Last One on the Submarine

The plan was too simple to fail. It failed.

The plan was to get this thing as far out to sea as we could, then evacuate onto another sub and leave this one to sink. They didn’t even tell us what we were carrying.

Well, the Captain knew. He’s dead now though, along with everyone else.

I’m the last one left.

I can hear it outside, stalking the corridors. Sometimes, I hear nothing, and I picture it just waiting outside my cabin. It’s only luck that I managed to get here while the others were massacred.

I know they’ve abandoned us here. They won’t risk this thing getting free again. I can only imagine how they captured it.

I’m the only one left, and I was just a cook. I wouldn’t be able to do anything even if the thing out there just fell down and died. I’ve run out of food. I don’t know if the oxygen will run out soon.

I can hear it again, scraping the door, inviting me to let it in and accept the end. My parents always called me stubborn. Will anyone tell them what happened to me out here? Will anyone tell any of the families? There must’ve been about fifty people on the sub when we left land. Someone will find out.

Or they’ll just say we sank.

That fucking scratching!

I pace around the cabin, hands flexing. Every hour the walls come closer. I wish I had a gun like Wilkins did. As soon as the first guards turned to pink confetti, he understood what was happening. He didn’t bother aiming at the cargo, just put the muzzle to his head and pulled the trigger.

I shouldn’t have run. If I’d have stayed, it would’ve been over quickly, just like it was for everyone else.

The Captain yelled for everyone to return to their quarters. I think I was the only one who heard him. He got ripped up a few seconds later. I think some of his blood might still be on my skin.

The thing scrapes at my door again. I look around the room for anything I might be able to use as a weapon, but, at this point, I’m just trying to delude myself into thinking I can put up a fight. How do you fight something like that?

Pulling back a cabinet in the corner, I find a dull kitchen knife. God knows why I kept it there – a memento, maybe? But seeing it brings a mad smile to me. I can at least try to die fighting.

Taking the knife in my hand, I freeze. The submarine clicks and creaks around me, but the thing is silent. It waits.

Whatever happens, this submarine will become our tomb, left adrift in the ocean forever. I mean, I pray this thing trapped on here with me can die. God help us if some treasure hunting diver cracks this hunk of metal open in a hundred years and that thing greets him.

I make my peace, remembering the good times, trying not to think about how much longer my life could’ve been. With a deep breath, I walk to the door, knife in hand.

There’s a clunk somewhere in the hull. The submarine tilts, and I stagger. The knife skitters across the floor. I slam into the door hard, bouncing back as the sub rocks again.

As I sit up, the whir of engines reaches me. The scraping tapers away, and I hear the thing scuttle down the corridor. Dread settles in my stomach.

They did come to rescue us.

I wrench the door open, spilling out into the dark corridor. Panicked, I run towards the sound of banging and muffled voices.

And then the hatch opens. Someone calls down, only to be silenced. I freeze, listening as the thing begins to slaughter another submarine crew.

A scream bursts from my mouth as I start running for the hatch. There’s a metal tearing noise, and water roars through. Again, I stand paralysed, as I hear the thing clamber into the other submarine, perhaps destined to return to land. Well, there’s nothing I can do. A wall of water comes racing towards me, and all I can do is welcome it.