The boy in the pool

Hey guys! I'm a little stuck on my current projects, so I decided to revisit some of my horror writing! Horror's always been able to get me out of the worst of my writer's block---here's hoping it works!

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I got my first real job when I was sixteen. I was a lifeguard for a community pool, a ways away from my house, and, while California was hot in the summer, I really enjoyed being outside. My supervisor was pretty hands off and didn't mind if the other guards and I occasionally took a dip with swimmers in the water. I did the job until I graduated high school, a full two years in all. It paid well and the hours were flexible, what more could a teenager ask for?

One of my brothers, Ted, was also a lifeguard the summer the dead kid came to the pool.

He wasn't a normal kid. That's what you'd expect. You'd expect me to say that he looked totally normal, there was nothing to mark him as strange or dangerous. In some ways, I guess he was, but, where it counted, he was weird.

He only came on really hot days, when the California sun was uncompromising and searing. Then, on those days, he'd only come in with a group of people. Maybe some suburban moms with their toddlers, maybe a group of elementary schoolers and a chaperone, maybe a whole family. He'd come in right on their tail, slipping past the gate right before it closed and locked.

Ted and I thought he might be from one of the lower income neighborhoods at first, one of the ones without a pool. He was thin and pale, with big blue eyes and this tight, suspicious look on his face. We thought his parents might work or that he might be in foster care or something and needed to get out.

I wasn't supposed to let kids that young into the pool without adult supervision but I decided to cut the kid some slack. The way he stuck to the fence across from the lifeguard stand made me think he hadn't had much luck in his life and, besides, I was watching him out of my peripherals. He, technically, wasn't unsupervised, just not directly supervised. I never looked at him head on, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. I thought he was shy or scared.

One Saturday, I got to work early. Ted had asked me to, saying he wanted to go hang out with some friends and needed me to cover the last hour of his shift for him. I waited in the air conditioned office not looking forward to sweating buckets in the afternoon sun. I watched idly out the window as Ted called for everyone to get out of the pool. Every hour, there was a fifteen minute "adult swim" that let the lifeguard get some form of break so it wasn't weird.

As soon as Ted came into the office he said, "That kid is freaking me out."

I looked out the window and saw the boy by the fence. His head was turned away from the office, towards the Ericksons, a family I knew well from working last summer. I looked at Ted. "What do you mean?"

"Dude, haven't you noticed how he stares?" Ted asked. He glanced back out toward the deck and then shook his head. "There's something not right with him. Like, in the head."

I frowned. "You can't say that." Our supervisor would fire him if she heard that.

"You need to watch him," Ted told me. His tone and expression were too serious. "There's something wrong with him. I haven't seen him play with any of the other kids. No one talks to him. I think they know him, like, he lives in this neighborhood and they know he's bad news."

That was a possibility. We lived way out in the fields and didn't know everybody that had access to this pool. They might know something we didn't about this kid.

I told my brother I'd be careful and took the lifesaving flotation device from him. He left and, after checking the time, I went out to start my shift.

Now that Ted had pointed it out, the kid did stare an awful lot. Like a lot. His blue eyes were shadowed by his furrowed brow, giving him this kind of sinister, children of the corn look. I stared back, confident that my sunglasses would hide the direction of my gaze. The kid didn't blink once the entire time I was looking.

I went back to scanning the pool and realized what else was wrong. Kids that age, eight, nine, they breathe through their chest. Fast, high breaths that move their shoulders and come out their mouths. This kid's shoulders didn't move at all and his stomach didn't either.

The next time adult swim came around, I went back to the office but, instead of texting my other siblings, I watched the kid. He didn't move from his spot by the fence but his head turned, once again looking at the Ericksons. He didn't even look like he was breathing.

I spent the rest of my shift with goosebumps. I didn't like that kid looking at me at all. I tried to avoid looking at him, like before, but my eyes kept sliding back looking for any sign of movement beyond the occasional head turn.

By the time I got home, I felt ridiculous. It was a kid. There was no reason to be uneasy. in fact, it was super insulting. He didn't have any guardian and just wanted to have fun at the pool like everyone else.

The following Saturday, I'd decided what to do. I told Ted I was going to ask Luis Erickson to play with the kid so the little guy would have something to do besides staring and looking creepy. My brother was uncharacteristically apprehensive.

"I'll go with you," he said. "I'm meeting up with Amber later anyway, doesn't matter if I go now."

He rode all the way into town with me, not saying a word. When we got to the pool, he chatted with the lifeguard I was taking over for while I got ready.

It was still before noon but there were quite a few people at the pool, including the Ericksons. I went over and talked to them for a bit, suggesting that Luis invite the boy to play like I'd planned. I was surprised when he shrugged and agreed. Apparently the kid wasn't from around there and no one had approached him because of it.

Feeling like my good deed was done for the day, I went to my post and waited. Sure enough, the kid showed up when a birthday party came in, slipping through the gate in bare feet and a swimsuit. He never carried a towel with him which, I guess, was fine because I'd yet to see him get in the water.

The kid's expression didn't change when Luis asked him to play but he followed him to the pool's edge. Luis jumped in and then swam back over to the edge, talking excitedly, and the kid squatted down to listen.

I looked over to the office window, intending to tell Ted to suck it, I was right. Ted wasn't looking at me though. He was watching the kid with that same apprehensive look on his face from that morning. 

I called adult swim at the top of the hour and raised an eyebrow as Luis went to the fence with the kid instead of back to his family. Though Luis wasn't smiling it looked like they got along better than I'd expected.

"Maybe he can't swim," I told Ted when I got to the office. "I haven't seen him get in the water once. Have you?"

Ted pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't like it. He's weird."

"How?" But even when I pressed Ted for answers, that was all he would say. That the kid was weird.

I looked back out at the deck to see the kid leaning in close to Luis, holding a hand in front of his mouth but obviously whispering something. Luis' expression was blank but his eyes darted all around before finally fixing on the water. He took a step forward with the kid, then another, and they both started walking towards the water's edge.

Now, this happened all the time. Kids got tired waiting for adult swim to end and decided to end it themselves. Sometimes I could cut adult swim short, give them what they wanted, but it'd only been five minutes since I entered the office.

I threw open the window. "Hey! Adult swim, don't get in the pool!"

Luis didn't look like he'd even heard me which didn't happen. Ever. His parents were pretty strict with him and he always listened. I looked to them reflexively and saw that they were deep in conversation, totally focused on each other.

"That kid," Ted said next to me. His eyes were wide and I could see goosebumps on his arm. "Look at the kid."

Later, Ted told me the kid had lost all color. His eyes, Ted insisted, had been fogged over, not blue like we thought. He said that the kid was dripping wet despite having not, to our knowledge, been in the pool at all.

I didn't see any of that because as soon as I looked at the kid, both he and Luis jumped into the pool.

"Hey!" I shouted. "I said adult swim!" I grabbed the red lifesaver and barged out of the office and onto the deck. I could see the two underwater, probably huddling there to hide. "Out! Out of the pool!"

Only they weren't coming out. I didn't know what they were doing but it didn't look natural. Luis' dark head was about six inches under water and moving in quick, frantic jerks. The shape underneath him, the kid, was stock still.

I cursed, heart thundering. Were they drowning? I started forward, bringing the flotation device to my front. I hit the water with a long stride and was surprised when another body hit. My brother had jumped in next to me, hoodie and all.

We raced out to where the boys were and dove underneath the water. I opened my eyes and didn't understand what I was seeing at first. The water has a way distorting shapes, making things seem bigger or further away. I could see Luis struggling to get to the surface, clawing at the water. I could barely make out the kid's shape, wrapped up in Luis' blur as if trying to climb up him.

Ted was the stronger swimmer and he reached the two first. He went for Luis, coming up behind him and hooking his arms under the armpits like we were taught. I went for the kid at the bottom of the pool. I had to dodge around my brother and Luis who, for some reason, hadn't made any progress away from the center of the pool. 

As I reached out for the kid, I understood why that was.

I'd thought the kid was pulling Luis down in an attempt to get to the surface. You see it all the time in training videos. People try to save themselves by pulling on those around them, sometimes even drowning their rescuers in an attempt to get to the surface.

This wasn't that.

The boy was standing on the bottom of the pool. I don't know how but he was. His feet were flat against the bottom of the pool and he had one arm up, his hand wrapped around Luis' ankle in a tight grip. The lifesaver device cord tugged at me, bobbing at the surface, and I had to fight to stay under the water. This kid wasn't fighting at all.

I changed my plan at the last minute, going for the boys' hand. My brother was still trying to pull Luis to the surface and he couldn't do that with this kid hanging on. I grabbed his wrist and jerked in shock. His skin was hard and colder than the water despite having spent the better part of an hour in the sun.

I yanked, using my nails and my limited supply of air, trying to get the kid to let go. He just wouldn't. I ran out of air first and I had to get to the surface. I wouldn't be any good if I was drowning too.

It didn't really occur to me that both Luis and the kid had been underwater for much longer than I had.

I bobbed to the surface and gasped for air. Ted was panting at the surface, arms still straining to get Luis' head above water.

"What is happening?" he demanded to know, voice breaking. There was a heavy splash as Luis' dad jumped into the pool. I didn't answer and I didn't wait, instead diving back down to the bottom.

This time I didn't try to get the kid's hand off of Luis. Another part of our training was that sometimes you had to hurt people to keep them from hurting others. I went for the kid's face, just aiming to get him to focus on me instead of Luis.

The kid's face snapped towards me just as my fingers slid into his hair. I had to bite back a scream of terror that would have used up all my air. The boy's eyes were all fogged over, his mouth was open and, inside, I could see something moving.

I instinctively lunged back but I was too slow. The kid let go of Luis, alright, but he grabbed onto me, wrapping his arms around my neck and pulling me down. I kicked out, accidentally hitting my brother before he swam away, rescuing Luis.

I tried to get away from the kid. I pinched and tore at his arms, kicked his abdomen, even tried to bite him. None of it had any effect except for the biting. When my teeth sank into his shoulder, his sank into mine.

My mouth filled with something putrid and black and I dry heaved, air erupting in bubbles and disappearing. My shoulder felt like it was on fire and I could feel his jaw working his teeth deeper into my skin. I kicked at him, my feet sinking into a surprising soft stomach and, miraculously, he let go.

Dizzy from lack of air, I shot to the surface, forgetting about rescuing the kid. I splashed my way to the edge where hands grabbed under my arms, pulling me onto the deck. I vomited and then flipped onto my back, gasping for air and curled around my injured shoulder.

When I looked back into the water, the kid was gone.

I don't remember the rest in much detail. I think I went into shock. My brother had managed to successfully perform CPR on Luis, much to his parents' relief. The paramedics were called and they took Luis away for overnight observation to make sure his lungs didn't refill with water.

When they found maggots in the bite mark on my shoulder, they took me too. 

My brother told the police about the boy while I got stitches, but he was never found and Ted shut up about it pretty fast when the cops started looking at him funny. He shut up a lot actually, not as talkative, not as outgoing as he used to be.

I wasn't as affected, having already encountered the supernatural before. Maybe less effected is wrong. For months after, I'd go into a cold sweat when I saw the bite scar and I had horrific nightmares about drowning. I'd only take shifts with Ted if I had to work and it took me until the following summer to be able to get back into the pool for anything short of an emergency.

So I was just as effected but, having encountered the paranormal before, I hid it better.

Ted got the nightmares and the paranoia. He quit lifeguarding as soon as our parents let him and he quit the swim team at school. He'd stare at me for hours sometimes, probably remembering all the stories I used to tell about a man in the mirror or the things in the backyard. Wondering how many stories were true. He didn't ask though and, believing that talking about it gave things power, I never forced the issue.

I regret that sometimes. If we'd talked, Ted might not have spent the next three years in silent torment. Maybe we could have bore it better together. Maybe we would've been better prepared. Maybe, when he disappeared two years ago, he would've told me where he went.