15 for 15 Contest --- Closed

Nobody considered that nuclear explosions could knock Earth from its comfortable orbit around the sun. Now, half the world was consumed in the heat of radiation and the other half stuck in a perpetual ice age.

Dr. Levi Clements floated closer to the berg than was comfortable. His Geiger counter clicked in a steady rhythm, but it still didn’t register with the staccato bursts that indicated imminent death.

Levi whipped his head around as the air exploded with an avalanche of solid ice from a neighboring ice floe. He braced as the resulting wave threw the small boat over the cold surface of the Atlantic.

After the disturbance subsided, he took out his Dictaphone. “Clement—March ten, twenty-two forty-three. The radiation continues to move at a crawl. I’ve recorded minor indications three miles further west than my last expedition a year ago. The glaciers are shrinking and large pieces are breaking off at an alarming rate. I predict the waters will eventually break free onto the surviving world within a few years.”

A beep from another device attracted his attention. He clicked off the recording mechanism to attend the new.

He adjusted some dials and a graphic image appeared on the screen. He calculated the scale in his head and whistled, emitting condensation in a billowing cloud. “It’s as big as a carrier.”

He grabbed the microphone again and spoke in a hurried voice. “The creature has grown considerably and moved into the colder waters. We must prepare for when it reaches land. If it can survive the freeze, we are all doomed.”

The bleeps quickened. The clicks from the Geiger counter hastened.

“I first tracked the beast nearly ten years ago. I saw it close up—closer than I ever care to be to it, again. As best I can tell, it is derived from a blue whale. Radiation contaminated the gene pool. Now, it’s evolved, for lack of a better word, into a deadly killing machine. It has teeth the size of automobiles and scales tougher than Kevlar.”

Clements started the outboard motor. He looked behind him as the boat started to move.

“Not believing my warnings will only lead to destruction. It is no longer an option. Prepare now. I anticipate it will reach civilization within a year.”

The sonar and Geiger counter played a chaotic, presto-tempo symphony into the frigid air. Despite the cold, Clements sweat.

“I have a few ideas how to save what’s left of humanity. When I return, I will—“

Clements’ final words cut off as the gaping maw of the apocalypse beast swallowed his craft.