Lost At Sea by Arthur Limbada (non fiction books to read .txt) 📖

were viewed, the area over the ship was densely clouded about half an hour before the disappearance and the time the ship is thought to have disappeared, visibility of the Caribbean Dream was impossible. It seemed that by the time the cruise ship vanished, the fog started to disperse, as if whatever took the ship was in side or part of the mist.

* * * * *

There was a short pause as Andrew finished reading, the listeners soaking up all the information. The silence was shattered shortly after by the sound of Andrew’s cell-phone, waking everyone up from their reverie. Answering, this was what ensued between Andrew and the nameless lady.
Andrew, answering, “Hello, who’s this”.
Voice, “Hello Andrew”, said the voice speaking on the other side, “I have just received a report from a police station about thirty minutes from here, they appear to have a Bermuda Triangle disappearance survivor with them right now. One or two of your team could go and check out the situation, and something helpful might crop up. Come once you have decided who is going and I will give you the direction.”
He heard a “click” coming across the line and with that the phone call was ended. The lady didn’t leave any room for option, she had something for them to do and they needed to do it.

Andrew turned around and looked at the other two occupants of his office.
“How should we do this?”
“I’ll stay back,” Gene answered, “and you two can go.”
Gerald agreed with this.
“Okay”, Andrew said, standing up and stretching his legs, “lets go, Gerald and get those directions. Gene, you can use my computer and research more on the Bermuda Triangle”.
“Sure,” Gene agreed.
And if Gene were to have closed her eyes shut and stuck her fingers in her ears, and if she opened her eyes ten seconds later, she could have sworn that Andrew and Gerald simply disappeared.

4. Henry Downing

Terrance viewed his Global Positioning System (GPS) receiver to see what his location was. He was exactly two kilometres away from his planned destination, the spot that previously swallowed up three large ships in a single, great gulp.
He slowed the plane down and started lowering it.
All that was visible below him was an endless stretch of ocean, spreading out its ceaseless arms and enveloping everything underneath it. This was the sea, the most troublesome area for scientists and investigators alike. Its murky depth contains secrets still yet to be uncovered. It hid secrets that perhaps will never be revealed to mankind.
“You have reached your destination” a female, mechanical voice emitting from the GPS announced.
Terrance controlled his plane so that it circled to the right. As the plane was circling and gradually losing altitude, the three occupants in it looked out of their windows, staring intently towards the ocean floor, searching for any forms of wreckage.
This went on for about five minutes until an exclamation from Chevan alerted the two men. She was pointing down towards the water, on the left side of their plane but slightly ahead. Terrance and Tyron’s eyes followed the direction of her out stretched hand. It took a few seconds for them to see it but once they did they both cried out excitedly. Terrance moved his plane to fly towards the thing they saw in the water so that they could get closer to it.
The three were not exactly sure what it was they were seeing. It looked like a piece of something shiny and black sticking out of the water. The sun shone off the portion, revealing a triangle shaped object. Chevan pulled out her camera and snapped several quick pictures of it. By the time she moved the camera away from her eyes, the mysterious item had vanished from sight.
Terrance flew the seaplane down to where the object had disappeared. He landed on the approximate area where he thought it was, water spraying. Tyron stepped out of the plane onto the pontoon. Outside of the plane, the sky was a beautiful blue, the bright sun shining brilliantly. Though the water was fairly clear, by the time he knelt down and peered into the water, he couldn’t find any forms of wreckage or anything that may have been the object which they just saw. Chevan and Terrance both joined him but no matter how hard they looked, they still couldn’t see their mysterious object.

Terrance pulled his cell phone out of his right jean pocket. He pressed in the digits and the phone was answered three rings later.
“Hello,” he began, “we have just checked out the area where the ships disappeared last night”.
“Good, found anything”?
“Well, when we were circling over the spot we saw a black, metallic looking triangle object in the water. Once we came closer though, to get a better look at it, it sunk into the sea. Chevan got pictures of it but none of us can seem to figure out what it is. It’s probably some part of one of the ships. We landed on the water and got out to look but we couldn’t see anything either. If you could send a submarine maybe it could discover what it is.”
“Okay, let’s do that, meanwhile fly over to Bermuda and see if you can get some more information on the Caribbean Dream”.
The noise that followed was the sound of someone hanging up.
“Okay, let’s get going”!

* * * * *

Andrew turned up the street, his tires screeching over the wet, black gravel. The dark, menacing clouds that enveloped the sky clashed dramatically with the bright, summer billboards, full of yellows and greens. People trudged along the side walks, burdened with bright red shopping bags, clutched at there brown overcoats, as if they were not only attempting to ward off the feeling of the gloomy weather, but also their depression. Glum expressions were imprinted on their faces. Overall it was quite a melancholy sight.
Gusty winds swirled around the car. It whipped up a stray newspaper which flew into the windscreen. Its bright coloured page declared “Thirteen More Die from the Loco Disease”. A second gust of wind blew, carrying the newspaper back onto the sidewalk where it was trodden on by the weary populace. It almost seemed as if that newspaper was purposefully blown onto that windscreen to remind Andrew and Gerald how desperate and urgent there job was.
Andrew parked the car in front of the police station. Before he stepped out, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the box that was in it. Opening the lid, he pulled out a pistol which he then deposited into the holster connected to his belt. He stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him.
“What’s that for”, Gerald questioned?
“Well, you never know what may happen, it is better to be safe”.
The wind felt a lot faster then it looked when he was in the car. He pulled his jacket closer around him and bowed his head to avoid wetting his face. A light rain had started to fall and a slight mist was weaving its way around them.
“Horrible weather this, Gerald observed, and this is the starting of summer. You hear about global warming but there is no excuse for this.” As Andrew was agreeing, the front door of police station opened.
(* Unlike most fictional detectives, the ones in this story don’t always wear hats and large jackets everywhere they go in attempt to look inconspicuous. Of course those detectives are shooting themselves in the foot, or are having someone else shoot them. As the only way that they could look subtle in that is if they were to walk in on a winter hat and coat competition)

By the outfit, they could tell that the young, nervous looking guy coming out to greet them was a sergeant. He came up and shook hands with the two men. His hands were warm against there cold.
“Hello gentlemen”, the sergeant greeted, “thank you for coming, I’m Sergeant Ted Collin”.
“Hi, I am Andrew Gray and this is my partner, Gerald Hudson from I.D.I.”, he answered as he showed his card. “So, what has the survivor been telling you, he asked”?
“Well, since we knew you were coming, we decided to wait till you come before we start asking any questions. Just saying sir, but he seems a little bit batty. Oh, and another thing sir, he has been repeating a name over and over, Henry Downing it sounds like. We are not completely sure though, he talks in a very slurred way sir”.
Andrew nodded his head. “Excellent, would it be possible if we could see him and start questioning him as soon as possible?”
“There should be no problem with that sir; you may speak to him whenever you wish”
Ted Collins strode forward and opened the glass door and waited for the two men to enter. The warmth of the room was immediately noticeable to the two detectives walking in from outside. The police station was filled of police officers, just milling around, obviously interested in what was going on. Collins led the way till they got to a door in the corridor which you could see into it by a one way mirror. The Bermuda Triangle survivor was being held in the stations interrogation room.
“What’s this”, Andrew asked; aggravation in his voice.
“Sorry sir”?
“Why is he in there”?
“Well, Ted stuttered, I thought, you know, that you wanted to interview him, so I thought it would be best if we kept him here…”
“Is he a criminal”? “Did he do any crimes”?
“Well, no sir, I just thought...”
Andrew had already pushed open the door to the interrogation room.

You could see Andrew through the window talking to the man. Gerald immediately noticed that there was something wrong with him. Even with Andrew talking to him, all he did was look down at the table, his