ESCAPE FROM THE THALASSA
A horror short story. A man seeks to escape. His memory and fears seek him.
Content warnings: thalassophobia, claustrophobia.
—
He awoke in a metal box.
A ringing in his ear, a drip with the hint of copper under his nose mixing with sweat. He was skinny, cold, and in his mid-40s. He knew he was Alan, but not much beyond that.
Alan’s mind was hazy. The mix of thoughts rushing like fast-moving rapids that he couldn’t parse, the hand to try to catch a fish of a thought. His breath quickened and his stomach did somersaults. He knew he just wanted to go home.
He fell to his hands and remembered water.
Scuba diving. The thought of the wide and seemingly endless expanse to explore. I remember the discovery dives. The first one in Hawaii. Wading underwater, the weightlessness was the first flirtation with cerulean space. The horizon being a black shade of unknown measure.
With his breath starting to calm, he was able to start focusing. The realization that the association of water must’ve had something to do with his current predicament.
Alan’s eyes adjusted to the lower light and he was able to make out a door. As he got closer, he recoiled at the sight of blood on the handle. He ventured forward, and could make out a dull hum behind the door, much like a refrigerator. He tried the handle slowly, but it wouldn’t budge past a quarter of the way.
I remember learning to dive with Arish. The first two sessions were about learning the skills in a pool setting. Learn to use the regulator, descend and ascend in water, clearing your mask. Learn to run through the checklist of checking your equipment and your buddy’s. How to assess the weights needed. How to double check your dive plan, the depth to descend to, how much time and air would be needed.
Alan checked the hinges of the door through the gaps between the door and the wall next to it. Noticed that this was one of those doors that opened towards him. No pushing against the metal door would do much good. Best shot would be to find something to try to break the handle.
I remember being reminded: a critical component of diving is avoiding the bends. Don’t rush straight up if you’ve been underwater past the safe limit of nitrogen buildup. Don’t rush straight up.
Looking around, Alan saw a small collection of novels, textbooks, and first aid on a bookshelf, a bed with a headrest composed of metal cylinders, and a small desk. Looks like he was imprisoned. His head throbbed.
And then the other critical element is not running out of air. Don’t breathe too fast.
He checked the desk drawers and saw wire, circuit boards, various electrical components (terminal blocks, ferrules), a screwdriver, and some pliers. His mind came up with ideas.
There was a panel next to the door. He tapped on it, and it beeped and said the words ‘SECTOR LOCKDOWN.’
He took the pliers and took to the panel, half expecting it to not do much. But to his surprise, it pried open without much resistance. So this wasn’t meant to keep me inside.
But then you can’t stop breathing to conserve air, because if you hold your breath and allow too much variation in depth, the pressure changes in the depth would be no good for your lungs. They’d collapse.
Alan’s hands went to the wire and the pliers. He suspected and felt a sense of relief when yes - this was a piece of cake, a very simple circuit to unlock the door. He wouldn’t even need the boards, just the pliers, some of the smaller components and his fingers.
So the next weekend, we went with our instructor and a small group to the lake to do a pilot dive. It was freezing but that’s what you get for learning in February. But we didn’t have much time, and we went later in the day for things to warm up.
The overloaded circuit failed open, and the door unlocked. He turned the handle and pulled the door open. The hum that he heard earlier was emitting from a small amber alarm right above his door.
I remember feeling a sense of cold regret as soon as I got in the water. It was so cold. I should’ve put on a hood but I was hoping I’d acclimate. The dark gray of the environment around me gave way to a quiet frigid blue.
Alan looked to find a map ahead, and touched the scratch marks on it. ‘THE’ - at the top of the map quickly caught his eye- THALASSA. Greek. Spirit of the Sea. Alan saw arrows marking what he thought to be the way out, and his anxiety rose again. He looked towards the way down and saw flickering lights and cracked walls. Maybe I shouldn’t be heading that way?
But I didn’t acclimate, and the further down we went, it just got colder and colder. The visibility was getting smaller as we got closer to the floor — the dirt and silt was shaken up. Activity from earlier divers in the morning.
When he turned the corner, he felt a lurch and his world shifted. For a second, his own drops of sweat floated. A screen next to him, cracked and read the words ‘GRAVITATIONAL [ ] COMPROMISED. RECOM[ ].’
He looked up, and he saw a large pathway heading towards a bulkhead door with a handwheel. He wasn’t meant to get through this.
And then suddenly, my mask flooded with water and I couldn’t see anything. I tried to blink but the darkness stung. I remembered my training and pressed on the top and breathed water through my nose to clear it.
He realized the panel gaps had just enough space to fit his finger tips. He tried climbing but his feet slipped. He peeled off his shoes, and tried again. He was just tall enough to reach the one above, and started climbing.
But I couldn’t see anything around me — it was dark, my visibility barely extended to my arms, and I couldn’t see anyone. My heart started to race. I tried feeling forward to see if Arish was next to me but I just grabbed soft black dirt. I looked around and it was just an enclosed tar cold hell around me.
Alan passed a window and saw a passageway with bodies. He looked up and he was more than halfway there to the bulkhead. Through the window he could see stars and the moonlight shining in. He heard shouts in the distance below him. He made out the words “Got out!” and he realized they were talking about him. And suddenly it made sense.
I screamed but past my mind, it was just soundless bubbles through my regulator. I was hyperventilating.
He reached the top. He heard sounds getting closer. Hollers below “He must’ve went this way!”
He had to push his feet against the other side of the bulkhead, and only had one free hand. But this was almost to freedom. The adrenaline rushed and gave his one arm strength to move the handwheel. As he did, alarms around him sounded and a voice repeated “Action not recommended.” He kept spinning the handwheel.
Don’t rush straight up! Save your breath! Don’t stop breathing! Don’t rush straight up! Save your breath! Don’t stop breathing!
A blue light emitted scan of his face, and a voice spoke in an artificial voice, “Captain override permitted.”
He went through the door and fell flat on his face. He was confused at why his world shifted again. His nose cracked and he saw stars. A small corridor. White lights, but it didn’t matter. He could feel the rush, he needed to get out of here. Out of this situation.
Dark water around me. I closed my eyes and yearned to be anywhere but here. I needed to get out of here. Out of this situation.
One handle between Alan and the outside.
Below, a group of people yelled “Alan!” Alan knew there wasn’t much time. Dazed and with the last of his strength, he put his hand on the handle. Almost at the surface. “Alan! Please stop!”
He turned the handle and pushed through. Free.
I pulled out the regulator from my mouth and closed my eyes. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here. Felt cold water flood my mouth, but my eyes saw land, the boat, the sky around me.
With his last moments, Alan could see the hull of the ship buckle, as explosive decompression consumed the ship, the air sucked straight from the lungs of the still awake and still sleeping astronauts. Frostbite creeped up, crystallizing his blood, darkening his skin, leaving white wisps on the edges of his vision. His lungs were simultaneously burning from lack of air and filling with hardened ice of moisture. His vision was fading, but he could see the letters ‘THE ASTRAEA’ written in big blue letters on the ship. He realized, just as when he was younger, that he had panicked.
-Midnight Brook
“The person is locked in a positive feedback loop: The more they fight against or flee from their own inner experience, the more of a problem it seems, and the more distressed they become” (Understanding the Causes and Remedies of Diver Panic, an article by Laura Walton on panic while scuba diving).