He had stopped to take a sip of something as I furiously scribbled all the details into a notepad. I knew that we had stumbled across something worth-while as something in my gut now confirmed it. “How did he get around—it seems as though it was a long drive into town on some pretty nasty back roads.”
“Frank owned a speed boat. He named her The Jenny and would take girls out on the lake with it. One morning, a few of the men were fueling it up for him on the dock, something went wrong. There was a fire and an explosion. Luckily no one was killed, but the explosion had torn the boat loose from the dock, where, burning and adrift, it sank to the bottom of the lake. But, not even a week later, he had bought a new boat. It was a big fancy thing, a yacht with big sails. He called it The Jenny II and docked her in the same place as the old one. Although it was new and appeared perfect, Frank insisted that it would not run. And it spent most of its time at the dock. No one said anything, but we all suspected the worst…. By that time, the number of missing girls had reached nine. But like I said, over a period of three years, the lake had claimed other boaters and swimmers as well, so little was said. I finally left in the fall of 1959 and used the money to refurbish my grandparents’ motel in Road’s End. But Michael, trust me when I tell you that there is something evil about that old camp. Something that remained there and in the darkness is still waiting….”
Scribbling his last words down into the notepad, I paused and looked up in thought, “Was the logging camp supplying the mill in Road’s End?”
“It sure did. And even after I went back to running my motel, I still heard stories about the camp from the boys. Rather than going into town, they use to come out to Road’s End for a drink. There was talk of strange sounds in the night, unexplained lights, and something unnatural out in the lake.”
“Unnatural--,” The statement had caught my immediate attention, “What exactly did they mean by unnatural?”
“They spoke of strange lights—and something that moved in the mists from off the water. Some even told tales of pale figures lurking near the dock and around the boathouse by night.”
“Did anything ever come of the investigation concerning the missing girls?”
“No--,” His voice echoed with some unspoken fear, “The camp closed operations in 1963. Everyone just packed up and left, except for a skeleton crew that stayed until 1965. But they were just cleaning up, and the place was left abandoned after that.”
“Empty for almost eight years--,” Something now caused the short hairs on the nape of my neck to stand on end, “Did you ever witness or experience anything out of the ordinary in that place?”
“I did not see anything—but felt it many times. It was like the presence of some unseen thing, a predator that hunts and waits along the shore. That place is full of death--,” He paused in thought, “And maybe something far worse….”
“We have already agreed to investigate the location—and have arranged a meeting with Mr. Jorgenson.” I swallowed hard, “But you know me, we’ll take every possible precaution.”
“Yes, I do know you—which is why I am worried, my friend.” Red Cloud grew stern, even demanding, “That place is ancient, the hills and forest dangerous. There are bears, mountain lions and other things wandering the night. Promise me Michael, that you will remain together at all times. And that you will never enter those waters after nightfall, for any reason….”
“I promise.” The words escaped my lips without so much as a single thought.
“I will see to Caitlin while you are gone.” He sounded a thousand miles away, “May the Great Spirit watch over you and guide you all.”
As we hung up, I turned to look out the window and into the cloud-filled night. A fresh breeze carrying the scent of rain soaked cedar caressed my face. “This sounds like a ghost story to me. Frank Jorgenson, I wonder what really brought you back to that old camp….”
There was a haunting moan as the wind swept between the darkened boughs of the old willow before my window. It was the whisper of destiny in warning, which, sending shudders through my body, chilled my very soul
…
Chapter Two
12:15 p.m.
Although it was my common practice to wear the grey three piece suit and black trench coat, I had decided on something different. So, after packing the antique doctor’s bag, I slipped into a blue plaid shirt, blue jeans and hiking boots. And putting on the Canadian military jacket that Rich had given me at the Brampton House, slipped on my dark aviator sunglasses. Pausing briefly before the bedroom mirror, I had laughed. Although it felt a little unusual, it was appropriate for the location. Not to mention, I was very pleased with all the extra pockets! The green canvas jacket was warm enough for the fall evenings, but not too heavy for the warmer days. Though I already missed my trench coat, I couldn’t help but smile. Grabbing my bag from off the bed, I hurried out of the room.
As always I had kissed Caitlin at the front door. As with wide and wanton eyes, she had silently stood and waved in my departure. As much as my soul begged for adventure, my heart had always wept in parting.
Approaching the two black Suburbans that rested just beyond my locked gates, I gasped as Maya’s red Mustang suddenly pulled in behind them! Red Cloud had leapt from the car with bag in hand, and waving, hurriedly climbed into the truck with Scott.
“He changed his mind!” Maya shouted waving as Rich had jumped out of the truck and run back to kiss his wife.
Before I could react, Caitlin had come up from behind me, and kissing me deeply, stepped back as she prepared to close and lock the gates behind me. I knew how hard these partings had become for us both, but it was also that very same distance which had kept us so passionate. Or at least that was the only way that I could justify anything anymore.
“I love you, always and forever.” I blew a kiss at her and she caught it with a hand, pressing it to her breast.
“Be safe and be back soon.” She held back a tear and, swallowing hard, bowed her head as she closed and locked the gates.
“Alright you kids--,” Rich had climbed back into the truck as Maya pulled out from behind us and vanished up the street, “Time to go to work!”
“You all be careful out there!” Caitlin had called from behind the locked gates, “And don’t be too long!”
“I’ll be thinking of you and missing you the whole time--,” I sighed deeply, “Try to stay out of trouble while we’re gone, okay?”
“You’re the only trouble that I want to get into--,” She smiled sadly, “Till then.”
And with that I hurried toward Rich and the waiting trucks. As within moments, I had tossed my bag into the back, and climbing aboard, promptly dropped into the seat.
“Welcome aboard!” He beamed, admiring my clothing before slipping an eight track tape into the player, and saying, “You look good—we match!” He tugged at the collar of his green military jacket and laughed, “Let’s do a quick radio check and get this rolling spook-show on the road.”
Retrieving the microphone from his CB radio, he called into it, “Break two one, this is NR1—NR2, do you copy?”
“NR1 this is NR2—I copy, clear.” Scott’s voice came over the radio. There was a sudden aura of excitement as both vehicles roared to life.
Rich, putting on his sunglasses, grinned at me as he called into the radio, “Good to have you aboard, Red! NR2—let’s roll, clear.”
“That’s a big ten four Reaper--,” Scott replied, “NR2, Red and the Wolf-man out, clear!”
“The Reaper and Wolf-man--,” I had looked at Rich as he began backing out of the drive, “Did I miss something?”
“We decided to use CB radio lingo--,” He shrugged, “That way we can maintain constant contact and remain anonymous.”
“I know that Scott is a huge fan of the classic Wolman films--,” I thought it out, “But why did you choose Reaper?”
“Because we have a killer ride—and it sounded cool” He winked.
Pulling away from t
he curb, we rumbled off and down the street to the twanging and surreal beat of The Ventures playing “The Outer Limits.”
Rich hadn’t said very much over the first few miles, simply offering me a thermos filled with tea. As I poured and sipped at the soothing liquid, I peered out and into the bright afternoon. We hadn’t encountered much traffic and were soon on the Trans-Canada Highway, traveling east. I had always despised the city, and passing into the lush farmlands of Chilliwack had always lightened my heart. I sighed deeply as we passed into the emerald glow of the vast and rolling fields. The little vale shimmering while cast against the hazy cerulean hues of the foothills. The golden leaves of the willows that lined the deep and water-filled ditches on either side, seeming to almost shine in the afternoon sun. I had remembered walking in the fall with my mother many times as a boy, and like her, had always loved the trees that, within their autumn of life, revealed a beauty seen only before they faded into winter’s bitter embrace.
Reaching into the back seat and retrieving my bag, I drew a notepad from within. Breaking the silence, I read aloud, and related the story that Red Cloud had told me earlier. At one point he had turned down the radio, then shutting it off altogether, nervously chewing at a fingernail.
“As we both know--,” I carefully tucked the notepad into one of the large side pockets of my jacket, “Red Cloud is not one to exaggerate, or lightly toss blame upon anyone.”
“So, you think that Frank Jorgenson might have murdered those girls?” Rich appeared strangely pale in the bright afternoon light, and peering suspiciously, asked, “Then why would he bring us down there, and draw all that attention to the place?”
“I’m not certain. Maybe, he’s afraid of something, being alone there?” It was the first thought that had entered my mind and judging by his expression, the last thing that Rich had wanted to hear.
“Maybe he has good reasons--,” Rich tapped his fingers nervously upon the wheel, “It’s obvious that something’s eating at him. Or he wouldn’t have called us.” Reaching for an orange soda that rested in the center console, he drank deeply, tossing the empty can into a bag at my feet. He seemed at a loss for words as our weekend excursion now drew far darker implications. Nodding quietly, he had simply turned the radio back on and engaged the eight track tape. Sinking back into my seat, I quietly gazed through the windshield. A strong wind tossing the branches of the tall Willows as The Ventures strummed to the rhythm of the falling leaves.
It had taken the better part of an hour to reach Agassiz, and then only a few minutes until we had arrived in the town of Harrison Hot Springs. It was a small and pleasant community, which nestled in the glacier valley, bordered the lake-shore. A single road extended the length of the beach, and ended where the majestic Harrison Hot Springs Hotel stood like a sentinel over the beautiful and dark blue waters. With light sandy beaches and surrounded in rocky cliffs and primordial forest, the air was fresh and the scenery simply breath-taking.
We had taken the road to the left from off the main street, which bordering the lake, housed numerous restaurants, cafés and motels. In the distance we could see the snow crested peaks of the Glacier Mountains, and the shadow that rested over the far side of the lake. In all of my travels to such places it had always seemed the same. There was a strange and unsettling presence that seemed to linger. It was almost as though nature drew shadows, a dark cloak over time that grew in silent warning.
My thoughts wandered, and as we navigated the rough and winding road that followed along the lake, I found my gaze returning to those shadows. The grass was tall and yellowed, the earth dry, as dust clouds pursued us every foot of the way. On either side the hills now grew, as covered in lush forest, the rocky crags stood out against a brilliant and beautiful blue sky. The deep blue of the icy waters reflected in the brilliant sunlight, and it was hard to imagine that anything bad could have ever happened there.
The scent of cedar and pine filled the senses, as birds sang in the branches of the immense and surrounding trees. If not for that distant darkness and the story related by Red Cloud, I would never have suspected anything.
“It looks like someone had their hands full, clearing this old dirt road.” Rich motioned to the sides of the dirt road and to where a number of saplings had obviously been cut from the path and cast aside.
“Well, the place has been abandoned for over ten years.” I felt myself drawn to look into the dense and surrounding bush, “Given the opportunity, nature reclaims everything over time.”
“Almost everything--,” He nodded in gesture to where an old sign stood on the road ahead, “Some things never fade.”
Chained between two posts and just off to the right side of the road, hung a large wooden sign. In bold black letters, faded and moldering with time, it read; Camp Fleetwood B.
“Well, we found the place.” Rich frowned, as slowly passing the sign, he nodded in gesture, “Frank said that he would meet us here.”
“Maybe we’re early?” Looking through the dense pines and bush, I could barely make out the lake. The road had slowly ascended until several hundred feet above water level; we had soon arrived at a clearing. To the right of the road was a steel gate comprised of metal poles, which was mounted upon massive wooden posts, and now barred all passage.
“I don’t see a chain or padlock.” Rich shrugged. Leaping from out of the truck, he made his way to the gate. Looking back with a smirk, he unlatched and swung it wide. A moment later, we had all passed through, and begun our journey down the old dirt road and into the past.
Unlike many other camps, it was obvious that there had been considerable amount of effort put into its construction. The ground had been worked so as to provide level areas and acceptable passage for trucks and equipment along the otherwise treacherous and mountainous terrain. As we reached the crest, we gazed down the path as the enormous camp suddenly came into full view. With a multitude of little cabins appearing on either side, we could see the road that, within gradual descent, led down to the shoreline.
Several long wood buildings stretched along the lake’s edge, resting upon a dock fashioned of massive logs and offering a view of a small pier that extended some twenty or thirty yards into the lake. In the distance we could see the graying remains of several smaller structures and equipment sheds. All derelicts, as weather and time had withered them into nothing more than a faded memory of an illustrious and infamous past.
Nestled in the shadow of the enormous pines and surrounded by glacial peaks, even the majestic beauty could not hinder the fear that now grew within me. Aside from Red Cloud’s grim recollections, there was just something about the place. It was an old and familiar stillness that unlike true silence, whispered from beyond a cold and forgotten grave. It was a sound that I now imagined to have heard upon the winds mournful call in the surrounding pines.
“It’s hard to believe that this place looks so run down after just seven years?” I had scoffed.
“The camp was established in the early-thirties--,” He explained, “So it’s been here for over thirty years. And taking the extreme weather into account, and the fact that it was basically abandoned, it all adds up.” Reaching for the radio, he called into the microphone, “Break 21 for NR2, Wolf-man, this is the Reaper, do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Reaper—this is the Wolf-man knocking at your back door, clear.”
“We’re going to have a little look around--,” Rich stopped the truck on the hill and said, “You boys hang back and wait for our host, copy.”
“Ten four, Reaper—we’re sitting tight--,” Scott replied, obviously enjoying the radio antics, “Wolf-man over and out.”
“He’s really enjoying this whole radio thing-,” Rich chuckled, “He drove a truck for a while before working for the railway.”
“It was a brilliant idea, really.” I had agreed, “Aside from keeping constant contact on the highway—we can talk to each other where there’s no telephone service.”
“I thought t
hat you would approve. I just wish that we could get more range out of these things. Wouldn’t it be great if we could reach a base station at home? Then we could call the wives from anywhere and anytime.”
We had both looked to one another on that thought, and he shuddered, “Then there’d never be any escape.”
“Don’t take me wrong, I love Caitlin dearly and with all of my heart--,” Contemplating briefly as we pulled ahead and followed the road, I shrugged, “But sometimes these little road-trips are good for the soul.”
“I know it, brother--,” Rich sighed, “I hate to admit it—but sometimes it’s healthy to just run away from home. In most cases….”
“This one might be debateable--,” I knew that glimmer of concern in his eye, “But that remains to be seen…”
The route down was a gentle descent, as reaching the bottom it curved to the left. We silently gazed out and over the lake and to the distant cliffs and foothills to the mountains beyond. There were several large buildings resting upon the dock. They were comprised of logs with steel panelled roofs and appeared better maintained than the others.
As we slowly turned upward and to the left, passing before what was obviously a large boathouse, Rich slowly began making his way back up the hill. The route was shaped like a horse-shoe, with several larger buildings to the immediate right, and old cabins on either side. We had communicated little beyond reluctant glances, but I suspected that the old camp had already left a bad impression upon him.
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