The Ocean Eats the Years

(The recording begins with a click, then distant whirring and static.)

“Right… here we are. Apologies for the technical difficulties, Mr. Steele.”

(The scratchy voice of a man rings out faintly, wavering and guarded.)

No worries, sir. Thank you for seeing me here.

“It’s not a problem at all. Now… ahem. This is Tyson Baker, head overseer of the Swallowvale Department of Strange Happenings. This recording shall be labeled #478991 for archival purposes. Interviewee name: Jaeson Steele. He is here to talk about incidents he has experienced after being diagnosed with dementia upon his retirement from the Navy. Ahem… I suppose I should save the rest of the details for him to share. You may speak now, Mr. Steele.”

(A wet cough, then the scratchy voice begins to speak.)

Dementia.

It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? What it does to people’s minds. Fragments of memory, gone just like that, as if they never happened at all, and your mind is just discarding an old childhood story. Seeing things that aren’t there… or are they? Say… my daughter came to visit just last week, but when I called her, she said she’s been in Europe for a year. Europe, huh? Nice place.

“You’re getting off topic, Mr. Steele.”

Ah, sorry. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. Just comes with age, I suppose. Ah… where was I? I can’t seem to remember what I was talking about… ah, yes.

I was diagnosed with stage-two dementia a few months ago. Back in September, when the weather is muggy and gross but not quite cold yet. I don’t quite like September. I don’t believe I ever have. Maybe I used to like it, before…

(Mr. Steele sighs, and there’s a long pause before he continues.)

I started noticing changes soon after I retired from the Navy. Medical discharge. One particular night… it began interrupting—or I suppose, stealing—my ability to sleep. I was a recovery diver four years back. Very nice job, not for everyone though, especially if you get queasy around water. My wife sure does. I do, too… after… ahem. Anyway, I thought nothing of it at first. “Just lack of sleep playing tricks on me,” I’d say when my wife asked. Sometimes I’d lose my glasses and waste an hour trying to remember where I put them.

“Getting a little off-track, sir. Tell me about your job. What’s this ‘incident’ you speak of?”

Oh… yes. Sorry.

As I mentioned, I was a recovery diver for the Navy. Had a lot of fun with it. Most people think we just look for dead bodies. Sometimes, yes. Er… it’s more than that. Oftentimes, we recover firearms, sunken aircraft, and ships. Very rewarding. One recovery mission, however… involved human remains. One of my own coworkers, in fact. Nice lad, his name was… Borough? Bruno? Burko? Ah, I don’t remember anymore. He was new—only six months in—and always eager to be there. Loved his job. I don’t know how he died, but I know what I saw that day.

It was early morning, I believe, when we got the call. Jenkins, my buddy, groaned at me to pick up the damn phone and shut it up. So I did, and I was the first to hear what happened.“Steele, Jenkins, Pepper. Get your asses up. The new guy’s into deep shit. Last seen on the pier at Longton Beach. Witnesses say he was there one moment and then disappeared into the water. Get your gear, on the bounce, you know the meet point. Don’t make me say it again. This is serious—you all know that.”

I told my team, and we were out the door in minutes. Wait… no. Pepper was already out ahead of us, I think. Cared a lot about that boy. I don’t blame him.
When we arrived at the beach, our Master Diver didn’t waste time loading us onto the helicopter. I don’t remember who piloted that day… not important, anyway.

…

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“You mentioned being loaded into a helicopter.”

“Oh… yes. Yes. It was very cold that night. I was thankful for the suit I had on—like blubber on a seal. Uncomfortable, but warm. Or maybe it wasn’t cold… just quiet, that night, among all of us. You can imagine. I guess the silence was a little too much for the pilot, because the next thing I remember, we were plunging into the water. Pepper fell out on the way down. I don’t think I saw him again after that. Jenkins was screaming like a wildcat. And I… hm. I can't imagine I was happy about it either.”

We were in the water shortly after that. The Master Diver was yelling at the pilot. I don’t blame him — I would have done the same. Anyone goofs like that, and the least punishment you could get is some ass-chewing. The water was ice-cold, the kind that settles into your bones like poison working its way into your system. In the chaos of the report, Pepper must not have secured my oxygen tank properly. I lost it within seconds of entering the water.

I should have surfaced. Should’ve… done something different. I dug myself out of the sinking helicopter and dove deeper into the ocean, looking for… Burma? Bercot? Ah, forget it. I had to surface a few times for air. I don’t have lungs of iron, after all.
I was about to surface for the fifth time when I saw something. Like… a swimming… thing. No, not swimming. Floating. Floating along in the water. So unrecognizable, it took me a moment to realize it was the young man. Dead, that much was certain. Whatever got to him must have been hungry. Very hungry. Chunks of brain matter floated around him, gouged from his head. Missing an eye and a few other limbs. I didn’t dare look for those. I was terrified. And I mean that—terrified. I forgot all common sense.

Instead of collecting his body like I was supposed to, I swam away. As I scrambled to turn around, something… grabbed me.

“Something?”

Yes… like a hand. But too strong to be human. Felt like needles stabbing into my shoulder. I think I knocked my head in a frenzy—surprised I didn’t pass out. My face must have turned blue from holding my breath so long. Something slimy grabbed my ankle as I swam upward. Pulled me to the ocean floor. I looked back and… oh, my God.

“Take your time, Mr. Steele. It’s all right.”

I… I… oh God. That kid’s face—empty, hand wrapped around my ankle, eye vacant and void-like, mouth stretched inhumanly wide—like something from a horror movie. Like something forcing his mouth open. And then he spoke to me… though I’m not sure how I heard him underwater:

‘Thank you for this, Jaeson.’

I think I blacked out shortly after that, but…

That thing… it wasn’t the young man anymore. Something satanic. I… I…

“It’s all right, Mr. Steele.”

That demon, I just know it got a hold of me somehow. Making me forget things, calling my wife by my mother’s name. I know it is. I just know.

“I understand.”

You don’t understand. You just sit here like some kind of… therapist. I bet you’re enjoying this—watching me suffer. I… I…

“Sir, I assure you—”

No, no, no! You stupid bastard. You probably think this is some sick joke. You think I’m a… a…

(The recording goes completely silent, the only noise being Steele’s heavy breathing. Seconds stretch into minutes.)

“Mr. Steele… if I may.”

Ah… May? It’s May?

“No, sir. If I may say something. Tell me more about these symptoms of yours. My apologies for dismissing them earlier. I’m sure you understand.”

Symptoms? Of what?

“Your dementia, sir.”

Oh. Right. Yes. I’ve been forgetting a lot lately. I’ll be sitting in my chair, reading the newspaper, and then I blink—and suddenly, I’m somewhere else. I remember one day, I blinked and was in my car. I don’t know if it was the same day… but I think it was. I was on the same road I took that day with Jenkins and Pepper to get to the beach where the young man… went missing. Lately, I’ve been wanting to go to the beach a lot.

“What does your wife think of this, Mr. Steele?”

Why, she’s the one who asked I see a doctor in the first place. I…

“Mr. Steele?”

(Silence. Long, dull, heavy silence.)

“Mr. Steele… are you all right? Is something funny?”

(More silence. Then Steele speaks again, but his voice is…off.)

Thank you for this… Tyson…

“What? Why, it’s no problem. It’s my job to… sir?”

(Heavy footsteps thud distantly.)

“Sir, you’re too close. If you get any closer, I’ll have to - CHRIST! AAAAGH! AAAA-”

(The recording cuts off. The end was shaved because listeners were traumatized by the extended screams and unsettling noises.)

END RECORDING

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