by C. J. Waller
“Hey… you okay?” He knew it was lame, but what else was he going to say?
Decker snorted again and followed it with a small, disdainful laugh. “Yeah. I’m peachy. You?”
Paul crouched down beside him and peeled one of Decker’s hands from his face. He laced his fingers through his, and gave his hand a squeeze.
“We don’t have to stay here, you know,” Paul said.
“Yes, we do.”
“No, we don't. Not if you don't want to. Brandon... I thought it was bad enough yesterday, but today you're falling apart at the seams. I don't know what history you and this place have, but it isn't doing you any good-”
“Paul... please. Even I can see that footage is pure gold. We'd be stupid to leave now. Usually I would be jumping with the rest of you, but… but…” He trailed off.
“But what?” Paul asked gently.
Conflict battled across Decker's face. “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Sure doesn’t look like nothing from where I’m standing. Come on, Decks. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
Decker took in a deep breath and blew it out hard, as if he was psyching himself up for something big. He flexed his hand around Paul’s fingers once, twice, three times, steeling himself as if for confession.
“You know I have family from this town, right?”
“Yeah. Your Dad’s family.”
“That’s right. And you know my Dad died when I was seven, and since then I never went back because my Mam didn’t get on with my grandmother.”
“Yeah, you’ve told me all that before, even before all this lake monster shit started up.”
“Right. Y’see… y’see…” he stopped and went to start again, but his mouth flopped open and shut like a fish taken out of water.
“Brandon… what is it? You obviously want to tell me, so why don’t you just get it out there? It can’t be that bad.”
“Can’t it?” Decker chuckled bitterly. “Paul… You know I said I hadn’t told you about the legend of Dùisg a' Pheacaich because I thought it was a load of mis-remembered nonsense? Well, that’s a lie.”
“Oh.” Paul paused, unsure of what to say next. “What's the truth, then?”
“I'd completely forgotten everything to do with this place. Oh, sure, I remembered the name because of my Dad, but the rest of it? If you’d asked me six months ago, I would’ve told you to stop being stupid. Because I hadn’t just forgotten bits – I’d forgotten all of it. I suppose you could say I repressed it. I don't know, I’m no psychologist. But being here, being by the water…bits are coming back. Not much, but bits. And it isn’t a nice feeling.”
He paused to bite at the skin on the side of his free thumb. Paul didn’t speak; he was right about it being a confession and he didn’t want to break whatever personal demon Decker was trying to drive out.
“My Dad,” he continued, eventually. “My Dad used to take me up here as a kid. We sat up there, on the cliff, over looking the water. I remember him warning me not to go near the lake. And I don’t mean a ‘because you can’t swim for shit, son’ thing, I mean a real, heartfelt plea. The loch scared him. And now I remember that it… it scares me, too. I’m sorry. It’s irrational, but I can’t help it. There, I’ve said it. I’m scared, Paul. I'm scared of this place.”
Paul didn’t know what to say to that. He disentangled his fingers and stood up, running a hand through his hair as he did so. This was something he felt Decker should be telling a shrink, not him. He knew he had unresolved Daddy issues, but boy, this was way out of his remit.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” he said. “Just that whatever you want to do, I’ll go with it. I mean, we can go and, uh, get you someone to talk all this over with-”
“You mean a psychologist, don’t you?” Decker asked. He sounded amused. Paul wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“No – no, of course not. Well, okay, maybe. If these memories are causing you this much distress, then we can postpone the shoot, or pad out what we’ve got and use that – I mean, the footage of the church is nothing short of awesome-”
Decker smiled, derailing Paul.
“You’re the sweetest, you know that?” he said. “Here’s me, freaking out over something I half-remember from over twenty-five years ago and you’re willing to chuck it all in just to make me happy. No… you’re right. I’m being silly. Of course I am. Come on – let’s go see the rest of that footage and get on with this. The sooner we get it sorted, the sooner we can get out of here – and the sooner you can cart me off to the nearest nut-house if you want to.”
Decker straightened up, kissed Paul on the cheek and wandered back to the others. To a casual acquaintance, he might have looked happy; at peace, even. But Paul saw the slight hunch to his shoulders and the way he crammed his trembling hands into his pockets so no one would see the mess he'd chewed his fingernails into. He was trying to suppress his fear to make him happy, and that made Paul feel even more wretched. He glanced back over the loch and felt a powerful, conflicting tug. Fame and fortune were potentially buried there; everything he'd ever wished for. Everything they'd ever wished for. Could he throw all that away, based on Decker's nebulous fears?
He sighed. Once upon a time, he would have said yes, of course, no issue... but now they were here, faced with this dilemma, he wasn't so sure. Oh, yes, of course he'd made the offer, but that's what you did, wasn't it? You made the offer and hoped that your significant other would say no and you'd get your own way, guilt free. But it didn't feel guilt free. What kind of bastard was he to make the one who was supposed to mean everything to him go through this?
Round and round the arguments swirled, churning Paul's guts until he felt physically sick. He trudged after Decker, no closer to an answer.
o0o
It was a testament to their shared friendship that no one said anything – not even Yolanda – when Paul and Decker joined them again.
“Right,” said Piers, gesticulating at the screen. That he was now talking with his hands betrayed his excitement. “This is where it all gets really fucking interesting,”
They all crowded around the screen. No one spoke as the footage sparked up again. Video-Piers now swam closer to one of the windows. It didn’t blink silver at him, which indicated it was probably broken. He looked back and caught a glimpse of Mags floating behind him, recording his progress. A raised thumb appeared just in front of the lens. Mags reciprocated.
He turned back and swam over to the opening. The glass was long-gone and the hole it left more than enough to allow him to enter. He paused – Paul guessed this was when he tried to convince him to let him enter – and instead just took a good, long look at everything in the room.
Paul craned his head further. This was it. The interior. Just as Piers had said, the room was huge – much larger than he had anticipated. As far as he could see, the pews had been torn out, as had the cloisters, creating a massive space. At the centre sat a slab of black stone, covered in what looked like graffiti. Upon this altar was one, solitary thing. It was small, too small to make out at this distance, and it looked like it was… flickering? It was too dark to tell against the black of the altar, but whatever it was, Paul couldn’t take his eyes off it – and judging by the way Piers was filming, neither could he.
Suddenly, the camera whipped around. This was it, Paul thought. This was when the signal had failed. The limitations of their equipment meant they had no sound and so could not hear their conversations, but his mind filled in the rushing sound of water as Piers frantically searched the area for whatever it was Mags had seen. But it was gone; Piers had not captured it.
Good job Mags probably had.
No one wasted time speculating what that thing on the altar might be. That could come later. Now, all anyone wanted to see was what Mags had captured. Paul fought the desire to tell Decker to fast forward through their descent, but knew it was unprofessional – what if they missed something? – and so they sat through an
agonising minutes of near-identical footage until Mags hung back when Piers swam ahead to investigate the broken window.
The church lost none of its imposing magnificence on a second viewing, and Paul found himself jumping at every shadow, every ripple. Was it there? Were the tales true? If they could prove it… Jesus… He daren’t let himself think of the consequences, but visions of fast cars and expensive holidays still intruded on his thoughts, driving out Decker's fears and his own dilemma. Had someone slowed the footage? It seemed to creep past as Mags continued to watch Piers, her view shifting every now and again as she drifted on an unseen current-
“There!” Mags exclaimed and jabbed her finger at the screen.
Paul’s heart leaped into his throat. Something dark hovered on the edge of Mags’ vision.
“I didn’t notice it at first,” she said by way of explanation. “But-”
She didn’t get to finish.
“What the hell is that?” Yolanda breathed.
No one answered her.
No one had a clue.
It was elongated, but indistinct. Like a snake in pain, it curled around itself; sometimes it even looked as if it poured through itself. The distorting effects of the water meant it was hard to tell how big it was as it hung there in the water, writhing, watching them.
Then, before anyone could look closer, it vanished.
“Could be… could be some kind of weird shadow pattern from the water’s surface,” Piers said, but he didn’t look convinced.
“Back it up. Watch it again,” Paul said, which Decker dutifully did.
On the second viewing, things, if anything, got weirder.
“I can’t make out any actual solid structure to it,” Paul said. “No head, no limbs… unless the… the wavy bits are limbs… but who knows?”
No one else said anything. What could they say? But whatever it was, they couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been watching the divers. They watched it a further three times, rewinding, pausing, rewinding again, trying to pinpoint areas of recognition, to be able to slot it into a more comfortable place in their minds, but they couldn’t. It wouldn’t fit into any box; not fish, not reptile, mammal, even invertebrate. An awkward thought tapped Paul on the shoulder: maybe Malcolm Allen was indeed telling the truth, after all...
“We need to get more footage,” said Piers. Paul nodded eagerly, but Mags shook her head and Decker simply went white.
“I… I don’t know,” Yolanda said. “I mean, yeah, more footage would cement our success here, but shouldn’t we at least try to find out more about it? Maybe... maybe we should go and talk to Allen again. He might know something else. I mean, we have no idea what we’re up against-”
“Exactly,” Paul interrupted. “That’s why we need more.” That, and there was no way he was going to crawl back to Malcolm Allen; not yet, anyway. “Come on, you guys – we have real, proper, bona-fide footage of something truly weird living in this loch! This isn’t hearsay, or… or some whack job's eyewitness account. This is real. It’s there, and it’s real! If we can get more, then no one will be able to question its authenticity.” His eyes saucered as he finally allowed his dreams of riches to run riot. “Fucking hell, guys – this could be it. This could be the thing that makes us!”
“I don’t know, Paul… going back in there feels foolish.” Mags unconsciously scratched at the bandage on her leg. “Say that is a real entity and not just some trick of the light-”
“Come on, that’s no trick of the light. You caught the footage yourself! You’re the one who told us about it!”
“Yeah, I know, but even so, we’re jumping to some pretty huge conclusions here. Doesn't anyone else feel it's all a bit convenient? How many times have we spent days filming and seen squat? Then we're here and kerching, one day in and we're seeing so-called proof-”
“What? You're complaining because we actually might have something this time?”
“No! No... more that it doesn't feel right. If it is the so-called monster and it is that easy to find, then why haven't other people?”
“Why haven't other people? Listen to yourself, Mags! No one else has found it because no one else has come looking. We have potentially found something special. It doesn't matter why we saw it – fate, divine intervention, Mars being in ascension or whatever – all that matters is it's there, we're here and we need to get back in there and see if we can track it down before we waste this golden opportunity that has been so kindly gifted to us.”
“Yes, Paul, I take your point.” Her tone turned clipped, and she stared at him the way a furious mother stares at an unruly child. “All I am saying is maybe some people,” her eyes flickered towards Decker, “might like time to coordinate something a little more coherent than ‘let’s go back and hunt it down!!”
Piers made to say something, but a swift nudge in the ribs from Mags shut him up.
Decker was staring at the ground. He might have said he was okay with all of this, but it was pretty clear now that he wasn’t. He swallowed audibly and then looked up. “What are you guys looking at?”
“Uh, no one’s looking…” Paul said. “We just want to know what you think. You’re the nearest thing we have to an expert here. Do you think that’s the creature, or something else?”
It took Decker a long while to gather his thoughts. All of them, even Piers, sat and waited politely for his response. The seconds stretched to the longest minute Paul had ever experienced. Then Decker sighed, long and drawn out, and ran a hand over his face.
“I... don't know. The part of me that fears the loch says 'hell no, this is something we shouldn’t be messing with', but that part of me is, like, seven years old and I need to get a grip on that.” He hesitated again, obviously steeling himself. “So… yeah. Let’s go back down there. Let’s hunt this sucker down and make us millions. Fuck it.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Decks?” Mags looked genuinely troubled by Decker’s response. “Really? You’re not just saying that to keep us all sweet, are you?”
“No – I mean it. Thanks for your concern and all, but it’s like I said to Paul earlier – I've got to get over this. If there’s something in this loch – and it now looks like there might be – it seems only fitting that I should be the one who has a part in uncovering it. That bastard’s given me nightmares for years – it’s about time I got some pay back.”
Chapter Twelve
They all agreed that the footage should be backed up multiple times, just in case, even though it meant they had to delay going back into the water until after lunch.
“I reckon that thing’s lair is probably in the church,” Piers said, through a mouthful of sandwich. “That’s where we should start looking again. We can also go and get a closer look at that altar. There’s definitely something going on there, too.”
Paul nodded, but Mags said nothing, just kept picking at her sandwich, letting the crumbs fall into her lap.
“You not hungry?” Yolanda asked.
“No, not really. Must be, I don’t know, nerves or something,” Mags replied.
Paul frowned, and Decker looked up from his laptop.
“You look a bit pale,” Paul said. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just not hungry.” She bent over and scratched at the bandage again.
“Hey… do you need to see a doctor?” Yolanda said. “You’ve scratched that a few times now.”
“No, no, I'm fine – the, you know, bite, or whatever it is, is fine. Really, it’s okay. It’s the dressing. I think I might be developing a sensitivity to Elastoplast, or something.” Mags smiled weakly, and then as if to prove her point, took a massive bite out of her sandwich. “See, I’m fine. Seriously.”
“I dunno, babe… maybe you should get it checked out,” Piers said. “Not now, but later. You know how bites can be. Remember when Chuck got bitten by that rat? It was only a small one, but it went really nasty really quickly.”
“What happened?”
Yolanda asked.
“Not sure I should tell you when you’re eating,” Piers grinned. “But let’s just say the physical bite isn’t the issue – it’s all the bacteria and crap that lives in its mouth that causes problems.”
“Yeah, runny, pustular problems,” Paul said.
“Eww.” Yolanda made a face. “I don’t think I need to know any details, thanks. But in the light of that, maybe you should get it checked out later, just to be on the safe side?”
Mags sighed. “Okay – I’m sure this place isn’t so backwater that it doesn’t have an on-call doctor's service. I’ll ask Mrs Kelly when we get back. Does that satisfy your concerns?” She smiled, trying to make light of the situation, but everyone noticed the way her hand involuntarily made its way to worry at the wound again. She stopped herself just in time, and crammed more sandwich into her mouth.
“Yeah, that sounds fine,” Paul said. “But one more thing – you’re not diving this afternoon.”
“What?” Mags was outraged. “You can’t expect Piers to go down there alone. Anyway, I shot the footage, so I should get to be the one who goes looking-”
Paul held up a placatory hand. “Look, I know and I respect that, but going back into the water might worsen the wound. And yes, I know, the dressings are waterproof and yada yada yada, but I still don’t want to risk it. If we can find a GP and they pronounce you fit, then tomorrow, by all means. But this afternoon, I’ll go down with Piers. No arguments.”
“But-”
“I said no arguments. You forget, I may not have half the hours you’ve clocked up, but that doesn’t mean I’m a complete novice. I’ve done my fair share of wreck diving and I figure this is no different. Piers and I will go into the church – you can man the relay on the boat. We’ll get some more footage and see if that… mass turns up again. Then we’ll head back and get you seen to, okay?”
“Huh. Seen to? I’m not a dog, you know.”
