Joel tore down the catwalks, his pulse racing as he reached a vantage point that revealed the true scope of the disaster. Below him, the support vessel was pressed hard against the rig’s support leg, its hull dented inward where it had crunched into the steel structure. The impact echoed through the platform, a metallic groan that reverberated up through the catwalks and seemed to vibrate in Joel's very bones. Sparks flew as the twisted steel ground against the ship's jagged edges, sending showers of bright, angry embers scattering into the turbulent air.
The rig shuddered violently with each wave that slammed the vessel against it, and Joel struggled to keep his balance as the platform swayed beneath him. His breath caught in his throat as he spotted the ruptured riser pipe, a gaping tear through which oil and gas gushed in a furious black torrent. The slick liquid splattered across the deck, spreading fast, its pungent odour saturating the air and stinging Joel's nostrils.
Joel's muscles burned with exertion, each stride down the swaying catwalks feeling like a desperate push against gravity itself. His legs pumped furiously, driving him forward even as the steel beneath him quivered and buckled with every tremor. The adrenaline coursed through his veins like liquid fire, fueling his movements and forcing his body to surge beyond its limits. His arms swung powerfully at his sides, his grip tightening on the railings as he hurdled down ladders and platforms. His muscles strained, every fibre screaming from the effort, but he kept pushing—fueled by the instinct to survive and the fierce determination to make it through this living nightmare.
The acrid scent of fuel hung heavy, seeping into every breath and coating the back of his throat as the true scale of the danger set in. The rig wasn’t just groaning—it was straining, its skeletal structure bending against the pressure as if threatening to snap. Flames licked at the edge of the oil spill, crackling hungrily as the fire latched onto the fuel and surged higher, feeding on the volatile mix with ravenous speed.
The world exploded in a flash of searing heat and blinding light as the oil ignited with a sudden, violent roar. A wall of fire erupted near the base of the platform, a wave of blistering heat tearing across the deck like a living thing, pushing back against Joel with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. The flames climbed hungrily up the rig’s superstructure, licking at the steel beams with red and orange tongues that reached skyward, spreading faster than he thought possible. The air thickened with black smoke, acrid and suffocating, stinging his eyes and clogging his throat.
Joel’s heart hammered in his chest as the automated fire alarms wailed in a discordant symphony with the pounding of his pulse. The rig’s intercom crackled to life, spitting out instructions drowned by the roar of the blaze. "Evacuate immediately," the robotic voice droned, its calm tone in stark contrast to the chaos erupting around him. The deck beneath his feet groaned like a dying beast as the intense heat caused the steel to warp and twist, and Joel could feel the vibrations reverberating up through his boots.
He scanned the scene frantically, his mind racing to take in the spreading fire. The blaze was racing along the spilled oil, and each moment saw it grow higher, the flames crawling relentlessly closer to the heart of the platform. The heat was unbearable, waves of it blasting his skin as if he were standing at the mouth of a furnace. Every breath burned, searing his throat as he forced himself to keep moving, to stay ahead of the inferno. He was no longer just running—he was fleeing, driven by a primal instinct to escape the advancing fire that threatened to consume everything in its path.
Joel ducked as a metal support beam twisted with a sharp snap above him, sparks showering down and narrowly missing his head. Sparks rained down around Joel, dancing across his body like electric kisses, each ember flickering against his sweat-slicked skin before vanishing into the chaos. The heat clung to him, wrapping around his muscles, and the fiery glow highlighted every curve, making the tension in his frame look almost sculpted. His breath came in heavy, ragged bursts as the adrenaline surged through him, each movement fueled by the raw, pulsing energy of survival.
For a heartbeat, he stumbled, the ground seeming to shift beneath him as the rig groaned once more. The platform felt alive, writhing under the relentless assault of the fire, and with each moment, the sense of impending collapse drew closer. There was no time to think—only the driving need to survive, to escape the hell that was consuming the rig piece by piece.
Within seconds, the leaking oil caught fire, and a massive explosion roared from the base of the platform. A wave of blistering heat surged across the deck, slamming into Joel like a physical force, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled, shielding his face with one arm as the towering flames erupted skyward, climbing the rig’s superstructure with terrifying speed.
Joel's rippling arm muscles flexed with every movement, tense and powerful as he fought against the heat. The firelight caught the definition in his forearms, his skin gleaming with sweat as his strength seemed to shield him from the flames licking dangerously close. Each powerful motion was a battle, his arms like coiled steel, protecting him as the inferno raged around him.
The fire spread in all directions, licking hungrily at the steel framework, its orange and red tendrils consuming everything in their path.
Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as the fire alarms blared louder, shrill and piercing. The deafening wail was joined by the mechanical crackle of the rig’s intercom. “Evacuate immediately—this is not a drill. Evacuate immediately!” The voice was calm, robotic, at odds with the chaos unraveling on the platform. The instructions repeated, but Joel barely heard them over the roar of the flames and the groaning structure around him.
His eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before him. The fire was spreading fast, too fast. The spilled oil fueled the inferno, feeding the flames with a seemingly endless supply of fuel. Thick black smoke billowed into the sky, blocking out the night stars and making it hard to see, let alone breathe. Joel coughed, his lungs burning as he inhaled the acrid fumes.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The fire roared around Joel as he moved through the chaos, the deafening sound of the alarms and the crackle of burning metal surrounding him. His pulse thundered in his ears, but through the haze of heat and smoke, his attention snapped to movement across the deck. Pete.
Pete was running—his thick beard and broad shoulders unmistakable even in the storm of smoke and flame. He was heading toward the emergency ladders, his feet pounding against the catwalk, trying to escape the inferno closing in from all sides. Joel's stomach twisted in knots as he realized just how close Pete was to one of the ruptured riser pipes still gushing oil into the flames.
“Pete!” Joel yelled, his voice hoarse and raw from the smoke, but Pete either couldn’t hear him or was too focused on reaching the ladder. His friend had just made it to the edge of the platform when it happened.
The blast came out of nowhere—sudden and violent, a deep rumble followed by a burst of flames as another gas line exploded. The force of the explosion slammed into Pete like a truck, his body flung into the air as if he were weightless. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to that single moment. Joel watched, helpless, as Pete’s body was launched into the air, arms flailing, legs kicking, his face contorted in a mix of terror and pain.
Pete crashed into the guard railing with a bone-shattering thud, the sound of metal and flesh colliding ringing out even above the roar of the fire. His back arched in agony as his body bent unnaturally against the rail, the impact nearly snapping him in half. Joel winced, feeling the sickening blow in his own bones as he watched, powerless.
“Pete!” Joel’s voice cracked, desperate, but Pete was already in motion again, not of his own accord. The explosion hadn’t just hurled him into the railing—it was pushing him, forcing him toward the edge, the relentless flames and pressure driving him toward the abyss.
Pete's fingers clawed at the railing, trying to find some kind of hold, but the oil-slicked metal gave him nothing. His boots scraped against the deck, trying to anchor himself, but it was useless. The pressure kept coming, like an invisible hand shoving him toward the sea. Joel lunged forward, heart hammering in his chest, but the distance between them was too great, and the fire too intense.
Pete’s wide eyes met Joel’s for a fleeting moment, a look of sheer terror and helplessness flashing across his face. There was no time for words, no chance for a final scream, before the railing gave way with a tortured groan, the metal warping and twisting under the relentless force. Pete’s body tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the thick black smoke that obscured everything beyond the deck.
Joel skidded to a halt just in time to see Pete's figure plummet downward, limbs flailing as he was swallowed by the churning sea below. The water roared up to meet him, dark and unforgiving, a deadly mix of oil, fire, and waves crashing against the rig's legs. The sound of Pete’s body hitting the water was lost in the chaos, but Joel felt it deep in his chest—a gut-wrenching thud that stole the air from his lungs.
He stood frozen at the edge, his hands gripping the railing, eyes locked on the violent waves below. Pete was gone. Swallowed by the sea, consumed by the raging storm of water and oil. The shock of it hit Joel like a punch to the gut, his throat tightening with a mix of grief and disbelief. He wanted to scream, to yell Pete’s name one last time, but the words wouldn’t come. There was only the fire, the smoke, and the endless roar of the unforgiving ocean.
The rig groaned beneath his feet, the structure shifting and shuddering as the fire continued to spread. There was no time to mourn, no time to process what had just happened. Joel forced himself to turn away, his heart heavy and his limbs aching. He had to keep moving. If he stayed, he’d meet the same fate as Pete. And there was still a chance—however slim—that he could survive this nightmare.
The rig trembled beneath his feet, a deep, unsettling groan that reverberated through the steel as the intense heat warped the metal beams. The platform was shifting, tilting, as if the whole structure was struggling to hold itself together under the fiery assault. Every second felt like an eternity, the danger escalating with each passing moment as the fire consumed more and more of the rig. He had to act fast—there wasn’t much time before the entire platform would be engulfed.
As Joel turned away from the edge, his mind reeling from the chaos, a sudden jarring sensation struck him. It wasn’t the rig shaking this time, nor the fire scorching the platform around him. A strange, artificial chime echoed in his ears, cutting through the noise of the fire. Before his eyes, glowing text appeared in the air, hovering as though projected by an unseen force:
----------------------------------------
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Attention: System Merge Imminent
The Merge will occur in 1 Hour.
Prepare accordingly.
Your survival and adaptation will depend on your readiness.
Warning: Environmental hazards and challenges will escalate post-merge.
----------------------------------------
The text blinked once, then disappeared, leaving Joel standing stunned, heart still pounding from the fire and the fresh memory of Pete’s fall. The words “System Merge” hung heavy in his mind. What did it mean? And what new danger was coming?
Joel blinked hard, trying to shake the glowing words from his vision. System Merge? His mind raced, and he thought for a moment he might’ve hit his head. Maybe all the smoke and chaos were playing tricks on him, warping his senses. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the message to vanish. And just like that—it did, blinking out of existence as if it had never been there.
Concussion, he thought to himself, feeling the pounding in his skull intensify. I must have a concussion.
But there was no time to dwell on it. A deafening explosion rocked the rig once more, snapping Joel back into the brutal reality. The ground beneath him shook, sending a fresh wave of heat and smoke blasting across his face. Another fire had broken out, this one closer, more dangerous. The rig groaned in agony, metal twisting and warping as the inferno consumed everything in its path.
Focus. Stay alive, Joel thought, his strong body moving on instinct as he sprinted toward the nearest escape route.
Joel’s instincts kicked in, years of mechanical training allowing him to stay sharp in the chaos. His mind raced, quickly assessing the situation, calculating his next move. The evacuation orders were clear, but the exit routes were already becoming blocked by the spreading flames. He glanced toward the main lifeboats, but they were dangerously close to the growing fire. If he didn’t move soon, there’d be no way out. The rig was a death trap now, a ticking time bomb on the verge of collapsing into the sea.