Blackwater Lights

by Michael M. Hughes

  He read the first paragraph.

  The mystery lights of Blackwater have been fascinating locals for hundreds of years. Legends say that the Delaware Indians spoke of the Blackwater area as haunted by the spirits of the dead, who appeared as floating balls of light.

  Of course they did. All spooky places had Indian legends, just as all haunted houses were built on Indian burial grounds. It was a truism of every half-baked horror movie he’d ever seen.

  He skimmed.

  While some dismiss the Blackwater mystery lights as will-o’-the-wisps or pranks, Gary Hawkins has a different story to tell. He saw several lights in the sky above his farm and woke up the next morning to find two of his cows mutilated. Their anuses had been cored out and their livers and kidneys removed. The carcasses were completely drained of blood.

  Ray caught a whiff of jasmine. Perfume. The hair on the back of his neck rose.

  “Interesting book.”

  He turned around. Oh, yes, she was definitely a would fuck, even more so close up. Pale skin with soft tracings of blue veins beneath her temples, her hair thick, coiled, and brilliant red.

  “I guess.” He smiled. “Not my usual reading material.”

  She fixed him with her eyes. “You’ve seen them,” she said. It wasn’t a question—she knew. He tried to form words, but she extended her hand and spoke first. “I’m Lily.” He took her hand. “Ray. Nice to meet you.”

  She nodded at the book. “Baker’s a little nuts. He believes everything. It’s not a terrible book, though—he’s just naive.” She raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve seen them.”

  Ray put the book back beside the geode. “Why do you think that?”

  A sly smile. “The way you were reading that chapter. The way your eyes moved. The look on your face.”

  He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “I did see something last night. I don’t know … I’m not sure what they were.”

  She looked at him without blinking. “Do you want to have some coffee? Or a drink?”

  Ray shrugged. He could almost hear Kevin’s salacious, stoned voice: Never turn down a would fuck, Ray. If our ancestors hadn’t been horny monkeys, we wouldn’t be here today. Don’t deny your biological imperative.

  “Sure,” Ray said. A little conversation would be nice. “A drink sounds great.” It did, and after last night, several drinks sounded even better.

  The bartender cracked a smile at Lily when they entered. She winked.

  They sat at a table far from the bar and talked. Chatty small talk, mostly her asking him about him and his life back home. Lily took a deep swallow of her beer and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

  “You can smoke here?”

  She laughed. “One of the joys of living in this state. Each county gets to make its own smoking laws.” She offered him a cigarette. He hesitated, then took one. He and Lisa had quit together after they’d started dating. But Lisa wasn’t around anymore.

  “Where did you see the lights?” she asked.

  “I’m staying at a friend’s. Just outside town. I was sitting on the porch and they flew right over me.” He flung his hand over his head. “Just like that. Incredibly fast.”

  “What did they look like? How many?”

  “There were two of them—reddish orange lights. Just glowing balls of light. I couldn’t tell how big they were, but they were solid. Substantial. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  She nodded. “I saw them twice. The first time it was just two of them. They moved like this.” She drew an erratic pattern in the air with her cigarette. “It was like they were doing tricks. To impress me.” She took another drink, glancing around the bar. “The second time there were three of them. One stopped right above my head and the other two took off. It was just hanging there, like it was observing me or waiting for me to do something. Then it disappeared”—she snapped her fingers—“like a light going out.”

  “What do you think they are?” he asked. He took a drag from his cigarette. It tasted foul, but he could still remember why he had loved the smoke entering his lungs and the instant clearness in his head.

  She put her hand on his, squeezing lightly. “I’ll tell you under one condition,” she whispered. “That you’ll really try to listen. With an open mind. Without judging me. Promise me that.”

  “I promise,” he said. Her hand was cold. And soft.

  She seemed to be considering whether to answer. “Well,” she said, “some people think they are spirits. Souls of the dead.”

  “You believe that?”

  “No. Too simplistic. And naive.”

  “Okay, yeah, I don’t buy that stuff anyway. I taught high school science for a couple of years and tried to get the kids to stop believing in that kind of nonsense. They had to be something natural. Like ball lightning, or electricity.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, Ray, don’t you trust your own instincts? You know it wasn’t just some random electrical flare-up. You must have sensed the intelligence behind them.”

  He didn’t want to admit it, but he had. “So … they’re what? UFOs? Spaceships?”

  She laughed. Perfect teeth. “Oh, come on. Did they look like spaceships to you?”

  “No. But what else … what could they be?”

  She let go of his hand, took another drag of the cigarette, and stubbed it out. “How about this instead. There’s a friend of mine who can explain things much better than I can. He runs a study group, in fact. You should talk to him.”

  “He lives here? In town?”

  “About twenty minutes from here. His name is Crawford. He’s having a big party tomorrow night. And I do mean a big party. I could introduce you to him, and you could talk to him about it.”

  She waited for a response. Her foot brushed against his. “I might be able to,” he said. “If my friend gets back.”

  That didn’t satisfy her. She tapped the back of his hand. “You should never pass up an interesting proposition from someone you just met—you might miss out on an opportunity you’ll never have again.”

  He looked up from their hands and nodded. “Sure. I’ll go.”

  “Excellent. Where are you staying exactly?” she asked.

  He told her.

  She raised her eyebrow. “The porn guy’s house?”

  Shit. “You know Kevin?”

  “I know of him. I’ve seen him around—he’s famous. The churchgoers hit the roof when he moved here. But I don’t know him personally—I guess we run in different circles.” She finished her beer. “It’s at the end of that long dirt road, past the high school?”

  He nodded.

  She pulled a pen and paper out of her purse and wrote directions to Crawford’s house. “The party starts around ten. I’ll be there by eleven-thirty.”

  Ray took the paper, folded it, and put it in his pocket. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d arrived at a party after nine. “Should I bring anything?”

  She smiled. “Just an open mind.”

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. She pushed his hand aside. “Hey, Carter,” she yelled to the bartender. “Put this on my tab, okay?”

  Carter smiled and nodded.

  Lily leaned over the table. The top of her shirt bowed open. “I’m so glad I met you, Ray. And these things happen for a reason, you know. See you at the party.” He waited until he heard the door open to turn and look at her. She caught him looking and smiled. His face burned.

  Using Kevin’s desktop, he checked his email—nothing—and sent a short, terse response to Kevin’s last message: I need to talk to you. Seriously crazy shit going on here. Call me ASAP. Your line, not my cell.

  A popup window appeared. New message.

  His first impulse was to open it—it was probably Kevin texting or emailing him. It could be something private, though. Kevin’s tastes had always been surprisingly vanilla for a professional porn producer, but maybe he had stuff he kept to himself. Didn’t everyone?

&nbs
p; Then again, if it was a message from Kevin, he could just take a quick peek.

  He clicked Open.

  A larger window overtook the screen. A splash graphic faded in, with a swoosh of electronic music and a breathy, female computer voice: Welcome to SeXplanet.

  The screen went black, and then a woman’s face stared into his. Ray jumped. She was young and pale with short black hair, her face taking up most of the huge monitor, almost larger than life. Her lips were full and painted black. “Hey, nasty boy.”

  Ray didn’t know what to say. She seemed to be looking through him, as if he were invisible. He didn’t know how to end the program—there was nothing obvious to click on.

  “What’s up, baby? I thought you might be there. Turn on your cam. I want to see you.”

  “I’m not Kevin,” Ray said.

  She snorted. “I don’t care who you are. Turn on the cam. I don’t do one-way.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ray said. “I didn’t mean to open this. Can you just tell me how to quit?”

  Her face drew closer. “See that little camera icon at the very top?” Pointed with her finger at the top of the screen. “Up here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Click that.”

  He did. Nothing happened. The girl drew back from the camera and smiled. “Wow. Shit. You’re cute. A lot cuter than him.”

  Now she was looking directly at him, as if she were inches away, behind a plane of glass. The intimacy was unnerving. He couldn’t speak. She stepped back. Her bare breasts came into view. She had small, pierced nipples. She leaned forward and adjusted the camera. “You want to party with me tonight? I have another twenty minutes.”

  Ray pressed the Escape key and the window minimized.

  Her voice still played through the speakers. “What’s wrong? You gay? That’s channel four. Just click on the thing at the bottom right—”

  He jabbed the power button.

  He really needed some fresh air.

  Chapter Five

  He ate at Doris’s Diner again, an early dinner. When Ellen saw him she grabbed a menu. She was wearing more makeup and her hair looked different. She held up a pot of coffee. “Fresh pot. Looks like you need it.” She poured him a cup. “Bad day? Or late night?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. Both. Unfortunately. Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”

  She blinked. “Mind if I sit for a second?”

  “No, not at all. Please.”

  She slid into the booth across from him and put the coffeepot on the Formica tabletop. “I can’t talk long. The boss will be back in a few minutes—he ran out to get some tomatoes from the Kroger.”

  “Have you lived here long?”

  Ellen shrugged. “Yeah. Pretty much all my life. You?”

  “I’m from Baltimore. But I spent some time here once. During the summer. When I was a kid. Early seventies, like ’71 or ’72.”

  “Really? You have family here?”

  “No. My uncle brought me to a camp. A summer camp or something. You know of the place? A camp, out in the woods?”

  She stared at him. “Hmm. There’s the Bible camp on Bickle’s farm. Just a little day camp for the church. But it’s not really a campground. Just some playground equipment.”

  “That’s not it. This was a camp for boys. Like the Boy Scouts. There were buildings. With bunk beds.”

  Bunk beds. Rows and rows of them.

  She looked at the ceiling. Her eyes were done up in light blue eye shadow and mascara. She chewed the inside of her cheek and sighed. “Sorry. I don’t know of anyplace like that around here. But I’ll ask around. My father might know something—he worked for the post office. He would have delivered the mail.”

  Ray nodded. “That would be great.”

  “You trying to find some old friends? From camp?”

  “No. Not really. It’s just … you know. Curiosity.”

  “Sure.” She looked like she wanted to say something.

  “Is there a library around here?”

  She nodded. “On Chestnut Street. Next to the Sheetz.” She pointed out the window.

  “Thanks.”

  A bell dinged.

  Ellen’s head snapped around. “Shoot. That was fast.” She stood up and grabbed the coffeepot. “How about a piece of pie? It’s on me.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll come by for breakfast again. Maybe your father will remember something. And I promised William ten bucks. Where is he?”

  Another ding—harder.

  She rolled her eyes. She was pretty when she smiled. “He’s with my ex until six. But he left something for you. I’ll be right back.”

  She carried plates to another table and returned with a half-inch-thick manuscript in a plastic binder. “Here you go. It really made him happy that you said you’d read it.”

  Ray held William’s book. He had barely been able to get his high school students to produce three double-spaced pages, and this kid was cranking out what must have been fifty pages of handwritten copy. “Here’s his ten bucks. I’ll pay full price.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ellen said.

  “No, he deserves it.” He pressed the money into her palm. “Maybe it will inspire him to keep it up.”

  “Well, good luck on finding your summer camp.”

  “Let me know if you hear anything. It’s really important to me.”

  “I will. So, you’ll be coming by again?”

  “I can’t imagine there’s better eating than here.”

  She blew air through her lips. “Sadly, you’re probably right.”

  The Blackwater Public Library was small, brightly lit, and unoccupied. Ray waited at the main desk, and a few minutes later the bathroom door opened and a thin, bearded man stepped out. He wore khaki pants and an oxford shirt.

  “Oh, sorry. Were you here long?” His accent wasn’t nearly as heavy as Ellen’s. He looked fortyish, and his dark beard was neatly trimmed. He wiped his eyeglasses on his shirt.

  Ray shook his head. “Nope. Just got here.”

  The librarian clasped his hands and smiled. “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Yeah. Couple of questions.” Good thing there was no one else around. “Historical stuff. About Blackwater.”

  The librarian held up his index finger. He pulled a glossy paperback from beneath the circulation desk. “Blackwater: A History. My PhD project. From before the Civil War to, oh, 1993 or so.”

  Ray took the book. The cover was a black-and-white photo of a two-story house, looking like the peeling clapboard structure was held together by glue. A man in overalls stood next to the house, his face washed out and almost featureless.

  The librarian held out his hand. “Denny Huffington.”

  Ray shook his hand. “Ray Simon.”

  Denny scratched his neck. “Is there a particular era you’re interested in? Civil War?”

  “No. More contemporary.”

  “Ah.” He looked dejected.

  “I really have two questions, I guess,” Ray said. “Mainly I want to find out the name of a camp I went to when I was a kid. Somewhere nearby.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. And the other?”

  “The other is … folklore, I guess. Strange stories. Weird stories.”

  Denny’s smile spread. “You mean Forteana?”

  Ray stared.

  “Forteana, from the writings of Charles Fort. Rains of blood and frogs, sea monsters, ghosts. Spontaneous human combustion. Sasquatch. Is that what you’re interested in?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  Denny laughed. “Now that’s synchronistic. I have a blog—Odd West Virginia—that you might have heard of.”

  Ray shook his head.

  “Of course not. Not many people have. But aside from history, I specialize in the strange and the obscure.”

  “Well, Denny, I guess you’re exactly the person I was looking for.”

  Denny bowed. “Glad to be of service. You’re the first person in weeks who hasn’t as
ked for large-print Nora Roberts or Dan Brown.” He paused. “Not that I have anything against either of them.”

  Ray waved his hands. “Don’t worry. I’m more of a Steinbeck guy. Mark Twain and Faulkner. Old standbys.”

  Denny mimed wiping sweat from his brow. “Good man. Glad to hear it. I sometimes feel like I’m running an orphanage for unread books. It’s nice when I get real questions. But the strange stuff … that’s something I could really go on about. I guess you’ve figured that out. Blackwater is actually a hot spot of unusual activity. The Discovery Channel was here about ten years ago—did you see that? The way the road is built on the path of a mythical snake? Is that why you’re here? In town, I mean?”

  “No. But the camp, that’s important to me. Just for personal reasons—my own history. I want to find out more about it. That’s what I’m most interested in.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can find.”

  An hour later, they had turned up nothing.

  “I’m sorry, Ray. You sure it wasn’t the Presbyterian church campground?”

  “No. This was a huge place. Big tents. And buildings. Almost like a barracks of some kind.”

  Denny shook his head. “Sounds military. But West Virginia has never had a military base. Closest thing would be the National Guard training grounds, but that’s about four hours from here.”

  “No, I’m sure it was here in Blackwater. Or nearby.”

  Denny looked at his watch. “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to close up now. But I’ll ask around. I’ll make some calls.” He handed Ray his card. “My blog address is on the back. And here’s my book.”

  “Do I have to sign it out?”

  Denny laughed. “No, of course not. It’s my gift to you. A signed copy, too.”

  “No, I can’t—let me pay for it.”

  “Listen, you might be the third person to actually read it. One was my advisor and the other was my mom, and I’m pretty sure she lied and just skimmed for the exciting parts about murders and famous love affairs. Please. It gives me pleasure to know you might find it of interest. If not, maybe it will help you fall asleep. You can always sell it on eBay for a quarter. If you’re lucky.”