The Lake

The Lake
By Dewey L. Douglas


“It’s the lake,” she said.  “It does things to people.”
I didn’t believe her.
I should have.
She died in my arms a few minutes later.  I was surprised she lasted as long as she did.  And what did she mean, “It’s the lake?”  She was beaten to a bloody pulp, and it sure as hell wasn’t the lake that did that.  In fact, whoever did it might still be around somewhere.  I started to get scared.  It was so dark out there that I couldn’t see ten feet in front of me; hell, if she hadn’t groaned when I walked by, I wouldn’t have even seen this poor woman lying on her face by the water.  I damn sure wouldn’t be able to see some crazed murderer hiding in the shadows.  I should get the hell out of there.
But I couldn’t move.
Panic started to set in.  I had to get out of there, but I couldn’t just leave.  Something had to be done about this poor woman.  I should call someone but I didn’t have my phone with me, and even if I did there was no signal way out there.  What was that?  Was that someone moving in the bushes?  Maybe an animal.  Sounded too big for an animal.  I couldn’t just leave the woman there, not with animals prowling around, but I couldn’t drag here away from a crime scene.  Shit, that shadow moved!  Coming closer?  Hard to tell.  If the damn clouds would clear… even just a little… maybe I’d be able to see something.  
There’s a shovel on the ground.  What the hell was she digging out here this time of night?  Sticky.  Blood?  Murder weapon?  Shit.  SHIT!  And on top of everything, I was supposed to leave for home in the morning.  This was definitely not my idea of a peaceful vacation.
Okay, okay.  I’ll bury the woman.  That’ll keep her away from the animals, at least for a little while.  And with the shovel in my hands I’ll have something to defend myself with.  The ground’s relatively soft so it shouldn’t take too long.  If it just doesn’t rain.  The damn clouds won’t break.  And the wind, starting to pick up.  And the shadows keep moving and the sounds behind the shadows are getting louder and louder and closer and closer.  I can’t stay out here.  I can’t be here any longer.  No longer.  No longer.  Calm down!  Breathe, breathe.  
My stomach feels like it’s full of live snakes.  How deep is deep enough?  Two feet?  Three?  Stop at two; get it done and get the hell away!  The wind, oh God, the wind!  I can’t hear; are there still noises in the shadows?  Done!
I took the shovel to the edge of the lake and threw it as far out into the water as I could.  Couldn’t be carrying around a shovel with someone else’s blood on it.  As I knelt beside the water to rinse the blood and dirt from my hands, I noticed something glowing faintly just under the surface.  It was a stone, but not like any stone I had ever seen before.  It was smooth as glass and glowed the most pleasing shade of blue; not a reflected glow, a light coming from within the stone itself.  Its texture was like soft velvet, yet there was no question that it was solid hard stone.  As I held it in my hand, it began to grow warm…
Suddenly there was a crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning that ignited a dead tree on the opposite shore.  I jammed the stone into my pocket and ran as fast as I could.
I didn’t wait until morning.  As soon as I got back to the cabin, I threw all my stuff into the car and drove home.  It was a six hour drive and I made it back to the city with only one stop (for gas and a piss) and with about two hours of the previous night’s darkness left.  I didn’t sleep the rest of that night.  I haven’t slept much since.
The next few days were miserable.  I thought I should probably tell someone about the woman, but I could never figure out how to explain what had happened.  Coming up with explanations wasn’t the problem; I came up with a lot of explanations, all of the essentially truthful as far as I could tell.  The problem was coming up with a BELIEVABLE explanation, and even I couldn’t believe what I heard myself saying.  So, I did nothing.  I’d go to work but I couldn’t concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing.  I had this constant nagging feeling that I should be washing my hands.  I jumped at every sudden sound.  At home, I ate very little because food had no real flavor any more.  It all tasted like dirt.  At night I tossed and turned, drifting into moments of dozing and then jolting out of them, my muscles aching as if I had spent all day digging a hole… THAT hole… over and over again.  My only source of comfort was my rock.  The little blue glowing soft hard rock that was as warm to the touch as a lover’s fingertips.  I could hold it and look deep within the blue and feel safety surround me.  I did this night after night after night.
Then I noticed a black car outside my apartment.  It had a familiar look to it, but I could never really pinpoint a make or model, and I’m usually pretty good with cars.  That made me a little suspicious; that, and the fact that it kept showing up.  I didn’t keep a log or anything, but I’m pretty sure it was there at some point every night.  Now that my suspicions had been aroused, I started noticing other things, too.  My TV reception seemed to be getting a little fuzzier and fuzzier, like there was some kind of minor electronic interference in the signal.  So I dismantled it and searched for electronic bugs.  My telephones started acting strangely, too.  Crackling noises and very faint beeps that I had never noticed before.  Wiretapping?  Surveillance?  And that black car.  Has that white van always been parked there?  
               They knew.  They knew about the woman.  Somebody saw something, somebody heard something.  Somebody found her body.  That had to be it; somebody found her body.  I shouldn’t have left in the middle of the night; too suspicious.  Now they were looking for me, trying to come up with some excuse to drag me to the police station and question me about the whole thing.  But it wasn’t my fault!  It was pitch black, I was alone, I was scared, I didn’t know what to do!  I didn’t have any choice!  What did they expect me to do, waltz into the local sheriff’s office and say, “Hey, guys, I just beat a woman to death?”
               Whoa.  Where the hell did that come from?  I didn’t beat her to death; I found her like that.  Didn’t I?
                Okay, now things had gone completely weird.  I had to quit my job.  I couldn’t go back there now.  They probably had that place wired, too.  Clear out the bank accounts; do that before they could freeze them, if they hadn’t already.  Get away.  Find a way to get past the stakeout.  I had to leave, get the hell as far away from here as I could, but I didn’t have any idea where to go.  I picked up my blue stone… and it told me.
               On the drive up to the lake, every car looked like an unmarked police car.  Every passing driver who happened go glance my way looked like an undercover police officer.  I had to be careful.  I couldn’t rent a cabin at the lake; they would surely check all those.  I had my tent and enough food to last a month if I stretched it, but I couldn’t rent a campground either.  I couldn’t do anything that might leave a trace.  I had to hide out, and there were plenty of places to do that at the lake.
               I know it was probably not a good idea, but I had to find that place again.  The place where all this horror began.  If I could find it and just see for myself that there was no yellow crime scene tape up and no empty hole where the shallow grave had been, maybe I could ease myself back into control.  All day long, I pace back and forth along the south side of the lake.  I know that’s where the place was because it wasn’t terribly far from the cabin and the cabin was on the south shore.  All day long, back and forth, but there wasn’t a sign of the place.  That was good; I didn’t see any yellow tape anywhere.  But it made me anxious at the same time.  Where the hell was it?  It was a very distinctive spot.  I should be able to recognize it immediately.  Light was fading quickly.  Clouds had rolled in and completely covered the moon that was just rising.  I was about to give up and make my way back to my camp site when I finally saw the spot.  It was right there.  Right in front of me.  I had been by this place a dozen times during the day, and it was right there the whole time.  It had to have been, right?  I just didn’t recognize it in the daylight.  
               I felt warmth in my pocket, and when I took the blue stone out I saw that it was glowing more brightly than it had in days.  Through my palm I could hear what it was telling me:  It was home.  And so was I.  
               I don’t know how long I stayed there.  Many days, could have been weeks, could have been months.  The food ran out long ago, and I started making secret runs to a nearby general store.  Then the money ran out.  After that I lived on what I could find in garbage cans and dumpsters.  It didn’t take me long to realize that I would never find the place in the daytime, so I stopped trying.  I slept during the day and went out after dark, after the clouds rolled in and completely covered the moon… they did that every night here… and I could always walk straight to the place.  
               I have seen many lakes in my life, but never one quite like this.  The water was exquisitely clear.  I know it doesn’t make sense, but even on pitch black nights (which they all were), I could see the bottom of the lake.  I know it was the bottom because I could see things crawling down there.  It was very deep, even close to the shore, and I could still see everything.  My little corner of the lake glowed with its own light from underneath.  Blue.  One night, I wanted to see if the water was as warm as my blue stone, so I slowly pushed my hand beneath the surface.  It was warm, all right, and soft, and didn’t feel wet at all.  And strangely, even though I could still see the things beneath the water, I couldn’t see my hand at all.  It was as if it never made it into the underwater world.  I never tried that again; it frightened me a little.  So I contented myself to just watch.  In that pale blue glow, I saw creatures I never knew existed.  Strange, scary, beautiful.  They weren’t afraid of me.  They knew I was there.  They would turn to look up whenever I sat down, but they just carried on with whatever they were doing.  Every night, at least one of them would make their way up to where I was sitting (very close but never out of the water) and leave a little gift for me.  Every night.  Sometimes it was another glowing blue stone.  I had quite a collection of those.  There were gold nuggets, the occasional old coin, ancient swords and daggers looking as crisp and sharp as the day they were forged, jewels (some of which I recognized and some I didn’t).  Every night they would bring these gifts up, leave them just under the surface near the water’s edge, and then scurry back down.  And every night I would sit there at the edge of the water until the sun would begin to rise and I didn’t recognize the place any more.
               One night, as I approached my spot, I heard an unfamiliar sound.  It was someone talking very quietly.  It was a young woman… and she was in my spot… and she was talking to my lake.  She was looking into the water, and there, just below the surface, was a small glowing blue stone.  She reached toward the water.  That was my stone!  It was meant for me, and she was going to take it!  I had to stop her.  As I ran toward her, yelling for her to get away from my lake, she reached under the surface of the water, but what she brought up was not a blue stone.  It was a shovel.  When she turned to face me, she was grinning… and that grin turned my blood icy cold.  Then she stood up and started swinging the shovel.  
               I was no match for her; she was like a wild woman.  There was no sanity or reason on her face, just pure hatred and rage… and that awful grin.  I defended myself as best I could, but mostly I just stood there and let her hack away at me with the shovel.  When I finally dropped to the ground, I thought it would be over, but her attack became unmerciful.  I saw pieces of myself flying away and I felt my life draining.  There was a loud echoing boom.  It could have been thunder, but I don’t think so.  Not any more.  She stopped her attack and stood very still.  Her face went blank.  The shovel dropped from her hands.  With what sight I had left, I could make out a faint dim glow coming from her eyes.  Blue.  Such a pretty blue.  Then, as my own sight faded, I saw hers return.  A hint of confusion at first, but that changed to horror as soon as she saw me on the ground in front of her.  “Oh, my God!  Mister, are you all right?  What happened?”
“It’s the lake,” I said.  “It does things to people.”
She didn’t believe me.
She should have.



October 22, 2007