Hedge Lake

by Brian Harmon

  “We need to document this,” Owen went on. “Take some measurements. Make some calculations.”

  “Calculations…” repeated Eric. “Right.” It was unreal. He looked around again. Why was it that nothing had attacked these guys? If he’d been here alone, he would’ve been attacked half a dozen times by now. It didn’t make any sense. He could see no logical reason why these two should still be alive, much less scrounging for evidence of the supernatural in every ridiculous thing they found. It couldn’t possibly be anything as simple as dumb luck.

  “Hey!” said Owen, his voice excited. “When we’re done, we should use this for bait!”

  Pete looked back at him, his eyes wide with excitement. “Yeah! Let the cameras see what comes sniffing around it.”

  “We’ll catch a shallows walker for sure!”

  “Awesome!”

  Specter Ten celebrated their brilliance with a high-five. Or they tried to. By the third try, the moment had passed and they simply gave up.

  “I’m just going to…uh…look for that cove myself,” announced Eric as he walked away. He was eager to be gone before either of them could ask for his help hanging the putrid carcass from a tree. (He’d rather take his chances with the hellhound, thank you very much.) But neither of them seemed to give much thought to his leaving. They were too excited about their morbid find.

  He followed the grassy shoreline for a while, his eyes sweeping both the trees to his left and the lake to his right, searching for hellhounds and shallows walkers and ghosts and mermaids…pretty much anything else that might like to take a turn ruining his day. When he could no longer hear Owen’s excited chattering, he withdrew his cell phone and looked down at the screen.

  THAT WAS GROSS, said Isabelle.

  “Yes, it was.”

  THOSE GUYS ARE WAY OFF

  “In more ways than one.”

  YES

  Eric shook his head and glanced back the way he came, making sure no one was following him. “Seriously, why haven’t they been eaten yet?”

  IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE, she agreed. THEY CAN’T BE THAT BAD AT THEIR JOB

  “I mean, what is it? The monsters out here don’t have a taste for dorks?”

  MAYBE IT’S YOU

  Eric frowned at the phone. “Me?”

  MAYBE IT’S NOT ABOUT WHY THEY HAVEN’T BEEN ATTACKED. MAYBE IT’S ALL ABOUT WHY THOSE THINGS ARE ONLY ATTACKING YOU

  She had a point. After all, Owen and Pete had been here considerably longer, and they hadn’t had a single encounter. He’d only been here a short while when things began showing interest in him. Perhaps he had the whole thing turned around.

  JORDAN WAS WALKING AROUND OUT HERE, TOO, REMEMBER

  He did remember. But unlike Specter Ten, she was at least aware of the strange things in the forest. She’d spoken of the blond-headed boy and the hellhound.

  AND DON’T FORGET FETTARSETTER. HE’S BEEN PROWLING AROUND, TOO

  Eric nodded and considered it all. He couldn’t explain it.

  But it didn’t surprise him that Fettarsetter could walk among the monsters unharmed.

  SOMETHING’S UP WITH THAT GUY, agreed Isabelle. I’M SURE OF IT

  He scanned the lake. Then he scanned the forest. Then the lake again. Occasionally, he glanced behind him. He’d been left alone for a while now. How long before something else jumped out at him?

  WHAT I CAN’T FIGURE OUT IS WHY FETTARSETTER WOULD BRING THOSE SPECTER TEN KIDS INTO IT. I JUST DON’T BUY THAT HE NEEDS ANY KIND OF VALIDATION FOR THE EXISTENCE OF THE SUPERNATURAL. YOU ASK ME, HE KNOWS ALL ABOUT THAT SORT OF THING ALREADY

  “I’ve been wondering about that myself.”

  I MEAN, IF HE’S AN AGENT, WHY WOULD HE WANT A CAMERA CREW AROUND. THAT JUST SEEMS LIKE THE OPPOSITE OF KEEPING A LOW PROFILE

  Eric thought about this for a moment. “Well, if he gave them the equipment, maybe he has it all tapped or something. Maybe he’s using them as a surveillance system, to keep an eye out for people who come snooping around. People like us.”

  THAT’S A SCARY THOUGHT

  It was. And it might explain how Fettarsetter knew about his dream. If he had the means to listen to the recording they made, he would’ve had plenty of time to come up with that “bleak December” line to get under his skin.

  If there was one thing he’d learned about those guys, it was that he couldn’t possibly guess what they might be up to. They were an unpredictable bunch, with vastly different goals. Of the four agents he’d met, one was a blind follower of his nameless employers out of fear, one was eager for an opportunity to buy his way higher into the organization, one just seemed to love getting paid to torture and kill people and one had gone into hiding to escape them.

  There was simply no way to know what Fettarsetter’s goal might be.

  The path curved into the woods as the trees crowded closer the edge of the lake. The terrain around him was growing rockier and the trees were getting bigger. There was more shade and a chill touched him as the sunlight began to break apart around him. He was only about a hundred yards from the southern tip of the lake.

  Again, he glanced behind him. It was quiet out here. It made him nervous.

  His cell phone rang. He answered it without looking.

  “Hey, buddy. It’s Gerry.”

  Eric stopped walking, surprised. Gerry Nesby? He and Isabelle were just talking about him. What the hell kind of coincidence was that? “Hey, Gerry. What’s up?”

  “I got your message.”

  Eric frowned. “What message?”

  “That text you sent me? Said to call you when I had a minute?”

  Eric had no clue what he was talking about. He hadn’t sent any message.

  Then it dawned on him. Isabelle. She knew he’d never call Gerry when she first brought it up. Not unless he absolutely had to. So she’d tricked him into glancing at Gerry’s number in his phone’s address book and then sent a text to that number that apparently said something along the lines of, HEY GERRY, IT’S ERIC, AND DEFINITELY NOT ERIC’S PSYCHIC FRIEND WHO LIVES INSIDE HIS PHONE. GIVE ME A CALL AS SOON AS YOU HAVE A FREE MINUTE BECAUSE I APPARENTLY REALLY WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

  Tricky girl.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, clenching his teeth against the urge to curse. “Sorry. I was…um…distracted.”

  “Yeah. That happens to me a lot.”

  Eric had no doubt that it did. Gerry wasn’t generally known for his clear-headed genius. More like his frequent, drunken stupors.

  “So what’s up? What did you want to ask me?”

  He had to think for a moment. How did he best put this so that he didn’t sound as crazy as…well, as crazy as Gerry? “I’m…um…on a fishing trip this weekend,” he decided. “Up north. And…” He sighed. “Apparently there’s some weird stuff going on up here.”

  “Like what?”

  Eric bit back a groan. “Well… People keep telling me all these creepy stories. UFO sightings. Strange happenings. And I remembered you were into this kind of thing. I just wanted to hear what you had to say about it. You know…consult an expert on the subject.” He rubbed wearily at his eyes. He couldn’t believe he just said that. It was mortifying. “Do you mind?”

  Of course he didn’t mind. This was the kind of thing Gerry lived for. “No problem at all, man.” He sounded predictably ecstatic. “Tell me what’s going on? What’ve people seen?”

  “A lot of things.” He tried to recall all the things that Pete and Owen described that could actually relate to the subject of UFOs. “Lights and objects floating in the sky. Strange creatures spotted in the area. Disappearances.” Cringing, he added, “Animal mutilations.”

  Gerry made a very dramatic “hmmm” sound and then said, “Sounds pretty serious.”

  “Any chance it’s all nothing more than local hysteria?”

  He was surprised to hear his eccentric friend reply, “It’s possible.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. It’s probably nothing. People believe
a lot of crazy things.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Maybe he’d underestimated his old friend.

  “The government likes to encourage people to believe that places like that are real when they’re not. That way they’re not snooping around the real hotspots.”

  Or maybe not.

  “You always hear about Roswell and Area Fifty-One, but those ain’t real. Never have been. That’s where they want us to be looking.”

  “They want us looking at Area Fifty-One?”

  “Of course. Why do you think it’s the worst-kept secret in the country? They know the harder they work to keep us out, the closer we’re going to look, and the whole while they’re keeping us from seeing what’s really going on somewhere else.”

  I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Izzy, thought Eric. This was stupid. He’d never believed that Area Fifty-One was ever anything more than where they designed new military technology, well away from the prying eyes of enemy nations. It only made sense that a place like that would exist, when you really thought about it

  “Is there a military base around there somewhere?”

  “Um…no. I don’t…I don’t think so… I don’t know? Does it matter?”

  “It might. Have you seen anything yourself?”

  Eric promptly lied. “Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He wasn’t sure why he lied. He supposed he just didn’t want to sink so low as to become one of Gerry’s many “eye-witness accounts” that he was always going on about. This conversation was demeaning enough already.

  “It’s probably nothing real or the government would be hushing people up. Unless they’re just monitoring the situation. Sometimes they do that for a while.”

  “Of course they do. Look, I was just wondering, what kinds of things should I look out for. I mean, if I see something in the sky, for example…how do I know for sure it’s…you know…not of this world?”

  “Well, typically your first clue is if you can’t hear it. Alien technology is silent.”

  This caught Eric by surprise. The silver thing he’d seen floating in the sky had been eerily silent.

  “Or else all you’ll hear is a faint humming or buzzing noise. Maybe a high-pitched whine. If it sounds like a plane or a helicopter, then it probably is. To travel across space, you generally need some kind of gravity propulsion or warp bubble drive, which sound nothing like most earth engines.”

  He rubbed at his eyes again. Sure. Why not? Because Gerry and his barely-earned high school diploma would know all about interplanetary engines and exactly what they sounded like.

  “Another thing to look for is impossible maneuverability. No earth aircraft can take off at full speed from a standstill or stop instantaneously. And they can’t typically do ninety-degree turns at high speed.”

  He hadn’t thought to stop running and look to see how the thing was maneuvering. At the time, he was only concerned with the fact that it was chasing him and shooting lightning bolts.

  “If you’re going to be out fishing after dark, you should take a battery-powered lantern. If they’re in the area, they usually disrupt electric fields. So if your light starts flickering, it’ll be an early warning that they’re coming.”

  Or, it would mean your batteries were going dead.

  “It’ll mess with your watch, too. That’s another good sign they’re near.”

  “I’ll have to watch out for that. So what do these aliens look like, anyway?”

  “No one’s entirely sure, but there are at least two different races out there. One is almost always described as very tall and thin. The other is extremely short. Both are completely hairless and have big heads and big, black eyes. Their skin color is harder to be sure of. Most sightings are in poor light, you know.”

  “That’s a very good point,” said Eric.

  “But they’re usually described as being pale, so they’re probably white or gray or maybe pinkish.”

  Little gray dudes, thought Eric. That’s how Owen described them. But he wasn’t all that impressed. What Gerry was now describing was almost every UFO special he’d ever seen on television.

  “Keep an eye out for power stations, communications towers and Indian restaurants.”

  “Indian food? Really?”

  “I know. I can’t really explain it. I think it has something to do with curry.”

  “Right. Makes sense. I guess…”

  “Just stay clear of those places.”

  “Oh I will,” promised Eric. Why the hell was he having this conversation? He imagined that Isabelle was laughing her butt off right about now. “Thanks a lot. Really. I should go now. I need to be able to listen for them.”

  “That’s probably wise,” Gerry agreed earnestly. Like Owen, he was apparently incapable of detecting sarcasm. “Call me if you have any more questions.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, although inwardly he was thinking, Not on your life, weirdo.

  He hung up the phone and then glared at the screen.

  THAT WAS AMUSING, said Isabelle

  “Hilarious,” said Eric. “That was a complete waste of time.”

  IT WAS WORTH A SHOT

  Eager to change the subject and forget about Gerry Nesby, Eric asked, “How’s that spiritual energy?”

  UNPLEASANT. IT MAKES MY HEAD HURT

  He wanted to tell her that was what she had coming for making him talk stupid with Gerry Nesby. He forced the thought away as soon as it popped into his head, but it was too late.

  I HEARD THAT

  He bit his tongue and forced himself to relax. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I’LL BE FINE. IT’S JUST UNCOMFORTABLE. I REALLY WANT YOU TO LEAVE THAT PLACE

  “I wish I could.”

  I KNOW. I’LL BE FINE. JUST HURRY

  “I will.”

  No shadowy figures crept through the forest. He saw no burning men or bloodied women. The hellhound was nowhere to be seen.

  But he didn’t feel alone. It was hard to put into words, but he’d had a peculiar feeling ever since he first arrived here that something was watching him.

  He looked out over the lake once more. It was calm. Peaceful. A fourth boat had joined the first three. One of them was slowly trudging southward, leaving a long, glistening wake behind it.

  When he looked back out into the forest, he saw a monster staring back at him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The monster was big, its eyes the size of hubcaps, its mouth more than wide enough to swallow a man whole. It was ugly and twisted, with exaggerated proportions and jagged teeth.

  And it was purple.

  WHAT IS THAT? Asked Isabelle.

  Isabelle couldn’t actually see what was before Eric. She could read his thoughts, experience his emotions, even sense things about his environment that he couldn’t, but she didn’t see or hear or physically feel the things he saw, heard or touched. She inferred these things from the clues he gave her, from his thoughts about them, how they made him feel, how he reacted to them. Most of the time, she had no trouble keeping up, but every now and then he came across something so completely bizarre that she couldn’t grasp what he’d encountered.

  This was one of those times.

  “It’s a… Um…” Eric was having trouble finding the words. It was a monster, he thought, a great, purple beast. But it was also a…well…a cartoon…

  Its face was drawn on a large chunk that had broken off the side of a bluff and come to balance against a mossy boulder. The gap between these rocks served as its mouth, with its pointy teeth drawn all the way around, each of them pointing inward, surrounding a gap just large enough for him to walk through if he ducked. On the ground on either side, someone had carefully arranged a stack of rocks to look like the squatting creature’s legs. Big, roundish rocks made up its oversized feet, on top of which were several smaller, flatter rocks that resembled calves and knees. It even had ten, perfectly sized, perfectly arranged toes artfully placed at the front of each foot. The whole thing was painted a cartoonish purpl
e. It wasn’t remotely scary. Instead, it reminded him of those odd, fiberglass characters they sometimes populated playgrounds with, for children to climb on.

  “It’s a big, silly-looking, purple monster,” he replied at last, finding no better description. “Looks kind of like a kid’s art project, but way out of scale.”

  WHAT IS THAT DOING THERE?

  Eric glanced down at the phone. How the hell was he supposed to know? “It’s really not as strange as a spaceship,” he reminded her.

  POINT TAKEN

  “Looks like someone got really bored.” He peered into the creature’s mouth. The path beyond looked narrow and rocky. The shade was deep in there. It looked creepy. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

  OR MAYBE IT’S IMPORTANT. DIDN’T HOLLY SAY SOMETHING ABOUT A PURPLE GIANT?

  Eric rubbed at the back of his neck and looked at the goofy creature. She did, now that he thought about it. According to her last spell, he was supposed to look for the purple giant. It was hard to argue against such an odd coincidence…

  “It’s not really all that giant, though. I mean, it’s big, but I wouldn’t call it giant.”

  I’M PRETTY SURE IT COUNTS

  “Probably. But I’m just saying. I mean, have you ever seen a giant? ‘Cause I have.”

  I KNOW YOU HAVE

  “They’re pretty giant.”

  TECHNICALLY, THAT WAS A PROJECTION

  “But it was a giant projection.”

  DID I MENTION THIS PLACE MAKES MY HEAD HURT?

  “Right. Sorry. I’m going.” He took a deep breath, glanced around one last time, and then ducked through the purple giant’s gaping mouth.

  It was noticeably darker on the other side of the monster’s stone gums. The bluffs rapidly grew into a high wall on his right and large, dense trees crowded him on his left. Great, knotty roots reached up out of the rocky ground and threatened to trip him, forcing him to watch where he put his feet and therefore spend less time watching the threatening forest around him. Every time he glanced up, he expected to see something awful bearing down on him, the charred hellhound, perhaps, or the lightning-spewing spaceship, or the bloodied woman. Or maybe even the stupid purple monster with its stony legs and huge, gaping maw.