stood to face him, wiping blood from her mouth. She spit his genitalia on the floor and licked her pointed teeth, but Leo didn't notice or care. He was infatuated with the monster that stood before him.
Her true self realized, Angel was an indescribable thing. Her skin tone deepened, less tan and more red than it had appeared before. Her hair draped silky and black against her shoulders. Her body was muscular, animal like, and her wings touched wall to wall in Leo and Tina’s oversized bathroom. He could not look away. He felt no pain, only his life draining as did his blood. Angel's teeth gleamed with smeared crimson. She placed her hand on his cheek as his skin turned the sickly gray of a dying man.
"I love you," he said.
His eyes filled with tears.
"I love you too," she said.
“Are you an angel.”
“Yes, Leo, I am.”
“Is this heaven?”
“It is not,” she said.
“Then what?”
“I had hopes for you, Leo, but thou shalt not covet...and thou shalt not commit adultery.”
He began to cry and to drift, falling to the floor. Angel watched him with disinterest. Another job well done.
DRACULA KNOCKS
Caleb Morgan was only eighteen in 1997 when he raised his hand in front of the flag for the second time. He stood in a room full of nervous young women and men and swore he would uphold the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies foreign and domestic. While he repeated those words, his heart swelled, he choked up, and a tear fell from his left eye.
Two years later, he would’ve shit on it—all of it. He loved his country and everything it stood for, but he’d had it with training, had it with A-school and C-school and he was glad to have orders to an actual ship. He was happy to give the sea her chance before he got out of Uncle Sam’s Navy but enough was enough.
It was an Arleigh Burke class destroyer he was sent to and he arrived in his polished shoes and gleaming white uniform with a fresh “crow” on his shoulder. The rank of E-4, a Petty Officer Third Class, wasn’t much, but it was better than being a seaman. In less than two months, he was folded into the tight-knit family onboard and bombarded with training, qualifications, watch standing, damage control and all of the things required of a young sailor. When the ship finally got underway—his first trip out to sea—life became a foggy blur .
Caleb got along well enough with the members of his shop, including a first-class Petty Officer named Joshua Beck who was assigned his mentor. It wasn’t like boot camp, or even in school. Things were less regimented and more like a normal job. They used first names in most situations and there was a lot less screaming.
“Are you settling in?” Beck asked him that morning on the smoke deck. He had a Jersey accent, dark hair and dark eyes. They were the only two out there.
Caleb took a drag from his cigarette. “I think so.”
“Ever been out to sea before?”
“No. Never been on a boat before.”
Beck frowned. “It’s a ship. Boats go underwater.”
“Right. Ship,” Caleb said.
There was a short pause when Beck lit another smoke off of his first one. “You get motion sickness?”
“I don’t think so,” Caleb said.
“Good. Chapman and James? They puke every underway. Just don’t let it get to you—ya know? Don’t think about it and you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“We’ll see,” Beck said.
An announcement blared over the ship’s speakers. Caleb didn’t understand most of it. Beck looked up and frowned.
“Time to go, man. Meet me in Combat. You’ll be on sea-and-anchor and life will suck soon enough, but this trip might actually be fun for you.”
They stubbed out their cigarettes and Caleb followed Beck back to the ladder amidships and down to the main deck. As he got to the bottom of the ladder, he almost stepped on the boot of a man in officer’s coveralls. A Warrant Officer with salt and pepper hair and a sour look on his face. Caleb popped to attention and saluted while Beck walked on across the quarterdeck.
“Cute,” the Warrant Officer said. “Now, you wanna get the fuck out of my way?”
“Yes sir. Sorry, sir,” Morgan said. He noticed the name that was stitched above the breast pocket of the man’s coveralls said GUNDERSON. As the Warrant climbed the ladder and disappeared around the aft stack, Morgan shrugged.
“Jerk,” he said.
He walked across the quarterdeck, saluting again. The Officer of the Deck gave a chuckle and saluted back. It was a FNG moment. Fucking new guy. He’d had many such moments, and there would be many more, he knew. There were some new shipmates coming soon that would cure that. It wasn’t so much that he wanted an FNG of his own to laugh at. Caleb thought someone newer than him would let him step out of the spotlight
*****
Several hours later, the ship was at sea, steaming fifty miles off the coast of Southern California and Caleb was glad to find he wasn’t seasick—at least not yet. He was trying to absorb as much as he could at his watch station and was starving to death, ready to eat. When the Boatswain’s pipe called the evening meal, he rushed to get in line. It was different from being in port where most left to grab fast food—or better yet—went home for dinner. Sailors stretched across the chow line and down the passageway beyond the door to medical.
He let out a groan and his stomach growled as if answering him. It smelled good, whatever it was. He got to the end of the line and nodded at another third class Petty Officer—a female. She didn’t make conversation, but instead turned and faced forward.
The line moved quickly, and before long, he was at the corner, ready to grab a tray from the rack next to the Command Master Chief’s tiny office when there was a tug at his arm. “What?”
It was a second class Petty Officer named Lewis. He couldn’t remember his first name.
“Come on, Morgan. Got something you need to see,” Lewis said.
“What is it?” Morgan said.
“If I tell you here, there’s no point in seeing it.”
“Can’t I eat first?”
Lewis crossed his arms. Dark skinned and short but thick with muscles, he leered at Caleb with a no-bullshit look on his face.
“Guess not,” Caleb said.
Lewis excused himself in front of the female petty officer, grabbed an apple from the tray at the end and said, “Follow me.”
Lewis turned around and walked toward the back of the ship, down one passageway and around a corner to another where he opened an airlock door that led to one of the helicopter hangers. Once they were both inside and Caleb had closed the door behind him, Lewis opened the other. The hanger was empty except for a handful of sailors, all different rates, who were standing in a circle. In the center was EW1 Joshua Beck who was sitting on an upside down trash can.
“What’s going on?” Caleb said.
Lewis gave him a shove. “Check it out.”
“What? Check what out?” Caleb said.
Lewis pushed him again until Caleb was inside the circle. The other sailors, five in all, stared at the trash can with excited eyes. Beck held on to the edges of the can and sat with his boots flat on the non-skid deck.
“You’re a lucky bitch,” Beck said. “Most people will never get to see one of these.”
“What?” Caleb said.<
br />
Beck’s face stayed stern, unwavering. “I’ve met some thirty-year sailors who have only heard tale of these creatures.”
“What?” Caleb repeated.
“That’s some cool shit. You get to see one your first time out. On your first night out,” Lewis said. “I’ve been in four years and this was my first.”
“What is it?” Caleb said.
“What I have here, underneath this can…is the legendary sea bat.”
“A what?” Caleb said. He’d read about all manner of sea creature, whales, dolphins, sharks, octopus, squid, eels, skates…but he’d never heard of a sea bat.
“They’re rare and they only live off the coast of San Diego. Dangerous as hell, too. Lucky we found a small one.”
“Dangerous?” Caleb said.
Some of the others nodded. Some just stared in amazement, anticipation or exhaustion. He looked from sleeve to sleeve, most of them slick. One other had a crow like his, one chevron, a third class.
“They’re venomous,” Lewis said. “One bite can paralyze a man in seconds.”
“Is it dead?” Caleb said.
“It’s knocked out. Mitch hit it pretty hard.”
Mitch was Lewis’s first name, Caleb remembered, but he was staring at the trash can, nervous and excited about the sea bat.
“You shits ready?” Beck said.
The group nodded in unison, but kept silent.
“On your faces,” he said.
The slick sleeves and the two third classes exchanged looks of confusion. Beck and Lewis chuckled. “Look, we ain’t gonna pick up the can and let this thing out in the hanger. You have to get low. We’ll lean the can back and let you get a glimpse. So is it gonna be one at a time or all at once? Your choice,” Beck said.
Caleb looked at the others, all hesitant. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I’ll do it.”
“That’s my boy,” Lewis said. “That’s why he’s an EW and the rest of you are…well, whatever you are.” He smirked and pulled a small flashlight from the pocket of his coveralls.
“Take this and lie on the deck. When Josh tips the can back, shine it in there. You should see it. Ugly fucker,” Lewis said.
Caleb took the flashlight and clicked the button sending a tiny beam of light across the hanger. Then he lay down on the deck, its non-skid surface digging into his knees, belly and elbows.
“Don’t let the deck scuff up your boots, man,” Lewis said.
Caleb adjusted his feet and put his arms out in front of him, flashlight at the ready.
“You ready, Petty Officer?” Lewis said.
It was the first time he’d been called Petty Officer. Caleb felt that swell of pride once again and nodded.
“Lift it up,” Lewis said.
Beck stood up, but kept his hands on the rim of the trash can, keeping it pressed to the floor. Caleb pointed the flashlight at the bottom. Beck leaned it back, tipping the can just a bit, maybe two inches.
“See anything?” he said.
Caleb moved the light back and forth. “Nope. Nothing yet. How big is it?”
“Size of a kitten,” Lewis said. “Must’ve crawled up inside.”
“It can do that?” Caleb said.
“Claws like razors,” Beck said.
There was no noise from the others. Beck tilted it a bit farther, maybe 4 inches. Still nothing.
“Still nothing,” Caleb said. He felt the others closing in behind him, hoping for a glimpse.
“Get a bit closer and shine the light up inside. We might get it to growl. They’re quite noisy when they’re scared. They don’t like the light.”
“Closer?” Caleb said.
“You’ll be fine, man. We got you,” Lewis said.
Caleb inched forward, scooting on the uncomfortable, textured floor of the hanger. He smelled the lubricant in the tracks for the helicopter and the fresh paint from some repairs that happened earlier in the day. Over that was the smell of the ocean, bright and salty. Slowly, he stuck the flashlight up to the rim of the can.
“Tilt it back just a bit more,” he said. “I can’t see the whole can yet.”
“You sure?” Beck said.
“Yeah.”
Beck tilted the can back all the way and just as Caleb looked up inside, Lewis smacked the can with a wrench. BANG! The sound echoed through the hanger and Caleb shrieked—a high pitched sound. He scrambled to his feet and almost toppled over but for the arms of the five other sailors behind him.
Beck and Lewis roared with laughter and after a moment, most of the other joined…all but Caleb. He didn’t laugh at first. At first he wanted to take the wrench and smack first Lewis and then Beck in their dumbass skulls. It was Lewis who came and put a solid arm around his shoulders first.
“Man, that was brilliant,” he said.
“Yeah?” Caleb asked.
“Yeah, man. Welcome aboard.”
“I thought hazing was illegal?” Caleb said.
Lewis frowned. “You hurt? Got mental scars?”
“No.”
“Gonna have nightmares?”
“Nope.”
“Then it ain’t hazing. We just wanted to welcome you to the team. Relax man.”
Caleb smiled at that point, even laughed a bit, although he knew his cheeks were ablaze with embarrassment. Beck put the trash can back in the corner and strapped it down before joining the two of them.
“Don’t tell anyone about this, though. We want to save it for the next FNG,” Lewis said.
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed.
“You did good, Morgan,” he said. “Sounded just like a bitch, but that’s about what I expected.”
“Thanks,” Caleb said.
“You should’ve heard Lewis when we did it to him. He was half the woman you are,” Beck said.
Lewis shrugged as the three walked back in toward the chow line.
“I have one question,” Caleb said.
“What’s that?” Beck asked.
“How’d you know I’d volunteer?”
“I told the rest to keep their mouths shut and stay in the back no matter what happened,” Beck said.
“Still…how’d you know I’d volunteer?”
“I didn’t, not for certain, but we would’ve volun-told you eventually. It doesn’t matter now,” Lewis said.
“I guess not,” Caleb said.
“Hey, there’s lots of bullshit stories like that on a ship—each ship has its own, each generation has their own. I’d just rather you hear them from us. Don’t worry, we won’t do this to you again.”
“Stories?”
“Yeah. Plenty of them. Ghost stories, sea monsters, mermaids—shit like that. You’ll spot most of them a nautical mile away—but the sea bat? That’s a classic. The lesson is this: be wary of bullshit,” Beck said. “It can get pretty deep out here.”
“Got it.”
The three of them walked back to the chow line which was empty by that point. There was some food left…most of it cold. But it was good enough.
*****
The next evening after his watch was relieved, Caleb walked out to the smoke deck before hitting the gym. He stared out at the horizon at the setting sun and watched a pod of dolphins bounce around the waves. A chief and a senior chief carried on a conversation about baseball and as they left, they each nodded to him.
“Senior. Chief,” he said.
No scowls like school, no screaming like boot camp. The smoke deck was like a level playing field for casual conversation and a good dose of gossip. He wondered what stories those chiefs might tell, or if they’d ever seen a sea bat. For a moment after they left, he was alone.
Caleb snubbed out one cigarette, then lit another, enjoying the feel of the smoke in his lungs and the salt air and spray on his face. He leaned on the safety rail and put one boot behind the other.
“You don’t wanna do that,” a gruff voice said.
Caleb popped upright and turned. It was the Warrant Officer, Gunderson, standing
at the corner of the stack and lighting a cigarette of his own. Something non-filtered.
“Sir?”
“Lean on the rails. They’re not that sturdy and it just isn’t done, son. Stand up straight. If you wanna lean, hit your rack.”
“Yes sir.”
“Cut that shit out, will you? Formal is for the rest of the ship. Smoking? That’s the only relaxing some of us get on this hunk.”
“What should I call you?”
“How about STO?”
“What’s that?”
“Systems Test Officer.” Gunderson took a drag and spit out bits of tobacco.
“STO,” Caleb said.
“How long you been in, kid, a couple months?” Gunderson said.
“Two months on board. I’ve been enlisted almost two years. Lots of school.”
“Ah. Good. That means you’ll work for a living…not one of those operators who can’t do shit but stare at blips and bleeps all day.”
“I guess,” Caleb said.
“Like it?”
“The navy? Sure, I guess.”
“You ain’t got to bullshit me, son. It won’t hurt my feelings. Either it’s for you or it isn’t. Do you like being at sea?” Gunderson said.
“So far.”
“Fair enough.”
There was a long silence while the Warrant stubbed out one cigarette and then lit another.
“STO?” Caleb said.
“Yeah kid.”
“Have you ever seen a sea bat?”
Gunderson chuckled and blew a stream of smoke from his nose. “Shit, is that thing still around? No, I haven’t…have you?”
“No,” Caleb said and laughed.
“Sounds like an EW1 Beck thing,” Gunderson said.
“Good guess.”
“I suppose that’s harmless enough,” Gunderson said. The two stood in silence for a while as the engines whined down and the ship slowed to a crawl.
“So, do you know any good stories?” Caleb asked.
“Oh, I know a few.”
“Tell me a good one,” Caleb said.
The old Warrant looked at him with a squinted eye and took a long pull from his cigarette. He flicked the ashes and as he talked, the smoke leaked slowly from his mouth and nose.
“Well, there is one you might consider memorable, but it happened on a different boat.”
