Chapter 3 - Frank had spent forty-two years fishing on Blackwater Lake.He knew every inlet.
Every submerged tree.
Every rocky shelf.
Every shallow area where bass liked to hide.
He knew the lake better than most people knew their own neighborhoods.
But there was one thing Frank had never told anyone.
The lake had taken his brother.
Twenty-six years earlier.
Joseph Miller disappeared during a fishing trip.
No body was ever found.
The official story was simple.
A storm rolled in.
Joseph's boat capsized.
He drowned.
Case closed.
Frank never believed it.
There had been no storm.
Not that night.
Not when Joseph disappeared.
Frank had been there.
He had heard the radio transmission.
He had seen Joseph's boat drifting in the distance.
He had heard something strike the hull.
Then the lights vanished.
And Joseph was gone.
The police found the boat three days later.
It was floating upside down.
There was blood on the deck.
But no body.
Frank had spent twenty-six years convincing himself that the past was dead.
Until this morning.
He stared into the lake.
The fishing rod shook in his hands.
The line was still pulling.
Something was down there.
Something connected to Joseph.
Frank looked around.
The shoreline was empty.
He could leave.
That would be the sensible thing.
Call the authorities.
Drive home.
Lock the door.
Pretend none of this happened.
Frank looked at the silver tag in his hand.
Then he looked at the lake.
“No.”
He pulled the rod.
The line resisted.
Frank pulled harder.
The rod bent.
“Come on.”
Something pulled back.
Frank wrapped the line around his arm.
“You want me?”
He leaned backward.
“You come get me.”
The line snapped.
Frank fell onto his back.
Then the surface exploded.
The ugly fish launched from the water again.
It landed directly on his chest.
Frank screamed.
“GET OFF!”
The fish flopped.
Frank shoved it away.
It rolled across the boat.
Frank sat up.
“You!”
The fish turned.
Frank pointed at it.
“You know something!”
The creature opened its mouth.
Frank waited.
Nothing.
“Say it.”
Silence.
“Joseph.”
The fish slowly looked toward the water.
Frank followed.
A dark shape was moving beneath them.
This time there were no ripples.
The lake was perfectly still.
Too still.
Then a tiny red light appeared beneath the surface.
Frank stared.
Another appeared.
Then another.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
Dozens of red lights.
The fish backed away.
Frank stepped backward too.
“What are those?”
The lights rose.
They were not eyes.
They were small bulbs.
Metal bulbs.
Attached to something buried beneath the water.
A structure.
Frank's heart hammered.
A submarine?
Impossible.
Blackwater Lake was landlocked.
Nothing that large could have entered.
Then the entire waterline around the boat glowed red.
Frank realized what he was seeing.
Not one machine.
An entire grid.
Something had been built beneath the lake.
Something enormous.
The fish suddenly slapped its tail against the floor.
Frank looked at it.
The creature was staring down.
Terrified.
Then the bells started.
One.
Two.
Three.
Hundreds.
The lake vibrated.
Frank grabbed the sides of the boat.
“What is happening?”
The water beneath him dropped.
Not drained.
Dropped.
Like something underneath had opened.
The tiny boat sank several inches.
Frank shouted.
“NO!”
He grabbed the oar.
The fish clung to the bench.
The lake continued descending around them.
Water disappeared into a massive hole.
Frank saw concrete.
Then metal.
Then an enormous circular structure.
A hatch.
The roof of something buried beneath the lake.
Frank stared.
“My God.”
The fish jumped down into the exposed opening.
Frank shouted:
“Wait!”
The creature disappeared.
Frank stared at the hole.
He should have turned around.
Instead, he grabbed a rope.
Then his flashlight.
Then the silver dog tag.
He climbed over the edge.
The moment his boots touched the structure, the hatch opened beneath him.
Frank froze.
A cold blue light appeared below.
And a mechanical voice echoed from the darkness.
“IDENTITY CONFIRMED.”
Frank's blood froze.
“WHAT?”
The voice repeated.
“FRANK MILLER.”
He took a step backward.
The fish appeared below.
It looked up at him.
Then the machine spoke again.
“SUBJECT SURVIVED.”
Frank stopped.
“Subject?”
The hatch widened.
Inside was a steel tunnel.
Along the walls were old photographs.
Frank stepped closer.
His stomach dropped.
The first photograph showed the lake.
The second showed Joseph.
The third showed Frank.
The fourth showed the ugly fish.
But the date printed under the photograph was twenty-seven years ago.
Frank stared.
“No.”
He picked up the photograph.
Behind Joseph stood a younger version of himself.
And between them stood the same hideous fish.
Frank dropped the picture.
The machine spoke again.
“PROJECT BLACKWATER.”
A door opened deeper in the tunnel.
Frank heard footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Coming toward him.
The fish growled.
Frank turned.
A man stepped out of the darkness.
His hair was white.
His face was scarred.
His eyes looked ancient.
But Frank knew that face.
He had stared at it in family photographs his entire childhood.
Frank's mouth opened.
“Joseph?”
May you like
The man smiled.
“Hello, Frank.”
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