The older officer looked kind, almost fatherly. He set the coffee cup down in front of me and sat down with a good-hearted smile. I pulled the survival blanket closer around me and did my best to smile back.
‘That should see you right, you must be chilled to the bone.’ Martin said. ‘Truth is you’re lucky to be alive!’
‘I know.’ I said, my voice quiet, before adding ‘Thank you.’
‘You don’t need to thank us, it’s what we signed up for! But I would like to ask you what happened out there, if that’s okay.’ Seeing the look on my face he leaned back a little, giving me some space. ‘I understand that this is hard, but we need to make sure none of this ever happens again to our trainees.’
I glanced around before I answered, taking in the small, windowless room they’d brought me to. On the boat back they’d asked some questions as they treated me, but once I was back on land there’d been hushed conversations and calls being made. Mentions that I was new to the team, still in training. The officer in front of me, Martin, had led me here once I was able to walk, and this is where I’d been since.
‘There are dangers out at sea Oliver, you know this. We just want to make sure that you’re okay; body, mind, and soul.’
The kindly smile he offered was at odds with the closed door, but I hesitantly began to speak.
‘I was being stupid, really stupid. We were running some speedboat drills, slamming it through the big waves at speed, taking advantage of the storm to practice bad-weather work. The rain and the spray were intense. Steph had instructed me to be spotter, so I was standing and looking for the target…’ I stopped again, not wanting to admit what I’d done. Martin looked at me, the wrinkles around his eyes asking me to trust him. I gathered myself and carried on.
‘My lifejacket. The strap was twisted and cutting into my ribs. I thought it would be okay, just for a moment to unclip, if I was still holding the rail with my other hand…’ I looked up, desperate not to be judged. ‘And so of course the boat bucks at that moment, of course I’ve now only got one hand holding the boat. And I overbalance, and…’
‘Everyone makes mistakes Oliver.’ Martin says, soothing. ‘I’ve unbuckled my jacket before, we all have.’ He paused for a second as I took a sip of coffee to wet my dry lips. ‘So what happened next?’ He pressed.
‘I hit the surface screaming, so I was instantly swallowing water…’ I began. I explained it all, the burning salt blinding me, filling my nose. The wake of the boat had tumbling me, sending me disoriented and spinning into the darkness; the feeling of the lifejacket being torn away, my clothes and shoes becoming as heavy as iron as I desperately kicked for what I hoped was the surface. I described breaking into air for just long enough to suck in the wave that forced me back under. My training telling me that I had to get my shoes and jacket off so I could swim. The sleeve getting caught, tangling me, binding my arms. Lungs burning as I watched the surface recede as I sank through the yielding water beneath me. Fighting my own convulsing throat that wanted to breathe air that didn’t exist.
I didn’t even realise I was crying until I felt Martin’s hand on my shoulder.
‘That’s awful.’ He said. It was a kindly gesture, but Martin was stiff. There was an intensity in his eyes that he was attempting to mask with his fatherly demeanour. ‘You sound like you were in a lot of trouble. How did you get back to the surface?’
My mind flashed back, forcing me to relive the experience. The ocean had become dark so quickly, the dim light of the grey sky snuffed out by the heavy water that parted effortlessly beneath me. I’d wrenched against the fabric of my shirt, kicked uselessly with my booted feet, bitten my tongue and tasted blood mix with salt. All so futile. I’d gone to scream, one final defiance against the inevitability of death, when the world shifted around me. Something moved, something big, a presence so colossal that it had seemed like the darkness itself had taken form. I was sinking, a struggling, dying spec that fell unnoticed into the void. And then all at once the void turned, and it was like the ocean itself beheld me…
Martin’s eyes were piercing, as if he could read my thoughts through my silent memories. I wanted to tell him everything, but something inside me recoiled. My dry throat tightened in the stuffy air and I shifted against the chair.
‘I had my floatation device, the emergency one. I managed to get my arms to it and pull. It kept me alive until the boat found me.’ I tried.
The lie hung in the room for a second, feeling almost like a physical presence. Martin paused, before smiling and sitting back down in his seat. Inscruitble, he grabbed a box of tissues and held them out to me.
‘They didn’t find a floatation device on you.’ He said as I dabbed at my face.
‘Oh…’ I muttered, ‘I think I dropped it just before they got to me.’
‘They’re bright, deliberately hard to miss.’ Martin fixed me with a stare, and suddenly the air in the room felt very heavy. I swallowed into a neck like sandpaper. ‘Very hard to miss. Light on them and everything. And your story doesn’t match what the rescuers saw when they got to you.’
‘I…I don’t really remember…’ I tried. My tongue felt rough against the roof of my mouth. My coffee cup was empty, but Martin’s friendly demenor had vanished and I didn’t dare ask for more.
‘They say they saw you kick slowly to the surface, coming from real deep down. That you stopped before you broke water, hovered beneath the surface for a moment or two. See, to me that doesn’t sound like someone who’s drowning. That sounds like someone who’s not in any trouble at all, down there at least.’
The silence following his words was broken only by the hum of the air conditioner. I pulled in a difficult breath, feeling my lungs working hard in the stale room. I opened my mouth to speak, but Martin cut me off.
‘Seafarers tend to be a superticious lot, Oliver. There are stories that go back beyond memories of strange things in the ocean. Monsters, creatures, krakens and sirens. You know all this.’ He moved forward in his chair so close that our knees touched. I instinctively pulled back slightly and wrapped the blanket tighter around myself. ‘I’ve seen and heard strange things out there myself. Things I can’t explain and wouldn’t like to dare try. I’m only going to ask you this once, Oliver. What happened down there?’
Down there. The presence beneath me had shifted again. Immense. There was the smallest movement from it, barely a twitch, and the rush of water it created was like the spinning of worlds. The entire abyss beneath me rolled to fix me with its gaze, an unfathomable presence that pulled me down like a mote being devoured. I looked back, not knowing if this was real or something that had come from my dying brain. As my thoughts faded I send out one desperate and final plea for my life, and as I did I felt something squirm into my mind; a wet, ancient presence that writhed its way between my neurons and bound my soul in a freezing dark cocoon.
And then my body had rebelled. The pain was too much, the acid in my blood driving my mouth to open against my will; the tearing, burning agony of salt water rushing into my lungs. And then…I’d breathed it out. The pain had disappeared, the panic had faded. I’d hung there in the darkness, still, silent. The heavy feeling of cold water washing in and out of my body the only sensation I was aware of. The heavy feeling settled in my mind, unpleasant though not unwelcome. The presence, the being around me, retreated back, leaving me alone. Alive.
Martin was still staring at me, a vein in his forehead pulsing. I opened my mouth to answer, to say some lie. Instead, seawater gushed forth, soaking the front of the shock blanket. He stood up, his chair screeching harshly on the concrete floor.
‘Well, I’d say that does it then.’ He said, looking at me with something between fear and disgust.
‘Does what, what are you going to do with me now?’ I rasped out. My head swam as I stood as well, but I made sure that I stayed on my feet. I tasted ocean on my tongue.
‘We’re a military branch, Oliver. You’ll be taken into custody and held somewhere safe. This isn’t your fault, but you’re dangerous now and we can’t have you wandering free. You’ve touched Them. I’ll personally see to it that you’re comfortable wherever you end up.’
‘Who are “Them”? Martin, what happened to me, what’s going on?’ There was a hysterical edge to my cracked voice now, but Martin wasn’t listening any more.
‘We’ll get you safe, Oliver, then we’ll explain everything.’
As the lock of the door clicked open, I knew that this was it. A man and a woman were entering the room, still only coastguard, both unarmed, but both looking serious. Martin had turned to them to speak, to tell them how I was to be held, but I was already moving, driven by fear and instinct and the powerful, all-consuming thirst. The new man hadn’t been looking at me as I barelled into him, and he let out a choking wail as my forehead made contact with his nose. A split second later I was pounding down the hallways, bursting out into daylight, looking around wildly as shouts and fast footsteps followed me.
Without being consciously aware of making the choice I span away from the road and pelted across the tarmac towards the beach. On land I’d be trapped, hunted, found. But the sea offered safety. I fixed my eyes on the lapping waves and redoubled my speed, feeling the hot grit beneath my feet, the dry air rasping at my skin. The water would hide me, I would slip into the darkness and be gone forever.
The gunshot rang out as I dived into the surf. I swam wildly, recklessly, throwing water behind me with my arms and thrashing my legs. The low roar of a boat engine came to me, but the water was getting mercifully deeper, the current stronger, and they couldn’t catch me down here, nothing could catch me down here. The icy water welcomed me back, accepting and shielding me as I fled.
I’ve been down here for a few weeks now. The search operation went on for days, but they never stood a chance. Today, a tourist dropped their phone while paddleboarding and I managed to scoop it up. Waterproof technology is wonderful nowadays. I’m writing this to let you all know that Coastguard are hiding things from you. Come and discover them for yourselves! The sea is wide and welcoming, and there’s room down here for all of us. There are things down here that love us, things that can help and guide us.