“Is it recording?”

A video camera was overtaken with nothing but a middle aged man’s face, his eyes staring straight into the lens.

“Does red mean it’s recording?” He asked with a thick Southern accent, the audio loud and clipping due to his voice going right into the microphone.

He finally turned it around, showing three other middle aged men all smiling and waving.

“We are the Bermu-Dads…” One said.

“We’re not using that name.” Another piped in.

“Shut up.” The first one said laughing.

The video suddenly cut, an edit to get straight to the point.

“We are four middle aged Dads with nothing better to do, so we made our way down here to Bermuda.” One said.

“My name is Robert, these two are Paul and Tom. And that man holding the camera is Greg.” One said.

All four men had thick Southern accents, all of them dressed in Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts, sandals, baseball caps, sunglasses, and sunburned arms.

“We’re going to go out into the waters of what people call the Bermuda Triangle to prove that it’s all a bunch of malarky!” Robert shouted.

“We’re pretty split on it. Two say it’s bullshit and the other two…” Tom pointed to himself and Paul before giving a thumbs up.

“Are right.” He finished.

“Oh please. You’re gonna buy me so many beers when we get back to shore.” Robert joked.

All four men laughed.

They each had a small suitcase, but they also had four different coolers that were all packed. Two of them were just beers while the third was water and the fourth was food.

“So, how long does it say it’ll take?” Paul asked.

“Last I checked it was gonna be about 10 days if we stay straight the entire time. Any weather or misdirections could change that, but I packed enough food for two weeks, so we should be fine.” Greg replied.

“Alright, well then we should get to it.”

Robert and Paul worked together to carry the coolers while Greg grabbed the suitcases while he continued recording.

They were crammed into a speedboat, which had enough room for all four men and all of their items in a large open area surrounded by cushioned seats.

Robert went to the steering wheel, looking around to make sure they didn’t forget anything.

“We good to go?” He shouted loudly.

“Hell yeah let’s go!” Paul screamed.

“Let’s do this bitches!” Greg screamed.

They were all cheering and hollering as the boat engine revved up, shooting out across the water and away from the shore.

Greg fumbled around with the camera, once again bringing it close to his face.

“Alright, now how do you turn this…”

“Alright, so we have gone about Fifty Miles into the ocean. We are clearly in the Bermuda Triangle, but we haven’t seen anything yet. And I do mean anything. No clouds in the sky. No fish in the water. Not a single living thing anywhere near us.” Greg said as he held the camera out to look across the vastness of the sea and emptiness of the sky.

“I think you’re just paranoid man. Nothing out here in the vast ocean. I guarantee we’ll see something soon.” Robert said off camera.

Greg quickly panned over just as Robert cracked open a can of beer.

He was sitting on one of the cushioned seats, Paul taking over the driving while also chugging from a can.

The boat was moving rather quickly, but the water was completely still except for where they were gliding across it, tossing up waves that disappeared almost instantly afterwards.

“Hey, what’s that?” Thom asked as he got to his feet.

All of the men slowly got to their feet and looked forward.

They were heading straight into a thick wall of fog that was unmoving, almost appearing as solid as a brick wall.

“Should we stop?” Greg asked, holding the camera up to show the dense white clouds floating over the water.

“Nah man. We’ll be fine.” Robert said, drinking another beer.

“Just keep going. It’ll be fine, just some fog.” Paul said.

“Alright.” Greg said, sounding unsure as the boat drew closer and closer into the fog.

The water was somehow even more still, barely moving at all. The air seemed frozen, not a single gust of wind going in any direction.

“Well, here we go.” Paul said.

The boat was suddenly surrounded by fog, the cloud so thick and dense that the men struggled to see even each other only a few steps away.

“Guys?” Greg asked.

“Yeah?” Robert asked.

“Everything okay?” Greg asked.

“I’m fine.” Paul replied, the sound of another beer cracking open piercing through the air.

“Well, we should keep going straight. Doesn’t seem like the fog is going to thin out anytime soon.” Paul said as he grabbed the wheel.

“Oh shit.” Paul suddenly said.

“What?”

All of the other three men stumbled around blindly through the cloud, finally making it over to the driver’s seat where Paul was standing.

“What is it?” Robert asked.

The three men looked closely at the compass right next to the large wheel. The needle was spinning rapidly, impossible to find North.

“Well, that isn’t good.” Greg said.

“We just have to keep the boat straight, and then we’ll…”

A massive wave suddenly appeared, smashing into the boat and tossing it into the air, causing the boat to spin around before crashing down.

“Protect the beer!” Robert shouted as he jumped over and got on top of the coolers.

Another wave lifted the boat up and crashed down hard, causing the men to have to grab on, the camera going high into the air and looking out onto the thick cloud.

“Where’s the camera?” Greg shouted.

The camera was spinning around wildly, looking around everywhere rapidly before crashing down.

The video cut right away.

“Is it working now?” Robert asked.

The camera flickered on, glitching before showing Greg’s face.

It looked tired, covered in wrinkles and unkempt facial hair. His eyes looked lifeless as he yawned.

“How much food do we have left?” Paul asked.

“Shit…like a day’s worth.” Tom replied.

“How long have we been out here?” Greg asked.

“Apparently Nine Days.” Robert replied, opening the cooler full of melted ice and soggy bags of prepackaged food.

“Shit. It's only felt like a few hours.” Paul said.

“Fuck I’m so hungry.” Tom said.

“Well we need to ration the food out. Don’t know how much longer we’ll be here.” Greg said as he finally turned the camera.

The other three men were wearing nothing but dirty, stained underwear. Their entire bodies and heads were covered in wild hair that was going in every possible direction.

Their bodies were thinner than before they left, but still with some muscle and fat to them.

Empty cans covered the floor of the boat and the cushioned seats as they leaned back.

“Fucking hell.” Robert groaned.

They were still surrounded by fog, barely able to see anything outside of the boat.

“So…is this just gonna be a bunch of fog?” Robert asked.

“Oh please, there’s gotta be more that just that right?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know anymore man. My brain is so tired.” Tom replied.

“What else are we supposed to do?” Paul asked.

“Wanna play a game?” Robert asked.

“Fuck off!” All three of the other men shouted.

“Oh come on! Just one game!” Robert complained.

“We already tried I Spy. Remember how that went?” Greg asked.

“That was a week ago.” Robert replied.

“It was yesterday.” Tom replied.

“I don’t…what day is it?” Greg asked.

“How should I know?” Paul asked.

“We left on…fuck. When did we leave?” Greg asked.

“On Friday.” Paul replied.

“No, it was Monday.” Robert said.

“Was it?” Greg asked.

“I don’t remember.” Robert replied.

“Me either.” Tom said.

The four men sat in silence for a few seconds, all of them staring upwards through the dense haziness that prevented them from seeing the sky.

“I gotta turn the video off. Hopefully we can save some battery.” Greg said, messing with the camera before turning it off.

As it sat on the floor, the camera suddenly turned on by itself, an instant wave of electrical energy surging through it, the battery going from about 40 percent to nearly fully charged in the snap of a finger.

The camera was sitting on the floor, pointed at the men’s feet as they all stood around.

“The engine is ******* shot!” Robert screamed.

“Must have been some sort of electrical surge.” Tom said as he grabbed the steering wheel, but right after he did the control console exploded with sparks and burst into flames.

“Oh shit!” Tom shouted, grabbing one of the coolers filled with water.

“No don’t throw…” Greg started, but Tom threw the water onto the fire.

Another massive explosion of fire and lightning shot out, hitting his face and chest and causing him to fly backwards. He screamed in agony, his flesh engulfed in fire as he laid on the ground. He was thrashing around as the other men quickly threw the other coolers of water onto him, steam going out in every possible direction from every inch of skin.

His screams grew quiet, and his body still.

The camera could barely see the hand, once twitching, stop and rest in silence. It was still locked onto the three pairs of feet of the other men, no idea how much time had passed since the last recording.

“I think…I think he’s dead…” Robert said, the fire killing itself and disappearing from the console.

“Shit.” Greg said, his body shifting around.

“What do we do now?” Paul asked.

“We can’t keep him here with us, can we?” Robert asked.

The camera only saw pairs of feet pacing around rapidly, beginning to lose track of who was who.

“We need to keep his body.” Greg said, sounding cold yet holding back emotion.

“Why? I don’t want that smell filling the air.” Robert complained.

There was tense silence.

“No…no you can’t be…” Robert muttered.

There was silence again as the camera suddenly cut off, another surge causing the video to end abruptly.

The video suddenly cut back, this time Paul being the one to hold it.

His eyes were near lifeless, pale and blank with no emotion. His head was covered in so much shaggy hair that it was becoming difficult to see his skin. Yet his disheveled brown and gray hair had splashes of color all over it.

Large patches of red, covering not only his hair but his entire face.

His eyes still staring blankly.

“We…we…” Paul stuttered, his brain so far gone that words were seeming like ancient history.

“Quiet.” Greg interrupted.

The three men had seemed to devolve as the camera dropped to the ground of the boat. It laid in a massive pool of red liquid, looking out at Robert and Greg sitting next to each other. Their bodies were thin, their underwear so worn out it was beginning to fall apart and leave their bodies *****. Their faces, hands, and chests were covered in the same red liquid that covered the ground and covered Paul’s face.

Robert was staring out with no emotion or expression while Greg was ever so subtly shaking.

“Sick…” Robert barely got out of unmoving lips.

“Sick?” Greg asked, not even turning to look at him.

Robert’s stomach began to loudly churn. His throat began to heat up and bubble as he bent over, vomiting violently all over the ground of the boat. Pieces of meat flopped out and covered the ground in more liquid, but Greg shoved Robert to the side. He hunched over the meat and the vomit, the camera unable to see what he was doing.

But the sound of eating filled the air as the camera suddenly flickered off again.

The camera once again turned on, staring straight into the mad eyes of Greg who was laughing maniacally. He was moving so rapidly the camera could barely make out anything it was seeing. Just blurs of bodies and the same thick fog everywhere it looked.

Greg was trying to speak, but the words were fictional and unable to be understood. He just continued to laugh and holler.

Paul joined in on the laughing and the hollering as the wild camera movements and shakes settled just long enough to show him.

Paul stood nearly drenched in the red liquid, his entire body coated in a thick layer of it as pieces of meat were stuck in his facial hair. His eyes were just as mad as Greg’s, staring with nothing behind them.

Their minds were impossible to see. Their sanity in the past.

Paul and Greg kept bumping into each other, stumbling around with every footstep so loud and wet sounding, like stepping into a massive puddle over and over again.

But as the camera scanned over the scene of the boat, coated in so many different liquids, something became noticeable.

That in the boat, there were only two bodies.

Greg and Paul.

The bodies of Tom and Robert were completely gone, not even traces of bone left over.

Greg and Paul were growling and grunting like wild animals, their survival instincts clouding any sort of thought or reason or logic.

The camera fell onto one of the seats, staring out as the two men kept running around, bashing things into the ground or against each other. Rusty cans of empty beer, plastic bags that had been torn to shreds, pieces of fecal matter that were as hard as stone.

But then Greg and Paul stopped as their eyes locked.

They had been together for an unknown amount of time, yet this was the first time that they locked eyes.

And it was as if that was all that was needed.

All that was needed to unlock their aggression.

In a flash, both of their bodies lunged forward.

Their dirty, insanely long nails on their finger tips slashed each other, sending blood flying all over the place. The two feral beasts were grappling like amateur wrestlers, trying to take each other down.

But when neither of their frail bodies could overpower the other, they began to smash their heads into each other. Headbutt after headbutt after headbutt, skull to skull contact over and over again.

Their minds were dead anyways, no more damage could possibly be done to their broken brains.

Greg hissed as Paul howled.

Their heads continued to smash together until Greg suddenly shifted his head, biting down hard on Paul’s chin. Paul howled and began to wildly claw his hands all over Greg, slashing his skin and causing blood to leak out from dozens of different cuts and wounds.

Greg pulled back as he bit down, the bottom jaw of Paul suddenly popping out with blood, bone, and flesh going everywhere. Paul screamed in agony when Greg suddenly leaped on top of him.

The camera could only see the top of Greg’s back as he moved around frantically, the sounds of screams muffled out by rabid chewing, biting, and tearing of flesh.

The sounds suddenly stopped, the camera picking up no sound at all.

The body began to shift around, the sound of eating once again filling the air.

Flesh and muscle being torn, the sound of bone being broken to get to the marrow inside.

Greg slowly lifted back up, his back straightening with every degree letting out disturbingly loud creaks and cracks.

His back was to the camera while he was panting and breathing heavily, sounding more like a bear than a human.

His head slowly began to turn, looking back at the camera that had recorded so much yet missed countless days and moments.

No sense of time.

Time was nonexistent.

Greg slowly began to turn more, revealing a face covered in red liquid.

A face, an entire body covered nearly head to toe in blood.

Blood of Paul.

Blood of Robert.

Blood of Tom.

Multiple layers of blood, with Greg’s organs full of other organs that had been ripped to shreds and chewed into oblivion.

Greg stared into the lens of the camera, able to see his reflection staring back at him.

The mad, empty eyes staring into an identical pair.

Greg was still breathing heavy and panting, his thin body struggling to move without visible and audible pain being felt in every single fiber.

Greg continued to stare at himself, as if waiting for something to happen.

As if waiting for his mind to suddenly fix itself, for realization to kick in.

But that didn’t happen.

Greg let out one more primal scream, then smashed his head into the camera.

The video cut to black, leaving the fate of Greg to be completely unknown.