It's time for Tuesday Terrorists, hosted by Jeff billard on the mutual audio network. The following audio drama is rated R and is recommended restricted for anyone under the age of 17. Hi there, campfire listeners. This is John Ballantine here to give you the lowdown on an excellent new podcast that I think will appeal particularly to our campfire crowd. So hey, thank me later. Our friend Jeff Schmidt, who has provided the audio engineering and sound design for quite a few well-known podcasts, way too many to mention. As branched out on his own with a suspense heavy audio drama called ominous thrill. Guys, this show will blow your socks off so just go ahead and take them off and make yourself comfortable. ominous thrill is an anthology of character driven dark fiction featuring stories of obsession, love, rage and revenge, clashing in the murky worlds of the supernatural and paranormal. Great voice actors, of course the sound is amazing and to top it off the guy writes a terrific story. It almost seems unfair. So, quick preview coming up for ominous thrill, check it out, definitely has my good housekeeping stamp of approval, then right after our own campfire chiller is on deck. What's this all about? What about nightmares? What about nightmares? We need to leave. What are you doing? They can't tear out your soul anymore. ominous thrill, a new audio fiction anthology. I've done horrible things. Tell them what you do. I've done anything. Tell me. No. Character driven tales of obsession. I'm no psycho. Spanging off my door and stringing in on the internet. Revenge. Don't mind if I sit here and watch lights go out. Do you? The unexplain. Don't leave me out here. We can't help her. No. No. I need the light. You want me to fall down the stairs? No. I want to push you. I love you so fucking much. Ominous thrill, available now on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and everywhere. Flesh. Splits. Open. Oh yes. Thrilly later. Welcome, friend. Have a seat by the fire. Make yourself comfortable. Most sonar contacts in the deep water brought little fear to the hearts of sailors aboard a U.S. Navy trident missile submarine. Commonly one might hear whale song. The ghostly echo of ice flows breaking to the north. Even the menacing spectre of a Russian attack some drifting silently through the abyss. Though none would inspire such maddening dread as the sinister sonar reflection that presently arose from uncharted depths and shadowed the 150 souls aboard the USS Tennessee. But even this eerie phenomenon should have come as no great shock. As old sailors knew well, the most haunted place on the planet was Shuri, the sea. You're listening to Campfire Radio Theatre. Tonight we revisit a nightmare that children of the Cold War recall all too well. A seafaring tale of what could have been, or perhaps what might still be. This dark toe surfaces from the fevered imaginings of writer-producer John Ballantine. Our tale is called, The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. We're going to relive the voices beyond our way, you boys and girls, you boys and waters. That catches Sky King, thanks for your assistance. James, get that below ASAP, I want to be under way by 1600 hours. Aye aye sir. It's kind of tight quarters up here Tom, yep, let me grab one last breath of fresh air before we take her down. I'll get this below to our sonar tech captain. Very good Chief. Remind me to stock back up sonar motherboards next time we deploy. So what do you spy out there in those binoculars? Here have a look, about 10 degrees starboard. Nothing but white caps, you chasing fandoms captain, good day XO. I'm going below, enjoy that breath of fresh air, might be your last for a couple months. Excuse me sir, don't worry son, either I'm getting bigger or this boat's getting smaller. I am firing coffin with the nukes, swimming in a bottle of this. What's that? What kind of pathological mind comes up with something as nutty as this? You know Brooks, sometimes I wonder how you pass the psych exam. Who says I did? Captain. The department heads gathered as requested. Morning gentlemen, ladies, take your seats. Let's make our operational brief as brief as possible. By the way, we have an official VIP on board. I'm told he'll be observing operations aboard the Tennessee. Chances are he'll be in his quarters most of the duration in cabin 9, monitoring our systems and how we do things. The infamous red room. So if you do encounter him, let's extend every courtesy. Chief what's your report on sonar, are we back to 100 percent? Everything checks out skipper. We're not blind anymore but I think high tower has concerns. Let's hear it. I've isolated a contact skipper. It's faint but it's there, running ultra quiet. You can't idea? Acoustics signature is inconclusive. What's your opinion, Russian fast attack sub? Possibly. Its behavior is odd. Okay, you want to elaborate? Congratulations seem to place it well below test depth. There's nothing the Russians have that should operate that deep. Something new Ivan's been cooking up? Not likely. I've run a complete battery of tests and the system checks out. Acoustic relays are reading as they should but something isn't right. Sounds like another faulty motherboard. Maybe the calibration tables are off. However it is though, it's definitely following us. Well we're still two days out from our patrol station. Let's try to shake him before we arrive. Employee evasive measures maintain silence on all cab bands. Keep me posted alright? Aye aye sir. Our next firefighting and flood drills are coming up. We got serious work ahead of us. To coin a phrase for my old gramps, all I want to see is assholes and elbows. Maybe a more pressing concern is when is pizza night and what toppings are we talking? Alright, get to your post. Let's see what's going on. Captain, we have received a ballot emergency action message that directs the launch of Target Package 01. The request permission to authenticate. Authenticate the message. Aye aye sir. Oscar, Tango, Alfa, Bravo, Zulu, Alfa. Well? Captain, the message is authentic. I concur Captain, I concur as well. Now what? We're still out of position. Chief, bring us the full speed. Proceed to Target Package. Give me your best estimate on our earliest launch window. Aye aye sir. Launch control, we're going to need an immediate prep. I need a status on all two. What the hell is going on? We have an authenticated EAM. Maybe we ought to find out. Chief, you have the con. Aye aye sir. Specialist Simmons, can you pick me up on anything? There's been a flood of radio chatter in the past 15 minutes. Heavily scrambled though. Russian chatter? Both sides sir. What in the holy name of-- I need to know what's doing. Skipper, we're picking up transmissions from a carrier strike group to our west about 600 nautical miles. USS Truman. Can you hone in on their transmission, Sims? Maybe they know something. Aye sir. Skipper, son or indicates Russian surface vessels above us, at least two destroyers. Maintained radio silence on all frequencies. We don't want to relay our position. Copy that. Let's get out from under their shadow, Exo. Get back to Khan. Set depth to 600, rig ultra-quiet. Aye sir. Tell me. You think this thing is real? Well, is anything I've ever seen. Hello, undercut, rearranging this set from all our bunkers at strategic command to all U.S. foreign countries. We are at a depth-con run. As of June 750 hours this morning, eastern time, the United States was shed by a first strike of Russian air. So nuclear warheads have struck targets throughout the U.S. No, at this point, the extent of loss and casualties affected to be catastrophic. A cover of fences was launched immediately at my left-left day of the day, becoming Russian nukes. And a 2-man destruction over there is war. We cannot guarantee that strike took out their capabilities to launch further aggression against us all our allies. All of our nuclear armed naval assets are ordered to take position to eliminate the supply targets within the Russian state, some marine forces are authorized to launch missiles immediately. I'm sure I don't have to remind you there is enough firepower aboard each of your biceps to incinerate an entire continent. I wish you and your crew safety and success may God bless us all. So ordered the god damn apocalypse. It's a bit garbled, but I pulled in what I could. Chief, what's our ETA to launch position? If we maintain speed, we'll be in range in about 18 hours. Since, get back to comms. Keep a close monitor on any transmissions you can pull in. Any updates, keep me posted. Bye. Sir. Skipper, news is going to spread through the crew like wildfire. Everyone is already on edge. You need to talk to them. I understand, chief. Every men and woman on this boat is trained for this. Let's stay on top of it. Assholes and elbows. Aye aye, sir. The Russians aren't stupid enough to launch a nuclear strike. It's suicide. All it takes is one madman to kick start a war. What are the chances all of this is just an exercise? We got that VIP on board. Yeah? What are you getting at? I mean, what is he? Pentagon spooker, a defense contractor of some sort. Maybe he knows something we don't. Mrs. Captain Jeffries, I'd like a word. By all means, come in, captain. Really, shitty way to write humanity's last chapter, huh? I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name when you boarded. They call me Tooms, Warren Tooms. Mr. Tooms, I wish we could meet under better circumstances. My exo seems to think we are in the middle of some kind of simulation. A war game. Can I offer you a drink, Cap? No thanks. I hate to drink alone. Are you sure? alcohol is probably not a great idea right now. Always as good a time as any, but suit yourself. Here's a toast. To the end of the world, almost Apians had a good run. Mr. Tooms, I'd like for us to speak frankly. Oh, of course. Your assignment has been nothing short of a cloak and dagger operation. Obviously you're equipped here to monitor our systems, evaluate performance. Lovely accommodations here in the Red Room, Captain Jeffery's, my compliments. If this is some kind of elaborate drill or test, I think you better let me in on it. Once news spreads, you could have mass hysteria aboard this boat. Suicides. It's legit, Captain. Why else would I be polishing off my only bottle of grade A scotch? Congratulations. You have got a front row seat to the apocalypse. I don't remember buying a ticket to that ride. Step right up, Captain. Step right up, radioactive fallout, nuclear winter. All free of charge. That's a grim assessment, Mr. Tooms. You ever hear about the Pentagon analysts that went batshit back in the 70s? Can't say I have. Yeah. It's a strange case. He was like a Vegas odds maker of sorts. Only the stakes were considerably higher than predicting the Army Navy game. His job was to contemplate the various outcomes of a full blown nuclear exchange, the probability of survival and what that might look like. I mean, down to every gruesome detail, can you imagine? This poor schmuck went to work every day and engineered a hypothetical holocaust with paper and protractor, figured out all the different end-of-the-world scenarios, all the repercussions. Guess it's not far removed from what you do as a captain. Anyway, he reached a breaking point. His mind couldn't handle it. That immense level of death and carnage, so one day he goes home, kisses his wife, two kids goodbye, and puts a bullet in their heads. See, problem was he couldn't calculate a less than 50% probability that someone didn't push the button within their lifetime, that the world didn't end in thermonuclear holocaust. Of course, now, computers perform those calculations and do it much more accurately, but you know what? The equations identical. And the answer, well, it remains the same. Only a 50% chance we dodge nuclear annihilation. As they say, the house always wins. Skipper, we have a contact bearing on us, closing fast. On the way, chief. What terror lies below the depths, the devil, my son, the devil lies there. What did you say? Carry on, my good captain. I have serious drinking to do. Skipper, contact is coming up from below, bearing 099, aggressive posture. He's a deep diver, never seen anything like it. Don't arc, do we have a positive ID? It's murky, Skipper. It's the same mystery contact, though, same one that's been tailing us. I need to know what we're dealing with, high tower. Closing at 35 knots. Shit, that son of a bitch is running fast. Call it high tower. Undetermined, sir. Has gotta be Russian. Let's have a listen. What do you make of that? Sounds like fucking Cthulhu. It reminds me of something the old man used to. Sir, Russian Akula class were reported in this vicinity two days ago. Whatever it is, sounds like they're flooding tubes. Sound general alarm. This is Exo. All heads to battle stations. All heads to battle stations. The database of maneuvers. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill. I, sir. Torpedo room. Prep tubes. This is Torpedo room. We're loading tubes. Fire-controlled data, give me a target solution on incoming subs. Skipper, I've got another sonar contact, closing at a high rate of speed. What is it? Torpedos in the water, Skipper. I count two. Fish in the water. Closing at 50 knots. Launch countermeasures. Evasive right, full rudder. Bring us 20 degrees. Evasive, ice skipper. Countermeasures prepped. Countermeasures dispersed. In the water. Full pattern. No closing. Range. 1,500. 1,400. Taking up speed. Come on. Come on. Take the bait. 1,200. I'm registering a detonation. We got one of our torpedoes. The other one seems to be falling off. Losing tracking. Affirmative skipper. Decoys effective. Bring us to bear on target. Fire control. What have you got? Acquired target. Solution. Ready. Weapon. Ready. Fire too. Fire into the skipper. What are we looking like? Torpedos running normally are in converging on target. Hell, right 15 degrees rudder. Steady on course 320. 15 degrees rudder right. All right. Keep us clear of that dead torpedo. They don't want it getting a beat on us again. Are they launching countermeasures? I'm not picking up anything. Now, maybe they just don't want to dance today. Torpedos still on course 900, 800, 700, 400, first torpedo registering a hit. Second torpedo. Also a hit. What do we have, sonar? Implosions, sir. Enemy sub is breaking apart. Going down. Holy shit. Hallelujah. That was close. Are you sure they're dead, high tower? Positive, sir. I'm not even picking up an emergency beacon. Total fubar. What's the depth through here? Two and a half miles, sir. That's a long way down. All hands, this is your captain. Secure from general alert. Repeat. Secure from general alert. Pilot, bring us back to course. Full speed. Rig for ultra-quiet. Aye, sir. Damage control. What's our status? Old well, skipper. No reports of damage. Reactive room reports. All systems normal. Very good, chief. Next, sir. I want an emergency briefing with all department heads at 2400. Let's make sure everyone's on the same page. We'll do. That'll give me time to change my underwear. Good work, skipper. Hey, anything wrong? You know, I mean, beyond the obvious. I want you to post a guard in front of the Red Room. Oh, don't tell me our VIP is the head case. Not sure yet. Just precautionary. Great. Of course, this stage, I have expected orderly to come along and slide a pill under my tongue. Trust me. I get it. Post that guard. Aye, skipper. We'll see to it. [Music] Assume stations for training exercise alpha on the end of your desert day. Everything's secure, Alvarez. It's not a peep out of them, sir. Good. I'm going to have a brief chat with our Mr. Tooms. You want me to go win with you, skipper? I don't think that'll be necessary. Just stay alert. Aye, sir. I'm going to have to start billing you for these unscheduled sessions, Captain. What do you know about that sub that was tracking us? Maybe we should gather everyone in a circle, you know, handle us with group therapy. No. Listen here, fuck not good. I need answers. You're wriggling my best shirt there, Captain. I'm trying to come up with one excuse why I shouldn't flush you out the forward Tooms. Well, there is the whole murder, bugaboo, and also you'll never get any answers if I'm dead. How did you know? You're going to have to be more specific. What terror lies below the depths? The devil, my son. The devil lies there. But Submariners have all kinds of sayings. That was part of a private conversation with the old man from 40 years ago. Not part of any public record. Let's see. You come from a long line of semen. Yes. Why did you? I'm sorry. That one always gives me a chuckle. Where did you get that? Oh, I have very comprehensive files. The man who raised you, your grandfather, was a World War II vet, a son or officer. You know why? He never set foot on the water again after he left the service. PTSD from the war. He was afraid of the sea. No, he was afraid of what was in it. Would you believe your grandfather all those years ago encountered the same bizarre sonar contact? Same one that's been shadowing you. And it scared the living shit out of him because he knew what it was. Really? What's that? Death. We just put a couple of high-yield Mark-48s in death. He scattered all over the ocean floor. It seems kind of too easy, doesn't it? Not when that much high explosives makes contact. Consider this, consider this. You reach your position, right? You launch those 20 missiles. That's 160 separate warheads raining down hell on the enemy, genocide. That's not my call. Millions instantly vaporized at your hand. In the blink of an eye, you will have slaughtered more human beings than Adolf Hitler. Assuming, of course, they haven't already been baptized by nuclear fire. Now, what if the very last pocket of surviving human beings on Earth are in your crosshairs? Do you really care if they're Russian when the very survival of the human race is at stake? I have my orders. It's not the first time you've had to make a tough call, right, Captain? What does that mean? You wanted to know what's been shadowing you? Maybe it wasn't death. Maybe it wasn't death after all. Maybe it was your conscience. All hands, we are 15 minutes from launch station. They're probably going to need you up front, Captain. Intention all hands, we're conducting routine operations. Sims, what you got? I'm picking up zero radio chatter, nothing on any of the bands, and on one silent about 30 minutes ago. Sir, do you think? I don't know. Do you see me, Captain? The Red Room, last I heard. Morning, sir. Morning, Alvarez. How's RVIP? Not as quiet as the church, mouse, sir. Is the Captain still in there with him? No, sir. You just missed him. You mind if I have a quick chat with our guest? Not at all, sir. This is the XO. Just wanted to make sure you were decent. What in the name of Corinbreaded Hell? Approaching launch station. Apparently we're still undetected, Captain. Won't be long once we launch those birds. Are we a periscope depth? Aye, sir. Presently about 80 nautical miles off nearest landmass, the UK is to our east. Let's have a look. Raise periscope. Sweet mother of Christ. What do you see, Skipper? Sweet mother of Christ. Captain, we need to-- Have a look at this, Brooks. I think it answers our questions. Sir, what's it look like out there? The sky is black as pitch. Tom, you see the thin strip of red lining the horizon? Those are fires. Their continent is burning. I don't know, but pretty sure that's what the gates of hell are supposed to look like. With all due respect, I don't see any of that. What do you mean? Skipper, there's not a cloud in the sky. Weather conditions are ideal. Ideal? Europe is a raging, god-damned inferno. Listen, maybe we should suspend the exercise. Exercise? We're at war. Hey, uh, can we have a word privately? There's no time, Exo. Captain, who have you been meeting with in the Red Room? I've gone over this ground already. The analyst, tombs. We are at optimal range for missile launch, Captain. Proceed to launch depth and prepare to hover. Aye, sir. Spin up all missiles. Set condition one, S-Q. One S-Q. Weapons control. Spin up all missiles. Man, battle stations. Missile. There. Man, battle stations. Missile. There's no tombs. No one in the Red Room, not a single living soul. We are hovering at station, Captain. There never was. Chief, step forward. Ah. I'll be ordered as an emergency action message. Captain. Do all concur, this is an authentic order to launch our target package. I-I concur. Exo? Exo? Something's not right here. Your CIP key. This is an exercise. Do I need to fit you for a straight jacket, Exo? And it's gone too far. Proximity alert. You've got a contact. Another fast boat. Where did it come from? I don't know. Give me an ID. What are we dealing with? Contact bearing 2-2-0. Sir, it's the same sub. Russian attack sub? It's the same exact contact, sir, 100% match. Are you kidding me? That's impossible. A ghost ship. Torprito room. Flood tubes. Give me a target solution on that enemy contact. It's too late. Tools and fast right up under us. Weapons control. I need a targeting solution now. Oh my god. Distance at 600. Jesus. He's going to ram us. Voting tubes. One and two. Preparing for fish in the water. 500. Evasive right rudder. 60 degrees. 400. We can't fire. He's too close. God damn it. 300 yards. Tunes? Sound collision alarm. Brace. Brink. Brink. Brink. Brink back. What the hell is that thing? Losing hydraulic control. Systems not responding. We're taking on water. Heavy damage. Bow. Sinking 40 degrees. No attitude controlled. Seal the boat. We're dropping. Not exceeding 1000. As compartments are flooded. Fire in the reactor room. Under peep. Fire in the reactor room. A couple million gallons of seawater will take care of those fires. Dropping below test out. We're going down. Order the skipper. Captain. Captain. Captain. Captain. It's a long way to the bottom, Captain. No way of knowing what's down this deep. Tunes? The old man. He ever tell you about the phantom boats, I mean, before you had him hauled off to the Nuthouse. How in the hell do you know about that? Ghost contacts, he called them. It was for his own good. Get down in the deep water far below the crush depth of him and so. It was a danger to himself to everyone around him. The old man trusted you, and you betrayed him. Tunes. We're dropping below 1600. Pressure increasing. Skipper. What are your orders? Where's Tunes? Skipper. Who's here? I was just talking to him all together. Tunes? There's no goddamn tune. We're losing the boat! Mental illness can be hereditary enough. Maybe the old man left you with something more than just... Wars. I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! We need a hand here. I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Come on! Come on, Jeffries! Let him go! Don't make us talk to you in isolation again! He's got a grip! Jeffries! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Son of a bitch! He's crazy! Ugh! Back to your room, Mr. Tooms. Why? I didn't do anything to him, Doc. I've told you repeatedly not to agitate the others. Since will you escort Mr. Tooms to his room? Yes, ma'am. Why don't you just go ahead? You friendly circle, my ass! That fucker is crazy! If you still eat sea or something, let go of me! Mr. Jeffries? Where am I? We're going to get you settled back in bed. All right! Maybe we'll do a one-on-one tomorrow. All right! Sound good? What is this place? It's okay. Calm down. No one's going to hurt you. Chief! What the hell's going on? Calm down. Commander Brooks! Why is everyone out of uniform? Take him back, gentlemen. What the hell's going on? All right, here we go. Keep a tight grip. He's slippery. I got him. No! It's all gone. Yeah. You're dead! Come on, Jeffries. The world! Everyone! Nothing but ass! Jeffries! This isn't real! It's all wiped out! No! Has he got a story? Jeffries? No! No! Severe delusional disorder. Sees us as his crew. His crew? He was commanding officer of a ballistic missile submarine. The USS Tennessee. He suffered a mental break during a training exercise. began having delusions about a nuclear war. Dear Lord. Just like something out of a nightmare. What pushed him over the edge? The pressure of repeated drills. The constant preparation for doomsday. Who knows? These sailors are trained to carry out a heinous act. Even if the war never comes, it can still haunt them. Lee scars. Jeffries relives up fractured reality each and every day. I take it tombs as a bit of an instigator. Unfortunately, yes. We should probably keep those two separate going forward. Perhaps no more group sessions for them here in the red room. You mind if I check in on Jeffries? I've had some luck with white noise. Sometimes it'll settle trouble patients. Be my guest, Dr. Brooks. At this point, I'm willing to try anything. Doctor, is it safe now? It's safe, Maria. Everyone, let's gather round and continue the session. Come on. It's okay. It's all over. This is a safe space. Chief, take us down. Dive to 150 and hold course. One third ahead. All stations regalt are quiet. Sonar contact, bearing 560. Relax, Mr. Jeffries. Terrid high tower, what you got? Get some rest. I'm going to switch this on. Something Dr. Brooks recommended. What's that, Grabs? What's that? It'll help you unwind and get some sleep, okay? What is that? Relax and just imagine the ocean waves rolling in and rolling out. Rolling in and rolling out. What is that? I'll check back with you later. What terror are lies below the depths? No way of knowing them much down this deep. What terror lies below the depths? The old man. You ever tell you about the phantom boats? What terror are lies below the depths? Ghost contacts, he called them. What terror are lies behind the boat? The old man trusted you and you. You betrayed him. What terror lies below the depths? The devil, my son. The devil lies there. What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? The old man told you about the sea. What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? What are lies behind the boat? You have been listening to Camp Fire Radio. Camp Fire Radio Theatre. Tonight's Tale. The devil at the Deep Blue Sea. Was written, directed, and produced by John Ballantai. Featured in a cast were Graham Rowett. As Captain Jeffries. Jared Rivet as Tooms. Blaine Hickland as Exo Brooks. Mary Murphy as Chief Bower. Julianna Gutierrez Orenko as Hightower. Joe Staffko as Admiral Indicott. Alvin Balling the second as Sims. And Mark Reese Healy as the pilot. [Music] Also featured were James Hickland. Spring Healed Jack. Kevin Hotnell. John Bellos. And John Ballantai. [Music] Original music score by Kevin Hotnell. Sound design by John Ballantai. Additional sound courtesy of Free Sound Project. Mix and post production by John Ballantai. [Music] Join us around the campfire and share the horror. You can find Campfire Radio Theatre on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. (wind howling) [BLANK_AUDIO]
