Being a Lighthouse keeper wasn’t that bad of a career. I would take a helicopter there with 3 other people, live there having all of our food flown in, and then 3 months later we would be replaced to go enjoy our 3 month rest and then repeat that in, you guessed it, 3 months. It really mostly consisted of doing light maintenance and upkeep, writing in various log books, and tracking the weather. The lighthouse I operated at was one you have probably never heard about. Being off the coast of a Canadian Navy base in Northern Canada made sure we did not see too many ships come by so the only thing we really worried about were bad storms and the cold. Well until that trip, my 14th and final trip.
This trip started like any other. Stan, Julien, Tom and I went to replace our coworkers. We got a rundown on what had happened in our absences, went over any problems or anomalies, said goodbye, and started our time. Really was the perfect beginning to our shift, sun was shining, no bad weather was forecasted in the near future, and everything was working. It actually stayed peaceful until a week before we were set to go home.
With how far out we were in the ocean it is really hard to predict when a major storm can arise. This was one of those times we had absolutely no forwarding. It starts with the waves, rising high enough to hit the lighthouse and not just the rocks below. That always made me nervous, I knew how improbable it is for th Lighthouse to topple from a rogue wave but it’s scary nonetheless, 40 ft waves are nothing to scoff at.
By the time the dark ominous clouds rolled in we had already boarded up the windows and made sure everything was secure and put away for safety. Thunder boomed intermittently causing me to jump a few times as the storm raged on.
The storm pounded the lighthouse for two straight days. It was by far the worst, most powerful storm I had ever witnessed. We eventually had to uncover a little port window just to make sure everything was alright and we weren’t accidentally sinking to the depths of the sea. The storm I’m pretty sure even had knocked out communications at the base because they were radio silent.
When the storm ended and the blue crisp sky’s began to shine through we went to survey the damage. As we walked the perimeter we breathed a sigh of relief noticing it was just some paint that had chipped off and not a whole section of the building. I looked down at the flowing wavy waters a small fraction of the size as it once was. My gaze followed the waves as they crashed into ice some 50 ft away. What my eyes saw as they landed over there struck fear into my soul. Crashed on the ice island lay a giant sleek black submarine that had been torn lengthwise from what I had assumed at the time was from the storm.
I called over the other men so we could all decide what to do. This was when Julien who served in the Canadian Navy for 10 years told us something of dred. That wasn’t just any submarine, it was nuclear. At this I ran up to the tower to call the base. This was a problem not just for us but for the environment as well. I tried to reach them for 20 min with no response. I tried different frequencies in case they needed to switch or even if I could reach someone else, but not even a whisper.
The other three men came inside and we discussed what to do. Limited air flow and constant attempts at contacting the base seemed like the only solution, it was not like we could just swim the ice cold churny waters to civilization. We could only hope the reactor wasn’t leaking and we could survive.
Tom was the first one to disappear. He was on night watch, making sure everything was running smoothly. When we all woke up and trudged upstairs to the gallery to relieve our fellow worker we were greeted with a blood covered window and now stained floor. Bile welled up in my throat as the sight of such grotesque horror stopped me in my tracks. The rich irony smell mixed with the putrid scent of rotten fish sent me over the edge as I wretched into a nearby garbage. We searched high and low but all that was left of him was that scene. Not knowing what happened we had to clean the mess and wait for help to arrive.
Two nights went by until Stan’s untimely disappearance. Both Stan and I were sleeping in our room while Julien kept watch upstairs. Nightmares held me in their infernal grasp. I sat at our dinner table on the lighthouse, surrounded by my co-workers. Dinner plates sat before us piled high with heaps of crabs. I grab my crab mallet to begin the dissection when the crabs became alive. The crabs started before me, ‘clack, clack, clack’ as their claws snapped at me. They approached me menacingly as I swung the hammer, batting them away. The other three just sat there as the crabs ripped the flesh with their claws, ‘clack, clack, clack’, devouring them.
I woke up with a yell at the terrible visage. Worried I woke Stan, I said “sorry”, and went back to sleep. This repeated with different inderations for the rest of the night. The dreams were so vivid and all happened within the confines of the lighthouse. When I I finally woke up for the day I ran my hand over my eyes. They were wet, figuring in my dazed state that there was a leak. I looked at my hands. Red thick goop dripped off my hands and onto my chest. I yelled looking for the source patting myself down. This blood had not come from my body.
I jumped up doing a frantic search for Stan, when I couldn’t find him I made my way upstairs to Julien. Entering the observation deck I looked around.
“Julien?” I yelled.
Shuffling moved to my left and a piece of wood fell with a loud bang. Julien emerged from a little crawl space. His face white as the ice outside he spoke only,
“The crabs”.
Over and over again. I grabbed a loose blanket and put it on his shoulders and guided him to a chair. He was shaking and stopped what he was saying. Very confused I paced, this man who was the toughest person I had ever met was shook to the core.
I went over to the window, looking outside, the fog was thick, obscuring anything within 5 ft from where I was. The clacking began once again. My heart began to beat with the ferocity of a horse galloping. The window I was looking out of smashed, spreading glass all across the deck. In crawled what I could only describe as a crab from hell. The shell alone was 7 foot wide, it was a deep blue with 10 legs and 2 sets of claws the size of my head. The worst part was its face, eyes a deep red shone peering into my soul, its mouth was full of jagged teeth too big for its face, and its antennas jutted around as if feeling for whatever it was going to eat next.
I threw myself back towards the opposite wall putting some distance. To my surprise Juliens training must have kicked in because he threw his fear aside and rushed forward towards the creature.
“Go up, they won’t be able to reach you” he yelled.
Last thing I saw of my friend he was trying to push the abomination out of the window back to the ocean floor.
I went to the ladder and started to climb up it. I reached the little portico opening it up revealing the cold arctic wind as I pulled myself on to the roof. I slammed the door closed holding on to the railing as support.
‘Clack’ Clack’ ‘Clack’
They began their ascent up the side of the lighthouse, their claws making that rhythmic sound. It was becoming deafening as they drew nearer.
I had a choice to make, be eaten by these mutants or jump to my death. My mind reeled at the choice as I stood there frozen unable to do anything.
The Lighthouse began to shake, jostling me from side to side. At that point is when I noticed to hell claws were silent. I looked over the edge trying to gauge my fate. The fog had miraculously cleared showing straight to the wavy waters below. The water, the water was discoloured as something began to rise.
I watched this eldritch abomination climb out of the wave filled sea using its 8 claws to climb up the side of the lighthouse making it rattle even more. It must have been 50ft with claws the size of a bus, causing the structure to lean over. I had to hold on for dear life as the creature toppled the beacon. As the base snapped the total fear of the situation must have caused me to pass out. I woke up as a naval ship lifted me from the frigid waters.
It was numerous weeks until I was debriefed, which was more a, ‘we aren’t telling anything, but you better not tell anyone about this type thing. The only reason I feel it’s time to inform everyone is I just found out I have 3 months to live, so what can they do, kill me?