Chương 252: Chapter 252
The oil rig was a hollow steel skeleton jutting out from the gray sea. Its clangs and screeches filled the air day and night, a low, grinding sound like bones being dragged across asphalt. For the men working there, the money was enough to make them put up with the noise, the isolation, and the gnawing sense that something was wrong. It always felt wrong, but the paychecks—thick with zeros—made the wrongness bearable.
No one asked questions. No one cared to. They worked, they took their breaks, and they lived for the rare moments when the sun broke through the clouds, and the sea glimmered in the light. They had their own lives, and that was all that mattered. Except for those who had been there the longest. The older workers, they always seemed… uneasy. Nervous.
Danny had only been on the rig for a year. He was fresh, young, eager to make the most of the money. He knew enough about the rig's reputation—dangerous, unpredictable, cursed—but it didn't matter. The paycheck was what mattered. He wanted to provide, to live well, to escape the drudgery of land-based work.
At first, he thought it was just talk, the stories from the old-timers. There was one, Wayne, who would sit alone in the corner during breaks, staring out into the black waters with wide eyes. "You don't know what it wants," Wayne would mumble under his breath when asked about the rig's history. Danny would brush it off, laughing at the superstitions of the old man. But the more time he spent there, the less he could shake the feeling that Wayne was right. Something was wrong.
The third break was approaching, and Danny wasn't sure if he was ready for it. The break that came after every long stretch of work—the one where new workers replaced the old ones, a revolving cycle of fresh meat sent out to meet the same grueling shifts. It was supposed to be a blessing, a relief. But that wasn't how it felt.
The air on the rig thickened just before the break. The steel seemed to groan, like it had been worn down to the bone. Even though they were out in the middle of the ocean, there was a sense of pressure, something building, something unseen. The workers could all feel it, but none of them spoke about it, not out loud.
Danny sat at the edge of the platform, watching the waves crash against the pillars beneath him. He could hear the hum of the engines, the sounds of the men moving around the rig. And yet, in that moment, it felt as though he were the only one awake, the only one left with any kind of clarity.
"Hey, kid," a voice said, low and rough. It was Wayne, sitting beside him. His skin looked thin and stretched over his bones, like a piece of old, brittle paper. His eyes were wide, bloodshot. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Danny didn't need to ask what he meant. He just nodded.
Wayne spat, his teeth yellow against his skin. "You better be ready. It's coming. You can't avoid it."
Danny stiffened. "Ready for what?"
Wayne didn't respond right away. He seemed to be staring at something just beyond Danny, something hidden in the mist and the salt. When he finally turned to face him, his gaze was dark, filled with a kind of knowing. "The oil's not free. Nothing's free here. You want to keep drilling? Keep getting paid? There's a price."
Danny felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He didn't know what Wayne was talking about, but he knew the older man wasn't joking. There was a sense of finality in his voice. "What price?"
Wayne grabbed Danny's wrist, his fingers cold and clammy, his grip tight. "The third break. You don't understand, but you will. They'll come for you, the new guys. And you'll see."
Before Danny could ask another question, Wayne stood up and shuffled away, leaving him alone again with the endless, churning sea.
Night fell quickly, the sky turning black and thick with clouds. The workers gathered in the mess hall, eating in silence, only the clatter of utensils breaking the stillness. The air felt heavier, as though something was pressing down on the rig. The engines groaned louder than usual. And yet, no one looked concerned. They'd been through this before.
Danny couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his gut. The rest of the men were preparing for their time off—packing their bags, readying their things. In the corner of the room, Wayne sat at a table, his face drawn and pale, his hands shaking.
"Wayne?" Danny said, walking toward him.
Wayne didn't look up. "I told you," he muttered. "I told you it was coming."
"What's coming, Wayne? What the hell's going on?" Danny's voice was rising now, the anxiety creeping in. "What do we do?"
Wayne finally turned to face him, his eyes wide and unblinking. "You don't do anything. You just wait."
A voice came over the intercom then, cutting through the tension. "Third break is now. Prepare to rotate."
The words hung in the air for a moment, and then the men stood. Some were eager, ready to be done. Others, like Wayne, seemed to drag themselves forward as if each step was a burden. But it was time. The new guys would arrive soon, and they would take their place, ready to keep the rig running.
The men filed out to the landing pad, where the chopper would arrive to take them away. The sound of the helicopter blades cutting through the air sent a shudder down Danny's spine. His stomach turned. He glanced at Wayne, who was still standing by the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"You won't be the same when you come back," Wayne said. His voice was strained, his eyes fixed on the distance.
"What do you mean?" Danny demanded.
But before Wayne could answer, the helicopter descended, landing with a roar of wind and noise. The crew began to board, one by one, heading out into the dark night.
Danny was about to follow when he heard a soft noise—something low, almost imperceptible, coming from beneath the rig. A sound like deep groaning, like the earth itself was protesting the weight of the structure above it.
He stopped. He turned around.
It was then that he saw it.
There, just beneath the edge of the platform, in the dim light, was a shape. It was indistinct, shifting, moving in ways that didn't make sense. It was like it was part of the ocean itself, but not. A twisted, otherworldly form that seemed to move with a will of its own.
He blinked, and it was gone.
Danny's heart pounded in his chest as he rushed toward the helicopter, not daring to look back. The rotors spun faster, and the air was full of noise. The world seemed to be closing in on him, the rig disappearing beneath the darkness.
When Danny returned to the rig after his break, everything was different. The workers were gone, replaced by the new faces that filled the halls. They were nervous, wide-eyed, asking questions that no one had answers to. The old men, the ones who had been there longer than him, were absent, leaving only the remnants of their presence behind.
He was alone now.
The sounds of the rig seemed to intensify, as if the structure itself was alive, creaking and groaning under the pressure. The air was thick, and every movement felt heavy, like it was being watched.
It wasn't until that night, after the new workers had gone to bed, that Danny heard it again—the sound of something beneath the rig, something ancient and hungry. It was low and rhythmic, a pulse that seemed to echo from deep within the earth.
He couldn't ignore it.
He climbed down into the bowels of the rig, into the dark, damp tunnels that led to the heart of the structure. His flashlight flickered as he walked deeper, the beam catching on rusted metal and twisted pipes.
Then he saw it.
A hole in the ground, a dark pit that seemed to suck the light from the air. Around it, there were markings—strange symbols etched into the concrete, signs of something old, something that should not have been there.
And in the pit, he saw something moving.
It was a shadow, dark and formless, but there was something alive in it. Something vast. Something powerful.
He heard it then, clearer than ever before. A voice, not one of words, but of intent. It was the rig, the ocean, the earth itself.
The price had been paid. The sacrifice had been made.
And now it was Danny's turn.
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