Beast

Chapter 1

BEAST

by Mark Carver and Michael Anatra

Beast © 2015 Mark Carver

Published by The Crossover Alliance

www.thecrossoveralliance.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons or events or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Mark would like to dedicate this book to:

My son, Nolan Z.

And to the men and women around the world who have sacrificed so much to give us the energy we crave.

Michael would like to dedicate this book to:

My "extended family" – the guys I've toiled with for endless days and nights, covered in grease, mud, sweat, and bugs in remote locations all over the world; the guys whose laughter and jokes made the days and nights a little easier while we were away from home. This is for the guys who kissed their wives goodbye and headed to work, but unfortunately never made it back home. This is their story.

I have been blessed. I've met some wonderful people and seen places most people only read about in magazines or see on television, all while getting paid to do something I love. Missed flights in third world countries, sketchy taxi drivers, sleeping in airports, and countless days of working around the clock with little or no sleep provided for my family in ways I could never imagine.

Most of all, I'd like to thank my beautiful wife, Brandie, and my kids. Without her, I would not be where I am today. She has gone days on end without being able to talk to me, and not by choice. Dropped phone calls from thousands of miles away, endless nights alone, raising our kids by herself, planning birthdays and holidays and dealing with issues at home, all the while counting down to the day of my return. This is for you and your understanding throughout all of this. I love you.

CHAPTER ONE

April 12th

Aboard Stonewall 22, aka "Ring Rock"

The Gulf of Mexico

THE DRILLER POKED HIS HEAD out of the cabin door.

"Hey Kyle, get your skinny ass over here. I need you to give me a hand."

Kyle Hamilton looked over his broad shoulder and put down the hammer he had been using to tighten the cement line hammer unions.

"What do you need, drill?"

A fly landed on the driller's leathery cheek and he swatted it with a curse. "Damn Gulf. If you're done with those lines, run down to the engine room and give Dale a hand. He's running valves on the main genset. I need you to get knowed up on them engines, boy."

"I'll head that way in a sec," Kyle replied. "Give me a minute to tie back these chick sans."

The driller nodded and pulled his head back into the cabin like a turtle retreating into its shell.

When Kyle was finished with the chick sans, he walked down the long corridor to the engine room. This part of the rig was usually buzzing with noise, but, at that moment, it was quiet, almost peaceful.