The ship cut through the frothing undersea, bioluminescent
algae turning crimson as it touched the metal hull. The ship’s wake looked like
the trail left by a wounded animal.
Johnathan Bartlett leaned on the railing, looking down at
the water being churned by the propeller.
“Jimmy.”
John turned. Herbert limped towards him.
“What is it?”
“It’s eating through the hull. The front hold is
flooding.
He rushed towards the bow. Herbert hurried to follow. The
hold was half-flooded by the time they reached it. The glowing algae turned the
room blood-red. It felt like an omen.
“What about the sharks?”
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