Musings From A Demented Mind by Derek Ailes, James Coon Page A

It has lost all sense of direction.”
    “Captain, I’m picking up a faint transmission,” the radio operator reported.
    “Sub-Mariner to base!” an exhausted voice came over the intercom.
    “Turn on the tape recorder!” the captain ordered.
    The radio operator turned on the tape recorder as the voice continued.  “Help!  We’re lost!  Lost all sense of direction.  Don’t know which way is north, south, east or west!”
    “Do you have any idea where you are?”  The radio operator asked.
    “Smack in the middle of nowhere.”
    “Contact Star Duster,” the captain ordered.
    “Base to Star Duster!  Base to Star Duster!  Sub-Mariner is in trouble.  They are lost somewhere between Bermuda and here at Fort Jackson.  Over.”
    “Roger, base.  We’re on our way.”
    A couple of seconds later, the voice of the pilot of the Sub-Mariner could be heard.  “I’m feeling very dizzy like I’m experiencing vertigo.”
    “Do you know what is causing this?”  the radio operator asked.
    “I don’t know.  Wow, you have to see this.  The sky is a darkish green.  Even the ocean doesn’t look right.  There’s no sun.  It appears to be nighttime.”
    “Impossible.  It’s three o’clock in the afternoon,” the captain said, looking over at Ira.
    “Nothing is impossible when dealing with the unknown,” Ira advised.
    “Base to Sub-Mariner!  Base to Sub-Mariner!  Come in!  Do you hear us, Sub-Mariner?  Come in!”  The radio operator looked at the captain who was also concerned.
    Ira closed his eyes and saw the plane floating in midair in complete darkness.  He could see the pilot.  His eyes were closed and his head slumped forward.  “The pilot’s dead.”
    The captain was about to respond when he was interrupted by the co-pilot’s voice.  “The pilot is dead.  I felt this coldness go through me and then the pilot grabbed his chest and spit up blood.  His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped forward.”
    Ira closed his eyes and saw a translucent hand enter the pilot’s chest and squeeze his heart until it burst.  “Captain, he was murdered.”
    “Murdered?  By whom?”
    “I don’t know.  It’s all so blurry.”
    “Oh no!  Get away!”  the co-pilot screamed.  “Get away!”
    “I lost contact with the Sub-Mariner,” the radio operator reported.
    “He’s dead,” Ira said sadly.
    “Ira, can you see anything?”  the captain asked.
    Ira closed his eyes.  He could only see complete darkness.  “My vision of the scene is dark and blurry.”
    The radio operator screamed, grabbed his head and fell to the floor.  The captain ran over to him and checked his pulse.  “He’s dead.”
    Ira kneeled down next to him and examined his body.  “Judging by the look on his face, he was frightened to death.”
    “Huh?”  The captain looked at him puzzled. 
    Ira closed his eyes and saw through the radio operator’s eyes what had scared him to death.  The radio operator’s deceased mother, disfigured and covered in maggots walking toward him screaming in German to stay away.
    Ira looked at the captain.  “It was a warning to stay away from the Bermuda triangle.”
    “We better warn the Star Duster!”
    As the captain was standing up, the north wall collapsed.  As the dust settled, he reached for the radio.  “Base to Star Duster!  Base to Star Duster!  Turn Back!  Do not approach the Bermuda triangle!”
    “Roger, base….What the hell is that?  Oh no!  It’s coming right for us!  Get Away!  Get Away! No!”
    As they heard cries for help through the radio, the rest of the walls collapsed inward burying them.  The captain pushed Ira under the table in time as the ceiling crashed downward.
    The last thing Ira heard before he passed out was a booming voice through the radio saying, “If someone with your physic abilities ever interferes with me again, the whole world will face my wrath.”
    Ira regained consciousness several minutes later.  The captain