I haven’t been in water since that night. Not a pool, not the sea. So before I tell you what happened, let me say the one thing that matters: if a roadside motel has a pool out back, read the closing time – and obey it.
I was on the way back from visiting my folks and they were all like “Oh Wow – Southern Utah – are you going to go through Capitol Reef?” I just nodded. Uhuh. Etc. I wanted to get away. I’d done my visit. My dad was condescending. My mom acted so interested, but in the end only talked about her own opinions. I mean, I love my folks, but they haven’t changed since I was a kid.
I was getting all hot and bothered as I drove – a little over the speed limit I must admit. I put on some ambient music, but it just made that Utah landscape look more Martian and mysterious. The car I’d hired had shit A/C, and I’d avoided drinking water so I could get home sooner.
But it was becoming clear I wouldn’t make it back to Las Vegas that night. So I played Roulette with the motels. There aren’t many in that part of Utah. And there was no signal around there.
I drove past a couple of motels whose signs looked dirty or suspiciously low budget. I was overheating badly and my back hurt from the car seat. So when there was no motel for an hour I became extremely anxious. The sun was getting lower.
A sign emerged from the haze: Motel 24 Hours Vacancies. It looked cheaper and dirtier than the two I’d passed, but I was happy to lose at hotel roulette right now. More importantly, there was a pool out back. Its cool water sparkled in the late afternoon sun. So I turned in, pulled up at reception.
The door was weirdly ornate – dark brown wood behind a screen door. It creaked as I opened it onto a dimly lit reception. With no A/C. I couldn’t believe it. What was wrong with these people? It was even hotter in here than outside. I dinged the little bell.
As I waited I noticed a large picture at the other end of the room, above a threadbare sofa that I wouldn’t have sat on if you paid me. It was that viral internet image – I’m sure you’ve seen it. A large ship sat on the surface of the sea at the picture’s top. Most of the picture was the ocean surface and beneath. The beneath darkened as you moved down the picture. Until you could see a barely visible form, larger than the ship, seemingly emerging from the depths and reaching upward with gnarled tentacles.
Even in that sweltering heat, the image sent a shiver down my spine. On either side of the picture were candles in candlesticks. All very picturesque. I became impatient and dinged the bell a few more times.
Eventually a woman emerged from the door behind reception. She was dripping wet in a swimsuit, a towel wrapped around her. She apologized for keeping me waiting. Scrubbed herself over with the towel. And we went through the usual routine. After we’d done my card and pin, she apologized that the card was slightly wet from her hands.
I smiled as she handed me a key for room 1. Assuming she’d been in the pool, I told her I was longing to get in there myself. She hesitated, pointed up at the clock and said the pool was closed. It was an old digital clock on its last legs that said 7:31 PM. Pool closes at 7:30, she explained. Strict.
You can imagine how pissed I was. But I’m not the sort of person to show irritation. I swallowed it and went to the room. Looking forward to cooling down as best I could anyway. As soon as I entered I shut the door and curtains and switched on the A/C.
Guess what?
It started, rattled and died. I spent 10 minutes playing with it. Switching it on and off. And then there was a spark at the connection and it failed to turn on at all. I hate confrontation, but I grasped my courage with both hands and headed back to reception, looking to switch rooms. It was empty.
I dinged the bell. I must’ve waited 5 minutes and dinged twice as many times. But no joy. As I looked around, frustrated, I noticed the candles had been lit on either side of the picture of deep dark ocean. The thought of the heat of their flames nearly drove me to scream. I did shout Hello a few times, but no response.
Back in the room, I realized that I had justification to do something I almost never did. To break the rules. I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and put on my swimming trunks from my case.
The pool entrance was locked with the Closed sign clearly displayed, but the gate was low. As I climbed over I noticed that there were candlesticks either side of the pool. And they were lit! In my rush to get to the pool one of the candles was blown out by the air from my leg movement. I looked back and considered if I should relight it from the first candle. But the water beckoned in the still strong sunlight.
I slowly lowered myself into the pool. The water was not cold, but was so much cooler than the sun and air. Oh I can’t tell you the relief I felt. I pushed out from the edge and gently swam to the center of the pool. The strain of the day had tired my arms and legs. I noticed just beside the pool one of those foam flotation devices. Feeling a little like an old man I swam back and pulled it into the pool with me. My moment was complete.
I lay there in the water, cool for the first time in hours. I realized then I was thirsty, but that could wait. I closed my eyes and for the first time in days, enjoyed the sun. And the total silence. No passing cars. Just deserted lands around me. No parents. No hotel receptionists spouting rules. Just me, the lap of water against my neck, and the setting sun.
So I can’t be blamed for dozing off, in the face of such rare peace. But even though I’d wedged the flotation device well under my arms, eventually my sleep and their slackness let it slip from under me. I was awoken by a small swallow of pool water. Ugh! Chlorinated. I spat it out and renewed my grip on the flotation device.
The sun was now behind the low alien hills. I could only see them as a blur in the distance with a vague horizon. There was still a little light that reflected across the water. But the motel and its lights were not visible behind the pool fences. I guess I was the only person staying.
It meant the pool looked like an infinity pool, which was particularly calming. I wondered when the pool lights would come on and ruin the effect. Then I realized that they probably didn’t exist – hence the pool closing at 7:30pm. I looked below me and I could just see the shape of the pool bottom.
Now I felt cool, my thirst got the better of me and I swam away from the fuzzy horizon line toward the edge of the “infinity pool”. In my calmer state of mind I reflected on my visit to my parents. I promised myself I wouldn’t let them press my buttons again. I wouldn’t get sucked into their games or allow myself to be dragged under and back into my miserable childhood.
I was so caught up in these thoughts that I didn’t realize I’d been swimming for quite a while. I looked around. I still couldn’t see the pool edge – in the low light I must’ve been swimming in circles! I struck out in a careful straight line and swam.
And swam. And swam. And swam.
I could not see the pool edge.
I spun round to look at the horizon of the hills. But it had gone. Twilight had passed into darkness. All that was left was my night vision. I looked down and could just make out the pool bottom. In an effort to ground myself I swam down and touched it, then came back up. I rubbed my eyes and turned 360 degrees slowly. No lights.
Didn’t matter really. In such a small pool. I knew that if I was in the shallow end, the deep end and the pool gate must be in…that direction. So I struck out and swam, letting go of the flotation device to allow my speed.
And swam. And swam. And swam.
I was out of breath, my arms weak. And I could not see the pool edge.
At this point I did something that I will always be proud of. I had a slight panic. I was treading water and my arms were weak. My slight panic made me do a 180-degree reverse and breaststroke quite slowly back in the direction I’d come.
And there, thank Heavens, was the flotation device. I grasped. I think I subconsciously knew I wasn’t going in circles. But holding onto that device, I began to consider options. Was there a current in the pool caused by its filter system? Yes that had to be the answer. But no filter system could be strong enough to stop a concerted effort to swim from reaching the edge of the pool.
I began kicking again, though my animal instincts made me keep hold of the flotation device. This time I did not pause, did not stop. I kept going as long as my legs would let me. I swam perhaps 5 or 10 minutes. That’s a long time without a break (and at the end of a hard day when you’re thirsty).
Nothing changed.
I say nothing changed, but something did. I looked down and could no longer see the pool bottom. For some reason this frightened me. I’ve never liked not being able to see what’s under me in the water.
So I released the flotation device and dove straight down. My arms were tired but my fear overcame that. I went down and down, I opened my eyes when I didn’t hit the bottom after 10 seconds or so. Just blackness. I forced myself to keep going until the air ran out.
Big mistake.
When I hadn’t reached the bottom after another 30 seconds or so, I had to make the surface, with basically no air left. I pulled with my arms in a panic. My diaphragm was spasming and it was all I could do to stop myself breathing water.
I broke surface just in time, a huge gasp in. Coughing. I spun round and round, looking for my flotation device. I could just make it out. I had enough energy left in the arms and legs to pull myself toward it and grasp it for a moment’s heavy-breathed rest.
As my panic cleared, I considered. I knew it was possible I hadn’t been swimming down all that time. But I could feel the pressure building as I went deeper. I knew I was going down, even if not straight down. And what Motel pool deep end doesn’t let you hit bottom after a minute’s dive?
I had lost all sense of direction. I (slowly this time) rotated around, looking for any evidence of light, shape whatever. I then did something irrational. I took my best guess of the direction and began to slowly kick.
I know that the whole concept of direction in the water in the dark is ridiculous. But by this time my thirst was raging, especially after all the activity. Also a hotel pool is never that warm. It may seem like it compared to one in the winter, but the human body is not used to being kept at pool-temperatures for extended periods of time. I felt like I’d been in that pool for an hour or more. And my body was cold.
The kicking helped to warm it, but didn’t help the thirst. I tried an experimental mouthful of the pool water, but spat it out. Chlorine. I didn’t stop to consider how much chlorine would be needed for this seemingly massive pool. But I did start to wonder just what was happening.
The pool and receptionist had seemed normal enough. I did wonder about that picture of the dark sea creature far beneath. And all those candles…
My thirsty meanderings and kicking were interrupted by a strange sensation. I seemed to levitate a little out of the water. Bizarrely this gave me a thrill of hope. In my semi-delirium of thirst I wondered if I could fly up and fly high enough to see where I was and get back to my room for lots of lovely bottles of lovely water.
Gradually my body settled back down into the water. I kept kicking, vaguely disconcerted, but more focused on getting out.
It happened again, I was pushed up in the water. But this time I knew what it was. The whole area of water was pushed up around me. By something large.
I looked down into the darkness of the water.
Nothing. But the currents pushed me up for 10 seconds or more. My fevered imaginings were triggered. An object that could lift the water for 20 or 30 seconds must be huge. I suppressed the first inklings of panic as I sank back down in the water.
I took a few deep breaths and ducked my head underwater, opened my eyes with their night vision. As I expected, just darkness. But as my breath ran out, and I looked directly down, my vision cleared a little – as if the water acted as a lens – and I saw the edge of a shadow far below me. The edge grew and grew, showing more and more, seemingly of never ending size. My breath ran out. And I felt my body being lifted out of the water again.
Once when I was a child I’d taken an airbed down a river with my brother. We came to a section of the river where we couldn’t see the bottom. It was just short and I was scared but took my courage in both hands (I didn’t want to show my brother I was scared). I set out across it, and he followed. As we went forward I thought I saw something white in the depths. Was it weed? What was it!? I panicked and turned around. My brother picked up on my panic and we both rushed backward on our airbeds.
This gives you a sense of how I feel about dark water. So I hope you’ll understand the level of panic attack I now felt the currents of this huge moving thing lifted me. Higher this time. Like it was coming closer to the surface. In sheer desperation to see what was under me, I shoved my eyes back into the water.
As the bubbles cleared I saw the shape again. I looked from left to right. It was far enough below that I could see the edge of it in what felt like the distance. And the other side as well. With the last of my oxygen I blinked and tried to focus on the part of it beneath me. It had a gray-greenish color, it shone and I realized with a terror I’ve never felt before or since, that it looked organic.
Just before I pulled my head out to breathe, I looked in the backward direction. The large gray-greenish form did seem to have an end. But it was not slab like. It seemed broken apart? Or multiple ends? It looked sort of more whitish. Or…
Tentacles?
It’s funny (not really), all the times I’d feared seaweed, and what lies beneath, and dark water, it had always been the potential of what might lurk there. Not the actuality. I am almost overcome as I write this recollection. There is a point where fear becomes no longer a feeling but the overwhelming texture of reality and consciousness.
A blackness in itself. A realm that cannot be traveled through or escaped. In fact something very like the darkness below me. I know I’m being a little verbose and abstract in my descriptions, but writing this I am unable to allow myself to experience what I experienced then.
I think I may have passed out. I feel faint even as I write this. In my semi-consciousness I seem to recall a groan. Somewhere between the deepest humpback song and a human male at the utmost peak of a torture interrogation session. But perhaps this was me?
The next thing I knew, or perhaps when I came to. There was total silence. The water was not moving. Not a ripple.
Without thinking I swigged a mouthful of chlorinated water. Then another. And another. I threw some of it back up. But I think I must’ve kept some of it down.
The vomiting energized me and, in my half-crazed state, I struck out from the flotation device, it slowed me down too much. I swam. Hard. Fast. In any direction. Just swam. Had I been in a sane frame of mind I would’ve known this was hopeless and would lead to my demise.
But just like a rabbit who is frozen by the headlights of an oncoming car thus ensuring its death, I was in that state. My body and my animal mind had taken control.
Who knows how long I swam for or how far. All that I know is that I left the flotation device far behind. And when my arms and legs finally gave up the ghost, I knew I was a dead man.
For one moment, I floated, head above water. A final ragged breath. And then I was sinking. Instinctively I held my breath and closed my mouth. But I did not struggle.
Then something astonishing happened.
After mere seconds, my feet touched tile.
My eyes flicked open. I was at the pool bottom. I looked up above. There was the pool surface.
And there, dear friend, hardly any distance from me, was the edge of the pool.
THE EDGE OF THE POOL.
I tried to swim toward it. But – and this still amazes me – I had nothing. Nothing in my legs. Nothing in my arms. My useless human body had failed me.
I was floating free. My body rotated and I opened my eyes. Behind me was the absolute darkness. And a slope of a pool floor going down into that blackness. And the sound, it hadn’t been me then, the deepest humpback groan, and the agonized human scream combined into one.
A wall of water struck me. And I saw the glistening edge of it, just the very edge of its impossible size, emerge from darkness. I felt pushed backward, the last of the air knocked out of my lungs by the pressure wave. And I knew I could not escape.
A sharp pain struck the back of my head. I turned. It was…it was…the edge of the pool. It was the edge of the pool. It was.
I scrabbled for a finger hold and found one, somehow dragged myself above water. I could not tell the difference between my breathing and my sobs. I held on for dear life. Once or twice I tried to pull myself out. But my arms were beyond any such thing, never mind my legs.
I looked over the edge of the pool, and in the darkness I saw the strap of the pool cover tug. I grasped it with my fingers. It had a good amount of pull left in it. So I wrapped it round my wrist again and again and again and again.
I waited for the feel of the end of an impossibly huge tentacle reaching out of the dark to touch my toes, and then grasp my leg and torso.
But no such feeling came.
The only feeling I felt was an overwhelming rush of low blood pressure, and I passed out.
*
The morning came like the worst hangover I have ever experienced. The sunrise was beautiful but the thirst was an animal. I was shivering so hard I found it hard to control my limbs. But I could now see the pool fence. And behind it the Motel. And my car and my room. And, blessing of blessings, the metal pool ladder.
I pulled myself along the side of the pool, desperate not to let go. I reached the metal ladder and, after 3 or 4 tries, somehow managed to use my legs and hands to get out.
I tried to call out Help. But my throat was just a rasp. I was forced to crawl to my clothes, and scrabble for the key. And then to crawl out of the pool area.
Both candles were now out, and the sign had been switched to Open.
I crawled all the way to my room, across the gravel parking lot. Knees and shins bloody. Once inside, I found water.
*
I have never driven to and from my parents since then. I have only flown. I have never been in a swimming pool since then, even when crowded with families. The smell of chlorine makes me gag. And I have never been in the sea.
And when I checked out much later that day, there was no one in reception.
Thank God.