He yanked the signal line, and they began hauling him up. He rose slowly, staring downward the whole time. The darkness thickened below him.
The outline of the church vanished into the murk. But the movement in the water did not stop. It was rhythmic and deep, like the breathing of something alive.
When they finally got him aboard, Carter removed his helmet and said only one thing: “Vance was right. Something is wrong down there.”
Somers demanded a full report at once. Carter told him everything he had seen. The two divers’ accounts matched completely.
The candles, the bodies, the movement, the singing. Every detail lined up. “We need objective footage,” Somers said after a long pause.
“We need proof, otherwise this sounds like…” He did not finish. “Like what?” Vance asked.
“Like a shared hallucination.” “We’re different men with different experience,” Carter said. “Different temperaments too.”
“Hallucinations don’t usually match down to details like that.” “Then what is it?”
No one answered. Mullen, who had been quiet the whole time, stepped closer. “Maybe there really is a service going on down there,” he said.
Everyone looked at him. “What do you mean, a service?” Somers asked. “I mean it’s not just a building. It’s a church.”
“Maybe something stayed behind. Not physical. Something else.” “Let’s keep our feet on the ground,” Somers said sharply.
“We deal in facts, not ghost stories.” Mullen gave a small shrug and said nothing more. The decision was made that evening.
They would do another dive with underwater film equipment. Mullen would go down. Vance considered him the youngest and the steadiest of the three.
Steve Mullen really was unusually calm. In eight years of service, he had never panicked once. He went into the darkest, tightest places without hesitation.
Dead bodies didn’t bother him. Neither did confined spaces. A heavy camera was strapped securely to his chest. The film would run for exactly 20 minutes.
The assignment was simple. Record the interior of the structure. Film any anomalous activity if it occurred. Then come straight back up.
The dive began at 5:30 p.m. It was already getting dark outside. Somers had a powerful floodlight mounted on the launch and aimed downward.
It didn’t help. The beam could not penetrate deeper than about 15 feet. Mullen descended calmly.
He reached bottom and moved toward the structure. First the wall, then the open door. He switched on the camera and stepped inside.
The candles were burning brightly. The figures were still seated. Mullen slowly panned the camera across the interior.
He filmed the altar, the icon screen, the rows of benches, the faces, the clothing, the folded hands. Everything was being captured clearly on film. He walked right up to the front row.
He aimed the camera directly at the nearest figure. It was the same elderly man. His eyes were open and staring ahead.
Mullen kept filming without moving. Thirty seconds passed. Then a full minute. Then the figure blinked.
The eyelids lowered slowly and rose again. The eyes remained open, fixed on Mullen. “Blinking observed,” he said in an even voice.
“Repeat that,” Somers said, his voice tight. “Subject one blinked. Confirmed visually and on film.” Silence filled the line.
Mullen kept filming, cool as ever. He shifted the camera to the next figure. It was the young woman in the dark scarf with the white eyes.
She blinked too. Then the next figure did. Then the next. All of them began blinking slowly, in perfect unison.
Then all of them turned their heads toward him, just as smoothly, all at once. Now 23 faces were looking directly at Mullen.
All of them kept blinking. Their mouths were closed. But the singing started again.
Mullen stood perfectly still. The camera kept recording. He filmed for another two minutes.
Then he began backing slowly toward the exit. The figures did not move except to watch him. He made it outside.
The door behind him closed at once. It happened by itself, without a sound. The doors came together smoothly, as if someone inside had pulled them shut…
