“Yes.”
The interviews with Carter and Mullen followed the same pattern. Both signed the nondisclosure papers. Both gave full statements.
Then all three men remained in the building for another week for what were called follow-up consultations. In practice, they were being watched. Doctors and psychologists evaluated them constantly.
They asked questions and recorded reactions. They looked for any sign of mental instability, trauma, or suggestibility. They found nothing.
All three men were judged sane, stable, and credible. Their statements remained consistent. All except for the youngest diver, Mullen.
He began to change on the fourth day. First came an unusual silence. Mullen had always been easygoing and talkative.
Now he answered in one or two words, and his eyes looked far away. Then came the insomnia. The doctors noted that he was not sleeping at night.
He simply sat on the bed and stared out the window. When they asked what was wrong, he said, “I hear singing.” “What kind of singing?” the doctor asked.
“The same singing from the church underwater.” “You hear it now? Here?” “Yes. It’s quiet, but I hear it clearly.”
The doctor wrote it down and prescribed sedatives. They did not help. Mullen kept hearing the voices.
He talked about it calmly, without agitation. He simply stated it as fact: “I hear the singing, and I can’t not hear it.” On January 5, his condition worsened sharply.
That morning they found him sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He was staring at one point and not responding to questions. His breathing was normal. His pulse was normal.
But there was no contact with him. The doctors tried for hours to bring him out of that strange stupor. Nothing worked.
Only that evening did Mullen finally speak. He spoke quietly and in a flat voice. “Their service still hasn’t ended.”
“What service?” the attending doctor asked carefully. “The one in the church underwater. They’re still going.”
“They serve day and night. They’re waiting.” “Waiting for whom?”
Mullen looked at the doctor for the first time that day, fully aware. “Us. The ones who were supposed to come.”
“Why were you supposed to come there?” “To finish it,” Mullen said. “A service can’t go on forever. It has to be concluded.”
“But we came too late. Six months too late.” “What are you talking about?”
“They began it on April 22, the last time before the flood. They all gathered there. The priest said they would serve as long as the church stood.”
“And they agreed. All 23 stayed inside and shut the doors behind them. The water came, but they did not leave.”
“They kept serving. And they’re still serving now.” “How do you know any of that?”…
