IN THE WATER
I never had any great faith in traditional medicine. I believe in science and antibiotics and clean, cool, sanitary hospital rooms. I like American medicine and uniforms. There is security in a hypodermic needle and a saline drip.
My aunt disapproved of my derision, but she is dead now. I suppose that means that my drugs and I won in the end. No ancestors came to her aid when she was coughing her lungs bloody with the Taint. She wasted away within a week and they threw her oozing carcass over the edge. I was there. She was little more than bones by then and sank when she hit the water. Like a magic trick. Now you see her, now you don’t.
So when I found myself knocking on the igqirha’s door, I felt like a sell-out. But times were desperate.
Anathi does not advertise. Her practice is not secret, but she would never stick up a poster. She has no need to anyway. Everyone knows someone who knows her. As part of a dying breed of genuine practitioners, she comes highly recommended.
I waited outside in the still evening air, rubbing my hands together. The sounds of the city were subdued; Anathi’s place was almost hanging off the edge. Being this close to the brink made me uncomfortable. There was a small alley between the buildings. Through it I could see the sea, murky brown in the light of the setting sun. The water splashed against the support struts, gradually corroding them to red metal skeleton legs. I shook myself and looked away. Reminders of our precarious position were never welcome. I knocked again, growing impatient.
There used to be a sign on Anathi’s building. It had lost a number of the letters and read “W st Rand P blic wimm ng Pool”. Over the boarded-up windows, some brave fools had stuck their own fliers. It must have taken considerable audacity on a competitor’s part to advertise their supposed cures here. It was the usual: abortions, love charms, curses, money luck, Taint cures, penis enlargements. I lingered over the unlikely proportions the last one promised.
I was considering whether I should knock for a third time or simply abandon this venture altogether, when the door opened a crack. A pair of small, dark eyes peered up at me. The door opened wider and the little boy silently beckoned me inside. Anathi’s butler.
As I passed through the door, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned around and looked back at the street. There was nothing there. The brief impression I had of the dark, hulking shape seemed to have no grounding in reality; the boy looked at me quizzically, but without comment. I shook my head and followed him, my back itching.
The foyer had probably once been a well-lit, bustling place, filled with eager children in colourful swimming costumes and water wings. Now it was grimy and moulding, grey plants hanging from the ceiling and moss dampening the sound of our footsteps. On the floor was a chipped mosaic of a school of dolphins cresting a wave. The smell of chlorine and salt had been replaced by the musty odour of earthy decay.
The turnstiles were stiff with age. The boy slipped beneath them, but I forced my way through a screech of unhappy metal—an effective doorbell. Anathi certainly knew someone was coming now.
We walked through the changing rooms to the swimming pool.
Light filtered through the glass ceiling. Some of the panels were cracked or shattered, and roosting birds darted in through the holes. The pool, drained years ago, was brimming with plants—hundreds of them, blooming and creeping and spreading greenly to fill the miniature arboretum. In a city where a pot plant was the crowning achievement of most people’s gardening careers, this place was a strange kind of paradise. Despite my reservations, I could not help but be impressed.
Anathi was seated on the floor on the far side of the pool. She was a striking woman. Somewhat overweight, with a broad face and huge eyes that she had heavily accentuated with black liner, she was dressed in a long skirt that was spread out around her in a wide circle. She watched me approach, her face impassive.
“Molo, uMama,” I said.
“Molweni, mtwana wam,” she replied, indicating that I should sit in front of her.
“Unjani?”
“Ndiyaphila, enkosi. I get the impression you are more comfortable with English.”
I flushed in embarrassment. “Whatever your preference is, I can understand you fine.”
“Akukho ngxaki. Many of the younger generation have abandoned their language. Although I find it sad, I have no objection in speaking whatever my customers are familiar with.” She straightened her skirt fastidiously. “What brings you here, my son?”
This was a ridiculous situation. For a moment, I was inexplicably ashamed. I felt like a hypocrite, as if I was turning my back on my religion of science and hospitals.
After a second of hesitation, I spoke. “Mama, my name is Khuselwa Miya. I think you may have known my aunt, Nokhanyo?”
“I did. I am sorry that I could not help her in the end.”
I nodded. “It was the Taint. There was nothing to be done.”
She inclined her head.
I continued, “Mama, I have a problem of my own.” I paused again, not knowing how to express myself without sounding ludicrous.
“A problem of the body or the spirit?” Anathi asked.
“Er… spirit, I think. It is not something I could have spoken to doctors about.” I pushed a neat roll of bank notes towards her. She picked them up and counted them carefully before she set them aside and looked at me expectantly.
I took a deep breath. “Mama, I think something is following me.”
A disturbed expression passed over her face. “Did you not think seeing a sangoma would have been more appropriate? I am not much of a diviner. My speciality is herbs, not spirits.”
“I could not find anyone reputable, but my aunt trusted you,” I pressed. “I am sure you will be able to advise me.”
“Well if you insist, my son, but I cannot promise to help you. Please tell me as much as you can.”
“This… thing, I first saw it about a month ago. I have never been able to see it clearly, and I first believed I was imagining it. I can only catch glimpses of it.”
“Where does it appear?”
“At first, it appeared mostly around the city hall down the street from my apartment, especially near the fountain. I saw it from my window. But for the last two weeks, it has been getting closer. Two days ago, I think it was inside my bathroom.” I pushed back the fear that was rising in my throat.
“Has it tried to communicate with you?”
“No. It just watches me.”
Anathi’s face was purposefully impassive. “And can you describe it?”
I swallowed hard. “It is large, maybe twice my height, though it stoops. Very fast. It moves like an ape, on four limbs. Its body is dark, but somehow indistinct. Like smoke. But its face… It is beautiful. A woman’s face, like an angel.”
Anathi had remained silent and still all the while, but her hands were bunched up tightly on her skirt. She spoke with perfect composure. “Is there anything else, my son?”
“When I entered my bathroom that day, there was water all over the floor. All the taps were closed. This is not the first time.”
Anathi was silent for a long while. I waited until I could tolerate it no longer.
“Mama, I am afraid. I am a grown man, but I am so afraid that I can scarcely function. Please, please, help me.”
“Oh, mtwana wam.” She signed and raised her eyes. “In this cursed world, there are two problems I have no power at all to fix. The first is the Taint. And the second is this.” She reached out and clasped my hand.
“What is it? What is this thing?” I fought to keep my voice steady.
“I do not know. I know that it is very old. In the last twelve years, two others have come to me and described just this creature. One of them called it the Deepling, on account of the affinity it has with water.”
“How did you help them?” I implored.
“I couldn’t. They were both dead a week after they spoke to me. Drowned on dry land.”
I sat there stunned. Anathi rubbed my hand beneath her cool fingers.
“Dead?” I asked.
She nodded.
“There is nothing I can do?” My voice had a curiously distant quality.
“There are some things.” She thought for a moment. “These are merely ideas, but since as you are the third person I have encountered with this condition, I have some idea of how the creature operates.”
“Please, anything.”
Anathi nodded. “Firstly, stay away from water. All water. Arrange to have the water cut off from your apartment and stay inside. If it rains, seal the windows as best you can. Do not go outside unless you absolutely have to. Keep a bottle of water for drinking, but no more than two litres at a time should be in your proximity.”
I absorbed this information eagerly, already making mental arrangements.
“Next, organise for someone to stay with you at all times. I have never heard of the creature getting too close when there are others around.”
This would be more complicated, but I nodded.
“Finally, and this is very important, do not look at the creature. Especially not its face. Do not meet its eyes.”
“How can I fight it?”
“As far as I am aware, you can’t,” she said grimly. “So I would suggest you try and stay out of reach and hope it loses interest in you.”
Anathi arranged for her butler to walk me home. I felt guilty that the child would have to return to her on his own, but Anathi assured me he would be fine. No one laid a hand on what was known to be hers.
The fog had set in thick. The globed streetlights hung in the air, ephemeral as spirits, glowing diffusely.
The little boy led me forward by the hand; he did not seem in the least perturbed to be wandering around after dark. His small hand was warm and he held me firmly. He had still not said a single word, but something about his presence was curiously reassuring.
He left me at my door, refusing the money I tried to give him. A part of me wanted him to stay, but obviously this was not an option. As I closed the door, the room seemed to get colder.
I stood for a moment in the doorway, utterly exhausted and overwhelmed. Then I shook myself and set to work.
Terence, my landlord, had promised to turn my water off by the following morning. He was a little bemused by the request, but he and I went back a long time, so he obliged without too many questions. I was ruthlessly reliable with my rent, and we’d known each other since high school. He was prepared to cut me some slack.
The first thing I did was turn on my dehumidifier. With that working to suck moisture out of the air, I turned my attention to the kitchen and bathroom.
I figured that the Deepling wouldn’t be able to use alcohol, fruit juice or soda to travel around, so I left that stuff alone. Also, I felt that I was probably going to need a strong drink sooner or later. Probably sooner. I tied a wad of dishcloths over the taps and stuck the plug firmly into the drain. I thoroughly cleaned the fridge and removed any frost. If there was a power failure, that stuff would melt and then there could be trouble.
I was more apprehensive of the bathroom. The Deepling had been here before. It took considerable nerve to push open the door. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I decided I would wait for the water to go off before embarking on serious DIY projects. For now, I blocked the doorway with a mountain of towels and locked it. For good measure, I pushed my cupboard in front of it as a barricade.
That was the fun stuff complete. It was time to get onto the painful part.
I fished my cellphone out from between the couch cushions and flicked through my contacts. My finger hovered over dial. Then I took courage and pressed it.
My phone rang six long times before someone picked it up.
“Hey, Ela, I need you to come over.”
It took several minutes for me to assure her that, no, I was not drunk and no, I did not think she was that kind of girl. Even then, my ex was far from pleased that I was interrupting her Friday night.
Nevertheless, fifteen minutes later, she was on my couch.
“A monster?” she asked, before taking a large gulp of beer.
“Yes.”
“You want me to stay with you?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Until it goes away.”
“And you are following the advice of some kind of witchdoctor?”
“Don’t be disrespectful.”
She snorted. “You’ve changed your tune. Khul, this is weird.”
“I know. I know. But I’m freaking out.”
“And you really had no one else to call?”
“Please don’t make me say that again.”
She rolled onto her stomach and wormed her way into a more comfortable position. “Well, so long as you are feeding me and providing somewhere to sleep, I can deal with it. But this had better not be some kind of mind game. And no touching.”
I breathed out in relief. “Ela…”
“Don’t thank me. I’m sponging off you. Nothing more. I need the money. Also, I’m getting the bed. You are taking this flea-infested couch.”
“You’re the best.”
“Easy on the compliments. Just remember that we are done, okay?”
“Very done. Completely and utterly done.”
“Good. Now go make me a sandwich.”
I retreated to the kitchen with more of my ego intact than I had initially anticipated. Ela turned on the television and sprawled out across the furniture like she owned it. I made her a sandwich out of reconstituted chicken (the expensive stuff) and mayonnaise substitute. I put on little flakes of dried chilli, the way she used to like it. I delivered this masterpiece to her, along with a second beer. She burped cheerfully.
“You know what, I think I like you when you’re superstitious.” She grinned evilly.
After innumerable episodes of Soso’s Fabulous Cruizin Life and another two beers, Ela announced she was going to bed. This was near 2am and a great relief to me. My burst of renewed affection for her had not persisted past three hours of reality television. She staggered off to the bedroom, complaining that she couldn’t brush her teeth. I settled down on my sofa with a spare blanket.
For second time that night, I felt acutely aware of my isolation. Although Ela had been annoying, it was difficult to feel fear in her boisterous, obnoxious and drunken company. Now that my apartment was silent and I was on my own, the gnawing paranoia crawled back into my brain.
I lay on my back, but I could not sleep. For a while I fidgeted. I was too cold and Ela might not have been wrong about the fleas. I could hear her breathing next door. It had been almost a year since we split, but she had not changed at all. A stupid, jealous part of me wanted to ask whether she had met anyone new. Not that I wanted to start all that nonsense again. She was right. We were done.
I rolled to my feet again with a groan and stretched. I was going to be tired the following day, but at least it would be Saturday. I opened the fridge and gulped down some milk, considering my options. Nothing sprung to mind that would improve my position at present.
On my way back to my bed, I paused outside the bedroom. The door was ajar. Ela was facing the window, her arm carelessly flung out over her head. She was half-falling out of the bed; only her torso remained under the covers. I hesitated for a moment and almost walked away. Then I stiffly pulled the duvet over her legs. She snuffled in her sleep and her fingers twitched.
I returned to the passage. The bathroom door was standing open.
It was strange, but I almost didn’t notice. The cupboard was back in its usual position and everything simply looked ordinary to me. I had taken a few steps towards the couch before it even registered that something was wrong. Even then, I was not exactly scared. I suppose I assumed that Ela had something to do with it.
My hand was around the door handle to pull it closed when I saw the water on the floor. I traced it back to the source.
The bath was full, though I had not heard running water once that evening. While I stood there, a single drop fell from the faucet. Ripples spread out across the surface like a tremor of fear. The room was icy cold.
I stood perfectly still. I knew it was here. I could feel it watching me, but I was too afraid to turn around.
Another bead of water had formed on the lip of the faucet. It swelled slowly. Inside it, I could see my own inverted reflection and the rest of the bathroom. The reflection was tiny and compressed, but it was as if my vision had narrowed to this tiny little bubble. I watched it in fascination.
There was a patch of darkness behind my right shoulder. As I stared, it grew darker and closer. It moved languidly, like black smoke. Or fog. The impression of a face hovered beside my neck. I could have been wrong, but I thought it was smiling.
Then the drop fell and the spell was broken.
All the lights went out.
I stumbled forward with a strangled yell, spinning around to try to strike the creature that had been right behind me. My fist passed through air. I lost my footing as I slipped on the wet floor and cracked my head against the side of the bath.
The Deepling was still in the room; I could hear it moving towards me, breathing wetly. I struggled to rise, but I was too dizzy. I floundered on the floor and tried to crawl to the door. It slammed shut.
I think I was still shouting. I remember the blind panic and the pressure on my chest, the cold weight and the brush of its lips upon my own. I remember that I could not breathe.
Then the door burst open and the lights came on.
I was dazzled by the brightness. The Deepling relinquished its hold on my mouth and vanished into the shadows beneath the bath. I coughed up water and then vomited.
Ela was in the doorway, holding a carving knife with both hands. She threw it aside and dropped down next to me.
“Khul? Hey, stay with me here, honey.” She lifted me by my shoulders into a sitting position.
I wiped bile out of the corner of my mouth. I was shaking so much my teeth were rattling. “Ela, I’m sorry—”
“Shhh. Your head is bleeding. Come on; let’s get to the kitchen so I can patch you up. Can you stand?”
I made an attempt.
“Never mind, I’ve got you. Just lean on me, okay?” She got herself under my arm and hefted me upright.
“Did you see it?” I asked her.
“Don’t worry about that now.” She grunted. “Have you put on weight?”
I recognised her dismissive attitude. She did that when she was stressed. I squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe a little. Mostly muscle.”
“Pssh. You wish.”
She sat me down at the counter and took out the medi-kit from the cupboard above the fridge. I was shivering and soaked. Before she sorted through the antiseptics and healing agents on offer, she passed me a quart of brandy. I drank it straight from the bottle.
Whatever she applied to my head stung intensely. I bit my tongue and swallowed the pale green pills she handed to me. Within a few minutes, I was already beginning to feel better as the nanobots set to work on fixing the damage inflicted on my skull. Ela fetched the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Why didn’t we work things out?” I asked her.
“The brandy is talking,” she said with a gently mocking smile.
“I was stupid to lose you. There was never anyone else.”
“We aren’t doing this again, Khul. I like you too much for that.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed the top of my head. “You should lie down now. I’ll keep watch.”
She evaded my grasp and retrieved the knife from where she’d dropped it. I swallowed more brandy and put the bottle back down. The combination of the nanobots and the alcohol was doing strange things to me. My legs were not all that steady, but I made it back to the couch.
The world was spinning, but I was aware of Ela taking up station on the chair at my feet. The knife was in her hands. She adjusted the blanket over my legs and nodded encouragingly to me. I felt completely safe, but crushed.
“I never stopped loving you,” I croaked.
She did not respond. I fell asleep.
I had not slept soundly for weeks, but after I passed out that night, I was dead to the world. I only woke around midday, when the smell of frying Baco-Mix revived me. Ela was at the stove, humming to herself.
The food was not for me. She was just raiding my freezer.
There were dark shadows under her eyes; she had not slept. Although she was her usual cheery self, the carving knife never strayed far from her reach. I noticed a tension in her jaw and the way her gaze darted towards the bathroom continually.
I had made a full recovery, though I was not healing from the humiliation of my grovelling behaviour any time soon. Ela had the good grace not to tease me about it. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if this had been the first time, but it was the third. I had nearly made it six months. I was ashamed and extremely grateful that she had not walked out the minute I re-declared my undying love.
Terence had turned off the water at last. Ela had arranged for a friend to deliver a week’s worth of groceries, for which she was charging me. Her friend would also drop off a two-litre bottle of water every day. All in all, it seemed like things were getting nicely organised, but the thick bank of cloud outside the windows worried me. I did not want it to rain.
The Deepling did not bother me further during the day. I even, at times, began to doubt the veracity of my experiences of the previous night. I briefly managed to convince myself that it was all just a delusion brought on by Anathi’s suggestions. Then I felt a ghost of the pressure on my chest, or the freezing touch of the monster’s lips on my face and my shoddy justifications crumbled.
I watched TV and Ela slept next to me. I was beginning to perceive that this arrangement would not work for long. I was asking too much of her, but I put off these thoughts. I could see no other solution and did not want to face the Deepling alone again.
At six, she stirred and declared that she wanted pizza. It was some kind miracle that she did not get fat. The way she ate, Ela could expect to suffer from a heart attack by forty. She used to tell me her personality burnt up all her energy. I think she simply had a metabolism like no other.
It began to drizzle.
She ordered a Meat Mayhem with extra everything and graciously offered to share it with me. Given that it was on my account, I should probably not have been so thankful.
The pizza arrived at seven. The delivery guy mashed on the hooter of his souped-up scooter to save the airtime of calling Ela down. I offered to fetch the food, but she told me to stay put. The rain was coming down in earnest and I was jittery. We had sealed the windows as much as we could, but the flecks of water on the panes were enough to send chills down my back. Ela pulled on my windbreaker and locked the door behind her.
I felt stupid and childish, but hoped she would be quick. To stave off fear, I turned up the volume on the TV and set the table with mismatched crockery.
The bike gargled back to life outside. That meant Ela had received her pizza. I grabbed two beers and pushed aside the sentimental nostalgia that had risen warmly in my chest. It had been a long time since I had shared a pizza with anyone.
I hit mute on the TV. I shuffled the cutlery around on the table. I sat on the kitchen stool and got up again. Ela was slower than she used to be. In the old days, she had jogged the stairs. The rain pattered against the glass, setting me on edge.
I pulled back the curtain and peered down to the street below. It was grey outside; the rain clouded my view. The edges of the buildings were blurred and my breath produced white fog on the cold windowpane, but I could not miss the bright yellow patch of my windbreaker.
Ela was standing in the rain. She was unmoving, staring at the fountain across the road. The hood of the windbreaker had blown off and her dark hair was drenched and flattened against her scalp. The pizza box was on the ground in front of her, growing soggy.
As I watched, she took a step forward into the road. She moved strangely, without her usual bouncing energy. Her progress was laboured; her feet dragged along and barely left the ground.
A movement beside the fountain caught my eye. A flash of darkness.
I was out of my apartment and halfway down the stairs before my brain even caught up with what my body was doing. It was not heroism; I did not have the time to consider being brave. If Ela reached that fountain, something terrible would happen. I had to stop her, Deepling or not.
I nearly broke my neck as I ran down the last flight of stairs. I rushed out into the pouring rain, throwing the doors of the lobby wide open.
“Ela!” I shouted.
It was too late. She had made it across the road and was stepping into the shallow pool. As she lowered her leg into the water, she turned. Her mouth was open in a scream, but she did not make a sound. It did not matter. I knew she was calling out to me.
Then her body crumpled and she disappeared into the water.
I sprinted across the road. Rain streamed down my face, falling in heavy sheets. The water in the fountain was black, infinitely and impossibly deep. I did not think. I dove into it headfirst.
Blackness. The darkness swallowed all sound. My eyes were open, but I could see nothing. I swam downwards, casting around for Ela. The water pressed against my skin like a sentient being, like it was trying to crush me. I forced my way forward. I would find her.
When the Deepling appeared before me, I initially mistook it for Ela. In the pitch darkness, the comparative lightness of its face misled me. It was smiling, beautiful and perfectly serene. The monster believed it had won.
I hated it with every fibre of my being.
It opened its arms to embrace me. I flew straight at it, propelling myself forward with as much force as I could muster, desperate to tear at its face, digging at the monster’s eyes and clawing at its mouth. I did not care that it could hurt me. I only wanted to hurt it back. I was not afraid.
The pressure on my chest grew more intense, until I felt my lungs would explode. The Deepling’s eyes bored into mine.
Then it disappeared beneath my hands.
I was so surprised that I accidentally let out the breath I had been holding. My mouth filled with water and I choked. I needed air. But I needed Ela more.
Lights were sparking over my vision when my hand found hers in the darkness. It was warm and she squeezed my fingers. I drew her into my arms and held her close. She clutched me. The blackness around us was lifting and I was no longer conscious of the pain in my chest.
Together, we swam towards the light.
Kerstin Hall was born in Cape Town in 1993. She currently attends Rhodes University in Grahamstown, where she studies English and journalism. She is the founder and chairperson of a student society called Ink, which encourages creative writing and provides support to other writers at the university. When she is not writing or studying, her interests include hiking, photography and culinary experimentation in the student residence microwave.