The volcanic island loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette against the dark horizon. The Argonaut limped into the cove, its hull battered from the last encounter, engines straining. Waves pounded the black rocks, and spray hissed against the steel. The crew disembarked cautiously, weapons and harpoons at the ready.Elena’s boots crunched over gravel and jagged stone as she followed Rourke toward the remnants of a structure half-swallowed by jungle. The air was thick with salt, smoke from recent fires, and something else—an almost imperceptible decay.
“I don’t like this,” Maya muttered, her eyes wide. “It feels… wrong.”
Halvorsen adjusted his glasses, scanning the overgrown ruins. Rusted metal sheets jutted from the ground, and collapsed walls hinted at a building once larger, a research station perhaps. The sign, barely legible under moss and rot, read: Naval Research Outpost – 1959.
They moved inside. The floorboards creaked underfoot, and the stale air smelled of mildew and old machinery. Broken cages lined the walls, some still containing skeletal remains, claw marks etched into metal as if some great force had tested its strength long ago. Dusty monitors, now black, sat like sentinels over scattered papers.
Halvorsen picked up a faded journal. Flipping through, he recognized scientific shorthand, diagrams of massive marine creatures, skeletal structures, and notations in multiple languages. His stomach churned. The outpost had been studying the same predators from the Isle of Teeth—decades before anyone knew they existed.
Rourke’s voice cut through the silence. “They knew. They bred them. They studied them.”
Elena’s hands shook as she sifted through the papers. Blueprints showed underwater pens, cages, and controlled environments. One page depicted a massive predator, annotated with notes on hunting patterns and intelligence tests. “This… this was a breeding program,” she whispered. “The island wasn’t an accident. It was an experiment.”
Maya gasped, glancing toward a rusted hatch leading underground. “Do you think it’s still active?”
Halvorsen’s eyes narrowed. “Not active… but the breeding ground was never just here. The Isle of Teeth is one node. This entire region could be a network. And if they escaped…” His voice trailed off, heavy with dread.
Suddenly, a noise echoed through the building—a low, wet thud from below. Rourke raised his harpoon. “Everyone stay alert. We’re not alone.”
They descended the narrow stairwell into a subterranean lab, lights flickering on. Broken glass and scattered papers littered the floor. The smell of salt and decay was stronger here, mingled with something alive, something large.
From the shadows, a series of small claws scraped against metal. Elena’s pulse quickened as dozens of tiny eyes reflected the beam of her flashlight. Hatchlings. The brood had spread, and the parent was out there, somewhere in the ocean, waiting.
Halvorsen stepped back, clutching his journal. “This isn’t just a local threat,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s global. And the world has no idea what’s coming.”
Outside, the ocean crashed against the volcanic rocks, hiding the hunger beneath its surface. The predators were learning. The hunt was only beginning.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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