The door chimes rang as we pressed through, and I was grateful for the old window-shaker, chugging out cool air into the diner’s main room. It was muggy today, one of those days when clouds hung fat and lazy with rainwater, but never built up the nerve to let the precipitation go. I could smell a storm in the air, and I hoped we’d miss the brunt of it while we hid out in Buddy’s.
I liked it here, and I almost had a memory of the last time our family was all together. Zoe said she could recall it vividly. We’d sat by the window, the four of us eating fries, our parents splitting a chocolate milkshake. Things had been rough between Mom and Dad, and that night, she’d left us. No note, no goodbyes, but Dad said he’d seen it coming a mile away. Grandma supported him on that, and I hadn’t seen or heard from her since.
Zoe hated Mom, and part of me did too, but I tried to think of how hard it must have been for her to do that to us. Something must have been seriously messed up in her head for her to leave us behind. And my dad was the best. He worked hard, never yelled at us or her, but she’d still left him as much as she’d abandoned us.
It had been difficult for Zoe to come in here at first, but that had been ten years ago, and she didn’t bring it up anymore. “Where do you want to sit?” she asked me, letting me choose. This was something she always did, and I loved her for it. I was the youngest and didn’t usually get a lot of say. Zoe seemed to understand this more than Dad did.
“By the window,” I pointed to the seat where we’d last seen Mom, and Zoe didn’t even blink an eye.
The diner was busier than usual, and I scanned the tables for anyone we knew. One of Grandma’s friends was there, and she waved and smiled at us before lowering her voice and whispering to the other old lady with her. I had no idea what they were saying, but I didn’t imagine it was very nice.
I hated getting older. I was noticing too many things that used to go over my head. The subtle nuances of adulthood were creeping through my walls, and part of me was excited, but a bigger part wanted to stay little and free forever, not having to worry about getting my driver’s license or kissing boys, or wondering what I was going to major in when I went off to college.
It felt like this was my last summer before the change. Zoe’s metamorphosis had come after her summer out here two years ago, and I knew, as with everything else, that I’d follow closely behind her footsteps, except on a two-year delay.
I hadn’t told Dad about the creepy neighbor from the other day, and we hadn’t seen him again since, but I didn’t forget. Suddenly, I felt like he was watching me, and I glimpsed around the room before peering through the window. He was nowhere in sight.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Zoe asked.
“Gross. Nothing. Dad gave you enough for milkshakes, right?” I asked.
Zoe nodded but made an obtuse comment about how she couldn’t drink that stuff anymore. It would go straight to her hips. When the waitress came, I didn’t order one either and felt another piece of my childhood slip away. I glanced at my fingers, as if I could see it dissipate when the lady left the tableside.
“God, you’re so weird. No wonder you’ve never been on a date,” my sister said.
I was about to retort, telling her that the only boys she’d dated looked like they belonged in a zoo, when the rain began to blow hard against the window. It splattered down with such ferocity I thought the window was going to cave in, sending shards of glass all over us. It didn’t, but I still scootched a butt cheek over to the right.
“We’ll wait it out, Jess. Don’t worry,” Zoe said.
I eyed the pass at the kitchen, feeling my stomach grumble. I’d ordered a cheeseburger with fries, and Zoe had ordered the grilled cheese with a side salad.
“Do you think Grandma’s going to be okay?” I asked her, and her eyes answered my question before she did.
“Sure. Probably.”
“She’s going for chemo again this week,” I said softly.
“I know.” Zoe stretched her hand across the table and squeezed mine. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re here to brighten the mood this summer, hey, Jess?”
Rain continued to pour down outside, and the wind howled fiercely. It was five in the afternoon, and Dad was on another one of his fishing adventures. I suddenly wished we were at the safety of the cabin, reading a book or watching bad daytime TV with Grandma.
The door opened, the chimes ringing in the wind, and Zoe’s eyes widened. “Lookie what we have here,” she said. I craned my neck to see the boy who’d been cutting the grass when we’d entered town. His white t-shirt was soaked, and I could see his lean chest and stomach beneath. I flushed all over and averted my eyes as the boy walked in, heading for the counter.
“What’ll it be, Clark?” the lady behind the counter asked the boy.
“Clark, is it?” Zoe whispered, winking at me.
I pretended to look at the clock but stared hard at the back of Clark’s head, which was dripping with rainwater.
“I’ll have a chocolate milkshake, please, Izzy,” he said, his voice deeper than I expected. He looked around, and his eyes caught mine for a moment. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and I witnessed the start of a grin as he turned around.
“He just checked me out,” Zoe said proudly.
I nodded but knew he hadn’t. He’d been looking at me, I was sure of it. Why would he bother with me when my gorgeous sister was right here? He must not have seen her.
Clark sat down at an empty stool, and the waitress emerged with our food a couple minutes later. Zoe only ate half of her sandwich, and I wolfed down my burger like there was never going to be another meal. I felt a hunger inside me that I’d never known before, and I kept hoping Clark would look over again, or even… come and talk to me.
As I was pecking away at my fries, Zoe flipped her hair over her shoulders and pouted her lips. “How do I look?” she asked.
“Fine, why?” I asked, but she was already on the move. I watched in horror as Zoe, the most beautiful girl in Cloud Lake, my sister, walked up to Clark, leaned in, and giggled.
July 12th – 2020
It was Clark. I couldn’t believe it. He’d been at the diner yesterday, but I hadn’t clued in. I’d only seen his reflection the day prior, and it had been so long, but I knew it was him. I flicked my visor down, pretending to look in the mirror, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. What were the chances he’d ever know it was me, Jessica Carver? I doubted they were very high.
I kept driving and looked in my side mirror to see Clark get into a truck labeled Cloud Plumbing and Heating. So I’d been right. Clark hadn’t left town, and now he was working as a plumber. I wished I’d sneaked a better look at him. He was the boy that started it all, and the one I compared every other to in my head. There were still so many things I didn’t recall about that summer, but seeing Clark had reminded me of a few of them.
Zoe had casually mentioned his kissing on our last call, and it still struck me the wrong way. She never knew about my feelings for him, though, not fully. I’d never had a chance to tell her, and after what had happened, there were bigger fish to fry than a little girl’s crush.
I decided to come clean when I made it home. I knew Zoe didn’t care at all. She was happily married now, with kids and a great life. She’d laugh it off and tell me I was being silly, like she always did, but I wanted to get it off my chest. I’d been living with so many secrets, it would be nice to be free of at least one.
Seeing Clark had thrown me for a loop, and I checked the time. Almost two thirty. I kept driving, away from the lake now, and toward Chester Brown’s farmland. It wasn’t hard to find the land, since it was the largest acreage in the county, and after a series of wrong turns down the unmarked gravel roads, I found the entrance to his house.
The home was modest but nice, with a massive Quonset and barn settled between the house and the fields. Old run-down tractors and trucks lined one edge of the long driveway; to me, this place was the epitome
of Maine farmland. I bet if I closed my eyes, I’d be able to hear a windmill rotating, in need of some oil.
Chester wasn’t expecting me, mostly because I hadn’t seen a number listed for him online. There had been a sprinkling of Browns listed in the area, but I thought it would be just as easy to show up. If there was one thing I’d learned, farmers tended to stay close to home. There was a lot to oversee on a daily basis. It was Sunday afternoon, and to everyone else that meant long walks and swimming in the lake, but to an old successful man of the land like Chester, I was sure he’d be puttering around in the barn or napping on his porch.
I played the odds from the brief interview I’d read, and settled on the barn. As I parked, closer to the barn than the house, I witnessed a man emerge from the red domed structure, wiping his hands with an old rag. He squinted at me, and I seized my purse, heading over to him. The sun was so high and bright, I was grateful for the sunglasses.
Chester was in a pair of dark jeans, work boots, a plaid shirt that appeared to have outlasted the seventies, and he finished it off with dark blue suspenders. He had a green tractor hat on and a scowl over his face.
“Was I expectin’ ya?” he asked, and I noticed his two missing teeth, big gaps between his downturned lips.
“No.” I stuck my hand out, approaching him. “I’m Eva Heart, from the Brownstone Beat out of New York, and I’d like to talk to you about the other night. July sixth.”
His eyes didn’t show any surprise. “I’ve gone an’ had a dozen of you pretty people show up here to talk to me. Not much else to say, ma’am.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d love to hear your take on it.”
“Brownstone? What type of paper is that? And New York? Why’d ya come all the way out here?” Chester started walking toward his house and I followed beside.
“I have a fascination with UFOs, aliens, abductions, anything about the unknown beings that many think are watching us from the skies and beyond.” I instantly felt foolish for saying it, but I saw something in his eye, something that told me I was selling him on it. “I’ve wanted to know all about them ever since I was a teenager.”
“I’ll talk, but know this. There ain’t nothin’ good comin’ from them Grays, I’ll tell you what.” Chester let out a high-pitched whistle as a dog barked from inside the barn, and I laughed as the droopy-eared Basset hound lazily trod toward the deck. It was a covered porch, and stepping out of the sun cut the temperature by ten degrees.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
He sat down on his old rocking chair, the aged wood creaking under his body weight. He petted the dog, who plopped at his feet without so much as a greeting to me, and glanced into my eyes. “Because they aren’t here to make friends.”
He pointed at a weathered bench, and I sat down on it. “You wan’ a drink?” he asked, and I saw the cooler beside him. Classic blue and white, and he stuck a hand in, pulling out a can of cheap beer without looking. He passed it toward me, and even though I didn’t want it, I accepted.
Chester grabbed another, popped the top, and sipped the chilled amber liquid before rocking in the chair slowly. “Whaddya wanna know?”
“July sixth. Tell me about it. Where were you? Where did you see it? What time was it?” I asked the series of questions, hoping he’d give me a few details. I had my tablet out and was ready to make notes.
“How ‘bout I show you?” he asked, and I nodded. He stood, gripping the chair arm for support. I didn’t know how old he was, but I judged at least eighty. I rose and went beside him, giving him my arm, which he waved away. “Don’t need that. If I did, I’d be dead ten years ago. Now, I was sittin’ in ma chair. Have a seat,” he said, and I did.
The rocking chair was surprisingly comfortable, and now the dog finally acknowledged me with a glare, before huffing and lowering his head to the wooden porch slats. “It was dark, you know the kind of night you only git for a month or so in the summer. After sundown, was around eleven, but still a little light left in the day’s tank.”
I nodded, trying to imagine the setting from my seat.
“Crickets chirping like they like to do, an’ I got some frogs makin’ a racket too. Animals were asleep, but the cows woke up, few of them went to lowing out their concerns for anyone listenin’. I was, and I got up.” He pointed to the front of the porch, and I took a breath, thinking of the cows’ noise and the crickets in song with the frogs. He kept talking. “Suddenly, all the sound goes quiet. I tap ma ear, wonderin’ if I gone deaf. But Turtle here.” Chester nodded at the dog. “He craned his neck so far to the side, I thought his head was gonna fall off. I knew then what was about to happen.”
I pictured the silence, the dark night sky from this vantage point. From here, I could see the fields in the distance, over the barn and other structures. It was a gorgeous view, and when Chester spoke again, chills ran through me.
“They came then.”
“They?” I asked, my voice a tiny whisper.
“Yes, ma’am. The light flew, faster’n any plane, jet, weather balloon, or firefly. This was the Grays, and they hovered there, light flashing for a good thirty seconds. I thought that was it for me. Ma heart beat so fast in ma chest, I couldn’t breathe. Then it was gone, no warning, jus’ gone.” Chester was staring over his field, eyes watering. He wiped a tear away with a liver-spotted hand and turned from me. He meandered back to his chair, sat down, and drank the rest of the can of beer before making eye contact again. “That what you wanna hear?”
I was still standing, looking over the field, trying to imagine what it would have been like to witness something so unsettling. “I’m sorry if you were scared. I hope you’re okay,” I said, unsure what else to offer him.
“I’m fine. Went to see the doc, an’ he said I ain’t never been stronger.” He patted his chest and smiled, grabbing another beer from the cooler. He glanced at mine, which remained sweating into a ring on the bench. I sat as well and opened it, tasting the bitter brew and finding it wasn’t all that terrible in the moment.
“You told the other reporter this was your third sighting, and that they take people. What do you know about the abductions?” I asked, feeling like I was onto something here. Chester was turning out to be a gold mine.
He started to rock again, smooth short motions. It was calming. “Nineteen sixty-seven. First year me and Bethel moved onto our own farm. Right here.” Now I saw it, his emotions rising again.
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Twenty-six. She was twenty-two. The mos’ prettiest lass at the ball, that one. Passed twelve years ago.” He glanced over, giving me a weary smile. My heart broke a little at his expression. Twelve years was a long time to be alone on a huge farm like this, especially at his age. “Can you believe we saw the lights the first time together? Our first summer out here.”
I shook my head. “That must have been scary.”
“Nope. We were right here, me in my muddy boots, and Bethel in her apron making a stew, if I remember correctly. She always made the best stew in the state.” Chester comforted his dog again, and continued. “We din’t know what we was lookin’ at, so we watched, thinking it was something special. It wan’t until years later, when I seen it again, that I even considered them Grays.”
My hand shook as I made the notes, and I had a feeling I already knew the answer to the next question. “When did you see them again?”
“Been a while, but I was already an old man, I suppose. Had to be twenty years ago, give or take,” Chester said before taking another sip.
“Could it have been two thousand and one?” I asked with a tremor to my voice.
He met my gaze and nodded. “Seems about right. Much the same that year. Watched it over the lake in the distance, before it roamed over my land again. Bert claims it took his wife, my cousin. They lived a few miles from here. Used to see them a lot. After that night, she never came home, and Bert didn’t last too long himself.”
My heart race
d. “You’re telling me your cousin was taken by these Grays?”
He shrugged. “Who’s to say? She was in her late fifties. Happy woman, Carol was. Bert done right by her, and they had good kids, strong family. She didn’t walk away, not that I can judge.”
“And she vanished that night and never made it home?” I asked, nervously taking a sip from my can.
“Be right back. I’ll get you the date,” he said, entering his house. The old wooden screen door slammed against the frame, causing me to jump in my seat. He returned with a clipping from a newspaper, passing it to me.
I read it, and I caught the tears threatening to burst from my eyes. “July sixteenth, 2001. Unidentified lights seen over Cloud Lake.” There was an article on the bottom of the page about it, but the one that caught my eye made it all the more real. There was a picture of fourteen-year-old me, smiling while I held a fish up at Grandma’s dock. I read the headline: Fourteen-year-old girl missing after the Summer Kick-Off party at Cloud Lake.
“Are you okay, Miss Heart?” Chester asked.
“Can I take this?” I asked, and he nodded, seeing how upset I was.
“Thank you for everything. I appreciate your candor, Mr. Brown.” I patted his arm.
“Call me Chester. Mr. Brown is my father.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but I was a wreck.
Once I was in the safety of my car, I pulled the article out again. Under the picture of the girl, I read the name, Jessica Carver, and burst into tears.
July 8th – 2001
“You sure you don’t want to go with your dad and sister?” Grandma asked me, and I nodded. It was another rainy day, making that three in a row. It was oven hot, the humid air threatening to make everything cling as we sat on the porch. Here, we were safe from the incessant drops, and even the bloodthirsty insects were in hiding now.
Lights Over Cloud Lake Page 7
