Something bashed against the submarine with such a tremendous force that the vessel rocked violently from side to side, throwing people back and forth. Jacob and Whistler weren't ready for the first of these, and they earned bruises as their medals, but the second time the creature shook the ship, they clung to pipes that rattled in their holdings, as if they themselves feared the larger beast that came to feast upon them all.

Jacob and Whistler fled as if fear itself had manifested outside. They tripped and tumbled, but they didn't care, so long as they fell forwards and away from that horrid creature that tried to feed upon the glass. They ran down the corridor, and they heard shouts and screams from many of the other cabins, and dozens more people raced out from their rooms, leaving wide the doors, from which could be seen many more of the yellow-eyed, many-toothed monsters, trying to get inside.

The mania of his comrades helped quell his fear of monsters, and made him fear instead the bashing boots of men.

Jacob studied the iron graveyard, where every vehicle was its own gravestone. He drove slowly through, as if he was afraid to wake the dead. That was not it though. The general made it clear that they should fear the living.

Fear is leaden. Courage is golden. Let go of the weight of the world, and you will fly.