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From Out of The Box
The Bermuda Triangle is full of mysteries. Planes, and ships have mysteriously vanished throughout many years. The Blake Mystery is one of those many puzzles that confuse and even baffle scientists to this day.
Blake Thomas was standing on the front deck of his boat. It was out a few miles off the coast of Miami, Florida. The sky was clear, and the sun was bright.
He wore black sunglasses with jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. He had the life everyone wanted. A carefree life.
The water was calm and the boat had stayed pretty still for most of their small trip.
Blake Thomas was a millionaire living off of his parents' accomplishments. His parents had died a few years back, and they gave everything to him in their will, which didn't please his older sister, who still to this day lives in California not caring about Blake what so ever even though he's now dead.
Blake still stood in the top deck of his boat. It was a large fishing boat that he used to go fishing on just about everyday after he worked. He was a doctor and taught Medicine at the University of Miami. He had been doing this for ten years, ever since he got out of college, which was just around the time that his parents died in a car accident.
The sun was a few hours from going down so he still had some time on the water. His friend, Josh was driving the boat, it was his passion, boats and driving them which is why Blake had let Josh drive his boat.
Blake took off his sunglasses, knowing he didn't really need them, it was late afternoon and the sun wasn't very strong. He took in the moment. How great it felt to have the salty sea air swim through your hair and hit your face.
He looked back, he could now just barely see Miami. He got nervous, knowing he was so far out, where anything could happen to you and nobody would know.
"Yo, Blake, we're pretty far out, you wanna head back closer to shore?" asked Josh. He got very nervous when he was out this far.
"No. Keep going. I like it."
"Whatever you say, boss."
Josh pulled down hard on the throttle and the boat took off. Riding the hard waves of the Atlantic.
The boat was an Ocean Mater. A 310 Sport Cabin, and it was nice. Had it's own cabin and such where the Captain would steer and drive the boat.
It wasn't huge but it wasn't small. It was a nice size. It could go a good speed to, like it was doing right now.
A thin layer of fog, began covering the boat. It was as if someone was quietly pulling a blanket over them.
The compass began spinning.
"Hey Blake! You see this right?"
"Yeah. It's just fog!" he called a few seconds later.
"But, do you see how fast it came in? I dunno I'm getting scared, man. I wanna turn around!"
Blake didn't want to, but his Captain was supposed to be always right. He trusted his gut feeling and decided to listen this time. But it was too late.
"Okay, turn her around. We're going home."
Blake reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone. He dialed his wife's number and held it to his ear. He thought about her more than he had ever on this small trip for some reason. She was constantly on his mind.
"Hello?" she said on the other line.
"Hey honey," he began. "We're just now heading home so I will be a little late for dinner. You did say six, right?"
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Just wanted to make sure."
"Well thanks for that. See you soon," then she hung up.
He clicked "END CALL" and the call ended.
Blake's wife was a pretty woman. Her hair was the thing to dream over. It was long, dark and wavy like something out of a movie. Just divine.
The fog was getting worse. It was getting hard to see the water, better yet, the land where they were supposed to be going toward. Josh got nervous, but this wasn't unusual for him, he got tense over every little thing just like his father had. But I think I would be nervous to if a heavy fog suddenly clouded around my boat, and we were a few miles off shore.
"Boss, I can't see! This fog, I just can't! Should I power down the engines?" Josh waited for what felt like an entire decade. He wasn't just nervous, he was now afraid. I mean, he could run into anything now at any second, meaning they could most likely die.
"No. Keep going, we're okay still a few miles off shore," Blake said. He always made the wrong choice when it came to moments that required him to guess. He didn't do it on purpose, it was just his nature. After dying after so many bad guesses, you would most likely think that he would just stop guessing, but not him. Oh no, he continued. Of course, not thinking.
Suddenly, they were engulfed in flames. The boat was surrounded by them. They were suddenly inside a ball of fire.
Th heat was extreme for Blake and Josh, they only felt it for a few seconds, because just after that, they disappeared out of thin air, something had happened to them. Something that would be very puzzling to figure out.
Blake, Josh and their boat were gone.
It was ten past eleven at night, and Rachel, Blake's wife was past being very worried. She was getting really upset. He wouldn't answer his phone, and it was pitch black outside making it hard for any boater to make it safely to shore.
A few moments later, Rachel grabbed a flashlight, and the keys to her 2004 Ford F-150. The blood pumped through her veins faster than they had ever before. She had so many questions. But the biggest one, "Was her husband ok?"
She flew through the roads that bordered South Beach, where her husband had launched his boat. As she thought about the boat lunch, she came up with the conclusion that her husband and his friend Josh might of had trouble getting the boat back on his truck. But she wouldn't rest until she knew that her husband, the one that rode horses with her on the beach every month, the one that cured her when she was sick just by looking at her, and saying the words: "I love you" was alright.
She came around the last street corner. Her heart was pumping so hard at first she thought she was having a heart attack. But then she realized that she needed to calm down, it was only her anxiety and her wanting to get to the scene where her husband never passed to come home.
She parked under a large tree, leaves fell from it as a strong wind blew through, picking up her long hair and throwing it across her perfect face.
A bench sat next to her, and she sat down for a moment, to try and contain herself. Was this really happening to her? But still, she didn't know whether or not her husband was just having trouble getting his boat back onto the boat trailer.
She flipped the switch on her flashlight, and everything directly in front of her for a hundred feet lit up.
She looked around, desperate for an answer. Some sign that her husband was okay. But then...she saw it. This was a sign that her husband wasn't okay at the least, he was for sure in danger.
His truck, and his empty boat trailer sat stranded right next to the boat launch right where he would of left it before they took the boat out, more than seven hours before.
Rachel stood there breathless. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would really just come out of her chest, God willing.
This was really happening to her.
She picked up her cell phone from inside her pocket. She checked the time. It was late. Going on midnight. She dialed the three numbers that anyone would hate to dial in their life time. But Rachel had to. She had to dial those numbers. 9-1-1.
"Dade County 911 What is your emergency?" a woman took the call on the other line.
"My husband has disappeared. He was supposed to be home by six but he isn't. He was out on the boat all day! He said he was on his way home but he's never showed up!" Rachel could have went on and on, but the lady stopped her.
"Ma'am, you need to calm down, we can't help you until a 24 hour period is up. 99.9 percent of the time the missing person will show up Ma'am."
Rachel's eyes were full of tears. Seconds later thay let out the heavy watery load that ran down her cheeks, clinging onto her shirt.
"What is your name Ma'am I'll put you in the system."
"Alright, call us tomorrow if your husband is still missing."
The line went dead. Rachel didn't realize it until the phone in her head started buzzing and making that er-er-er-er-er-er-er sound.
She put the phone back in her pocket and ran to her truck. She knew something was up, that Blake was certainly not coming home. He was stuck some where and she felt worthless since she couldn't do a thing about it.
The next morning there was no no luck on the horizon. Blake and Josh had never shown up last night. Rachel was sure of it since she never slept a second. She was too worried about her husband that she loved with all her big heart.
She hopped up from the big chair she was sitting in that sat in her living room next to the TV. She had put a watch on so she could check the time every few seconds. She was going crazy. Gosh, I'm sure any wife would to if her husband was missing without a trace.
She picked up her cell phone that sat on the kitchen table and dialed 911 once again.
It rang once, twice then-
"Dade County 911 what is your emergency?" this time a man answered the other line.
"My husband is still missing! I called you people last night and you said for me to wait 24 hours well, here I am! I waited and guess what-he still isn't home!"
"Ma'am I'm going to need you to calm your tone," the man on the other line said.
"Calm my tone? MY HUSBAND IS MISSING MISTER!"
"What is your name?"
The man paused for a second, she could her his fingers flying away at a keyboard that must of sat in front of him at a desk. This felt like it took hours to Rachel.
"Oh I see, Ma'am. Okay, this is what I'm going to do, I'm going to send the police to your home, can you give me your address?" the man said this is an odd tone, as if to say: yeah you've been a little rude to me but I'm the bigger person here!
"862 SW 22nd Road, Miami, Florida."
"Good, alright ma'am they'll be right there, jus hang in there for a few minutes."
"Thank you, sir," Rachel said.
The line went dead and Rachel put her cell phone in her pocket.
Rachel noticed that she didn't smell too good. It was from sweating after she knew that her husband had been missing for a few hours, and that his boat trailer and truck were still where they would have left them. Meaning they never got out of the water. It was all the truth and nothing but the truth. But it was the truth that Rachel almost couldn't handle much longer.
The police showed up a few moments later. The Sheriff was there to. Rachel was so glad that they were taking this so seriously.
Her and an investigator, Mark Hummel, sat down on her living room couch. He had a small note pad in his left hand, and in his right, a pen that was trailing away, writing God knows what about the situation.
Mark had dark hair, he looked like he had some Hispanic background somewhere in there. He had tan skin, and was short, maybe '5 ''4. He had his dark hair slicked back with loads of hair gel. His hair shined in the dimmest amount of light.
"So, was there anyone else involved with this?" Mark asked. He looked up to Rachel like she was a queen, a person who had all the answers to life.
"Yes, Josh, he was the one that was driving the boat," Rachel replied. She hugged a pillow, putting it tight against her chest.
Mark's pen flew against the small pad of paper. Rachel didn't know anyone that could write as fast as he could, she just hoped he wrote neat enough that he could read it later when he needed to.
"Do you know Josh's last name? We will need to contact his family," Mark said.
"Salling," Rachel replied. "Josh Salling."
"And that'll be all. I'll have a search and rescue team out on the water this afternoon. A storm is headed in so, we need to hurry."
"How far away is the storm?" Rachel asked worried beyond what anyone can even call worried.
"Well, I shouldn't say 'storm' anymore, it's more of a hurricane," Mark said with tension in his eyes.
"God, well, how much time do we have?"
Mark thought for a moment, he was trying desperately to remember the weather man say what he said this morning about the hurricane. But he couldn't.
"I can't really say. I don't know. But I do know that it's only maybe like a day or two. So whatever we need to do, we need to do it...quickly."
Rachel went down. She starred at the floor.
"Good day, Ma'am. If you need anything...just call," Mark said right before he put his back to her and began walking out.
Just before he strolled out the front door, he turned toward Rachel with his note pad open.
"I almost forgot, what kind of boat did your husband have?"
"An Ocean Master 310 Sport Cabin. I don't know the licenses plate number off the top of my head."
Mark scribbled the words into his note pad, and lifted his head up to look at the pretty woman that is Rachel Cooper.
"I'd liked to say something, sir. If I may?"
"Please don't refer to my husband in past-tense. I know he's out there somewhere, he is not dead."
Mark nodded, and left the home before getting into his car, and pulling out, speeding off toward South Beach where the search would begin.
A day went by before anything memorable happened. It was then, that something occurred that would be remembered by everyone...
The ocean was rough, and off to the south east, dark clouds from the hurricane were pouring in. The search team could see flashes of lightening in the distance. They were getting edgy, starting to think that they should call the search off.
They were searching a few miles off shore, fifty or more boats were spread out with top of the line equipment looking for an Ocean Master 310 Sport Cabin.
Radar, and many other instruments were involved in the search, along with twenty or so divers.
The wind made the waters rough, rocking the boats so hard that some of the rescuers on board, were getting ill. Puking over the side of the boats, some of the vomit splashing back in their faces.
Rachel sat in a small cabin below the main deck in one of the big search boats. She was laying down praying to God that her husband was okay. But something told her he wasn't, despite what she had told the investigator, Mark Hummel.
She had just closed her eyes, when a man came and got her, an expression on his face that was full of excitement, tension, and nerves all at the same time.
"Ma'am we found the boat! Please come up!" the man said right before he ran back up to the main deck.
Rachel quickly followed him, thanking God that they had found the boat. But that still didn't mean that Josh and Blake were okay.
A diver was at the side of the boat, talking with the Captain.
"Captain I saw the license plate number, it was the one that you gave me! It was the boat! It sure was!"
The Captain was pleased, this meant he could go home soon.
"Bring me the VDR."
"Yes, sir," the diver said and went under once more to retrieve the case cracker.
After a few minutes of waiting, the VDR was brought up by a small team of divers.
"So he did have one on board?"
"Yes, sir," the head diver told the Captain.
"Isn't it a little unusual for a small boat like this to have a VDR?" one of the divers asked.
"Well, yes in fact it is, I wonder why he thought he needed one. It's a good thing he had one, though, bring it here," the Captain said. He took on end of it and pulled while one of the divers pushed, and it landed on the deck.
"Darn, that suckers heavy!" said the Captain.
"You're not kidding!" the head diver replied.
"We should take this back to the mainland, analyze it. Come on boys, that's all for today!"
The divers got out of the water as the Captain got to his radio and called the search off to all the other boats.
Rachel looked at the VDR box. It startled her knowing it was with her husband at one second, then a hundred feet under murky water the next. What did this mean about Blake and Josh? Did this mean that they were dead? Most likely, but Rachel didn't want to admit that to herself, not yet.
Hours later, sound analysts were listening to it for anything they could find.
The sound went out through large speakers in a big, dark room where Rachel stood with many other sound analysts.
"So? Anything?" Rachel asked.
"I'm afraid not, for now. All static."
"You can't turn it up or something?"
One of the sound analysts, the one talking with Rachel looked at her. He was wearing khaki pants, and a button up shirt, something that looked like it came from Hawaii. This was Darren.
"Well, we're trying to 'clean it up' you might say, so we try and hear more clearly into the frequency."
Rachel let out a long hard breath.
"Oh don't worry, we're making progress," Darren said looking at a computer monitor in front of him.
The clock struck ten at night, and the hurricane was bad, real bad. The wind outside the building was beyond anything anyone had ever experienced. It was like Andrew all over again.
Luckily, the power hadn't gone out, so Darren and his team were still trying to dig deeper, trying to get something other than static.
Then, they heard something...
Darren took off the headphones that had been stuck to his ears for a few hours, and jumped up.
"My God! I got something!"
Everyone looked at him with excitement. Rachel woke up from her short snooze, and ran over to the computer monitor where Darren sat, cleaning up the feed.
"What was it?" Rachel asked. Her eyes were bulging.
"Voices, deep. Like non-human!"
"What the heck are you saying?"
"I'm saying, something non-human is on your husband's radio!"
Rachel put her hand up to her mouth.
"You mean, it talked into his radio?"
"Yes, this wasn't from some place else, it spoke into your husbands radio."
"Are you cleaning up the feed?" someone asked.
"Yeah, I want everyone to listen, and listen good!" Darren said. He took his hand off his mouse, and turned up the speakers.
A voice, coming from something that must of had a massive chest cavity said-
"We're not here to hurt you..."
Then there was screaming from what sounded like Blake in the background.
"We might send him back one day...but for now, you need to know that your husband is safe, and let him go...when we do bring him back, if we do...you'll be long gone...dead."
Tears ran down Rachel's face. She let out a sob.
"We're not from here...in time you'll understand...but for now we must go......"
Rachel was in tears.
"Who was that?" Rachel said. It took everything in her to muster those three words.
Darren, along with everyone else sat in awe. But then he registered what Rachel said, and looked closely at the computer screen.
"Those vocals are so low that..."
He turned to look at Rachel.
"...that voice was not made by a human being.