by Brian Harmon
After nearly being devoured by a giant, alien fish, ghostly farmers just didn’t have the same effect as they once might’ve.
The moon vanished again, sinking him once more into deep darkness.
The fish would be confined to the lake. The hellhound and the ostrich-stein should be far away by now, along with whatever that thing was that was inside the cabin. And the shallows walkers weren’t said to wander far into the woods. Hopefully that meant that there were no monsters left to bother him.
And hopefully the spirits would simply let him be for a while.
He heard a familiar cry from somewhere nearby.
“That you, Spooky?”
The cry came again, nearer this time. And then something was rubbing against his leg.
Eric stopped and knelt down. He couldn’t even see the cat in this gloom, but he managed to scratch it behind its ear, where cats seemed to like to be scratched. “Any chance at all you can show me the way out of these woods?” he asked.
The cat took off again.
Eric waited. Just when he thought the little beast had abandoned him, he heard another cry.
He followed.
For the next few minutes he played a one-sided game of Marco Polo with the cat. Then, just when he thought he might be on a wild goose chase, he glimpsed a porch light through the trees.
He was somewhere, at least. It didn’t matter where. Not really. Anywhere he could call for help would be fine. But as he approached the light, the trees grew bigger and farther apart and the familiar shape of Mrs. Fulrick’s house came into view.
He found the cat on the porch, already bathing itself on the wicker chair.
“Thanks,” he said as he climbed the steps.
Spooky didn’t acknowledge him.
Sighing, he walked to the door and rang the bell.
Mrs. Fulrick answered and looked him up and down. “What in the fuck happened to you, boy?”
“Don’t want to talk about it,” said Eric. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just…stand on that mat there. And don’t sit on anything. Let me grab an old folding chair.”
“’Kay.”
She stalked out through the kitchen, toward the garage, grumbling about mud on her floors at a volume that strongly suggested he was supposed to hear her.
He stepped onto the mat, as directed. His shoes squished and squirted.
He glanced around. In the dining room, Owen sat in one of the chairs, his elbows resting on the table, his head propped on his hands, his face hidden.
Pete emerged from the living room and stared at Eric, blinking as if he couldn’t quite comprehend why he was soaking wet from head to toe. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” said Eric.
There was a clatter of something falling in the garage and the sound of Mrs. Fulrick cursing.
“You, uh…been down at the lake?” asked Pete, apparently thinking that what this moment was lacking was conversation.
“Uh huh.”
Pete nodded and fell quiet.
Mrs. Fulrick returned a moment later with a dented, metal folding chair and an old beach towel. She unfolded the chair and placed it in the middle of the floor, well away from the carpet and any of her rugs. Then she draped the towel over it. “Sit here,” she told him.
Eric did as he was told.
She retrieved the muddy mat from in front of the door and slid it under his feet. “Jesus Christ…” she grumbled. “You trying to catch your death out there?”
“Almost,” he replied absently. “But he got away.”
She looked down at him, studied him. Some of the meanness seemed to melt from her hardened features. She again informed him that he looked like shit, but her voice was kinder than it was before. She brushed aside the hair that was plastered to his forehead and laid her hand against it. “You’re not feverish. How’d you end up like this?”
“Long story.”
She nodded. “I’ll bet it was.” She moved her hand to his cheek and closed her eyes. After a moment, she said, “You’ve brushed death.”
Eric nodded agreeably. Yes, he had. Quite a few times there, actually.
She opened her eyes and considered him. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Just some guy with rotten luck.”
But Mrs. Fulrick didn’t believe that. He could see it in her eyes. Like Delphinium Thorngood last summer, and Frank Lezner the month before that, she saw something in him, something special.
But she didn’t waste her time trying to explain it to him. She simply turned and walked back to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some coffee,” she said.
Eric thanked her and looked down at his phone again, which he realized was still in his hand. He considered it for a moment and then looked up at Pete. “Can I borrow one of you guys’ phones for a while?”
Pete promptly reached into his pocket. “Sure. No problem. Yours get wet?”
Eric stared at him.
“’Course it got wet. You’re, like, soaked to the bone. Stupid question. Sorry.” He stepped over and handed him his cell phone. “Here.”
It wasn’t a cheap one like he preferred to carry. It looked a lot more expensive. “I’ll need to keep it with me until I’m done here. I have to stay in contact with someone. Is that okay? I swear I’ll replace it if I break it.”
“Sure. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a protection plan for it.”
Eric nodded. The kid was all right. It was a pity he was partnered with an idiot like Owen. “Thanks a lot. What’s your number?”
Pete told him. Immediately, the phone began to ring and Eric, who expected no less, answered.
“I told you that was a bad idea!” snapped Isabelle.
“I missed you, too,” said Eric.
Pete stared at him, surprised. “How did…?”
Eric ignored him.
“That was the most terrifying thing you’ve ever done to me!”
“It wasn’t exactly a picnic for me, either,” he replied. “Did you tell Karen I was okay?”
“I did.”
“Did you tell her…um…?”
“That you were almost eaten by a giant grouper? No.”
“Looked more like one of those blobfish things, to me.”
“I’ve never seen one of those, but I know they’re creepy.”
“Very creepy. That’s definitely going to give me nightmares.”
“You don’t have dreams anymore, remember.”
“God, I hope not.”
“It definitely makes me glad I don’t sleep.”
“Lucky.”
“Pull yourself together. And stay out of the lake.”
“I’ll do my best.” Eric disconnected the call and leaned back in the chair. All he wanted to do was drive to the nearest hotel, get out of these wet clothes and crawl into bed. But that wasn’t going to happen. He had to go back out there again. He still had to find that hidden path and stop a giant worm from tearing open the universe.
“Who were you talking to?” asked Pete.
“My friend.”
“The witch?”
“No. My other friend.”
“Oh.”
They both fell silent. Eric tried to relax a little. He was going to need all his energy for what came next. But the chair was too uncomfortable.
“You should put your phone in rice,” said Pete. “It’ll suck all the moisture out.”
Eric looked down at his cell phone. “I’ve heard that before,” he realized.
“It really works. Most of the time. But it takes a couple of days.”
“I don’t have a couple of days.”
Mrs. Fulrick returned with a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
He thanked her and took a sip. It tasted good. And it felt good. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until he felt the heat hit his belly.
He glanced over at Owen. He was still sitting there, his head still propped on his hands, his face still hidden. He appeared to be staring at a tablet. Er
ic nodded toward him. “What’s up with him?” he asked. “He still sore at me?”
Pete glanced over at his partner. A strange look crossed his face, a weird mix of pity and barely concealed amusement. “He’s um…”
Mrs. Fulrick didn’t hold anything back. She snorted laughter. “He’s in a sorry state is what he is.”
Eric was worried. “Did I hurt him?”
She shook her head. “Not nearly enough. He’ll be fine. Nose wasn’t even broke. He was just being a big pussy.” She walked over to the table and snatched the tablet out from under him.
“Give that back!” snapped Owen, finally turning in his seat. Eric saw that both his eyes were black and he still had a piece of tissue stuffed in his nose.
Mrs. Fulrick ignored him and handed the tablet to Pete. “Show him,” she said with a grin.
Pete swiped at the screen. “Mr. Fettarsetter said it was going to rain tonight, so while he was waiting for his nose to stop bleeding, I ran out and gathered up all the gear to put in the truck. As I was finishing up, I got an email from a friend of mine. He said I had to check out this site.” He handed Eric the tablet.
It was a video blog. As Eric took it, a familiar face appeared on the screen. “It’s Mandy,” he said. He’d almost forgotten about her. She was standing in front of the camera, smiling brightly. The blue was washed out of her hair. Most of her piercings were gone. And her personality had completely changed. She was energetic, even bubbly.
“Hey guys, welcome to Ghost Trap. I’m Amanda Dourey.”
“I thought her name was Mandy Dorling,” said Eric.
Owen looked like someone had socked him in the gut. “So did I!” he wailed.
“For the past few weeks,” continued the girl formerly known as Mandy Dorling, “I’ve been chilling out, incognito, with the so-called paranormal ‘experts’ of Specter Ten.”
“You’re kidding,” said Eric.
Mandy—sorry, Amanda—went on to tell her fans all about Specter Ten’s terrible investigative habits and Owen’s massive ego. She revealed to the world that Owen had ignored scientific protocols in favor of padding his blog, that he’d passed off unconfirmed anomalies as hard evidence and that he’d claimed credit for other people’s finds. Worst of all, she told the world that she was able to get into the inner workings of Specter ten because he actually believed she’d be his girlfriend.
OUCH, texted Isabelle.
“But even doofuses can manage to get something right once in a while,” she went on. “While investigating the infamous Hedge Lake Triangle, the bumbling duo stumbled onto something very interesting. Have a look.”
The scene cut to digital camera footage of a very familiar lake. As he watched, a blurry, man-shaped shadow floated into the scene and lingered there for a good twenty seconds before vanishing. Though he’d never seen it before, he recognized the footage. It was the shadow man that sent Owen and Pete rushing to the lake just when Eric needed them.
Eric looked up at him. “She stole your footage?”
Owen put his head down on the table and hid his bruised face under his arms.
“How many times did you accuse me of trying to do that? And you never saw that coming?”
“Shut up!” he yelled, his voice muffled by his own arms.
“Funny as shit, if you ask me,” said Mrs. Fulrick.
“It is a little bit funny,” agreed Pete.
“Really?” snapped Owen, looking up at him. “She ruined us! No one will ever take us seriously now! She destroyed our blog!”
“Your blog,” Pete reminded him.
Owen covered his face again.
Pete grinned at Eric. “I was thinking of quitting anyway.”
“Good for you,” said Eric. And he meant it. He’d be much better off on his own. Unlike Owen, he actually seemed to have some sense of responsibility.
Mandy was back on the screen now, talking about how her blog was now going to launch a proper investigation into the Hedge Lake Triangle in the coming weeks and to check back soon for more details.
He handed the tablet back to Pete.
This answered one question at least. Mandy hadn’t disappeared in the triangle at all. She’d only grabbed the evidence and left while the boys were distracted.
He had to hand it to her. She was good. He never suspected for a second that she wasn’t who she seemed to be. He was only happy that he hadn’t ended up on her Ghost Trap site.
But he was still left with a much bigger dilemma. He had to navigate the hidden path to the bottom of the triangle and find a way to stop that worm. But first, he had to find the hidden path. Which of course was hidden… He didn’t even know where to begin.
Pete’s cell phone vibrated in his hand, alerting him to another text message: OH YEAH! HOLLY WANTED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THAT
Eric blinked at the phone.
SORRY! I FORGOT
“Give her this number,” he said.
“What?” asked Pete.
“Nothing,” said Eric.
OKAY, said Isabelle.
Eric waited.
“You have friends with peculiar talents,” said Mrs. Fulrick.
He glanced at her, surprised. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”
“But you need to keep them secret. You don’t want to risk them getting hurt.”
“Yeah,” he said again.
She nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t,” said Pete.
“Tough shit,” snapped Mrs. Fulrick. “Shut up.”
Pete shut up.
“All this stuff that’s happening on this lake,” she said, looking at Eric again. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Eric nodded. “Time’s running out. I have to stop it.”
She nodded. Suddenly, she looked very tired. “I knew this day was coming. I could feel it in my bones. Something wrong in the lake. It’s always been there, but lately it’s felt…critical. Like all the bad things are at their limit, and just ready to burst.”
Again, Eric nodded. “That kind of sums it up.”
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s in the lake?”
Eric considered the question for a moment, debating on telling her. It was a scary thing to burden someone with. But he decided she deserved to know. She already knew it was there, after all. She’d sensed it all her life. “It’s the Conqueror Worm,” he told her. “And it’ll come tonight with the rain unless I can find a way to stop it.”
She didn’t tell him that sounded insane. She didn’t even look surprised. She merely nodded and let her gaze drift to the far wall. Almost dreamily, she said, “I always knew you’d come to save us… I just didn’t know when… Or from what…” Then her eyes focused and she looked up at the clock. “Weather man says the rain will start around three in the morning.”
Eric followed her gaze to the clock. It was already well past midnight. Less than three hours remained…
“Don’t know how accurate it is.”
He nodded. There was no way to know the exact minute, but at least he had a ballpark estimate to go by.
Pete’s phone rang. It was his home number.
“Hello?”
“Eric,” said Holly.
“What’s going on?”
“I tried to call you before.”
“Yeah, I had some trouble with my phone. Let me guess, you were going to warn me not to get in that boat.”
“No, it said you were right. You had no choice but to get in the boat.”
“Really?” That was weird. He’d thought for sure that was a first-class screw-up.
“It was the only course of action that wouldn’t have ended badly. But then it also showed you getting swallowed by a fish. I didn’t understand that part.”
“That’s weird,” said Eric, grimacing. “I wonder what it means…”
“Who knows? Sometimes this stuff just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Clearly. Metaphors, right? What can you do?”
“Anyway,” continued
Holly. “I totally see you inside the triangle. You’re on the invisible footpath.”
“That’s where I need to be, all right. How do I get there?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like you have a compass.”
“A compass?” Fettarsetter told him there was a compass, but he said it was lost in the triangle. There was no way he’d be able to find it in time.
“I think that’s what I’m seeing,” she told him. “You have something you’re using to guide you through the mist.”
“Okay… So even if I find this compass and find my way to the bottom… Then what? There’s supposed to be some kind of colossal worm down there.”
“Oh that’s what I was seeing… I couldn’t make it out.” Then, more to herself than to him: “Ew…”
“What do I do about it?”
“Um… I don’t know yet. Sorry.”
“The spell didn’t tell you anything?”
Pete was watching him with a mixed expression of confusion and awe. Owen hadn’t moved. Clearly he was taking this thing with Mandy pretty hard. He didn’t blame him. How utterly humiliating.
Holly said, “It only told me that you were going to need me.”
“But you’re not here.”
“I’m talking to you right now, silly.”
“Oh. Right. On the phone.”
“Yeah. Like Isabelle.”
Eric smiled. “I see.”
“Call me once you’re on the path.”
Eric promised he would and said goodbye, but before he could hang up, Karen snatched the phone from Holly.
“Are you okay?” she demanded.
“Of course I’m okay,” said Eric. “Didn’t Isabelle tell you I was fine?”
“She told me some kind of monster dumped you in the lake and you barely escaped with your life!”
“She said that?”
“You’d better not get yourself sick.”
He noticed that she ignored his question, but he only said, “I’ll be fine. It’s not even that cold out.” It was a lie, of course. The air had a distinct chill to it, and walking through that forest dripping wet had not been pleasant. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Where are you now?”
“Mrs. Fulrick’s house. She’s taking care of me.”
“You be careful.”
He was getting a little tired of people telling him to be careful all the time. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself. But all he said was, “Of course I will.”