My eyes didn’t open by choice. They were forced to open out of surge – a surge of pain from my backside, left shoulder, and right wrist. I blinked, then gasped in surprise.
Nothing really made sense. The inside was still a mess, but the submarine itself was upright and calm as a summer’s day. It was still fairly dark out in the ocean, but there was some slight light from above, as if it was daytime.
“But I entered the Bermuda Triangle at nightfall!” I told myself, achily sitting up and gently rubbing my sore spots. “The night might’ve passed already though…”
Wincing at the shooting pains in my body, I unlocked one of my storage bins and pulled out a packet of Advil, then extracted a water bottle from the cooler, and gargled them down, before tidying up my beddings and lying down on the hammock. No point making big moves in pain.
My alarm clock beeped an hour later, and I stretched awake, moving slowly to avoid any further pain. At the helm, I typed in the starter code and pressed the button. There was a bit of a sputter and whine, but the motor began to spin. And slowly, the instrument panels started to light up, and the systems began to reboot. But when I tried to start up the GPS and marine radar systems, they were unable to find any services. No live maps of the Atlantic Ocean could be displayed, and only my offline data storage of my previous coordinates was available. The sub was sitting at around 600 meters below sea level, so my depth meter was still working.
After testing everything it was clear that the sub was still fully functional. But the faint light above bothered me, so I decided to surface. And just as well because the batteries were less than half full. My goal was simply to figure out my location with an alternate method. Little did I know what I’d discover would be far more shocking than a century-old shipwreck.
Before activating the pumps, I checked on the storage room. Everything was still intact – apart from the walls which had a few dents in them. Surfacing took some time, as I wanted the pump system to work gradually, so as to catch any would-be issues or faults from the stress of the vortex accident or undersea eruptions.
As I ascended through the water and left the transparent crustaceans and fish behind, I noticed the water looked rather purplish orange with every passing meter. By the time I was just below the surface the light was tricking me into thinking it was all a dream of being miniaturized in a wine cocktail glass. I turned a knob and gently pushed a slider that rose the periscope up, then flicked a switch that retracted the cover.
My mouth dropped open as I peered into the viewfinder, unable to comprehend how what I was seeing was possible. Straight ahead, spanning in both directions for several miles, were tall beige cliffs. And at the top lay a dense forest that gradually opened up and gave way to rolling grassy hills. Beyond that, to the right, lay a town, its lights few and far between in the pre-dawn glow, with a lighthouse at the farthest point atop a hill by the edge of a secluded point.
For a moment, my mind rambled through a million theories. Did I get swept back to the eastern coast of the U.S. by a violent storm surge? Is this still all a dream and I’m just hallucinating? Have I entered some otherworldly heaven?
A quick slap, self-bite, and headbang were all it took to debunk them. I decided to turn on the radio to try and see if anyone could be reached. I tuned the frequency up and down. Nothing… until I hit an unusual station that was giving out daily news reports and advertising local businesses, among other things. A typical town radio show, except for one thing.
“What’s with everyone mentioning ponies and all sorts of namesakes with equine terms?” I asked out loud to no one. “Has everyone in this town gone mad or what?”
Logically it only made sense that this radio station came from that town. If I wanted to know where exactly ‘here’ was, I had to enter it.
Cranking up the engine, I kept the speed low to avoid making excess noise, and gently cruised towards a small cove at the base of the forest. The last thing I wanted was these town’s residents knowing a submarine was right by them. Near the cliff face the waves got a little choppy, but they calmed once I entered the tiny cove.
“Alright, let’s see…” I scanned the surrounding rocks for any potential anchor points. There was one near the cove entrance that pointed outwards to the ocean, and a few rounded ones near the cliff face, perfect for mooring. If only there was a way to check behind them.
I got as close to the rocks as I dared, climbed out of the hatch, and leaned over, holding onto a handle for balance. Peering closely at the rocks, I noticed a few bushes growing out of them, and… yes! A gap.
I scooted back to the pointed rock, pulled out some rope from the engine room, and looped it around the projecting rock with a firm pile hitch. Then I brought the sub closer to the cliff face and tied another proper hitch knot, leaving some slack for would-be choppy waves, but not so much that the sub would bang against the rocks. With another length of rope, I tied a hitch knot around the base of one car-sized rock and secured it to the sub’s portal on the starboard side. It wasn’t the best docking job in the world, but it’d have to do.
The weather was calm and cool, so I sat on the hull for a moment, soaking in the orangey glow of the impending sunrise. Gazing up at the cliffs, I thought on how to climb them and bring my items too. It was only fifteen meters but that was still intimidating, considering the stuff I’d brought along.
I tip toed back down the ladder and gobbled a few strawberries and granola bars to fuel up my mind. The best way to do this would be in stages. I’d first map out a route up, climb with a small bag, and plant two firm wooden stakes in the ground at the top. Then I’d attach a hand winch to pull up the rest of the items. But I had to be quick. The sun would be rising in just an hour.
I pulled out all my climbing gear, kitted up, and gathered my anchor points in a bunch, then stuffed the winch in a sling bag, along with the stakes and some tools. Securing the rope at the bottom, I set up my belay system with another rock and started ascending the surface. It was gritty, but manageable. In ten minutes, I’d reached three meters, and jabbed my first bolt into the cliff face. Looking back, I knew that if I were to slip, I’d have to rely solely on my ground rope routing, as I was all alone in this.
Climbing was something I had to do often in my archeological pursuits, so it took me just half an hour to reach the top. Nonetheless, I flopped down in the grass, exhausted. All the food I ate seemed to have vanished into thin air. The one thing that kept me going was the view. Up here the sea looked majestically clear with gentle laps of water and a light breeze blowing through the trees behind me. Just in the distance, some of the town’s buildings could be seen.
I fished the stakes out and used all my strength to push them as far into the ground as they’d go, keeping reasonable distance to the cliff’s edge, then secured the winch to them with large screws. Finally, I unwound the winch all the way and hurled the line down the cliff, then abseiled down as fast as I could.
Back in the sub, I took out all the items I knew I needed; my lightweight cycling backpack, a duffel packed with a tent, a couple tools, and some camping essentials, and a knot bag filled with food – bread, fruit, and some oats. Whether or not some good meals in the town, I planned to return to figure out a new, long-term plan. For now, I needed to set up camp.
I sealed the hatch and reached for the nearest ledge. Climbing back up felt a little quicker without the bag. As the sun rose, I turned the winch’s crank with all my strength. God, the bags weighed a ton! But with each rotation, the winch’s spool widened with line. After half an hour the top of the bike bag finally peered over the cliff edge. I heaved it up onto the grass, along with the duffel and knot bag. At last, the hard part was over.
I peered over the edge and gazed down at my prized sub, almost longingly, then took my bags and headed into the forest.