The man scanned the faces of everyone there. His distress unsettled the onlookers as a dark mass began forming from underneath him. His distress turned to panic as he began screaming and begging for help, but all anyone could help to do, is continue watching as the mass continued growing.
A thick vapor started to form on the surface of the pond. As it released, a putrid odor filled the air as some of the scientists and workers became ill. A panic ensued as my grandfather watched in horror as the man’s expression turned docile and he was slowly pulled under.
During the panic, my grandfather decided to go rushing in after the man. As his body hit the water, his muscles began weakening and he found it difficult to even move. His muscles effectively turned to jello and he begins to panic. In his terror, while attempting to lift his head above the surface, he witnesses stirring coming from the bottom of the lake.
As the darkness that coated the pond previously, began to recede, he had a moment to observe his surroundings. The man had vanished, but the darkness once filling the lake, began retreating into a large crevice at the base of the pond.
For a brief moment, it seemed as though the crevice had shifted slightly before he was pulled back to the surface.
My grandfather found himself being forced by gunpoint to explain his actions before being dragged from the ponds edge to a tent a short distance from the worksite.
He was sat down and questioned relentlessly about his behavior, about whether his actions were influenced by an outside force, or whether or not he had “make contact with sap from the elder trees” by the men in yellow. At this point, my grandfather was hoping to be removed from the project. I think he may have even accepted a bullet to escape whatever grizzly fate befell the man in the pond.
Unfortunately, my Grandfather wasn’t given an out. He was put on high alert as they decided to continue research. I think it was obvious to everyone at this stage, that opting out was not an option.
Progress had been made back at the worksite as my father was being escorted back.
One of the researchers had discovered a type of saliva coating the surface of the pond and trace amounts of glycine in samples taken after the recent event.
Men once dressed in yellow, were now dawning divers gear, prepared to explore the ponds depths. As my grandfather describes it. It was as though, at that moment, the entire worksite went into lockdown. Everyone was instructed to halt research and the pond was not to be disturbed.
Among the diving team was one of the scientists. Although no one was to discuss research or personal lives, my grandfather knew of this man from his research as a respected and well-known ichthyologist. The remaining scientists waited anxiously as to what the diving team may encounter.
One of the men in charge led the team, followed closely my the ichthyologist and the remainder of the divers behind him.
To my grandfather, it felt like hours as the remaining team on the surface waited with bated breath, unsure of the diving teams success. Suddenly, bubbles began to form on the surface in the center of the pond. Only moments later, objects of varying shapes and sizes began to follow. These pieces slowly emerged, as they began floating toward the shoreline.
My grandfather approached the edge of the pond to get a better look as the object crept closer. Suddenly, a ripple from the water began shaking the object violently as the ichthyologist broke through the surface of the pond next to my grandfather. The man was screaming through his mask as he began clawing at the soft soft surrounding the ponds edge. He continued frantically grasping onto tall grass and moist clumps of dirt as they give way, forcing him to start again.
My grandfather, in shock, took a moment to react as he helped the man out of the water. Even as my grandfather pulled him onto land and laid him on his back, he began kicking violently away from the ponds edge as though something was after him. The man pulled his mask from his face, struggling to catch his breath as the men in yellow swarmed him, screaming for answers. They wanted to know what happened to the rest of their team.
The Ichthyologist’s teeth were chattering. He was in shock and unable to speak. The objects in the water drew closer as my grandfather looked on in horror. As mangled pieces of what remained of the diving team brushed against thick brush and wet soil, he already understood, what the men in yellow did not.