Nolan Beach

My feet pounded on the wet sand as I continued my run on the coastline. The sky was overcast, making the world seem grey and bleak. Even the lapping ocean was accompanied by a dark hue. The ocean foamed at the edge of its reach, taking back sand as it receded into its depths again. I never listened to music during my runs on the beach; I wanted to hear every sound of nature that can’t be heard in a landlocked state. Running on this empty beach near a rocky edge is exactly that. With the sun absent, dark grey clouds converged, and thunder rolled through the sky with unseen promises of what is yet to come. But no rain yet. Thunder or not, I was still at least a mile from my car, so I picked up my pace.

I saw my next checkpoint: a wide path made of jagged rocks that spanned from the edge of the sand to well out into the ocean. On sunny days, as jagged as the rocks may be, some fishermen still claimed a spot near its edge and stayed for hours, often content in solitude. But not today. Not a single soul laid claim to any spot on the ocean side of the path. Water slammed into the rocks continuously and sprayed in every direction. The bigger the wave, the louder the crash bellowed from the ocean. The sound of waves crashing was so loud that it muted any other sound, including my feet that now felt like cinder blocks drudging through the sand. These were my favorite days to run only because I never saw another soul in my entire five-mile run. The smell of the ocean and my sweat were the only things I knew right now, and I welcomed it. The wind began to pick up but that just added to the spirit of a gritty run. It was finally my last mile. My heart pumped with confidence. I could not tell what was sweat and what was the ocean’s water because it all tasted like salt. I cleared the jagged path, marking exactly one mile from the parking lot where my car waited for my return. To my left sat an empty beach with a road somewhere beyond my line of vision. On my right was the rest of the world, the ocean, the horizon. I made a mental note to come back out here on a better day to appreciate this sight. For now, though, I willed my feet to keep moving. I was almost done. My heart pounded in my rib cage, my lungs begged for respite, but my mind was still stronger.

It doesn’t count if you walk the rest of the way, I told myself. You’ve come this far. You can relax when you get to the car, so move!

With renewed spirit, I lifted my head, took in a breath, and pushed on. My mind tried to find anything to concentrate on to get through the last leg of my run when I spotted unusual movement at the corner of my eye. I snapped my neck to the right and studied the ocean, struggling to distinguish what were waves and what could be anything else. For a moment, sounds seemed to fade. My eyes narrowed. I spotted a pale outstretched arm with a palm and outstretched fingers frantically waving. It disappeared as suddenly as I spotted it. The absurdity of this sight nearly stopped me, but I only allowed myself to slow down. If I stopped now, I’ll never get my body to run the rest of the way. Did I really see anything at all?

I kept looking and slowed my pace to be sure. Sound returned to my senses. The only thing I was looking at was a grey ocean preparing to dance with a brewing storm. I turned my head forward again and continued running. My mind played back what I thought I just saw, but I tried to shake it off, convincing myself that choppy waters can make anyone see things that aren’t there.

A blood-curdling scream cracked through the ocean waves and made me stop cold in my path. Then the scream was abruptly cut short. My eyes quickly scanned every part of the beach within my view, making me dizzy and straining my eyes. There wasn’t another soul out here but me.

“Help me!” a female voice screamed from my right. In the ocean? “Please!”

I searched the water’s surface for anything that stood out. The arm, a fin, anything to explain how I just heard a woman scream for help. There! Somewhere between unforgiving waves and the jagged-edged rock path, a pair of arms struggled to keep afloat in the dark water. A small dark head surfaced with the pair of arms. Shit! Someone was out there!

My hand instinctively patted my thighs in search of my phone. I knew what I needed to do next, but I wanted to call 9-1-1 first so help can get here faster. The phone only rang half a ring before a calm male voice said on my phone, “9-1-1, what is the address of your emergency?”

“N-no-nol...” I stuttered. I didn’t realize until now how anxious I was becoming. I tried to control my voice, but it rolled out all at once, “Nolan Beach! Someone’s drowning! Just north of the Seaview Drive parking lot by the jagged rocks. I…I’m going out there. Hurry! I’ll keep the line open, but I have to put the phone down.”

The 9-1-1 dispatcher said something, but I had already put the phone down on the sand and was running into the ocean. I heard the girl’s voice call for help again.

“I’m coming!” I yelled back, unsure if she was able to hear it. The water was cold, but I didn’t mind it at first because my body felt like it was on fire from running. My feet took me as far as I could go into the ocean, then I took a deep breath and dove in. The water was darker than I expected. How was I supposed to see this person?

Just go forward, I instructed myself.

My arms carved their way through dark choppy waters. My legs kicked from pure adrenaline now. My lungs have taken a beating, but I was nearing the point where pain didn’t matter. She was farther away than I thought she would be. My eyes struggled to keep her in my sight. Waves assaulted me every time I resurfaced for air. I tasted ocean water. I smelled ocean water. Everything was ocean water. I pushed forward even though my arms tired early because so much of my energy was already spent. But someone was drowning, and I was so close.

I reached the spot where she should have been, but found nothing but more ocean, with jagged rocks within my sight. Had she gone under? I checked my surroundings quickly, took a deep breath, and dove under. I don’t know how anyone can see underwater without goggles, and I couldn’t see much more below my own feet. In the blurry darkness of the ocean, I searched for air bubbles, movement, or even a still body. Nothing. I resurfaced for air. Rain began to fall from the dark grey clouds that were now directly above me. Thunder rolled through the sky as if laying claim to the world beneath it. As if to prove it, waves crashed louder against the jagged rocks. I looked towards the empty beach. Then the deserted rocks. My muscles cried for mercy, but I turned around to face the horizon. Much to my surprise, the girl was further out, arms flailing for help. I heard her cry again, more desperate this time. That did it. I pushed my body through the water and swam harder to reach her. Water continued to assault my nose. Surfacing for air became harder with the waves, but it only made me more desperate. This would all be for naught if I drowned too. I struggled to keep her in my sight, but I was closing the gap between us. Her skin was a pale white and her dark hair reflected a red hue. With another four strokes, I finally reached her, but when my head resurfaced for air, she was gone again.

I turned my body in every direction. “Hey!” I yelled, in no particular direction. Where did she go? Did she go under? I took a deep breath and dove into the dark water again. Like last time, I couldn’t see below my feet. Only the ocean’s secrets lie below me. Fear took over. I was much farther out than I thought. The jagged rocks were smaller now, and the empty beach seemed but a thin line. Faint blue and red lights began to flash on land, and I knew that my call to 9-1-1 was not in vain. But the water felt heavier, as if it were trying to pull me down. Thunder cracked again, reminding me that this isn’t over yet.

I was in the middle of taking a deep breath to swim again when a wave crashed and plummeted me inland and under water. I involuntarily inhaled the ocean’s salty water and felt a rush of panic. The wave knocked me under its depths, and I lost my sense of direction for a moment. The water, chaotic and deadly, was now also icy cold. I felt its darkness begin to pull me further down. My lungs screamed for air, more desperately this time. I looked up and felt my reality: I’m drowning. I wasn’t near the surface and I needed air right now, now now! I was beginning to lose sight of the grey sky that was beyond the water’s threshold. My arms and legs struggled to propel me upward. I tried to ignore the sense of being pulled down, but there was no ignoring how unnatural it was to be pulled down from something I couldn’t even see or feel. How far underwater was I? Why was the water so dark now? Where was the woman who was crying for help? The pulsing in my head started beating more rapidly as I realized I still wasn’t near the surface yet. My heartbeat felt like it was only in my head. Was I hearing my own heartbeat now? Everything screamed inside of me. My lungs felt like they were going to burst. I involuntarily open my mouth and took in more water. My limbs slowly ceased, no longer fighting against the current that was pulling me down. I felt my entire body pulse.

Suddenly something moved beneath my feet. Reflexively, I looked down. Through the dark water I could make out long strands of hair, gently dancing with the current surrounding it. The hair framed the pale and gaunt face of a woman. She reached out for my feet. I felt stinging ice pain shoot up my leg when she touched me. I wanted to move but I realized I couldn’t. My mind screamed in agony, but my body continued to float without motion. It wasn’t until her face was inches from mine that I could see her expression. Her mouth was agape, her eyes only held raw terror. Her face looked like she was screaming, but the only thing I could hear is my heartbeat slowing. The ocean seemed to flex in its triumph over my will to live.

I heard the woman’s voice one more time. Her whisper echoed, “Help me.”

I can’t, my thoughts answered. My vision melted into darkness.

Light burst into my eyes first. Next, a seemingly endless amount of water involuntarily poured from my mouth and nose as I struggled to cough through it. It burned but I didn’t care. Familiar, but muffled, noises filled my ears but still, all I could see were an array of bright colors and a blinding light. I heard sighs of relief from voices I didn’t recognize. I heard hands clapping and people gasping as I coughed up more water.

“Easy there,” said a gentle voice. Reflexively, my hands searched for the source of this voice. I realized I was around people and not in the water. I needed to touch something, anything, so I knew it was real. I found a sleeve with an arm in it and grasped it tightly. It was the voice’s owner. “I’m right here. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re alive. You are alive.”

“Wh-where—wh--,” I struggled to ask. My eyes filled with darkness again before I could get out the rest of my question.

A gentle beeping stirred me awake next. My body felt like dead weight. The first thing I was aware of was that I wasn’t on the beach. I was dry, lying down, and underneath covers in a hospital room. Beyond the closed door nearby were sounds of people and shuffling feet. At the opposite wall was a large window. Beyond it, I could see the coastline and a bustling beach on a sunny day. I didn’t know what I wanted first. Answers, or more sleep? My body decided for me. I slipped into a deep sleep to the rhythmic sounds of the heart rate monitor next to me.

When I awoke again, two people in white coats were inside my room. One, a medical student with a toothpaste commercial smile, blond hair, and a clipboard stood at the foot of my bed. The other was an older woman, with dark hair and a pearl necklace, sitting next to my heart rate monitor with another clipboard. They both looked relieved to see me awake. I struggled to sit up but the doctor next to me quickly held out her palm to stop me. My obedience was forced by the pain that emitted from my entire body just from this movement.

“Please,” the doctor next to me said gently, “just rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Agreed,” I groaned, intending it to be a funny comment, but I only sounded hoarse.

She continued carefully in her gentle approach, as if handling a delicate flower. “I’m Dr. Birchwood. You are at Saint Christopher’s Hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?”

The other doctor in front of me seemed to search my eyes for answers. I remembered the ocean and how it pulled me down. I remember trying to swim to save someone from drowning. I remember the water I inhaled when I couldn’t reach the surface. I remember wondering if there was even a person drowning or if it was just in my head.

“Yes,” my voice croaked. I was suddenly afraid to make eye contact with either doctor. By all accounts, I should be dead. I drowned. I was pulled down. I saw…I saw…what did I see? I tried to restrain my facial expression as my memory played back my brush with death.

“I…,” I started. I was suddenly accosted by tears as I tried to explain, “I was going for a run on the beach when I heard someone scream for help. I saw a woman in the water. I called 9-1-1. Then I dove in the ocean to save them. I never actually got to her. Did they save her? Is she here too? Is she okay?”

The blond doctor at the foot of my bed turned as white as a sheet.

Dr. Birchwood grasped my hand and explained the best she could. “Mr. Owen, you went through something traumatic today. What I’m going to tell you is going to sound absurd, but you’re just going to have to trust that I’m telling you the truth. You’re not the first drowning victim from Nolan Beach brought in, but you are one of the lucky ones. Around this time of year, people report that they were trying to save someone from drowning, only to be drowning victims themselves. The Coast Guard has never found another person in the water after saving the person who claims they were trying to save someone else. You seem to be the newest person with this story.”

My head struggled to process too many thoughts at once. It was like having an entire crowd speak to you at the same time. How could that be? Did I see a ghost? Was someone out there trying to drown people? Was this a mental institution? Is this the part where they ask me if I see the drowning girl in the room with us right now?

But all I could say was, “I don’t understand.”

The doctor at the foot of my bed finally chimed in. “That’s okay. Just know that you’re alive. You’re healthy. You’re safe. All you need to do right now is rest.”

Dr. Birchwood gave a gentle smile to both of us. She promised to check on me later and excused herself to answer a page. The other doctor was instructed to finish speaking with me. Attempting to keep my mind from spiraling out of control, he introduced himself. His name was Dr. Franklin, and this was his fourth year in residency.

“Congrats,” I smiled weakly. “I’m a pretty easy-going guy, doc. I feel banged up, so maybe I’ll be your least-complicated patient.”

He chuckled. “I can handle it. You’re looking at a third-generation doctor. The only thing I probably couldn’t handle is my dad’s disapproval of my choice in residency.” I could only smile because I was too exhausted to even politely chuckle. Then his face darkened. “Look, I don’t want to scare you or anything, but I know what Dr. Birchwood said is hard to process. You’re not from around here, are you? Otherwise, you would have known about Nolan Beach.”

I felt the color drain from my face. Did I want to know? It doesn’t matter. I had to know. “What happened on Nolan Beach?” I asked after a moment.

Dr. Franklin checked the hallway for approaching steps, then closed the door behind him before returning to my bedside. “Look,” he started quietly, “it’s not going to make any sense at first, but just listen for a second, okay?” I nodded, signaling him to go on. “Nolan Beach is haunted. I know, I know. Just bear with me. People believe the beach is haunted by a girl who died decades ago. Supposedly, when she was alive, her boyfriend brought her out there to propose to her. But when she said no, he went into a rage and drowned her in the ocean. Her body was never found, and the boyfriend was never arrested because the cops just think she ran away. The next year, someone drowned in the same spot. Then the next year it happened again, and more frequently. Then again the next year, and the year after that, and the year after that. I know that sounds ridiculous, but there’s no other explanation for it. Every year, several men drown in the same area that you were found. But survivors say they saw a woman flailing her arms and screaming for help. When they swim out to where she was, nothing is there. Then she pops up further out. And then further out. Until they are too far out in the water to make it back to shore. Believe us when we say that you’re one of the lucky ones.”

I didn’t believe in ghosts, and I started to say this, but Dr. Franklin stopped me. “I know you must think I’m full of shit, but I promise I’m not,” he said. He moved to the foot of my bed and lifted the blanket to expose my legs. In stunned horror, I saw a deep purple and black bruise in the shape of a hand, unnaturally large and stretched all the way around my foot and lower leg. The same leg that the woman grabbed under the depths of the ocean.