Bri Wrights

Marsh Mystery

                At this time of day, the tide was starting to come in as the clouds- heavy with rain- started to form in the sky. The typical spring weather in June. My friends and I had tied the boat down to an abandon dock, in the middle of the marshes. The dock used to be a part of a marsh house that had stood until three years ago- 2009, but after Hurricane Aethra hit, there wasn’t more than just a half-rotted dock sitting out in the open. Half of its planks were missing, so we had substituted the missing spaces with metal plates that Antonio’s dad lent to me, Antonio, and our friend group.

            Antonio stood at the end of the dock, opening up the compartment at floor of the boat, bringing out water bottles, scuba gear, goggles, and ropes. He clicked his tongue, as he turned his face to the sky in question- as if he was forming a prediction.

            His inky black hair hung down to his shoulders. A shaggy surfer boy lo    ok, with his hair wet and stringy from the humid atmosphere of the bog. Antonio’s tan skin was getting darker I noticed, perhaps from the constant lounging around on the towns’ nearest sandbars.

            “Jess, we need to get a move on, the waves are growing restless as is the sky.” He said, turning towards me. Brianna groaned in frustration as she hauled up cinder blocks and heavy metal that we were gonna use for anchors. I practically dragged my share across the dock, the scraping of the material against the metal shafts was enough to make me want to claw at my ears until they bled or fell off. Oliver pulled out the white rope, while also grabbing a bucket of mud and smooth stones we scooped up- about four miles back out.

            He looked out of place, but Oliver always looked that way in our group. A rich boy from the west side of town- the good side- in a rag tag group of east side kids…and Brianna. Expensive leather sandals, short sleeved flannels, wrinkle-less shorts, and always prepped and fluffy curled light brown hair. That was his life. A blessing to some…a curse to him.

            We were far into the marsh- maybe if we kept going a couple more miles we would reach the opening and then a straight way to the Atlantic Ocean. It had been an idea of mine to go out this far- to test my theory to see if I was making sense or not. I mean, isn’t it what everyone desires, to have a theory and be correct about it? To find an answer to know you weren’t crazy, just steps of ahead of everyone else?

            After dragging the cinder block and metal to the end of the dock, I clapped my hands together- the micro-rubble falling to the hollow wood boards.

            About sixteen days ago- May 23- the police station had reported a group of divers had gone missing not too far away from the border of Besteagle, Carolina. The rest of my crew and I lived in Besteagle- the town practically sat surrounded by the bay and the marshes. From our destination (from where I was standing to be exact) it was about six or so miles back north.

            But anyway, the case had been probably reported by the divers’ family or friends. I remembered not more than a two weeks ago I had pulled my boat into the docks of the town, about to pick up some bait from Rilayne’s dad’s bait shop. Mr. Ginerasy had the best bait in town, just ask all the previous competitors that entered into the annual Big Fish and Catch Competition. They’ll tell you every time that Mr. Ginerasy’s bait was their game changer, their solution to why they won.

            So as I was saying I had been pulling into the docks and upon hearing the usual varying sounds of shoes clonking on the dock, the sound of boat engines, nets being hauled in and scratching the wood, noise emanating from people’s conversation, I had heard a particular sound in the crowd.

            Some woman- about in her mid-forties had been walking back and forth between groups of people murmuring something to each and every one of them. She had finally reached me, as I was crouched and tying my boat to the dock- “Have you seen a black and white Bay Boat, with about three to four men around in the marshes somewhere?”

            She had been dressed in a tacky cardigan of varying patterned squares, chunky jewelry, frazzled hair, and a strong scent of chlorine.

            I had told her no, and she had been off to bother some other family on their big and fancy yacht with her questions and smell. And I had gone about my day, never really considering the woman again. Until recently I had pulled up my computer to the Barracuda- a popular news channel in Besteagle- and then saw the missing persons case about four divers. It didn’t take long for me to connect the dots and realize that the woman was married to the supposed ‘orchestrator’ of their diving event- Mr. Crasser.

            It was rumored they had left at about late morning on May 23, with the intention of going scuba diving, oyster collecting, crab catching, and whatever else involved them out that far in the marshes. But they didn’t return when it was told to their family and friends what time they would be back around, which was 2:00 p.m. Not long after had they been reported missing somewhere around 8:00 p.m.- the following hours, I assumed, dedicated to subtly looking for them first before getting the authorities involved.

            Which brings us to present day- June 8. A week into the investigation and after the case had been posted onto the Barracuda, I guess their families were just so desperate that they got the community involved. A five-thousand-dollar reward for anyone who could find the missing men- or their bodies. Five hundred if their boat or any other valuable piece of evidence was found.

            Now, the police had been hitting dead ends all around, for a missing person’s case was not the usual in Besteagle. Yeah sure, the police had been notified of somebody missing, like a child or a teen before. But the children were usually found within an hour near a candy shop or staring dumbfounded at the hot funnel cakes that sat on display at the weekly East View Fair. And the teens, or pre-teens, were usually laying faced down on the beach- drunk out of their mind or high enough to feel like their floating.

            The point is, there had rarely been a case where someone couldn’t have been found or had gone missing for a time period as long as the divers had.

            Now, you may be wondering- where does this put me? Who am I and what do I have to do with the missing divers? Well, nothing at all actually. I just need the money…and maybe the little recognition that goes with it. I know, I know, it’s shallow and sleazy- but before you judge me take a look in the mirror yourself and tell me you would pass up the chance to earn five thousand dollars. Would you really give it up- just like that? Even if it put your scholarship to your dream school in danger.

            Okay, maybe I buttered up the last sentence too much, but my point still stands. I don’t have many friends- the ones who I so consider friends, Antonio, Brianna, Oliver, and Rilayne, they aren’t just friends…they’re my family I guess. You kinda have to associate them with that if you have a dead beat dad and a mom who doesn’t come home most nights.

            I slid my pocket knife into a pouch in my belt, while also grabbing the white rope and tying it around a loophole in the belt. A thick knot about the size of a golf ball was now attached to my waist, it felt like a numbing weight to the side of my body.

            Antonio, Brianna, Oliver, and Rilayne stood at the end of the dock, actively dumping large river stones in the water- for if any dead body were to be found- it would float up from the disturbing weight of the rocks hitting the bottom. We waited a moment, nothing but silence followed through.

            “Well, if the rocks didn’t work, then maybe there really isn’t anything here,” Rilayne said as she reached for a cloth Oliver was handing out to her.

Rilayne was also from the rich side of town, the difference between her and Oliver being that she always got him out of the trouble we put them into. You could kinda tell she was from the richer side of town- as her admirers put her appearance, she had: “Fair brown eyes, strawberry blonde hair, and freckled-alabaster skin”.

She bent down to pick up a bottle of frozen water from the cooler. Brianna took a chance to respond though-

            “You can’t base a whole missing person’s case on the victims’ bodies not floating up as soon as you throw some river stones into the marsh,” Brianna scoffed. “Besides no one has tried this method of searching since like- Tom Sawyer’s boyhood.”

            Oliver raised his brows, a confused look flashed in his sea green eyes. “You mean to tell me you got this idea from that book we read in…what was it? The fifth grade?”

            Brianna took a sip from her water, holding eye contact with him. “It seemed logical at the time. I, for one, was not about to get in a dead body-infested marsh without clearance of whether-.”

            And that’s Brianna. You’ll always be able to remember her from the rest of the group, because she talks more than she blinks to argue or…I’m not sure what she does other than argues. She’s the brains of our quintet, also the most peculiarly styled. And what I mean is she constantly is wearing something from cargo pants and an odd patterned flannel, to a flower crown and hippie wear. But it always seems to match and coordinate with her dark brown skin.

            A strand of curly hair fell out of her ponytail, as she and Oliver barked back and forth- Rilayne getting tugged in the middle.

Antonio drew his hands up to his ears- covering them momentarily.

            The rest of bickering faded out to me as I strapped on the air tanks, and tapped the air monitor a couple of times until it turned on. My arms burned with strength as I pulled my them up put on my goggles. The bickering between Brianna, Rilayne, and Oliver had become full on yelling. Good thing we were far from the marshes near Besteagle, because we would have, for sure, been asked to shut up from all of the noisy conversing. I dug around the duffel bag until I found the regulator and depth gauge- snapping those into my belt.

            Finally, I attached the air mask- my arms felt set a blazed and tired. My muscles had never been stretched and worked more, besides in P.E for example.

            “Okay, can we all like, I don’t know- shut up for like ten seconds now.” My voice rang out over the others, them completely forgetting what our plan was. Throw the rocks in and if no dead body- or two- floated to the surface, then I would dive down their myself. My voice was deep, it sounded like someone with watery vocal chords. Oliver stepped up to check all of my belongings- “My dad’s going to kill me for this,” he grumbled untying then retying a strap I gave up on.

            I chuckled, “He’s rich. He could buy mansions of scuba, and still be unbothered with this one set going missing.” I ruffled Oliver’s hair like a dog. “Besides, I’ll come up at about the fifteen-minute mark.” Oliver’s eyes said the next words: I’ll hold you to that. I just gave him a knowing smile, because knowing me- I’d probably stay down there a lot longer just to mess with him and press his buttons.

            I started to trudge to the end of the dock, the weight of the tanks and regulators finally taking a toll on me.

            1…2…3

            Then I jumped in, not giving myself enough time to reconsider the consequences or fallout.

            Immediately the salty and grittiness of the water was like wet sand, and the water was as brown as mud. I treaded the water, my arms forming a stroking motion. The marsh was too shallow at this time of year, so my flippers kept kicking and scraping the ground. I tried to comprehend what was around me: grass stalks, clouds of mud rising and spreading throughout the area, and strips of water that looked infested with salt and other silt elements. The water was cold- like the cold you felt as soon as you went out farther than you were supposed to at the beach. Or the type of cold that overwhelmed you when you first jump into a pool during Spring’s break.

            I must have kicked too far forward, because the next thing I knew- a strong current had swept me up.

My tanks were slamming against my back, as the white rope and other equipment helplessly dragged along with me. I think the rope snapped, because I heard a muffled sound of something breaking apart- like when a rubber band had been stretched too much to the point of it finally giving out. I couldn’t breathe as the air pressure had built up against my breath mask, no air or oxygen flowing through for me to breathe in. And my goggles had slightly lifted, salt water immediately took its chance and seeped in through the opened cracks, filling up like a bath tub.

I was holding on for life, not daring to inhale once for fear of water being in my lungs. I was dragged through the shallows of the marsh, feeling the ground scrape against my skin- it was definitely going to leave a few marks. I felt myself swivel and get hauled through grass lumps and stalks sticking up out of the water. Soon, there was no ground to feel, that sign had told me, surely, that I was in the canal of the bay.

            But soon that forceful lugging sensation had ceased, my limbs had finally gained the right to move again, and I didn’t stop to question myself as I thrashed my arms. I flailed them in the water, surely sending up bubbles and whatever else lay down here, flying up to the surface. As I situated myself up right in the water I- crack.

            I tried to whip my head around but I heard another crackling sound, like something was breaking into rubble. As the new sound came to light in my head so did the knowledge that I was pressed against something- something that with every tread of water- crackled and popped like your knuckle when it was cramped up.

            I stroked forward, the water in my goggles splashed against the plastic screens, then came to rest at the bottom of the goggles- silently swishing around. Once the hard surface wasn’t a sensation behind me anymore, I turned back around to see what it was.

            My heart stopped as confusion- then horror overtook my soul. I could have sworn the grim reaper had reached up from the water’s deep depths and used his monstrous claws to grab ahold of my heart and constrict it. Laying there was a body, a body with a now bashed in face that I assumed was from me.

            It lay there like it was deflating, its mouth wide open with a white dust rising from it. The skin was a sickly-green, and barnacled with bacteria. The hair that obviously used to once be there was shedding from the scalp, strands of it sent rising to the surface, taking a few bubbles with it. It was horrifying and disgusting all at the same time. It couldn’t have been who I thought it was, right?

            The body’s bones must have been crumbling from the inside because it looked like the skin was the fabric of a tent, and someone who had set up the tent had done a poor job with holding the skin up with nails and stakes. It practically rose and fell with each current that passed. Mr. Crasser? Was that him? If that was whoever I was swearing up and down for it not to be- then where was his boat? And where was the rest of his crew?