Chapter 1
Grey and angry, the English Channel boiled in the storm. Thrown around in a haphazard manner, the ever so small fishing boat was sent ploughing through the churning broth, forward and backward, and sideways too. The fierce sky boomed again and again, as if announcing the end of the world. Bright blue flashes glared off the thick void that hung over the seascape. No land in sight, just miles of waves and froth.
Two figures stood on deck; both of them struggling with their utmost strength to keep from being dragged down into the depths by the cascading water as it came crashing upon the deck. Barely able to see for the sting of salty spray, the youngest of the trio, Jamie, who was barely into his twenties, made his way carefully down the narrow walkway, where only a thin rail kept him from tumbling to his doom. At the end of this perilous walk, he could see the other, an older and weathered man, fighting a battle with the net catch release. A terrible occurrence in such violent weather; for the yards of submerged net, laden with the catch of the day, had to be withdrawn back onto the boat at all costs; the only alternative being the complete loss of a day's work. No, it had had been done before. There was no need to have to endure such wastage.
Eventually the young lad joined his older brethren as the conflict between man and stubborn machine continued. Forward of the insignificant vessel, the captain in command of the tiny boat tried desperately to maintain a state of seaworthiness. With each surge of power bought on by the endless torrents of waves crashing against the hull, he lost more and more hope in his ability to keep the craft afloat. A seconds lapse of concentration and they would all be scattered into the sea.
Down by the winch, the two braved the frightful weather, as they pulled with all their might to haul the heavy netting back onboard. It was well and truly jammed; stuck fast, as if there were a great force pulling at the boat. Groans and creaks resonated off taut wires; the useless piece of machinery was obviously trying to drag the net back up, but the tremendous weight resisted the feeble effort exerted by the drum and pulley. The groans and creaks gradually turned to a high-pitched squeal.
Viciously battling with the polished wooden wheel that controlled the boat, the old captain tried to ease a safe passage through the overgrowing labyrinth of seawater as it erupted all around. The boat, with its great bag of fish attached to the stern, was hardly the most agile of vessels, and it swung dangerously from side to side, generating a fathomic flurry.
Jamie clung to the rearmost railings for dear life. He was new to this, and still had to acquire his sea legs. The more experienced man by his side simply braced his entire body and kept on struggling with the rebelling net. The roar of wind and rain bellowed at them both like a demented spirit.
"Its no use", yelled Jamie, his young voice almost carried away by the storm. The ferocious tempest above him was beginning to have its psychological effect. Terrified of the conditions, and seeing no sense in risking his life further, Jamie pleaded to the other man to give up, and to detach the bulk that was keeping them from being able to slice a relatively safe path through the angry sea.
"Let it go", but his shouts went unheard. Briefly coming out of deep concentration, his sea mate looked up at him through fatigued eyes. Rivulets of water dripped down the side of his face, from his coarse hair, to his scraggly beard. The man truly was a born fisherman, and a great contrast to the youthfulness of Jamie, with his freshly shaven face and neat blond hair. The older man shook his head. He went back to his struggle.
Standing, amazed at his fellow sea man's reluctance to give up, Jamie suddenly lost his footing as the boat made an almighty lurch. He fell backwards, and struck the back of his head against the railing, knocking him unconscious instantly. The captain, busy fighting a way forward, noticed nothing of what went on regarding the two members of his crew who had now entered a state of incredulous peril.
The still form of Jamie lay dangerously near to the side, and threatened to slide off into the churning waters at any moment. At seeing this, the man who had so long fought to retain the precious net and its hefty cargo, finally gave in, and activated the only remaining switch on the machinery console that still worked. He jettisoned it and it sank into a black deep.
It had been completely unexpected to the captain; all of a sudden, as if some gigantic hand had flung them all forwards, the boat rushed forth with such energy that he found himself sprawled on the floor. The same action had caused the man who had set out to help his knocked out crew member to fly forward as well. He clutched at the rails as he was almost brought overboard. And it was then that he saw it.
Below him, despite the gloom of the English waters, he could make out the movement of fish. Small silvery flickers, barely visible in the low light conditions, but evidently spooked by the presence of something else. And then, without further warning, a tremendous thump whacked into the hull from beneath the waves. Such force threw him up vertically, tearing his grasp, and he plummeted down again into the darkness of the sea. Never again did he see light. He just disappeared.
Suddenly, awoken by this event, Jamie, blood dripping from his wound, returned to a chaotic world, as something enormous and driven by a frightening amount of energy, struck the bow of the ship, behind him. When he turned, he was horrified to see that nothing remained. Where the forward cabin had once stood, there was just sea. All he could see was the ocean ahead of him. The sudden change in the boat's shape and mass was also beginning to take its toll, and the wreckage that he was all too aware he was riding, began to descend. No one left; he panicked, he couldn't make any sense of it. Everyone had gone, erased from existence by gigantic force which he couldn't even see. The icy embrace of the Channel's waters overcame him and he lapsed back into unconsciousness.
The first thing he was aware of was that heavy roar that boomed out from a point above him; the thunderous noise having replaced actual thunder. As his sight returned, and he once again became aware, he could only see the suspended bulk hovering above him, blocking out the early morning sun whose radiant beams had finally managed to break through the thick infinity of the storm. He felt weak; so weak that he felt like slipping away. Euphoric happiness hugged him, and, as he felt like letting go, a shape, hanging on the end of a long line, gripped him, and he was pulled out of the ocean. The sudden change of environments woke him up more, and his gaze shifted to what he left below him. A horrific mess of debris floated below him; splintered wood, torn netting, oil, and most noticeably, blood and crudely cut chunks of human flesh. It was a sight that stirred the most reptilian part of his brain, and all of sudden, the winch that lifted him to safety couldn't be working fast enough.
