Emma and I met in high school, but we bonded over bubbles and wetsuits years later. After getting our scuba certification together, we made it a tradition to dive once a year at Tenggol Island, off the east coast of Malaysia. Crystal-clear waters, untouched reefs, sea turtles that didn’t mind a photo op, it became our happy place.
By our fourth trip, work had messed up our schedule, so we went later than usual. Almost monsoon season. The dive shop warned us to keep an eye on the weather, but we were determined. The first two days were smooth. Visibility was decent, currents light, marine life thriving.
Then came our final dive.
We were all geared up when Emma realized she couldn’t descend properly. Turned out, she had grabbed the wrong weight belt; a lighter one, which made her underweighted. The rest of the group was ready to go, so I signaled to the divemaster that we’d catch up. Emma and I descended slowly, staying close to the reef wall on our left as we swam in the direction the group had gone.
The dive was beautiful. Angel fish swam between coral heads. We spotted two hawksbill turtles gliding like underwater ghosts. Everything felt calm. Still, ten minutes in, no sign of the group. I checked my compass, still heading the right way. I signaled to Emma that we’d continue another ten minutes. If we didn’t catch up by then, we’d surface.
When that time passed and we were still alone, Emma gave the universal thumbs-up signal. We did our three-minute safety stop at five metres, then surfaced.
And that’s when I panicked.
We were alone. No boats, no fins, no bubbles. The nearest island looked about 500 metres away. The kind of “not that far” that feels infinite when you’re floating in open water.
“Can you see the boat?” Emma asked, clearing water from her mask.
I turned slowly. Nothing. Just blue.
“No,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Let’s head toward that island. The boat might be on the other side.”
I inflated my SMB (Surface Marker Buoy) and tied Emma’s BCD (Buoyancy Compensator Device) strap to mine.
“You don’t swim,” I told her. “I’ll drag you. Save your energy.”
Halfway there, I was exhausted, so she took over. We switched off every few minutes, keeping ourselves afloat, trying not to look as tired as we felt.
After about 45 minutes, just as doubt began to creep in, we saw it: a boat.
Emma started shouting. “Hey! Help! Hey!”
I squinted. There was someone on board; a silhouette, standing still. He didn’t wave back.
“Let’s get closer,” I said, kicking harder.
About a hundred metres out, the man moved. He dropped a rope ladder over the side.
We reached the boat, removed our BCDs and tanks, and handed them up. He pulled me aboard first. His grip was strong.
“Thank you, Mister…”
“Zul,” he said, hoisting Emma up next.
“Where’s your group? Are you guys with Saffuan?” he asked.
“Yes, yes. We got separated.”
“Okay no worries,” Zul said, nodding. “I’ll take you back.”
He didn’t ask anything else. Just walked to the back and started the engine. The boat hummed quietly as we pulled away.
I noticed there wasn’t much on board; no gear, no cooler box, not even a bottle of water. No radio chatter. No music. Just Zul, steering in silence, humming a slow, off-tune melody.
When the boat finally slowed, we saw Sea Wanderer, our usual dive boat. Divers were surfacing one by one, climbing back up.
Zul didn’t go all the way in.
“You’ll have to swim over,” he said, voice calm. “I need to head back out.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded, already turning the boat around as we slipped back into the sea.
Back on our boat, Emma was talking frantically to some of the divers, explaining what happened. How we got separated. How we drifted. How some man helped us. She didn’t mention his name though.
Our divemaster looked at us and blinked. “I thought I saw you trailing behind the group.”
“We were, but we just couldn’t catch up. Then we lost sight of everyone.”
We tried to laugh it off, but there was an edge in both our voices. Something about that whole dive didn’t sit right.
Later, when we were at the dive shack settling our gear and payments, I saw a photo pinned to the wooden wall. A laminated group shot from a year ago. A man in it caught my eye. A smiling man, arms around a few grinning tourists. I froze.
“That’s him,” I said, pointing. “That’s Zul. The one who helped us. Right Emma?”
Emma looked at the picture. “Oh yeah, it’s him!”
Saffuan looked up from the payment log. His eyes flicked to the photo, then back to us. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He rescued us just now. Said he knew you. We wanted to thank him properly.”
He paused for a while, then continued. “Zul died last year. Boat capsized during a storm. We never found the body.”
I blinked. “What?” Emma and I looked at each other.
“He was everyone’s favorite,” Saffuan added. “Always joking around, always helping. You’ve probably seen him before. He was still working here last year.”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. I felt the blood drain from my face.
Saffuan kept a straight face for five whole seconds. Then burst out laughing. “I’m messing with you lah! Zul’s fine! He’s over there.”
We turned and there he was; alive, sunburned, sipping coconut water.
“Yo!” he called. “You two okay? Don’t get lost again!” he shouted.
Saffuan laughed. We joined in the laughter, finally relaxing. Zul came over, and we thanked him properly. Took a few selfies. It became a great story to laugh about.
Later that night, as we were all sharing stories over beers, Saffuan’s tone shifted.
“You know, jokes aside, last year,” he said, glancing at Zul, “we actually did have two divers go missing. Strong current swept them off. Zul and I went out almost daily for a whole week with some volunteers, trying to find them.”
“Oh yeah, I think I read about it in your Facebook post,” said one of the divers.
Emma and I went quiet.
“Week two,” Saffuan continued, “their bodies turned up.”
“Right by that small island you two were swimming toward.” Zul said.
I swallowed.
Saffuan shook his head. “Ever since then, I make sure Zul does a round there whenever we have a dive session at that site. Just in case. Divers still get separated, you know. You two were lucky.”
Emma and I nodded, suddenly not feeling so light-hearted anymore.
The next morning, we packed up and were ready to head back to the mainland. We thanked Zul one last time as we boarded Sea Wanderer with Saffuan and the rest of the divers.
As we motored away, we passed the island Emma and I had been swimming toward. I found myself staring at the water, almost against my will.
That’s when I saw them.
Two figures, submerged just below the surface. Dive masks on, wetsuits still, faces pale behind the glass. They were perfectly still, watching me.
My stomach flipped. I blinked hard.
Then I tapped Emma, almost clawing at her arm. “Do you see that? In the water…right there…” I tried to not make it too obvious by pointing.
She leaned over, squinted. “See what?”
“It’s…” I looked again.
They were gone. The water lay flat and empty, the sun glinting off gentle waves.
Emma gave me a strange look. “You okay?”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah. Must have been the glare.”
But deep down, I wasn’t so sure.
