He listened to Vance’s account without comment. He got into the suit and checked every piece of gear twice. As Mullen tightened the last helmet bolt, Carter said, “If somebody’s really sitting down there, we’ll see what it is.”
He went down at 10:30. The water took him the same way—thick and slow. Carter descended evenly, calmly counting the seconds.
He switched on the lamp at ten feet. Visibility was poor, maybe three feet. Dense murk all around.
He reached bottom in two minutes. The silt underfoot was soft. Carter crouched and felt the ground carefully.
Ordinary bottom silt. Nothing unusual. “On the bottom,” he reported, then started toward the structure. He moved strictly by compass, counting his steps out loud.
Twenty-five. Thirty. The wall appeared suddenly, exactly as Vance had described.
Carter touched the stonework with one hand. The stone was very cold and coated with a thin layer of slime. He moved along the wall, found the corner, and turned.
He found the door quickly. The heavy double doors were open. Carter stopped in front of the entrance.
“Door is open,” he said over the line. “Did Vance leave it open?” Somers asked. “Don’t remember,” Vance answered from the launch.
“I don’t think I closed it.” “Going in,” Carter said calmly. He stepped over the threshold.
His lamp lit the floor. Stone. Clean. No silt at all. Carter took a few steps and stopped.
The candles were indeed burning in neat rows. Dozens of flames flickered around him. Warm yellow light, moving slowly in the water.
Carter raised a hand and covered the faceplate with his palm. The light did not disappear. He lowered his hand and studied the nearest candle carefully.
The flame was strangely steady. Wax melted, and droplets drifted upward. “Confirming light sources,” he said in an even tone.
“Their appearance fully matches Vance’s description.” He moved on carefully. Went around the icon screen and entered the main nave.
He aimed the lamp at the benches. The figures were still there. Carter stopped about six feet from the front row.
He counted quickly. Twenty-three people. Sitting upright, hands folded, facing the altar.
“Confirming multiple bodies,” he said. “More than twenty. Seated position.” Somers immediately asked about their condition.
Carter stepped closer and bent over the nearest figure. It was a middle-aged man with a short beard. His clothes were plain: a dark robe tied with a cord.
The face was completely calm. The eyes were open. “Preservation is extremely high,” Carter reported.
“No visible decomposition. But this is wrong. After six months underwater…”
He never finished the sentence. The figure suddenly opened its mouth. Not sharply. Slowly. Smoothly.
Its jaw lowered. Its lips parted. Inside there was only darkness. And from that darkness came a sound.
Low. Monotonous. Not a scream. Singing.
Carter jerked back. The lamp shook in his hand, and the beam swept across the other rows. The other figures were opening their mouths too.
One after another. In perfect unison. Their bodies did not move at all. Only their mouths opened. And from each one came church singing.
Old chant. Low voices. “The structure is fully active,” Carter reported. His voice stayed level, but his breathing had quickened.
“Bodies are showing synchronized movement. Acoustic anomaly confirmed.” “What kind of movement exactly?” Somers asked quickly. “Jaw movement. Mouths opening.”
“The singing is coming directly from the bodies.” “That’s nonsense,” Somers said. “I’m looking right at it,” the diver answered.
Carter took one step back. The figures kept singing. The sound grew denser, louder.
It felt as if there were more voices now than bodies. Carter turned quickly. Behind him, near the entrance, stood more figures.
Three, maybe four. He had not seen them appear. But there they were, standing and singing too.
The rhythmic movement in the water grew stronger. Carter felt increasing pressure on his chest. As if something were squeezing him from both sides.
He checked his pressure gauge. It was normal. But the crushing sensation remained. “Experiencing strong physical discomfort,” he said over the line.
“Pressure on the suit. Source unknown.” “Come up immediately,” Somers ordered. “Understood,” Carter said, and moved toward the exit.
The figures by the door stood still. But as he approached, they stepped back. In unison. Without a sound.
They simply moved aside and cleared the way. He got out quickly and looked back. Dark silhouettes stood in the doorway.
They were motionless, just watching him. Their mouths were closed now, and the singing had stopped. Carter hurried away from the church…
