The events occurring on Sm’iwa Lake, Egypt, which the locals called Demon Lake, began mid-March when a sheepherder discovered the decaying corpses of two fishermen on its eastern shore. Their charter boat had departed early the previous morning but did not return by evening as scheduled. After conducting a thorough three-day search of the lake, the local authorities failed to turn up any signs of the boat or floating debris. An autopsy suggested the bodies were frozen then thawed before undergoing rapid decomposition. These unusual findings baffled the medical examiner, because the lake’s temperature did not fluctuate more than five degrees about its annual mean temperature of 25 degrees Celsius [77 degrees Fahrenheit].
Two months later, another boat disappeared. A boy, tending a flock of goats, found its passengers, a man and a woman, on the lake’s eastern shore in advance stages of decay. Autopsies of their bodies also suggested rapid freezing then thawing of the tissues.
On August 6, a camel herder was overlooking the lake and noticed a boat motoring a kilometer or so off shore, traveling south. Bobbing in the choppy waters, its metallic hull glistened in the sun. When it reached mid-lake, the boat stopped, and after several minutes, it sank. The herder ran to the village to tell what he had seen. The authorities launched several rescue boats, but after several hours of searching, they found nothing. Before sunset, the thawed bodies of two men and a boy were discovered on the lake’s eastern shore.
On September 13, two more boats disappeared, but their crews and passengers were never found. Since these latest disappearances, all activity on the lake stopped: fear has kept all boats moored close to the docks. Because of the strange nature of these disappearances and deaths, the authorities made an appeal to the Egyptian National Police (ENP) for assistance.
~ ~ ~
The October 28 sun rose over the lake. On its eastern beach, a jackal’s corpse lay rotting in the cool air. A few vultures circled and landed but would not go near the decaying flesh. After squabbling amongst themselves, they flew off.
Motoring about a kilometer off the lake’s eastern shore, two figures struggled to control their chartered boat. Tarek Nasr, Chief Inspector, ENP, and Sameh “Sam” Mansour, Technology Specialist, were on assignment to investigate the lake. When they reached mid-lake, Nasr cut the engine and dropped anchor. He noted less than 20 meters of chain let out before hitting bottom. Checking the underwater charts on his iPad, he said, “This is odd.”
“What’s odd, Chief?”
“Chart says the water should be 27 meters deep [88 feet] but only 19 meters [62 feet] of chain let out before hitting bottom.”
“Chart’s gotta be wrong.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s it, but . . .”
Ignoring him, Sam dangled a multi-measurement probe in the water to measure pH, salinity, conductivity, and temperature. He checked the battery levels, zeroed the readout device, and ran through its self-checking program.
Nasr shrugged and picked up the clipboard. Drumming his fingers, Nasr checked his watch. “It’s sure slow this morning.”
Sam’s face contorted, but he did not look up. The device beeped, and the readout flashed on. “You won’t believe this, Chief, but the temperature readout is minus 18 degrees Celsius [0 degrees Fahrenheit]. That’s freaking cold! We should be surrounded by ice or sitting on an iceberg.”
Nasr shook his head. “The temperature can’t be right. Check it again.”
A wind stirred up whitecaps, and the boat tossed about. Sam started the engine, and leaning hard on the tiller, he repositioned the boat, pointing into the wind. Sam frowned but reset the probe for another measurement. Three minutes later, the device beeped. “The temp still reads minus 18.”
Rubbing the nape of his neck, Nasr said, “Something’s wrong with the damn thing. Do you have an old-fashioned thermometer?”
Sam rummaged through his duffle bag. “Sure. Always carry one.”
The antique, floating thermometer had an eyelet where Sam tied a string, and dropped it in the water. They watched the thermometer pirouette in the whitecaps. Nasr tapped a pencil against his thigh, not once taking his eyes off the thermometer. “How long does it take?”
“Just five minutes or so. Give it time; it’s gotta stabilize.”
Sam retrieved the thermometer, held it in the sunlight, and read the mercury level. “It reads minus 19. The probe’s working okay; it’s the lake. The lake’s screwy.”
Nasr crinkled his nose at the suggestion and asked, “Doesn’t water freeze at 0 degrees?”
“Sure Chief, sure. Doesn’t everyone know that?”
“Then the lake should be frozen. Why isn’t it?”
Sam spun around. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, Chief. Something’s wrong with the lake.”
Recoiling, Nasr asked, “And what’s the air temperature?”
Sam checked the readout of the portable weather-station they’d erected on the boat’s bow. “It reads 28.”
“Air’s warm, but the water’s freezing cold, and it ain’t frozen. Impossible”
Sam’s voice was calmer. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’ve been saying. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t like it one damn bit.”
Nasr noticed it first, but soon, Sam felt it, too. “Chief, did you feel the vibration? Like a low-frequency sonic rumble?”
“Yeah, I felt it. What do you make of it?”
“Beats the crap out of me. Shouldn’t be anything in the lake capable of making a vibration like that. What did you say about the depth?”
“Chart says 27 meters but only 19 meters of anchor let out before hitting bottom.”
“You think something’s down there screwing with the water temperature and causing the vibrations?”
“Don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“Now I really think there’s something wrong with this freakin lake, and we should leave, pronto.”
Nasr’s eyes darted to the water, to Sam, and to the shore. His voice was a shaky when he spoke. “Well Sam, I think you may be right. We need to report our findings back to headquarters.”
While shoving the thermometer back in his bag, Sam said, “I’m not easily scared, but this has really got me freakin spooked. I’ll get the anchor.” He reached over the bow of the boat and gripped the anchor chain. He yelled, “Chief. The chain’s frozen. My hands stuck to it. I can’t get loose.”
Nasr lunged for the canteen of water and tore at its retaining clips. He leaned over the bow, water splashing from the canteen. Sam’s voice was high-pitched and rapid-fire. “Hurry, Chief! Hurry! I can’t feel my fingers. They’re getting numb.”
Nasr drizzled water on Sam’s hands. Too much ice had encrusted his left fingers, but the water freed his right fingers. Sam’s voice jumped an octave. “More water, Chief, more water. Get my canteen.”
Nasr reached for Sam’s duffle bag, heaved it aside, and ripped the canteen from the utility belt. He poured the water on Sam’s left fingers, freeing them. Nasr leaned against the duffle bags and took a deep breath. “Sure was close, Sam. What the hell is going on here?”
“I don’t know how Chief, but we gotta get outta here and fast.”
Nasr fumbled with the anchor release, and the chain snaked into the water.
“Can you start the engine, Chief? I don’t feel so good.”
Nasr pulled on the starter rope, but the engine could not turn over. He put his boot against the housing, and pulled the rope once more. The engine would not budge.
Sam’s voice wavered. “What’s . . .? What’s wrong, Chief?”
“Engine’s frozen.”
Sam grimaced. “Frozen?”
“Yeah. It won’t turn over. Must be ice on the propeller or ice in the workings.”
“Ice? I don’t see any ice.”
“The chain was ice-cold, and the water’s cold enough to freeze; what else could it be?”
“Then we’ll have to row, Chief.”
“You can’t row with those hands.”
“Just watch me.”
Sam took the oars, dipped them in the lake, and tried to row to shore, but ice accumulated on the oars as soon as they touched the water. Water splashed on the oarlock pins, and they froze solid. Sam pulled and yanked on the oars, but they would not budge. He cursed. He pounded the oars with his clenched fist.
“What’s happenin’, Chief? Do you feel it? Can you hear it? The water’s vibratin’, and everythin’ freezing up. There’s no ice floatin’ in the water, but ice’s crawlin’ up the oars and the sides of the boat like it’s alive or somethin’.”
As the intensity of the sound increased, the surface of the lake pulsated, and a mist rose above the water, engulfed the boat, freezing on everything it touched. Nasr looked about the metal boat, searching for something, anything he could use against the advancing ice. He found nothing. He cleared his throat, his mouth was bone dry. “I don’t understand. The air’s too warm for ice, but it’s all over the boat.”
As the men watched, a sheath of ice enwrapped the boat, strangling its hull, but the lake remained ice-free a few feet from them. The sound of bending metal and popping rivets signaled its imminent collapse. A crunching sound came from the bow and water poured in. They stood and climbed to the highest level. Soon water reached their boot tops, their knees. Ice formed and encapsulated everything the water touched.
Sam kicked and smashed the ice crystalizing around him with his canteen, with his fist, but it recrystallized as quickly as he shattered it. He lost his balance and fell. The frigid water penetrated his clothing and froze on his skin. His teeth chattered, and his voice trembled. “Chief, what’s happening to us? This can’t be. It don’t make no sense.”
Nasr remained calm. He sat and waited for the advancing ice, sensing it would not be long. “I don’t know, Sam, but we ain’t gonna make it outta this.”
The biting cold soon numbed Nasr’s limbs. Ice encrusted both men’s fingers, hands, and arms. Sam thrashed and struggled against the advancing ice as long as he could. He screamed and cursed at the top of his lungs, rocking from side to side, trying to fight off the cold. Fingers of ice crept up the men’s arms, covering their necks and heads. Sam’s screams faded, and he was still.
Nasr could not fathom what was happening to them. It did not make any sense. His jaw muscles tightened and his teeth clenched. With eyes wide open, he stared toward the shore, but he did not fight nor did he scream. Overwhelmed, he yielded to the merciless ice.
Entombed, the mass of ice, men, and boat bobbed in the whitecaps.
As quickly as it ensnared them, the ice withdrew, and the mangled boat sank to join the three missing fishing boats at the bottom of the lake. But for several minutes, the two bodies remained afloat in the freezing water. The cold sapped the remaining calories of heat from their rigid frames. Without a sound, they slipped underneath the choppy surface, and all traces of ice were gone.
A gentle breeze returned calm to the lake as the midday sun passed above the beach. Two thawed corpses washed on the lake’s eastern shore. A few vultures circled above them but did not land. About a kilometer off shore, Sam’s old-fashioned thermometer floated to the surface, string still attached to its eyelet. Driven by the wind, it drifted for five minutes or so, rolled to face the sun, and before sinking beneath the waters, the mercury read 19.2 degrees Celsius [66.6 degrees Fahrenheit].
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