Below the Surface

by Tim Shoemaker

  “Not a bit.”

  “I’ll take that as a maybe,” Gordy said. “How about you, Lunk? You in?”

  Lunk sat there for a moment as if picturing the whole thing in his head. “If Coop’s out, I’m out.”

  Gordy laughed. “I’ll work out some details. You’ll both love this.”

  “Don’t count on it.” There was no way Gordy was going to change Cooper’s mind on this.

  The cabin got quiet.

  Cooper’s mind was on the pickup again. It had been a close call. Really close. If the truck had veered just a little more, he would have been plastered against that stone wall, his body turned into some kind of mortal mortar, filling in the cracks and crevices between the stones.

  “Anybody up for a creepy story?” Gordy said.

  Cooper was trying to get his mind off of one.

  “They say that years ago — like out West — people got buried when they weren’t even dead.”

  Cooper smiled. This was one of Gordy’s favorites.

  “Right,” Lunk said.

  “Seriously! They didn’t embalm people like they do now, so lots of times they’d bury someone in a pine box the same day he died. Only some of the people weren’t dead. They were in a coma or something.”

  Lunk snorted. “And how on earth would they know that?”

  Cooper shook his head. Lunk was walking right into this.

  “Because,” Gordy paused, “decades later — maybe when a new road was being built or something — the workers would dig up these old graves and find claw marks on the inside of the coffins.”

  “Like the guy woke up and was trying to get out?” Lunk said. “That’s sick. It’s always a good idea to be sure that whatever you bury is really dead — or else it might come back.”

  Gordy nodded. “Exactly. Unless we’re talking about zombies. I mean, if you bury a zombie, you’d better bury it deep because you know it’s going to claw its way out eventually.”

  “Zombies,” Lunk said. “Ridiculous.”

  “Are they?” Gordy said, his eyes wide as if he’d seen one. “Are they?”

  Here we go. Cooper had heard Gordy’s zombie stories before on campouts and overnights. Gordy loved telling stories, and he always managed to scare himself somehow. But right now the thought of zombies, or bodies somehow rising, was kind of creeping Cooper out too.

  A set of rogue waves made the boat dip and rock as they passed.

  Lunk gripped the table with both hands. “What is that all about?”

  “A boat probably passed by,” Cooper said.

  Lunk didn’t let go of the table. “I didn’t hear a motor.”

  “Zombies,” Gordy whispered. “Bodies of the undead rising from the bottom of the lake.”

  Cooper didn’t want to hear any more. It was too real. Too fresh. He’d felt something so evil, so dark, under the water. He did not want to think about it. “The other boat could be out in the middle of the lake, so we’d never hear it,” Cooper said. “It takes time for the waves to travel to shore.”

  Lunk nodded.

  Coop wondered if Lunk was going to wear that lifejacket while he slept tonight — if he’d even be able to sleep. And with the pain in his shoulder and the thought of zombies lurking under the boat, Cooper wasn’t so sure he’d be sleeping either.

  Gordy woke early Monday morning and dragged himself out of the cramped cabin bed. Actually, berth was the correct term for a bed on a boat. While Gordy had scraped and painted the boat with Coop and Uncle Carson, he’d learned all kinds of funny names for things on boats. Bathrooms were heads. The right side of the boat was starboard; the left was port. The front of the boat was the bow, and the back was the stern. The back wall was the transom. The floor was the deck, but the boat itself was the hull. And that was only the beginning. If you tied a boat to a buoy and anchor, the spot was now called a mooring. It was like a whole new language.

  Outside on the deck, Gordy stretched and rummaged through the ice chest for something to eat.

  Widgets. Deep-fried biscuit dough covered with sugar or cinnamon sugar, widgets were like donut holes, only bigger — and better. Coop’s mom had picked up two bags of them yesterday afternoon from the Dari-Ripple in Walworth at the far end of the lake.

  Gordy grabbed the remaining bag and stuffed a widget in his mouth. Not quite as amazing as when it was fresh out of the deep fryer, but it was still really good.

  Only a few fishing boats dotted the horizon. No sign of the mailboat yet. It was probably way too early. A rough plan had taken shape in his mind, but he wanted to see the boat in action before telling Coop and Lunk about it. And he hoped to do it before Hiro joined them. She’d try to squelch the whole idea. Especially after what happened with Krypto Night.

  The green wakeboard boat was still out there, tied to its buoy like it had been last night. But a canvas tarp covered the boat now, and the only ones aboard were a half-dozen seagulls. Flying rats, really. They’d already turned the boat into their personal outhouse. Gordy smiled. Another mess for Tommy Kryptoski to clean up.

  Gordy wanted to go for a swim, but he didn’t feel like getting wet. He eyed the inflatable raft. Grabbing a water-ski towrope, he tied one end to the raft and wrapped the other end through a metal loop-thingy bolted near the stern. Minutes later, he was lying on his back inside the inflatable, floating seventy-five feet behind The Getaway.

  This was living. Especially since he’d thought ahead and brought the widgets with him. Dark clouds glided overhead as though they were looking for picnics to rain on or freshly washed cars. As Gordy drifted on the lake, he noodled through more details of his mailboat prank.

  Simplicity was the key. Fewer chances for errors that way. And it all came down to timing. If he could delay the mail jumper long enough, she’d miss the boat. But for how long and how would he do it? The balance would be tricky. Too short a delay, and she’d hop back on the boat without a problem. Too long, and she wouldn’t jump at all. She’d wait until the boat circled around to pick her up. Where was the fun in that?

  He could tie the door of the mailbox shut. But that would take her too long to open. Tape might be smarter. Not too much. Just enough to delay her. Make her tug at the door a couple times. Yeah, taping it shut would be better. And maybe he’d leave a dead fish for her inside the box too.

  He popped the last widget into his mouth and brushed the sugar off his hands and into the water. His plan would work. He was sure of it.

  What he needed was a pair of binoculars so he could get a little intel on the mailboat — how much of a delay he’d need to put the mail jumper into the water. He rolled onto his stomach and used the towrope to pull himself back to The Getaway. He climbed onto the swim platform and let the inflatable drift. It couldn’t go far. The towrope bunched up around the stern of the boat. There was no point cluttering up the back deck with it anyway.

  Still no sign of Coop or Lunk. Gordy pulled out a large toolbox Coop’s dad had loaded on board. The lid had a waterproof seal, and he flipped open the latches to get the binoculars.

  Uncle Carson’s dive knife was right on top of the bundled nylon dock lines. Gordy slid the knife from its sheath. Black rubber grip. Six-inch stainless steel blade with a wicked-looking edge, slightly curved tip, and a serrated edge for sawing. Part of him wanted to strap that baby on his leg and go for a swim. Instead he sheathed it, laid it on the deck, and pulled the dock lines out of the box.

  Gordy pulled the binoculars out of the leather case, looked through them, and adjusted the focus. He slung them around his neck.

  Below the binoculars sat a bundle of light sticks. They could come in handy during a night swim. Next to them, a molded plastic case. Gordy opened it and stared. A flare gun with six rounds of ammo.

  “My kind of toolbox,” Gordy said. He carefully removed the orange gun and made sure the chamber was empty. Some night, they definitely had to shoot that thing over the lake — though the chances of that happening were pretty remote if Hiro had anything
to say about it. And she would. They’d have to do it after she was back at the condo.

  He put the flare gun back into its case. At the bottom of the toolbox, he found a single key attached to a nylon string holding a jumbo red-and-white fishing bobber. “Jackpot.” Gordy smiled. So that’s where Uncle Carson kept the spare ignition key for The Getaway. Good to know. But there was only one way to be sure.

  He grabbed the key and tiptoed to the console. He checked the door to the cabin below. Still no sign of Coop or Lunk. He slid the spare key into the slot on the dashboard. It fit perfectly. He looked at the vintage instrument panel — at the chrome stick levers for forward, reverse, and speed for each of the twin engines.

  He stared at the key hanging from the ignition slot. The bobber swung with a teasing rhythm, like it was daring him to turn the key and start the engines just to hear how they sounded.

  Gordy backed away from the instrument panel and ducked inside the cabin. Coop was still zonked out. And with the pain meds he was on, he’d be sleeping deep. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice. Besides, Gordy would do this really quick.

  Gordy reached for the dash — and a moment later the engines rumbled to life. The vibration under his feet felt good. He resisted the urge to rev the motors. He sat in the captain’s chair and eased the control lever into reverse. The transmission whined as the boat crept backward, slowly, like an elephant backing up in a circus ring. Gordy was the trainer. The boat pulled against the buoy line in front. Easy, Dumbo. Good elephant. Gordy shifted into neutral — then inched the gearshift forward until the buoy line went slack.

  A total rush. He couldn’t imagine how good it would feel to actually drive The Getaway. He turned the engines off and pulled the key from the slot just as Cooper climbed out from the cabin, rotating his bad shoulder.

  “Is my dad here?”

  Gordy laughed. “That was me, you idiot.” He dropped the bobber into the toolbox. “I found the spare key.”

  Cooper looked fully awake now. “Are you out of your mind?” He latched the toolbox and stowed it. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  Lunk stepped out on deck, squinting. He was still wearing his camo shorts, black T-shirt, and the lifejacket.

  Gordy raised his hands in mock surrender. “It won’t happen again. I was just checking it out. No harm done.”

  Cooper smiled. “It sure sounded good, didn’t it?” He looked around. “Where’s the inflatable?”

  Gordy pointed. “I’ve got everything under control.” He grabbed the towrope and started pulling the inflatable in. But the rope seemed to be snagged on something under the boat.

  Cooper must have seen it too. He climbed over the stern to the swim platform and traced the line to the water. He pulled. It didn’t move.

  “Tell me you didn’t put the boat in gear,” Cooper said. “Tell me you didn’t run over the rope and get it wrapped around the prop.”

  Gordy got a sick feeling in his stomach. He shrugged. “Oops.”

  Cooper tugged on the line. It didn’t budge. “I’ll need a mask,” he said.

  “On it,” Gordy said.

  The moment Cooper raised his arms to pull off his T-shirt, pain shot through his left shoulder. He lowered his arms and worked his shoulders in small circles, trying to loosen them up.

  A moment later, Gordy was back with two masks. “I’ll go with you.” He climbed over the rail and joined Cooper on the platform. “Help me get this T-shirt off, would you?”

  Gordy gave him a hand and let out a low whistle. “That’s one ugly bruise.”

  “Gee, thanks, Gordy.” Cooper really wanted to forget the whole thing. The bruised shoulder wasn’t going to make that easy.

  Lunk watched from the rail. “How bad does it hurt?”

  “Probably not as bad as it looks,” Cooper said. “It’s just sore. And stiff.”

  Lunk nodded, but he didn’t look at all relieved.

  Gordy had his mask in place and stepped off the edge of the platform, disappearing into a splash of water and bubbles.

  Cooper adjusted his mask, took it off, rinsed it, and put it back on again.

  Gordy surfaced. “You gonna do this?”

  The truth was, Cooper didn’t know what he was doing. Thoughts of yesterday’s episode under the water were still messing with his head.

  Gordy ducked below and swam under the boat.

  Cooper wanted to do that. He wanted to snorkel and swim underwater like he’d always done before. Instead, he squatted down and peered over the lip of the swim platform.

  Gordy was back again, treading water. “Coop — what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” Cooper sat on the edge of the platform and eased himself into the water without getting his head wet. He took a fresh grip on the platform, took a couple of deep breaths, and put his face into the water. He could see the bottom and felt no signs of panic. Okay, this was good. Really good. He let go of the platform, treaded water on the surface for a moment, then went totally under, feet first. He was fine. He could do this. Whatever was wrong with him before didn’t seem to be a problem now. He surfaced for a fresh breath of air, nodded to Gordy, and went under.

  Gordy dove under at the same time, and together they inspected the propellers and rudder. A warning went off in Cooper’s head. Just being so close to the props was a little creepy, even though they weren’t moving. If the engine were suddenly turned on, they’d be sliced to ribbons.

  The towrope was twisted around one of the propellers and shaft. Cooper reached over and pulled. It felt like steel cable — stretched tight. Without any slack in the line, there was no way to untangle it. He motioned to Gordy and surfaced.

  “We’ll have to cut it.”

  Gordy lifted his mask to his forehead. “Sorry about that, Coop. Think your dad will be mad?”

  Cooper shook his head. “He’ll be fine.” He looked up at Lunk. “My dad’s dive knife is in the toolbox. Can you grab that?”

  A minute later Cooper and Gordy were back under the hull, sawing away at the ropes. It was slow going. Cooper held on to the propeller shaft, the knife in his other hand. Gordy kept pulling the rope away as Cooper cut to expose the next layer. The exertion burned his oxygen supply fast. He signaled to Gordy, and they kicked back to the surface for another breath.

  “Got it?” Lunk looked over the rail.

  “Getting there,” Cooper said.

  Cooper and Gordy went under again. Cut and clear. Cut and clear. Then back to the surface. “One more time,” Cooper said.

  Gordy nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Cooper cut the last few strands of rope from the propeller and shaft. Gordy swished them away and flashed a thumbs-up sign.

  Cooper gave it one more look, making sure the strands were far enough away not to get tangled again. He nodded at Gordy, and the two of them swam under the platform and surfaced on the other side.

  “All clear.” Cooper hiked himself onto the swim platform and handed the knife to Lunk. He felt energized somehow.

  Gordy coiled up what was left of the rope and retied the inflatable to a metal, oblong cleat. “What do we have to eat around here? I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Cooper said. “We still have a bag of widgets.”

  “Oops.” Gordy shrugged. “I think they’re gone. What else do we have?”

  Cooper had a feeling Gordy knew exactly where the widgets went. “Check the ice chest in the cabin for milk and juice. We’ve got boxes of cereal in the cupboard, with bowls and stuff.” Three guys could live for a couple of weeks on all the food Mom had stocked on the boat. Which meant that with Gordy aboard, they had enough to make it to the weekend. Maybe.

  Cooper toweled off and climbed over the stern rail. He felt like celebrating. He’d gone underwater without a single twinge of fear. Whatever it was that had been bothering him was now history. He wanted to believe that — but deep down he knew better. Maybe the impact that had busted his bike helmet had also reset some kind of default setting in his he
ad. If that’s what it took to get rid of his fear, the trip to the ER was totally worth it.

  Gordy was banging around inside the cabin.

  Cooper glanced at Lunk. “How ’bout some breakfast?”

  Lunk was staring toward the beach. He didn’t seem to be focused on any one thing. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Something was definitely weighing on Lunk’s mind. What guy would delay breakfast, even for a minute, if he didn’t have to? Had Cooper done the right thing in inviting Lunk along? Their friendship had grown in the last few months. And Lunk was fitting in really well with Gordy and Hiro. But maybe this vacation was too far out of Lunk’s comfort zone. While Gordy loved the water as much as Cooper did, Lunk was a different story. Did he actually sleep in that lifejacket? Sure he did. Lunk would rather be on the beach than on the boat. He’d probably do better camping this weekend. But even that might be a problem, because Gordy’s and Cooper’s dads would be there. Would that be one more painful reminder of what Lunk was missing?

  Cooper ducked through the hatch and joined Gordy in the cabin. He wanted Lunk to be here on this vacation. He really did. But he wasn’t so sure Lunk felt the same way.

  Lunk looked out over the water. More boats were on the lake now. A couple of jet skis were pounding toward the north shore. The houses along the water looked like palaces. The beach was empty, but it was still early in the day. No matter where he looked, this was a different world.

  People here were all about luxury. Fancy boats. Jet skis.

  Lunk was about being practical and careful with his money. His mom had basically forced him to buy the new bike. New to him, anyway.

  But he had to be careful, didn’t he? Mom was happier now than he’d seen her in years. They both loved the fact that they were buying a house. Settling in someplace, in a town where they both had real friends. Lunk just had to do his part to make sure they didn’t lose what they had.

  Maybe the question that was bothering him was a little closer to home. Yeah, he had friends — for the first time in his life. Coop. Hiro. Gordy. And he needed them. More than they knew. More than he’d ever admit. Maybe he needed them more than they needed him — a possibility that gnawed at him.