Chapter 1: Vanished at Sea

On December 28, 2010, the Ocean Star 2682—a massive deep-sea fishing boat flying the Maple Heights, Ohio, flag—pulled away from the icy Lake Erie dock, bound for the far-off, unpredictable South Pacific. A dog barked somewhere behind the chain-link fence, and the scent of diesel mixed with fresh snow as the crew hugged their families goodbye. The dock in Maple Heights buzzed with the low thrum of idling trucks, and the heavy December air bit with Lake Erie cold. Crew families clustered on the wharf, bundled up and waving; the ship’s bright hull reflected the snowy sky, promising adventure or, at least, escape. Some folks clutched thermoses of black coffee, hands jammed deep into jacket pockets, as the Ocean Star’s engines rumbled to life.

However, half a year later, on June 18, 2011, all contact with the vessel was suddenly lost. It was as if the boat had been erased—no radio, no satellite ping, nothing but static and the anxious hush that falls over a Midwest office when the Coast Guard rings—phones paused mid-ring, coffee cooling untouched. Folks in Maple Heights started checking news sites, whispering in grocery lines about bad omens and storms.

Two months after that, on August 12, the vessel was finally found and towed back to port by a U.S. Coast Guard ship. Salt-worn and battered, the Ocean Star’s hull limped into harbor behind the Coast Guard cutter. Reporters crowded the docks, local news vans double-parked, and onlookers craned their necks for a glimpse of survivors. The rust streaks and battered railings told their own story of hardship at sea.

But of the original 33 crew members, only 11 remained; the other 22 had mysteriously vanished. The town’s breath caught. The families on the dock—some holding homemade welcome signs, some clutching each other—counted heads, then started to shout. The missing faces echoed in the hush that followed. Social media filled with rumors: pirates, storms, something worse.