The bright yellow terror

”They are down there in the water. I saw several glimpses of bright yellow popping up from and then retreating down below the surface, only to pop up again in a rhythmic fashion. Like a dance routine. Brightly yellow and deadly. Are they mocking us? The rotting, sweet stench of death is still lodged in my nostrils. We are trapped here, and people are losing their minds.’

I had found these diary pages while digging through old boxes in my basement. My wife had insisted, finally, that I sort out and get rid of everything I didn’t need. Now here I was, directly confronted with a part of my past I had tried to suppress unsuccessfully for so many years. 24 years to be exact. 24 odd years of trying to understand what exactly happened in those days on a rooftop in Phuket during a horrifying natural disaster. 24 odd years of having to dodge questions of my unwavering fear of the ocean. Well, in truth, I guess being caught in a large tsunami and witnessing the immense destructive forces of nature coming directly from the great wide ocean would be a fair excuse, but it was only half the truth. It wasn’t just the waves themselves that had terrified me.

Someone once told me that writing can be therapeutic. Simply putting your thoughts down on paper, or in our times, more likely in a Word document, can help you compartmentalize trauma. So, I’m giving it a try.

I often think of the beach days I missed with my son when he was a boy. Days where I should’ve done dad stuff. Like throwing him into the ocean. Watching him laugh his little face off as he braved the waves. Helping him build sandcastles. Wrestle with him in the water. Gone exploring along the sandy shores in search of beached treasure. I just couldn’t.

Initially, I had objected to the idea of him going at all. Naturally, my wife would hear none of that and I realized reluctantly, that my fear and trauma should not rule my son’s life. Instead, my wife would go, and I would always stay home. She understood, to some degree, what I had gone through and where my fear came from. Only to some degree. My son did not, and I sense he resented my absence on those perfect sunny days. Much to my despair, he turned out to be quite a little water enthusiast. I know for a fact that both he and my wife noticed how closed off I was about certain parts of my past.
Secrets untold, especially those that are grounded in trauma, almost inevitably turn toxic in our systems.

This story is about the strange and horrifying occurrences I experienced during a tsunami in Thailand. I don’t have a truly rational explanation for what I went through. What I saw. All I know is this: There was something in the water. Something deeply, deeply unnatural. Something bright and oddly yellow. Something very deadly and evil. I have no other words for it than the bright yellow terror.

I had traveled to Thailand around Christmas 2000. I had just turned 19 and I was on one of those infamous and increasingly popular self-discovery trips. Like so many other hopeful young adventurers at the time I saw ‘The Beach’. I read ‘Into the Wild’ by Jon Krakauer. I watched Dicaprio walk the sandy shores of paradise until it wasn’t paradise anymore and read on in excitement and awe as Christopher McCandless set out to become one with nature and discover himself. Kill the false being within.

In simple terms, I thought I’d try and find my own slice of heaven on earth. Expand my horizon. Get to know some new people. Learn something about myself in the process perhaps. I wasn’t exactly fleeing from anything. That wasn’t it. I had a loving, although overprotective family. Well, maybe I was fleeing from that if I’m being honest now.

Yes, I admit it. My parents had paved the way for me at almost every step. Made sure I got into the right schools. Made sure I never needed money. I guess I got tired of feeling dependent on them. I stopped taking their money, worked my ass off, and saved up for the trip myself. It was time I stepped up. It was time I threw myself into the world to see what would happen. I felt I needed to get away from the safety of family, of home, of everything familiar, to truly discover myself. In uncharted territory. Hell of a time and place I picked.

The following story is based on the surviving pages of the diary I kept during the time and my memory.

Bangkok 23rd December 2000. Four days before the tsunami.

You could probably imagine the excitement bubbling within me. For the first time on my own. In the prime of my life. In a strangely new and exotic city. Possibilities seemed endless. I still remember driving off from the airport with the wind in my hair in a tuk-tuk as Bangkok unfolded before me with all its oriental mysticism and surrounding cityscapes.

I got myself stationed in a decent guesthouse around Khaosan Road. Everywhere I looked it seemed others had gotten the same idea as me. Backpackers crowded the streets and strangely, I felt at home amidst this quiet and peaceful chaos, amidst the crowds of hopefully like-minded explorers, far, far away from home. Khaosan Road was perfect for me. A meeting place for young backpackers, with tons of opportunities to plan further travels. I did, after all, not plan on staying in Bangkok for too long. It was just a stepping point to other adventures.

It was still early. I was in the mood to socialize and with no real plans I simply ventured out into the streets of Bangkok, circling the area where my guesthouse was located. It wasn’t long before the first opportunity presented itself in the form of a taxi driver calling me over. He offered to take me on a tour of the city. Foolish and naive as I was, I indulged him. I remember how he lit up a doobie, joint, spliff, devil’s lettuce whatever you want to call it. You know it as soon as you breathe it in. Don’t get me wrong, I partook myself from time to time, but letting a high person drive me around the busy Bangkok traffic did not seem like a good idea. I do remember feeling worried about what kind of person I had just so carelessly chosen to accompany. I was eventually led to a store, fitted for a suit I didn’t want, and then subsequently charged an obscene amount for the cab ride. I didn’t dare to refuse his unreasonable demand.

Noteworthy mention. That same night I heard from a fellow traveler that just recently someone had been stabbed in an argument with a cab driver. I didn’t let it get me down or drive me off course because as you’ve probably gathered by now, I didn’t have a course.

As day turned to night and when the sun’s rays slowly disappeared behind the rooftops of Bangkok, the city itself began to transform. As if a part of it that had laid dormant, hidden away from the light, started to emerge.

I saw Neon lights advertising different bars, and locals making all kinds of promises of untold pleasures and sensations. I saw Tourists ready to party. All now filled the streets. Some seemed all too aware of what they were looking for, others simply drifted around aimlessly, in search of something unknown, something to spice up their existence. I found a small, seemingly cool place called The Hangover. I swear to God, I wish to this day I hadn’t. Maybe then I wouldn’t have set my course for Phuket.
In any case, I went in and pushed myself through the crowds of rowdy and loud tourists and up to the bar where I ordered a Pina Colada because why not? Standing at the crowded bar and looking around, hoping something interesting would catch my eye. But most of all, I was hoping someone would just take the first step and come talk to me.

Someone did. His name was Robert, and he was from Australia. A tall skinny and no-nonsense older guy in his late forties who seemed quite experienced with all things Thailand. He eventually invited me down to his group of friends at the far back end of the bar. Robert spared no time telling me about himself. He had worked all kinds of jobs, in all kinds of places. Most recently he had worked as a guide in Phuket. Among other things, he had arranged rock climbing expeditions. I probably forgot to mention, I was big into rock climbing and generally all kinds of outdoor activities back then. I already had quite the climbing experience despite my young age. As Robert talked about all the places he’d been, he made me feel like the novice I was. That was never his intention though, as I quickly learned. He wasn’t a bragger. He just knew what he was talking about and when he laughed, he did it with his entire face and in a way that made you laugh with him and feel comfortable.

Eventually, the conversation naturally gravitated towards Australia. A place I had always wanted to visit. He looked at me for a second, as if to contemplate something. Then he told me to watch out for locals trying to play pranks on me if I ever decided to go. I was naturally interested in hearing more and that’s when he told me about drop-bears. Supposedly drop-bears are carnivorous versions of Koalas residing in trees that would then drop down on unsuspecting victims and viciously attack them. We laughed quite a lot, and I admitted I would probably have believed the stories as I was a fairly naive person and the idea of a hostile subspecies of koalas didn’t seem that farfetched to me.

Our conversation then shifted toward Australian wildlife and fauna and the horrors residing within its diverse and complicated ecosystem. He told me about a plant not uncommonly referred to as the suicide plant. It has such a nasty sting it made a man commit suicide simply to escape the pain.
Another dangerous inhabitant was the box jellyfish he explained. Their sting is about as deadly as it gets. A single sting will cause necrosis of the skin, excruciating pain, and, if the dose of venom is large enough, cardiac arrest and death within minutes.

I found the thought of the box jellyfish equal parts fascinating and equal parts frightening. Beautiful but deadly creatures. In fact, the ocean, in all its grand wide-reaching glory had always made me uncomfortable to some extent. So much unexplored space. Who truly knows what could be lurking down there? Robert quickly assured me that as long as you take your precaution the likelihood of getting stung by a box jellyfish was rather small.

It was getting late and before we said our goodbyes Robert suggested I meet him in Phuket, more precisely in the Karon area on the 28th as that was the first day he would be able to meet. I agreed. He seemed genuinely nice and knowledgeable. Just good company all around and he promised to show me the greatest climbing spots a bit away from the crowded tours.

I would never meet Robert again. I don’t know what happened to him. Thinking back on those days leading up to the point where the waves came crashing down always gives me an uneasy, sad, and melancholic feeling.

Bangkok 24th of December 2000. Three days before the tsunami.

I woke up with a slight hangover. Christmas is commonly celebrated on this date in my country, so I was expecting some calls to go through on my brick-sized Nokia at some point once all the good folks back home woke up. They were about 5 hours behind me and at 9 AM Bangkok time they would still be sleeping.

I used the time to do some shopping before my trip to Phuket. I got plenty of rope, a couple of snap hooks, and a harness. I knew they’d have all of this on the guided tours, but I liked to find my own spots to climb, and I had good sense and knowledge enough to not attempt anything too daring.
After having done my shopping, I bought a bus ticket to Phuket intending to leave that same night. As exciting as Bangkok was, I felt it was more for people intending to party, and honestly, it was a bit too crowded for me. I was excited to move on.

On the way into the reception area of my guesthouse, I was stopped by a young-looking and hip dude asking me for a cigarette. He had sort of a rugged look. Dirty blond half-long hair. His face I would best describe as boyish but something in his eyes betrayed him and revealed his age to be older than you would assume. His style was… Boheme I guess I would describe it as. Like something taken out of the ’70s LA scene. Now I don’t necessarily consider myself a perfect judge of character, but he had an easy-going way about him that immediately drew me in. Sometimes, you can just tell. I’m not a smoker. Never was. So, I couldn’t help him on that front. ”No worries, I’ll find ’em somewhere else’ he said. For a while, we just casually talked. He had come to Bangkok from India just a few days prior and seemed about as lost and without direction as I had been before deciding to take my chances in Phuket. Alex was his name, and he would later teach me a painful lesson about what mistakes, hurt and loss can do to a person but I’m getting ahead of myself.

He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere and get a beer. I thought,” Why not?” He was around my age, I guessed, and on his own as well. I told him I had to go make some calls and I’d be out in about an hour.
Back in the hotel room I quickly gathered all my stuff and packed it up, so it was ready to go. My climbing gear took up the most space. I figured if things went well with Alex, I might ask him to join me at some point in Phuket. Even though I had set out for this trip to be about discovering myself and being on my own, I longed for some kind of company. Don’t we all?

I called my parents up and we wished each other a happy Christmas. It was odd to think they were somewhere nearly halfway across the world celebrating Christmas while snow draped the landscapes there. Here I was, In a hot and humid paradise.
It was the usual song and dance I got from them. ”Are you safe? Don’t go to this place, I heard bad things, don’t do this, you might get in trouble.’ Yada yada yada. This was one thing I didn’t miss, and it reminded me I had made the right choice to travel away from the clamoring clutches of my perpetually worried parents.

My 5-year-old nephew somehow got hold of the phone. Not quite a conversationalist yet, but it still felt good to hear his voice. Hearing his excitement over the prospect of celebrating Christmas brought me back to my own childhood. Decorating the Christmas tree, watching holiday cartoons, and of course, opening presents.

I finished my calls and went out to see if Alex was ready. He was already waiting for me and had managed to score some cigarettes in the meantime. He had changed his outfit as well. He was now wearing a faded black Doors T-shirt. We talked a bit about Jim Morrison and The Doors as we headed off down streets. We passed a myriad of small stands selling everything from electronics to colorful t-shirts and small bracelets with campy misspelled English catchphrases. We dodged the many intrusive offers and eventually found a small comfy-looking bar with seats outside shaded by palm trees. Then we ordered a couple of beers, and soon the conversation started flowing. As it turned out Alex was 27, so he was a bit older than I had initially guessed. We learned that we had a common interest in music. For a while, he had busked as a street musician while working odd jobs here and there and had eventually decided to travel the world.
His latest stop had been India where for a while he had lived on the rooftop of some abandoned building while attempting to learn the art of playing the sitar. I thought about that for a second. Living it rough on a rooftop in India. I don’t know why that idea intrigued me so much. It seemed like freedom to me, I suppose. Sleeping under the wide-open skies. Looking down on the busy streets and watching people go about their lives. I guess I just liked the idea of doing something that seemed different from what I had ever done before. Living on a rooftop, if even just for a while, was definitely not something I had done before.

We drifted off into long conversations about music I won’t bore you with, only to let you know we shared a passion for old-school music like The Doors and Jimi Hendrix as well as 90s shoegaze music like My Bloody Valentine, Ride, and Slowdive. I had Slowdive’s Shine playing in my mind that day. It all felt so dreamy at the time.

I eventually told Alex of my plans to go to Phuket and he was on board almost immediately. I loved how easy it was here on the road. There was no ‘well maybe’, or ”let’s think about it.” Alex had been to Phuket before and knew of a place we could stay for free. Another rooftop of course, but he had already sold me on the idea. From there, we could plan our next step, he said. ”Our next step’ I don’t remember vibing with someone that quickly before or since, but then I guess making friends is always easier when you’re young and easygoing. I always seemed to attract good company without much effort back then. I chalk it down to my friendly and slightly shy demeanor. Seems it only becomes harder to make friends as the years pass though. At least it did for me.

We got a bus ticket for Alex and went shopping. I got some first aid supplies. Bandages, band aids, pain killers. That kind of stuff. Rock climbing is safe if you know what you are doing, mind you, but you can end up scraping yourself and I felt in general, being prepared for whatever might be a good idea if I was to live it rough on some rooftop.

The bus ride to Phuket took about 12 hours give or take. By going at night, we could sleep most of the way and be in Phuket in the morning on the 25th. The trip down was unsurprisingly uneventful. We would take turns listening to music on Alex’s Walkman or talk about things we saw along the way. Like roadside bars and restaurants which were little more than a tin roof covering a few plastic chairs and brightly colored menu cards plastered on the side of a shed. Everything in the Thai countryside seemed simpler, in the best ways possible. No big flash, no fanfares or luxury. Nothing pretentious. Just a calm, laid-back atmosphere and friendly smiles from the locals as we passed by.

Alex told me he wanted to start a band blending elements of Shoegaze/Dream Pop with classic rock and insisted I learn to play the drums. He had tried but found no luck. String instruments were more his thing he told me. I told him jokingly if he could come up with a good name, I might be down. He just nodded, looked out the window, and started talking about how beef was a rare and more expensive ingredient in Thai cuisine, and I wondered about the sudden random change of subject.

There was an undeniable air of mystery over him. Judging from all the things he told me he seemed like a person who dreamed big, but never really followed through. An unfinished education. Scribbles on pieces of paper that ended up gathering dust in his drawer instead of turning into a book. A band that never really took off because he lost interest or didn’t deem that it was good enough to be successful. Moving from place to place and never committing to any of them.

He talked at length about leaving a legacy. It seemed to be something that concerned him. I guess he wanted to put his mark on the world. To be remembered. To prove himself somehow. I had never really thought about it myself although I did have a fascination with historical people and the lives they lived. In fact, when I do read, I mostly read biographies. I just never had any ambition like that myself.
I tried to ask Alex about his family and friends back home. He told me bits here and there, but I couldn’t help but feel there was something he was leaving out. Especially family seemed to be a touchy subject. At certain points, I sensed a carefully hidden sadness behind his optimistically youthful and bright blue gaze.

Phuket 25th of December 2000. Two days before the tsunami.

Alex woke me up. It was 9 AM and we had arrived at the Phuket bus terminal 1 near Phang Nga Road. He explained to me that there were several derelict and abandoned buildings perfect for establishing a free-of-charge rooftop domicile in an area not too far from the resorts of Khao Lak. Phuket back then wasn’t exactly the overcrowded tourist spot it is today, but it was well on the way. I understood why. The scenery was beautiful. Long sandy beaches with small islands dotting the horizon, begging to be explored. Giant limestone cliffs covered in green shrubs rose up from the ocean. I was sold.

We found the area Alex had talked about. Several derelict buildings were concentrated in a small area divided by a main street that if followed long enough, led to an area with shops and places to dine. We set our eyes on what looked like an abandoned apartment complex. It was rugged-looking and had clearly seen better days. Its ghostly exterior facade begged us inside to explore and we accepted the invitation. As we made our way in through a busted window in the back, we quickly became aware that the place might not be as abandoned as we had initially thought. Several signs of squatters such as cooking utensils and sleeping mats lay scattered here and there. Alex rationalized that it could just be other backpackers. I shrugged and we decided to make our way to the roof. We got up to the top floor and accessed a broken-down door that led directly out onto the roof.

I must admit, despite my excitement, I was somewhat hesitant. Any doubt I had disappeared when we first stepped onto the rooftop. It was perfect. It seemed it had functioned as a common area of sorts the inhabitants could make use of for gatherings.

The roof was surrounded by an iron fence. Several palm trees cast shades over the northwest corner which was perfect for when things got too hot. In the middle, a small janitorial sort of shed stood. We found some cleaning materials, brooms, some parasols in there as well as an old rusty grill and a couple of wooden chairs.

The view from the roof was amazing. We could see the large beachfront in the far distance surrounded by limestone cliffs. After inspecting the area and finding it to our liking we sat down. Alex took out a bottle of whiskey.

Unaware of the horror that would later unfold here, we celebrated in the shade of the palm trees. We had found our place for a while.

After a while, we decided to put some money into the local economy and shop for supplies.
Essentials: Water. Fruit. Cigarettes for Alex. Booze. The devil’s lettuce. Cooking utensils. Although as it turned out none of us were admittedly much of a cook. But what the hell? Can’t be seen dining out every night when we were trying to live off the fat of the land so to speak. I know, ridiculous. We were squatters. Nothing more. But heck, we would move on if we became a problem for anyone here. We weren’t trying to be a bother.

Optional but greatly wanted: A blow-up animal mascot. Maybe a dolphin if possible. Some new music for Alex’s walkman. A guitar. Decorating artifacts of any kind to make our domicile more personal.
We more or less got everything we needed and started setting up the base. Getting our hands on something funny to smoke proved the biggest challenge but Alex finally succeeded at a beachfront bar. Some friendly Norwegian dude who had connections apparently. He warned us against being too open about doing drugs, even if it was ”just” weed. Thailand has a strict approach to drugs. We thanked him and he told us to just come back here to the bar if we needed more.

The afternoon was rolling around and there we were. Sitting atop Phuket. In our very own rooftop presidential suite.

We decorated the place with a few things we found. Among them, was Art, our blow-up shark (they had no dolphins). Alex had come up with the name, I asked him ‘why Art’? However, in what I had quickly come to know as typical Alex fashion he just shrugged it off. ”Just like the name is all’. We smoked a bit and drank some booze as the evening progressed and I told Alex about Robert, Australia, and all the nasty things that could kill you there. I’m not sure why, but it made an impression on me. Insects, poisonous creatures, and stuff like that were nightmare fuel for me. Don’t even get me started on spiders. Alex was more laid back on that front. He seemed most amused and interested in the suicide plant and wondered if some poor soul had ever mistakenly tried to use it as toilet paper in a sticky situation and we had a good hard chuckle over that idea. Poor soul indeed.

As night rolled on stars started popping up on a clear night sky and I learned that Alex had a fascination with the universe. Particularly the idea of multiverses and infinite universes. ‘What if somewhere out there we were looking back at ourselves? Different but still somehow us?’ He asked me as we looked upon the starry night sky. It seemed to me part of him always longed to be anywhere else but where he was. Maybe in the past he was so reluctant to share with me.

Then we started talking about time. I don’t exactly remember why; I think he brought it up.

Anyway, Alex had a lot to say about time. Like how he believed our perception of time is tied to our experiences. For example, someone who spends their life not stepping up, not really taking risks or chances, just following along the stream, just following the routine, in essence, just killing time, might experience time as having moved fast when they look back, because there are simply less variety, less volume, fewer memories that stand out to look back on. We don’t remember routines, we remember breaking them, we remember doing new things, meeting new people, and being in new places. It creates the illusion and gives time volume, making it seem fuller and longer. I liked that idea a lot. It made sense to me. Make sure you live life to the fullest and waste as little time as possible.

I told him about my 10th-grade math teacher and how he said something about time I will never forget. Our perception of time can be measured mathematically. For example, to a 4-year-old turning 5 the transition of a year will seem much longer than it will to a 24-year-old turning 25. Because 1 in 5 is a larger fraction than 1 in 25. It blew my mind. The longer you live, the faster time seems to pass. But I agreed with him, maybe the quality and variety of the lives we live and the memories we make influence our perception of time too. Alex made a boom sound and motioned with his hands around his head. We both started laughing.

We were quite stoned at that point and well, some of you might know how being stoned sometimes throws you into these philosophical conversations. It was nice. I enjoyed the ease with which I could talk to Alex about all kinds of things even if some things were off limit.

At one point I asked him a hypothetical. If he could go back in time and change just one thing, what would he change? He fell silent. I once again sensed the sadness creeping behind his eyes. It was as if he was about to answer, like he was sizing me up but then his face changed, and he shot the idea down. Time travel is impossible, so why bother was his only response, and I accepted that whatever troubled him in the past was not for me to know, even if my interest only grew stronger and stronger.

I told him about my family. My overprotective mother. My father and his desperate attempts to get me interested in cars. About my older sister and my silly nephew. Alex nodded and asked the usual polite questions. When the subject landed on my little brother his interest seemed to spark significantly. How old was he? Was I a good older brother? Did I look out for him? I told him in all honesty that I found my little brother of 10 years to be a pain in the ass with his constant intrusion and clinginess. Alex shot me a look that made me feel like I had said something blasphemous and unspeakable. He seemed to then contain himself, looked down, and simply said: ‘Don’t take your family for granted.’ I found it odd at the time, but seeing as many things about Alex seemed off or odd I just chalked it down as one more quirk.

When we finally settled in the for night I slipped into an old familiar nightmare. It was the same I had had years earlier when I was 16. It always seemed to reappear whenever I found myself in unfamiliar territory.

I was lying in my bed, paralyzed, on my side, facing the door to my room. I often had the light turned on outside of my bedroom and it would shine in through the open door. I saw a dark silhouette approaching through the door opening. Optimistically I assumed it was my mom, coming to wake me up. However, as the dark figure slowly came closer, I quickly realized this wasn’t so. Something was off. Even though it was nothing but a silhouette backlit by the light coming from outside my bedroom I knew this was something else. I could sense it. The dark figure uttered no words as it slowly walked towards me. My heart started racing and before long it was right by my bedside. It sat down and I realized it was an old woman or man. It was hard to tell because its face was just a mishmash of wrinkled flesh. It mumbled through its mouthless face. Speaking in tongues. It wasn’t physically aggressive, but it seemed angry. Like it was just casually cursing me. I tried to scream but nothing came out as I desperately tried to wiggle and will myself to wake up as I had sometimes done before.

Back when I was 16 and first had these nightmares, I had just started in a new school coming from having been in the same class with the same kids for 9 years. I guess the sudden change into something new and the stress related to that caused me to have these frequent bouts of sleep paralysis and nightmares. I would always wake up. Drenched in sweat. Back then though, I had been in my room, and in the dream, my room had stood clearly for me as it looked like in reality, which only made the whole thing seem more real. This time I woke up on the rooftop next to Alex. Still drenched in sweat. I had screamed in my sleep. He comforted me in an almost brotherly show of affection, and we talked for a while. I appreciated his efforts but reliving that old nightmare had shaken me up. It had always seemed like a bad omen.

Phuket 26th of December 2000. One day before the tsunami.

The day started calmly. We were sitting in the shade of the palm trees that stretched across the rooftop. Alex made me forget about my nightmare from the day before by writing possibly the dumbest song about it ever. I guess I should have been slightly insulted that he would take a private horrifying experience I had gone through and turn it into a lewd joke about a rapey succubus entity invading my teenage bedroom but damn it the guy was funny. I couldn’t help but laugh and I knew he only did it to cheer me up.
I had found an old wooden chair in the utility shed and was drumming along on it as he played. We discussed band names and after Alex told me about his weird, wonderful, and at times creepy experience of sleeping down on the London subway I knew ‘Subway Sleepers’ was the perfect name for a shoegaze/dream pop/classic rock fusion band.

We decided on a plan for the day that involved getting me some actual percussion instruments, more weed, and a trip to the beach. We would need to go to the beach bar to visit the Norwegian weed dude anyway. His name was Thor, and he did have his part to play in this story so I guess I might as well stop calling him Norwegian weed dude.

Thor was sure enough just where we found him the last time wearing a kitschy flowery Hawaii shirt. We went a bit away from the crowds to conduct our business and soon we had a pretty neat supply that would last us some time. Thor told us to look out for people trying to lure us into a trap. Apparently. Some ‘dealers’ were working with the local police. They’d get unsuspecting tourists to buy drugs from them, and what do you know, around the corner, a couple of police officers would be waiting to strike and as mentioned earlier, drug possession in Thailand is no joke. The option you were left with was to pay up or get stationed in a cell in one of those dreaded Thai prisons you probably wouldn’t last a week in. Maybe he was just trying to make sure he didn’t lose our business, but he seemed quite serious. Anyway, we thanked him for the advice and Alex invited him up to the rooftop for a party later that evening and told him he could bring some friends along if he wanted to. Alex gave him our word we would stop by and pick him up and anyone he wanted to bring along after we had been to the beach.

”So we’re throwing a party” I asked Alex as we walked along the beach on a small sandy road surrounded by jungle-like vegetation. ”Hell yeah why not?” was his response. Not that I minded. ”We need to go shopping then. No booze left. We gotta be good hosts”. He agreed.

As we walked out from under the palm trees and entered the beach, I just stopped for a moment, looked around, and took it all in. Sand and ocean as far as the eye could see. Small islands in the distance.
Alex padded me on the back and asked me if I could swim in kind of a serious tone that caught me off guard. I wondered what kind of question that was. Of course, I could. We ran out into the waves and threw ourselves in. I went under and up again.

Alex was gone. I looked around for a while in utter confusion. He was simply gone. Nowhere to be seen. Suddenly I felt something tuck at my legs. Before I knew it, I was pulled under. When I reemerged, Alex was laughing at me. I lunged at him and before long we were wrestling around in the waves like a couple of kids peaking on sugar. At one point Alex dragged me along like a rag doll until I got the upper hand and swiped his legs away from under him. I used the moment to get some distance to contemplate my strategy. He had me in terms of size, but I was faster. When he came for me a second time, I quickly dodged him and went for his legs again.

We fooled around like that for maybe half an hour before we sat down on the beach. Both panting and laughing like idiots. Alex tapped my shoulder and thanked me for being a good sport. I sensed he had needed that somehow. His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and I think I saw glimpses of genuine childlike happiness.

”Haven’t played like that in the ocean since A… I was a kid.’ The way he said it was odd. As if he was about to say something else, stopped, and then went with the kid line. I just said, ‘You never get too old to play in the ocean,” and he agreed with a small-tempered nod. Come to think of it now, that was the last time I went to the beach.

The next couple of hours we just walked along the shore and left our footprints in the sand. When we got bored, we headed back to the beach bar to see if Thor was ready to go. In the meantime, he had gotten company.

If I had known that I would be trapped in hell on earth with these people, I might’ve screened them a bit more. Hindsight is 20/20, right? There were two chicks from Spain Thor had picked up at a bar in Bangkok some weeks prior. A guy from Italy the others simply called Franco immediately gave me an odd and chilling vibe. Something about the look in his eyes. The last dude named Matt was from Canada and was seemingly someone the others had just met that same day. We all headed to the stores to buy supplies. Plenty of booze. Plastic cups. Snacks. Alex and I promised a small live concert with our shitty half-finished music and the evening was set to be a success.

I wish I could tell you in detail about the party we threw that night. I really do. I wish I could put off the inevitable just a little longer. But here’s where my memory gets a bit fuzzy. I didn’t usually get that drunk, but that night was an exception. The parts I do remember are this: Thor had brought a boombox and I remember Born Slippy from the soundtrack of Trainspotting was blasting through the air in the hours before dusk as the sun was slowly setting. I remember Alex and me dancing like fools. I remember that we did give our improvised concert, which we should probably have started with before we got drunk. I remember Thor trying to get with one of the chicks he had brought along and got brutally rejected. I remember Franco and Matt getting into some kind of argument. I remember the sunset over Phuket. I remember… Nothing else really from that night.

Phuket 27th of December 2000. Day of the Tsunami

I woke up with quite a hangover. The first thing I thought of was water. I needed water. I found a half-full bottle and downed it all in one go. I looked around and noticed the two chicks from Spain had left. Thor, Franco, Matt, and Alex lay scattered around the rooftop in various spots of shade. I checked the time. Around 11 am. I sat down in one of the chairs to relax and take in the view of Phuket bathed in the midday sun.

About an hour or so later just as I was contemplating waking up Alex, I heard a sudden, most terrifying, and deafening sound. Like an airplane taking off right next to me. That’s how I remember it. Faint and distant sounds of tourists chattering amongst themselves. Like a quiet bridge in a song before the chorus hits. Then everything came crashing down. As I turned to look towards the sound, I struggled to understand what I saw. It came from the beach. Waves higher than I had ever seen before came rolling and people were running away. From a distance, they looked like ants scattering in all directions. The first wave hit with a thundering crash, and I saw how trees, houses, and people were swept away violently. One instant it was all there, the next… Just gone. It was all so violent and sudden. Like being woken up with a fist to the face. The others were up by then and Alex came running over to my side as I stood in complete disbelief at what I saw.

Soon all the water and debris were rushing by below the apartment complex we were standing on and before long, the water was up to a few meters below the rooftop.

People began floating by. Alex and I looked helplessly on as they were dragged along with the stream. The others had gathered around us now and Thor was the first who spoke. ”What the fuck happened!?” My voice was shaking as I told him what I had seen. Just then another wave came crashing down. Bigger than the one before. We all took a step back. ”We need to get the hell away from here!” Thor said, and I just gestured down on the rushing water and debris below. He looked frightened.
Matt, who was unbelievably cool-headed given the situation, calmed him down. Alex pointed towards the water below us and I saw immediately what he was gesturing at. A man was clinging on for dear life to the side of a balcony belonging to the building opposite from us. It looked like he was losing his grip. He looked over at us with a begging look in his eyes and my heart sank.

Then I remembered the climbing gear I had in my backpack. I quickly rushed over and got the rope. Fastened it to the metal fence on the rooftop and threw the other end over to the man. He grabbed it firmly and wrapped it around his torso. I could see his muscles flexing trying to hold on tight as Alex and I started to drag him towards us. With a struggle and some help from Matt, we managed to drag the man up until he could reach the metal fence and drag himself over. He rolled onto the rooftop. Exhausted. Banged up. But alive.

He was sobbing quietly. We quickly learned he had been to the beach with his family. A wife and young daughter. He told us his name was Thomas. Matt took him aside as Alex and I turned towards the rushing water below. More people came floating by and some of them managed to grab on to various things. We quickly realized we had to do something.

The roles seemed to naturally divide themselves. Alex and I started the rescue effort and Matt as well as Thor to some extent would tend to the wounded and traumatized people. Franco was wandering around in a state of shock talking to himself. It landed on Thor to try and calm him down.

Alex and I managed to secure a rope between our rooftop and a balcony on the opposite of the street as a man there had managed to drag himself up on it to tie the opposite end. That way I could use a rope, harness, and snap hook to improvise a zipline and swing across to catch people rushing by.

To this day I have no idea how I managed to stay so practical and level-headed at that moment, but I suppose Alex’s support was what helped me step up. He had kept insisting that we had to do something. We had to help in any way we could. His unwavering determination inspired me.

We rescued a young boy, he was crying uncontrollably and yelling in Spanish which neither I nor any of the others spoke. We only understood that his name was Eduardo. Hearing his despair and desperation tore right into my heart but with adrenaline rushing and people still in need of help I had to shut it off. Those initial hours. It was all about saving as many as we could. I had no time to process anything.

As the day went along, we were working mechanically like robots. We didn’t think about how some of the people we dragged up complained about being bitten by something. How some of them seemed… Off. Confused. Delirious. We were in the middle of a horrible natural disaster. So abnormal behavior seemed… Quite normal in that context. Initially, we assumed they must have cut themselves on tree branches or other debris as they were violently dragged along the water stream.
It wasn’t until one man came out of the water with something clinging to his leg that I realized something wasn’t right.

That was when it all changed. When everything became uncertain. Surreal. Like the beginning of a feverish nightmare. We had just dragged him up and he was screaming in pain. Then I noticed it.

At first glance, it looked like a jellyfish. The umbrella or bell (‘head” of a jellyfish for lack of a better way to put it) was a nauseating, transparent, and unnaturally bright yellow color. Like taken out of a trippy cartoon. Its tentacles or strings were medium thick and wrapped around the man’s leg in a death grip. Here is where it gets especially weird. Inside the yellow transparent umbrella, was what looked like a skull. A small, oblong, and flat white/greyish-colored skull with eye sockets. A pair of small mean and beady-looking eyes were located at the front of it. People with basic biological knowledge might note that jellyfish do not have skulls or any kind of bone structure. They are invertebrates. Yet I don’t have any other words to describe what I saw. The thing disgusted me beyond comprehension. Small strings shot out of the skull and withered around inside the jellied flesh of the umbrella. I ponder now whether those were transmitters of some kind, sending out signals.

The man was screaming, loudly, for me to get it off his leg. I grabbed a broom we found in the shed and lodged it in between the creature and the man’s leg. The thing was clinging on strongly. Another oddity. Jellyfish do not cling to people this way nor do they possess any kind of muscle mass to hold on this tightly. I spent considerable effort trying to pry the thing off and just when I thought I couldn’t get any more disgusted, it let out a bone-piercing high-pitched shriek just as I finally managed to pry it off. The sound was like dental drills on teeth but much louder and eerily mixed with a second much deeper pitch like a distorted bass. It landed upside down on the rooftop and that’s when I noticed where the sound came from. Beneath the umbrella was a small circular mouth. For lack of a better word. This thing defied logic so I’m trying to find terms as close to our understanding of physiology as I can. Its mouth was lined with small sharp teeth, bloodied from having feasted on the poor guy’s leg. It was opening and closing in quick succession while letting out that horrible sound. After a while, it fell silent. I stepped back in absolute horror.

Alex approached and I instinctively grabbed him and held him back before he could step any closer. I improvised a grid around the thing using chairs and informed everyone to stay away from it. When faced with something you don’t understand, something unknown, caution is necessary. The others gathered around the creature and looked at it in amazement. I told them all to keep their distance.
Matt and I managed to drag the guy who had been bitten into the shade of the palm trees. That’s where we improvised a section for the injured. I asked him how he was feeling, and he told me he had a strong stinging and painful sensation in his leg. He was feverish too. I did not have much to offer him except for the over-the-counter painkillers I had in my first aid kit. He gobbled it down and I asked Matt and the others to look after him as I went back to scout for more survivors in need of help.

By the end of the day, we had managed to get 17 people to safety. Many more had rushed by and been dragged along towards an unknown faith before we could get to them. I remember a young girl, maybe about 14, rushing by as I was pulling up an elderly woman. The look on her face is one I will never forget.
About 6 of the people, we got out of the water complained of being bitten by something and were showing initial symptoms of some kind of sickness, which unimaginable horror and cruelty would only become truly apparent to us later.

As the sun was setting on a day that had changed us all Alex and I were resting from sheer exhaustion. Our muscles ached all over from the day’s ordeal. Matt came over with a worried look on his face, and even though I had just met the guy, I got the impression that if something had gotten to him, it had to be bad. He told Alex and me that several of the people were getting worse and worse. Increasing delirium. Fever. Aching joints. Some had complained that it felt like their bones were on fire. Whatever that was supposed to mean. I told him we could do nothing to help them beyond painkillers, bandages, and cleaning wounds until the water subsided and rescue teams had been dispatched. I was sure help was on the way.
As it turned out I was wrong. What I didn’t know at that point was that due to ‘unforeseen logistics’ the rescue efforts had been delayed in our area. At least, that’s the official explanation. I now believe they were stalling. Trying to contain us. Quarantine us. Awaiting orders on how to proceed.

Matt looked worried and then sat down next to me. ”That thing. On the man’s leg. You don’t suppose it’s poisonous? There could be more of them in the water.’ I had to admit at that point I had thought about it myself. It was partly why I was worried about going into the water. Besides, the water had stopped rushing by. There were no more people in immediate need of help. The area was flooded but I figured the water would eventually reside. I told him it was best to stay on the roof for now and he agreed and left to check on the injured and sick.

I chatted with Alex for an hour or so and made sure he was OK and then decided to check up on the situation myself. I wanted to see exactly what we were dealing with. As I came closer to the section under the palm trees where the makeshift hospital was located, I noticed a foul stench faintly resting in the still hot and humid night air. A rotten smell mixed with a fruity sweet scent. I covered my nose with my shirt and as I approached the stench got almost unbearable. I sat down beside Matt and the man I had pried that yellow creature off of. I realized to my horror the stench was coming from him. He was sweating, unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

However, that wasn’t the worst part. He looked… like parts of his body were imploding on itself. As if his bones were deteriorating. Matt turned to me and asked me if I’d ever seen anything like this before. I just shook my head in silent horror.

As I came closer the man reached out for me, and for a second, I flinched and retreated backward. It wasn’t fair. But he scared me. A lot. I felt like a child again watching his first horror movie. The first real scare. It was a primal bone-chilling fear. He looked ghoulish as if his face was sinking in on itself. Like he was decomposing from the inside out. He was barely able to speak any higher than a faint whisper. I couldn’t hear him.

I know I should’ve been more careful. I had no idea if whatever he was inflicted with was contagious, but I had an instinct that outweighed my fear. I wanted to help ease his pain in whatever way I could. So, I leaned in to listen.

”Kill me” the faint raspy voice commanded. ‘Kill me. Please.’ Then it turned into an agonizing begging. A weak, raspy agonizing begging. ”Please, you must kill me.”

A chill went through my entire body, and I looked towards Matt. He just shook his head. I didn’t even contemplate the thought at the time. How could I kill someone? Looking back now, I wish had. I wish I had maned up and spared him what was to come. His eyes, looking like they were slowly sinking into his head, looked frightened, fixed on me, pleading, pleading with me to end his misery. I couldn’t.

After that, my curiosity got the best of me. I braved my fear of the unknown and went over to take another look at the yellow creature. Making sure to keep my distance. To my surprise, it still seemed alive. However, only barely. It was just oddly vibrating and jittering. In the evening darkness, it glowed so brightly yellow my eyes almost hurt from looking at it and I felt a headache coming on.
There was something else too. I heard what seemed like an ocean of faintly whispering voices. Voices so low it was impossible to make any sense of it. They were just there. Like a constant drone-like and ominous presence. A constant, silent background noise. It felt… As if they were probing inside me somehow. Inside my mind. Looking for something.

Alex came to me later that night and pulled me aside. He needed to vent. So, did I. It was as if the entire ordeal of the day came crashing down on me all at once. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel much of anything as it seemed I was constantly on high alert, but now, as the darkness had descended upon us, as there was nothing more that could be done for the day, it all came to me at once. I broke down. I felt so small all of a sudden. The tough pragmatic façade I had put up fell apart.

Alex placed his arm around me and told me it was all going to be alright, but I felt the doubt in his voice. He was scared. We all were. We may have survived the waves, but we had all seen that… Thing. We were all aware that we were trapped on a roof surrounded by people getting increasingly sicker and sicker. I had noticed the others talking amongst themselves. Although only a few remarks during the chaos had been centered around that strange creature, I knew, somehow, it was occupying all our minds.

We just sat there in silence for a while. Trying to take in the day’s events. I could see Matt in the distance attempting to calm down the sick. I heard their screams of anguish and tried my best to block it out.
I spoke up after a while. ”Alex, I feel like I can trust you. I think I’m losing my mind. Ever since I saw that creature I’ve been hearing things. These… Voices. Soft voices whispering. There are so many of them. I… I don’t know. I must be going insane.’

Alex looked into my eyes. Fear radiating from his eyes. ”I hear them too… For me, it’s not voices. At least not speaking a language I understand. It’s more of… A feeling.’ A strong feeling.’ I nodded in agreement. I remember feeling some relief that wasn’t the only one hearing things. Not the only one sensing something… Off. ”What do you think that creature… That yellow creature is?’ Alex looked up at the night sky. ”I’m not sure… Maybe some kind of deep-sea creature? I think it’s messing with our heads.’ I had no idea how to respond. I felt lost. Doomed. Like my mind was slowly breaking down.

Silence swept over us for a while. Alex shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

”You remind me of someone.’ He said it out of the blue and it seemed he regretted it instantly. I was adamant about not letting it go this time. I felt he was on the verge of revealing himself to me and for some reason, after the day we had, I needed to know. I needed someone to feel close to. So, I pushed him. ”Who?”. Eventually, he broke.

”My… little brother. His name… was Arthur. We used to just call him Art.” I looked at him, not saying a word, just waiting for him to continue. His voice trembled as the words began leaving his lips.
”The sun was so bright that day… On the beach. And the waves… The waves were violent… Brutal even. I was supposed to look out for him while my parents were away. He was just 8 years old. I was 16. I felt I had done my part. I played with him at the beach all morning. So, when my friends came, I thought I had earned some time off. I left him alone for 20 minutes… while we went and got some food at the local burger joint. Just 20 minutes… I told him to stay with our things on the beach near our towels.’ Alex paused. I moved closer. ”When I came back, he was gone. Just gone. I rushed around. Calling his name. Looking for him everywhere. Then I saw it. The lifeguards… P-pulling him out of the w-water…” Alex sobbed quietly. ”They tried to start his heart. His… little heart. But it was no use. He was gone. Just 20 minutes…”
Alex wiped his tears away and his voice became more hardened. ”My parents blamed me. I know they did. Even if they didn’t outright say it to begin with. Things were never the same. I noticed their resentment towards me. I saw the look in their eyes. Heard it in the tone of their voice… Finally, I confronted them, and they admitted it. They blamed me! Not as if I needed them to blame me, I already blamed myself. I endured their coldness until I was 18. Then I left never looking back.’

I had no idea what to say, but so many things about Alex suddenly made sense. I understood now why he had been sleeping at subway stations, on the street. Why he was always on the move to somewhere else. Suddenly I felt guilty. I had wanted him to show me who he really was, show me what he was hiding. But what did I have to give in return? I was just some useless kid who had never really faced any hardships. Until now. Fortunately, it seemed he didn’t need anything from me that night besides my comfort and my ears. And I gladly listened. To everything he had to say.

At one point he looked at me, and something strange, foreign seemed to hide behind his eyes. ”Do you think Arthur’s down there now? Down there in the water?’ I looked at him in complete terror. ”No, Alex… I…” Before I could finish, it was as if he shook the thought away and regained himself. ”Of course, he isn’t. I… Don’t know what I was thinking.’

But I think I did. The voices. It was as if they knew us. Tried to lure us. With whatever promises they had to make. ”We can’t give up now, Alex. Promise me. Don’t listen to it. Don’t listen to those voices.’ He nodded silently and I wrapped my arms around him.
We bonded even further that night. We also made each other a promise. We were going to get off this roof to safety. Whatever it took.

Phuket 28th of December 2000. One day after the Tsunami.

I woke up to the sound of the most horrifying bone-chilling screams. My head was spinning. Confusion and terror surrounded me. Sweat dripping down my forehead. I quickly realized the noise came from the direction of the hospital section. More precisely, the screams belonged to Matt and a group of other survivors. I saw Thor rushing past me clearly in the midst of throwing up. Matt and the others were standing beside the man who had begged me to take his life the day before. As I closed the distance between us my eyes caught something so terrible, so visceral and graphic It would forever be etched onto my inner screen.

His head had… Quite simply… Deflated? Is that the word I’m looking for? In any case, I can’t describe it any other way. All the bones in his body had been vaporized or possibly had melted. It had left his head looking like a puddle of skin and meat, with blood, some kind of white mucus, and brain matter leaking out of every orifice. His eyeballs bulged out and almost lay on top of his deflated face. Three of the others who had been similarly sick had died the same way and lay deflated upon the hot rooftop next to each other while the rest of the sick were moaning and complaining in horrible unison. Delusional wailing voices mumbling and screaming together. It sounded like what I would imagine a choir in hell would sound like.
I always considered myself somewhat in possession of a strong stomach. But the sight… The smell. That… God awful rotten smell infused with something sweet? Some kind of fruity smell mixed with rot and shit. It made me instantly crouch over and deliver the scarce content of my stomach straight onto the burning hot rooftop.

Not long after Matt pulled me aside while the others gathered around the deceased and looked on in terror and perhaps something more sinister. Curiosity. ”We must consider the possibility that whatever they are sick with is contagious.’

I pondered Matt’s suggestion while I gathered my composure. I was still feeling sick to my stomach. He wasn’t wrong. None of us knew what we were dealing with here. The sick people were all getting proportionally worse. Matt, who had observed them during the previous day and night, explained to me the progression of the sickness. Fever came first. Then pain in the joints. Then sharply aching bones. Then delusion and mental decline. Finally, it seemed after a while that their bones started to deteriorate rapidly. We had no idea exactly how those people got sick, although my own opinion, and Matt agreed, was that they had been bitten by that creature and whatever poison was injected into them from the bite was making them sick.

The others, including and most prominently, Franco, were pushing to contain the sick with as little interaction as possible. It felt like he wanted to hide them away. To forget about them. It didn’t sit right with me to leave them all to themselves. Matt and I agreed that those who had already interacted with them would continue to do so. That meant me, Matt Thor, and Alex.

Not too long after my talk with Matt Alex pulled me aside. He was concerned because people were agitated. Things were heating up. The sight of the deceased people, and the entire damn situation we were in had rattled everyone, and we decided to gather them all around to discuss things. They all huddled up around us as I began speaking. I was never one to like the sound of my voice. Always kept quiet. However, it landed on me to find the words.

”I’m sure we’re all scared. I’m sure we’re all trying to figure out what exactly is happening. I know some of you want to get off this roof right now and take your chances in the water. I want to just share my thoughts first and then people can decide for themselves. I believe that the yellow creature we found on the man’s leg is what is making these people sick. I believe it is poisonous. I think it is messing with our heads too. I can’t say for sure that whatever it is infecting these people with isn’t contagious because I don’t know what this thing is. However, seeing as none of us are showing any symptoms, I doubt whatever that sickness is, is airborne. I still think we should be careful when dealing with the sick, but we still have a responsibility to care for them the best we can. We can’t abandon them like this. We…”
Franco interrupted me. ”Who made you the leader? Why should we listen to you? All of this happened for a reason. I know it did. The waves. The sickness. These are all signs. You saw it. Can’t you hear them calling out? We have to go into the water.”

I looked him dead in the eyes. ”You want to take your chances with those things down there? We don’t know what they are.’ Franco looked frantically around for support but found only a few nodding faces in the crowd. I saw that glimpse behind his eyes, something foreign, like the look Alex had briefly had when he asked me if his little brother might be waiting for him down there. With them. Franco backed down. For the time being.

The entire day people were arguing amongst themselves. Fearful voices whispering in corners. I noticed that Franco was the one most prominently whispering in their ears. I had no idea what kind of nonsense he was filling them with, but whatever it was, it didn’t help the tension. I felt uneasy about him, so I went to Thor to try and get an angle on him.

Thor wasn’t of much help, unfortunately. He said he had met him about a month prior in Bangkok. By Thor’s account, Franco had basically just attached himself to Thor and Thor being the careless ‘whatever’ kind of guy had just dragged him along. He did mention that Franco had mysteriously alluded to some kind of incident back in Italy but never gave too many details about it. Thor said the guy came from a strictly religious family and whatever incident had happened might be related to that.

I was about to suggest that we confront him when I heard a commotion. Thor and I both looked in the direction of the noise and noticed a person standing on top of the iron fence seemingly about to jump. We rushed over and I recognized who the person was. It was the man whose wife and daughter had been at the beach while the waves hit. Thomas, I believe he told me his name was. He seemed like he was in a trance. Some of the others gathered around him, led on by Franco.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing and hearing. They were cheering him on. Thomas was mumbling in some kind of feverish stream of consciousness all centered around memories, in random order. Memories of his daughter’s first birthday, his wedding, road trips, cherry blossoms in spring, and his childhood backyard. He said they were calling him from the deep. Everyone and everything he ever loved were calling him all at once.

I caught Alex’s eyes in the crowd. He seemed to be sneaking in slowly, as if ready to grab Thomas and pull him back. We nodded at each other as I made my way through and started stalling. ”Thomas, right? That’s your name?’ I told him his family might be fine. Waiting for him at one of the local hospitals. I asked him about his friends, his parents, and other family members who might miss him if he was gone. Alex was slowly approaching. All the while Franco was encouraging him to set himself free. Thomas seemed to doubt for a second when I mentioned his parents. I saw hope. I saw an opening. I saw Alex closing the gap slowly. Then I saw Franco lean in and whisper in Thomas’ ear. I saw his eyes glaze over. I saw a calm, distant, and dreaming look spread across his face. I saw Alex desperately reach out and grab nothing but air as Thomas plunged into the water below.

I looked down. Those yellow things surrounded him. Like piranhas. I saw red. In a fit of rage, I marched straight towards Franco and punched him as hard as I could. He fell backward, regained his posture, and was about to launch towards me when Alex stepped in between us and pushed him away.
Franco was rambling like a madman. A man possessed. Rambling about hidden secrets and knowledge. About gifts from below. About every conceivable desire fulfilled. I was terrified to find that some of the other survivors started to rally behind him.

After that incident there now seemed to be a clear divide in the group. Between Alex, Thor, Matt, and I and the rest of them, led on by Franco. We stayed away from each other from then on.

That same night we could hear Franco preaching to them. Promising them everything they ever desired. His voice rang through the solemnly quiet night. Like a low, growling preaching. Grooming them I thought to myself. He was grooming them for the big plunge.

There were moments when even Thor, Matt, and Alex seemed to waver. To doubt. I saw their eyes glaze over momentarily, with that foreign gaze. They’d say things that seemed off. Very private and painful things they’d experienced. I saw deep, desperate longing in all of them. I finally realized that was what set them apart from me. A great loss. Edging them towards those things. I would be there, to listen to them, to their stories. Their grief. Eventually, they would come back and snap out of it. As if all they truly needed was to be heard. For someone to listen.

At one point during the evening, when everyone else had gone quiet, I wandered off to the edge of the roof. Looking down I saw a sight I’ll never forget. They were all glowing in the dark waters. Like hundreds of bright yellow lanterns moving around in a synchronized dance. For a time, I was captivated, almost hypnotized by the beauty of the routine. I remember feeling a strong desire to know more about them. What was their purpose? Where did they come from? Did they communicate with us or were we just losing it?

Just then I felt a tug on my shirt. It was the kid we had rescued the day before. His large hazel-colored eyes lit up with fear. I immediately felt bad. We had abandoned him all alone, with a group of people who increasingly seemed like they were losing their grip on reality. Merging into a cultist hivemind. I tried talking to him but remembered he didn’t speak a word of English, and my Spanish was terrible. I remembered that his name was Eduardo. He gestured towards the water, his eyes fixated on the bright yellow lights dancing around. ”mamá y papá” his little voice trembled. Then he looked me straight in the eyes and made another gesture by covering his ears and shaking his head.

At that moment I realized that he too heard the whispers. That he knew, maybe instinctively, not to listen to them. I decided that I had to get him away from Franco and the others. I led him back to Alex, Thor, and Matt who had all fallen asleep at that point. I stayed awake as long as I could, fearing what the others might do to us if we were all helplessly asleep, but eventually, I drifted off.

Phuket 29th of December 2000. 2 days after the Tsunami.

Madness. Complete and utter madness was what I woke up to on the second day of hell. Franco stood on top of a chair near the edge of the roof. His eyes radiated insanity as he screamed about ‘the great baptizing of Elizabeth’. Next to him stood one of the survivors. A middle-aged woman with that distant dreaming gaze in her eyes. Alex, Thor, and Matt had woken up too. We told Eduardo to stay behind and hide. Then we made our way over to the crowd of survivors who all stood around and chanted something unintelligible. Franco went on with his preaching and we stood nervously by and watched in despair.

I still remember his haunting words to this day.

”Elizabeth is ready. She is free of fear. She sees what I see now. Just like you all will eventually. There is a place where we can all meet. As friends. Safe from the unfairness and cruelty of this world. Haven’t you all felt it? Something isn’t right! People are alone even when they are together. No one hears you. No one cares. But they do. They listen and they care. They came with the waves to show us the light.’
I sensed where this was headed but as I approached Franco to intervene, I was held back by what could now only be described as his cult followers. Their hands were all over me. Thor, Matt, and Alex tried to get them off, but they were caught up in the sea of hands too. Nothing we could do but stand by and watch. Franco continued. ”I know some of you still doubt. Maybe you haven’t yet felt the cold touch of indifference. Maybe you never felt loss. Elizabeth here lost everything two days ago. Or so she thought. But her husband is waiting for her. Everyone is. And they all care so much about her. Can’t you hear them? Don’t they sound like home? Don’t they sound like a calm, carefree summer day with your loved ones? A day that stretches on forever?’

The air was electric with the monotone chanting of the crowd. ”Join them.’ They chanted repeatedly. I struggled in the sea of hands as Elizabeth stepped up on the iron fence. I yelled helplessly into the void as I was held back. Everyone’s gaze was focused on Franco and his baptizing as he delivered his final words coldly and calmly. ”Elizabeth. Step into forever bliss. Step into their infinite wisdom and kindness. Step into the arms of those you lost.’

I watched as she let herself fall over the edge. No push was needed. Franco stepped down from the chair and signaled for the crowd to let us go. I remember falling to my knees. There I just sat in silence. Knowing not what to say until I finally found my voice. I was done just listening. Now I needed him to hear me. I needed them all to hear me.

”You coward. You evil manipulating coward.’ Franco stopped and turned around. His mad eyes looked straight into mine. ”What was that?’ He hissed angrily at me. I got on my feet and confronted him. ”You are feeding these people to those things. Why don’t you jump yourself?’ Franco’s people started gathering around me. Alex signaled for me to be careful but I pushed him away. My blood was boiling. Anger got the best of me. Franco let out a loud cackling laughter. ”My time will come, but not yet. I still have work to do. Everyone must join them. Only when they are ready.’

I looked around at the crowd of survivors and in each face, I saw, beneath the glazed vacant eyes, trauma, loss, and hurt. ‘Making sure all these people jump to their deaths? Is that your work?’ I pleaded with them. ”Don’t you see what he is doing? What they… What he is promising you. That isn’t possible. You will never get back what you lost. You must hold on. We can get through this.’

Franco stepped right up to me. Looked me dead in the eyes. ”They listen to me. Only me. Do you understand?’ Something in his tone of voice, something in his posture seemed so childish. Like a neglected, shunned, and abandoned child. ”I always doubted… That’s how everything went wrong. I could never hear it clearly. Never feel it. Something was wrong with me. That’s why I was never good enough for him. I hear it now. God is real.”

At that moment I almost forgot he had guided two people to their deaths. I felt bad for him. ”Those things are not God.” His eyes lit up with anger. ”Then what are they?’ I fell silent. I had no answer. He laughed triumphantly. ”You see? They are God and they are here to teach us the most important lesson of all.” I looked at him. I felt sadness and fatigue washing over me. The whispers intensified in my head. For the first time, they made me doubt. ”And what is that?’ I asked quietly.

He spoke to everyone now. ”There is no enlightenment without suffering. Without pain. Without loss. We need suffering. We need disasters. We need all these things to be whole. To be united. Tragedy binds us together. This all happened for a reason. They came to us for a reason. We must prepare ourselves and join them.’

I was exhausted. At the end of my ropes. I know what I said next was a mistake. I’ve gone over it several times in the following 24 years. But we make the choices we make, and time doesn’t flow backward.
”And what about you? What suffering did you go through? What loss made you this way? You’re nothing but a manipulating monster.’ Franco’s eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and anger. It was as if he had been waiting for someone to ask and now was angry it took so long for anyone to care. I caught Alex slowly approaching from the corner of my eye. Franco pushed me backwards and Alex stepped in between us. Franco was yelling now through tears, anger, through time, through the child in him who had been abused, neglected, pushed aside, and wronged most horribly. ”There’s no possible way you could ever understand. I see you. I hear you. You are nothing but a spoiled little boy. Do you want to know about pain and suffering? Pain and suffering are being told you are someone special. That you can talk to God. It is the look your dad gives you when you can’t live up to his expectations. When he strangles your sister in front of you. When he snuffs the light out of your mother’s eyes and tells you that you are next. For disappointing him. We all have to go he said. This life promised too much and delivered too little he said. But now… Now I have proved him wrong. Now God speaks to me. Through me. Disbelievers like you have no place with them.’

Everyone was watching in silent agony and anticipation. I didn’t see that he was holding a knife until it was too late. I had no way to stop what was coming, yet I still feel guilty to this day. Franco rushed towards me. Alex jumped in front of us and took the blade. I heard him cry out in pain. I saw him struggle with Franco. I watched as he pushed him off the edge of the iron fence. Into the now ever more shallow waters below. Finally meeting those creatures, he had so quickly devoted himself to.

You know how people often say these profound meaningful last words in movies? Well, life isn’t a movie, and Alex had no last meaningful words. He was just scared. In pain. Afraid. I held him as he went. I tried to comfort him. I’m not going to tell you what he said. Or what I said to him. Because it made no sense. And anyway, I don’t want to remember him that way. He was scared. It wasn’t him.

He was brave. He was funny. He was caring. He was my friend.

I had no real time to process it back then while everything around me was still utter chaos. While still trapped on the roof fearing for my life. Not understanding what was happening to me. I understand now, as I’m writing this. However weird it may sound. I feel I gained a friend for life. No… a brother. That’s what he was to me in those days. And then I lost him almost as quickly as I had met him. It wasn’t what we had in those days 24 years ago that I mourned. Those are precious memories. It was everything we never got to have. I know we probably would have split up at some point, but I’m sure we would have stayed in touch. Linking up every so often. Who knows? And that’s the point. I will never know.

I faintly remember Thor and Matt pulling me away from Alex. Not wanting to leave his side I struggled against them until I was too weak to resist.

The rest of the day was ominously silent. The survivors who had followed Franco seemed to be in a state of shock and just wandered around aimlessly. I stayed with Matt, Thor and Eduardo. I was exhausted. I had no energy left. I heard the whispers in my head. They were stronger than ever. Begging me to join them, and I must admit they made a compelling argument. How could they not? Any place other than here seemed like a blessing.

But then I felt a tap on my shoulder. Or kind words of encouragement in my ear. A smile. I saw Eduardo laughing at Matt making stupid faces and suddenly, the pull wasn’t that strong.

Phuket 30th of December 2000. 3 days after the Tsunami.

Silence. Eerie silence in the wake of everything was what I woke up to on the third day. 22 people had now become 4. The rest of the sick were dead. The water below had subsided and was now just shallow puddles here and there. The creatures were gone almost as quickly as they had arrived. The other survivors who had followed Franco had all jumped off the roof and into the shallow water the night before. We had no strength left to stop them. I never blamed them for following Franco. They were hurt. Suffering. Traumatized. Led on by promises of relief. Promises of a better place. Now the only ones left were Thor, Matt, Eduardo, and me.

I guess sometimes despite your best efforts to save people they will eventually do what they feel they must do. Or succumb to unforeseen circumstances beyond their control.

I remember feeling defeated, yet oddly, with some kind of clarity and insight. Ironically, I think Franco was telling the truth in the end. Maybe suffering, loss, and tragedy do teach us all about life. About who we are. Because at that moment, just before I heard the call from a group of people coming to our aid, I felt nothing but gratitude and love for those who remained. Those who cared. Those who listened. And… Those who didn’t make it, who stayed true to themselves despite all of the horror that surrounded them. Hell, maybe I’m getting emotional right now and that’s not what I felt in that moment in time, but it’s what I feel right now. And right now, that is all that matters.

We were taken to the nearest hospital. There we were questioned by an American official who was looking to identify victims and get information. He was probing us about those yellow creatures in a not-so-subtle way and I think we all instinctively knew that it was best to keep silent about it because we didn’t utter a word about them. I noticed people in hazmat suits wheeling in sick people to some closed-off section of the hospital.

Eduardo found his family. I remember the moment they were reunited vividly. Loving embraces. Tears of happiness. It made me miss all of what I had traveled away from. My overprotective mom. My dad and his stupid cars. My sister who would always take me to concerts my mom wouldn’t let me go to when I was a kid. My silly nephew. My annoying little brother. I know now that you find your true self in the company of people you love and care about.

Thor, Matt, and I said our goodbyes at Bangkok airport, and each went our separate ways, promising to stay in touch. We didn’t. Despite the survivor’s bond, I guess we each wanted to forget and move on.
As the internet gained momentum, I tried looking up any information I could get on the Yellow Terror. ”Skull jellyfish’ yielded no results beyond tattoo designs and art. There were a few obscure forums here and there, but they kept getting taken down. I believe they came from the depths of the ocean. Maybe they were always there. Waiting to unleash chaos. Waiting to prey on our insecurities. Our hurt. Our losses. At the most sensitive moment.

On a final note: Just as I was about to put the finishing touches on this story, my son, Alex, called. He has been struggling lately with settling into his life in a new city. 20 years old and his entire life ahead of him. Things can get a bit messy and confusing when you’re young and trying to figure out what kind of person you want to be. Anyway, it’s summer now, the weather is nice, and I think I might ask him if he wants to take a trip to the beach. Maybe tell him, finally, who he got his name from. What do you think? You’re never too old to play in the ocean, right?

Credit: Simon. B. Elsvor

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