Damn it. He needed water to immerse his eyes He staggered for the door, and threw it open, heading to the shoreline on faltering feet.
Sam paused, confused. He could’ve sworn that door hadn’t been there when he’d come this way, there had only been a hallway that had led back to the main staircase. He opened the door, finding another closet.
Damn it, another dead end. He didn’t have time for this crap!
Slamming the door shut in frustration, he backtracked again, anxiously looking for the staircase down.
Daryl plunged his hands into the icy water, swearing as he banged his knee painfully on some rocks. He splashed at his eyes, the grittiness and stinging easing even as his vision remained blurry.
He splashed again, the water washing the last of the grittiness and pain away. Scarily, his vision remained oddly fuzzy.
Daryl looked back at the house, getting to his feet shakily. Could he see well enough to get back to the house? There was no moon tonight.
Eerily, all at once, lights all over the house came on, light shining through the many windows. Daryl blinked, and took a step back. As he did, he noticed a shadowy figure standing near the granite landing.
“Sam?” he called.
The figure shifted, the blurry outline of it almost rippling. It began to come toward him.
Sam put his fist into the door, the loud bang satisfying even as he grimaced in pain. Where the hell was the door? He’d retraced his steps five times, and five times he’d come to dead ends. No matter which way he tried, he couldn’t get below the second floor, or find that main staircase. What the hell was going on?
He looked out the window. The shadowy figure was gone from its post. Sudden worry for his friends filled him, along with desperate resolve. Wrapping his fist in his shirt, he put his fist through the window, shattering it. Then he crawled out onto the roof, dropping with a grunt to the ground.
“Sam?” Daryl called.
The figure was still slowly approaching, but it hadn’t answered. Strangely, it was walking in the shadows beyond the light cast from the house windows, not in the light itself. Louder and louder came the sound of methodical splashing.
Fear touched him with icy fingers. Sam wouldn’t walk in the treacherous dark water when he could walk on well-lit ground. Daryl’s hand went to his pocket, easing open his folding knife, his army training kicking in. “Who are you?” he said defiantly.
Sam looked around frantically. He’s sworn he heard someone call his name. Where had the shadowy figure gone?
He moved close along the shore, searching, his gun at the ready.
The dark figure was almost upon him. Daryl grasped the knife loosely, praying he wouldn’t have to use it.
“Who are you?” he cried. “What do you want?”
The figure lunged for him. Daryl stabbed reflexively, his knife going deep. The figure crumpled with a groan.
A shot rang out. Daryl fell backward, the blast to the chest knocking him down even as he twitched, blood pumping from his chest.
Sam awoke gasping, clutching his side. Around him, his friends slept peaceably. His eyes went immediately to the inner door. It was closed.
He sagged back in relief, then Daryl awoke flailing, clutching his chest.
“You had a nightmare, too?” Sam whispered. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Daryl said, reaching for his notebook. “God, it was vivid.”
“Mine, too,” Sam said, grabbing Nikki in his arms and lying down.
“Want to tell me about it?” Daryl said, writing notes on his dream furiously.
“In a little while,” Sam answered, after a moment. “When its light.”
Marie awoke, yawning. By the clock, it was dawn. She got up, relieved to see the inner door leading deeper inside the house was still shut. Oddly, the door leading outside was unlocked, slightly ajar, a cool breeze coming in. The rock bracing it shut from inside had been moved.
One of the others must have opened the door in the night. “Thank God for that,” she said, dressing quickly. “It was stifling in here.” She got out a bottle of water, then slipped on her shoes and went out to enjoy the sunrise.
The predawn darkness was cool, the breeze clean and heavy with dampness. Marie breathed deep, the air refreshing her. She wandered down near the shore, faint light from the breaking dawn illuminating the darkness. She sat down on a large rock.
Soft music came to her on the wind. She turned to see a girl nearby, a recorder of some kind in her hands.
Marie was utterly still, not moving. This had to be a ghost. Damn, she should’ve grabbed Nikki’s camera…
The girl played a haunting melody, the tone one of regret and melancholy, the notes lingering in the damp air. She looked out to sea as she played, her attention all on the brightening sky.
Marie studied the girl, trying to commit every detail to memory. She was dressed in modern clothes, stained jeans, and a sweatshirt. Her light brown hair was long and straight, the style simple. She was too modern to be from Latham’s era. Likely, she’d died in one of the currents.
The girl suddenly stopped, and turned to Marie. Her eyes were sad and resigned, their image overwhelming Marie with grief for her.
“I’m sorry you died,” Marie blurted.
For a split second, the girl held her gaze. Then the sun broke the horizon, flooding the sky with light. The girl faded, her outline disappearing.
Marie went to where the girl had stood. On the shoreline was blood, the granite red with it. A recorder lay nearby, lightly spattered. As she watched, that too faded, the light from the sky illuminating clean stones and clear water.
Something gleamed amidst the wet rocks. Marie walked to it, and picked it up. “This looks like Daryl’s knife.”
Fear filled her. She darted inside.
Sam, Daryl, and Nikki were still sleeping. The inner door leading to the staircase was standing open, the rope severed.
She woke the others immediately, telling them of what she’d seen. “I thought it was tied a few minutes ago, but I didn’t check it.” She handed the knife to Daryl. “Is this yours? I found it near the shore, in the water.”
Daryl searched his pocket, unnerved. “I was outside, but only in my dream. It must have fallen out last night, when we were gathering wood for the fire.”
“I found the outside door open,” Marie replied. “The rock was moved.”
“It was only a dream,” Daryl said, trying to make light of it. “Stupid, really. Sam shot me by mistake. But I’m clearly not a ghost—”
“We shared that dream,” Sam said seriously. “You stabbed me with that knife. She found the door open, and the knife outside. Yeah, we’re alive. But how’d it get there?”
“Like I said, I must have dropped it,” Daryl said patiently. “It’s amazing you had the same dream, but that’s all it was. We both woke up right here. You woke up first, even. Besides, you don’t have a gun, Sam.”
“Yes, I do.” Sam produced it, then told of his nightmare. “I saw the girl, too, Marie. She said we should leave.” He turned to Nikki. “Did you dream of anything?”
“No,” she said quickly, casting eyes to the fireplace.
“Daryl’s right. What happened was all in your minds,” Marie said, going to the light switch on the wall. She flipped it several times. Nothing happened. “Not only is the power off out here, the bulbs aren’t even in the few fixtures I’ve seen.”
“You’re right about that. Still, this didn’t fray,” Sam said, studying the rope. “This was cut. Daryl, did you cut this in your dream?”
“No. A thin knife or something else sharp through the door jamb did,” Daryl said, eyes narrowing. “My knife’s too big anyway to fit in the gap—”
“None of us did it,” Nikki interrupted. “That proves someone has to be here, and they’re trying to scare us. Maybe they took Daryl’s knife and moved the rock, so we’d freak.”
“Why?” Daryl said, studying the cut end of the rope as if it might hold the
answer. “There’s no purpose in scaring us.”
“Your boyfriend doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Marie said to Nikki pointedly.
“We have an open relationship,” Nikki said boldly. “Besides, he’s off on a hunting trip.”
“Hunting what?” Sam asked, shifting his eyes to her.
“Elk,” Nikki answered. “I’d have gone with him, but this outing seemed more fun. Besides, I’ve spent enough vacations cutting up his kills.”
Marie rolled her eyes. “Nice. You don’t carry a knife, do you?”
“Look, we’re here, and we’re all fine,” Daryl said loudly. “Whoever did this, we don’t have time for their games. Let’s get to work, then let’s get out of here.”
“You’re right,” Sam said, stretching. “So what’s the plan?”
“Nikki’s going to take pictures. I’ll go with her. You go with Sam and try to come up with some good ideas for some drawings.”
Marie faced him. “Again, what exactly do you want drawings of?”
Daryl let out another sigh. “I want you to take some of the settings here, and put some scary people in drawings of them. I don’t care what you depict. Whatever you include is fine, so long as you genuinely find it scary. I’ll include them in my paper, using them to illustrate the human imagination and its role in how fear originates.”
“You’d just have to draw a picture of this cut rope for me,” Sam said darkly, tossing it down. “C’mon Marie, let’s get going. You can illustrate a boat of college students being dashed to their deaths on those pretty red granite rocks.” He strode outside.
Marie grabbed a pencil set, a sketchpad, and an eraser, and went after him.
Daryl turned to Nikki, who was rooting in her bag. “Ready?”
Nikki turned to him, digital camera in one hand, and a small 35mm in the other. “Ready. Lead on.”
By noon, they’d shot most of the house, Nikki having long used all of her 35mm and switching to plain digital. “You’ve got almost two hundred pictures,” she exclaimed. “I don’t usually take that many at my relatives’ weddings. Developing that many and blowing them up is going to be expensive. You’d better view them first to pick the ones you want.”
“I want them all,” Daryl replied with a grin. “Really, this is wonderful. I never dreamed that there would be so many good locations all over the house. Instead of the one or two I expected, we’ve got at least ten that look menacing with only their natural shadows. We also got great shots of the balcony. More than a few people hanged themselves there.”
“Yeah, this place is creepy,” Nikki said, going to the next room. She twisted the key that lay in the lock, then opened the door. “Hey, Daryl, look in here.”
Daryl went to her side, then gaped, blinking.
All the other rooms had been vacant, a broken frame and some moldering books the only trappings. This room was not.
“It was a nursery,” Nikki whispered. “Or a child’s room.”
An ornately carved small bed, almost a crib, was at the far side of the L-shaped room against the wall. There was a large, intricate stained glass window with a seat built into it. Below it, just distinguishable in shadow, were two shelves holding a few old toys and one book, thick dust covering them.
“Do you know whose this was?” Nikki whispered.
“I only know of the deaths on the balcony and a few drownings in the lake,” Daryl admitted. “There are other deaths, but the website didn’t say where in the house they happened, or if they were inside at all.”
“There’s no mattress,” Nikki whispered. “Why take that and not the toys?”
Suddenly, the wan multicolored light from the large picture window lessened, leaving them in semi darkness. Rain lightly pattered on the window.
“Damn it,” Daryl swore, fumbling for his flashlight. “That rain was supposed to hold off until tomorrow—”
A soft creaking sound pierced the silence. Nikki clutched Daryl’s arm.
He turned on the flashlight, aiming it at the noise like a gun.
A new toy was on the floor in front of them, a tiger with wheels. Long ago, its frayed string had pulled it along, the tiger’s wooden joints moving with the wheels, giving him the appearance of running.
“He came off the bottom shelf below the window seat,” Nikki said, relieved. “There are tracks in the dust—”
Rain spattered the window lightly, then hit with shocking power. The darkness intensified, then lightning flashed, illuminating the window in all its multicolored splendor, the light playing over the derelict crib and toy
“Get a picture, quick,” Daryl hissed urgently. “Hurry.”
Nikki tentatively pointed the camera, then clicked. As she did, a boom of thunder shook the house, startling Daryl. He dropped his flashlight.
“Damn it—”
“Look,” Nikki squeaked. “It’s eyes. They’re glowing.”
Daryl gazed down in the blackness. The tiger’s left round glass eye glowed back at him blankly.
“That’s phosphorous material,” he said, grabbing his flashlight. “I didn’t know they had that back in the twenties—“
The tiger’s single shining eye became two suddenly, its head turning to face them.
“Jesus,” Nikki breathed.
“Shoot it,” Daryl urged. “Take a pic, hurry!”
A frantic creaking sounded, as the tiger’s eyes began to bob up and down, coming closer in the blackness.
“Go!” Daryl yelled.
They got outside, slamming the door behind them. A faint creaking sounded from the other side of the door, then a soft knock, as if someone had kicked the bottom of the door from the other side.
Nikki quickly locked the door with the key, then took the key out of the lock. “I think that’s enough of ghost hunting for me,” she said, “Let’s get the others and get out of here.”
“I’m all for it,” Daryl said, unsettled. “We’ve got what we came for. Let’s get downstairs and pack the boat. As soon as the storm clears, we’ll leave.”
They quickly walked away, leaving the faint creaking and knocking still issuing from beyond the locked door.
“You were right to insist we walk out here,” Sam said happily. “This place is great, like a giant prism.”
Mirrors on the domed ceiling reflected the waves crashing below, even the faint light through the cut glass walls refracting and bending. When they’d arrived, light and water had blended in harmony, the meeting a fantastic and awesome sight to behold. Now the waves were rough, the light steadily fading into darkness.
“We should head back,” Marie urged, her eyes on the approaching dark roiling clouds. “We’ve got a long walk back and it looks like a storm’s coming.”
“You’re the one who said we should go see where the stonework bridge led,” Sam said irritably. “There’s no point in leaving if a storm’s about to hit. It took us two hours to walk here.” He sat down on the floor. “I’m not going until the weather clears. Why don’t you draw or something?”
Marie didn’t reply, apprehensive. Sam had been like this all day. He’d been averse to coming out here, saying he hadn’t signed on for hiking. Why the hell had Daryl asked him to come, anyway? All he’d accomplished to date was sleep with Nikki.
“The water’s so beautiful,” Sam murmured.
High was what the water was, Marie thought. When they’d walked here in the sun, the lake had been calm and beautiful. Now not only was a storm coming, but the water looked as if it had risen at least a few feet. They’d be lucky if the long bridge wasn’t underwater. “We’ve got to go, Sam. Stay here if you want, but I’m going.”
“You aren’t going,” Sam said confidently, his eyes on the crashing waves. “There’s no way out.”
Marie blinked at him. “What?”
“The waves are crashing over the bridge,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “We’re stuck here for the evening.” He grinned at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”
Rain pattered lightly against the windows, as the sky darkened.
“What you’ll do is back off,” Marie said harshly. “Unless you want my knee in your balls.” She turned and left, stalking down the stairs.
It was Sam’s turn to blink. “Christ, Marie, I was only teasing—”
“Stop being a jock jerk, and come on,” she yelled back. “I’m not waiting for you.”
When Marie emerged from the structure a few moments later, the wind was in full force, heavy rain pelting her face painfully. The long bridge stretched before her, still well above the churning water.
God, what a relief…
Marie looked down over the bridge’s railing. As she watched in growing terror, the water rose slowly around the bridge’s supports, steadily reaching higher.
Sam appeared behind her. “I’m sorry—”
“Just hurry,” Marie yelled to him, beginning to jog. “The water’s rising fast.”
They made their way quickly down the bridge, the paving stones becoming wet and slippery. They struggled on, even as the rain intensified, the wind beginning to howl. Several times, they were knocked off their feet, the hard stone jarring and bruising them as they fell. Then, as if by magic, the wind suddenly died down, and the waves calmed, even as a mist began to rise from the lake’s surface.
Sam stopped, panting. “Please wait, Marie, please. I need to breathe. We’re more than halfway. The storm’s passed.”
“I’m sorry I got so angry,” Marie said, slumping against the railing. “I just panicked. I was worried the storm would somehow flood the house or the bridge, trapping us.”
Sam gave her an odd look. “No one would build a house like this where it would be in danger of flooding.”
“Part of the main house is flooded,” Marie said darkly. “Daryl told me about it last night, when you were, um…occupied.”
Latham's Landing Page 5
