Lure (15 page)

"Holy crap. Holy friggen' crap. Dude, chill! I'll take you to see another psychic. I swear. Whatever you want. Just slow down!"

When Sam reached the little house on the switchback, she saw movement inside, and she pitched the car sideways again and slid around the turn.

"Oh crap. I think I'm gonna pee!"

If not for the dark forms she saw following their every movement, Sam would have laughed, but something big was going on here, and she could feel herself being drawn into it. Nearing the bottom, she slowed, and Shells' breathing became less rapid.

"There's something going on here Shells, and it's big. I'm not sure what it is yet, but I'm absolutely certain it's bigger than anything I've ever seen before."

"OK. OK. But can we try not to die."

"Deal," Sam said. "I need to see how deep this goes before word gets around that we're on to them."

"Who are they?" Shells asked.

"I have no idea," Sam admitted.

Chapter 9

At the boat dock, Sam scanned the crowd, and especially the staff for signs of police or military training. Once ingrained, certain things were difficult to hide, and Sam realized that she was exhibiting some of the traits herself. Shells paid the fare, as one of the covered pontoon boats was easing back into her slip. Those aboard disembarked quickly, and Sam saw nothing but smiling faces.

"We'll be ready for you folks in just a minute or two," the only man left aboard the boat said, and he went about wiping down seats and emptying small trash containers that hung alongside each of the bench seats.

Three other couples kept mostly to themselves, and it looked like there would be plenty of room on this trip.

The man aboard the boat waved over the girl who had sold Shells their tickets, and after a brief conversation, he motioned for them to come over, "Y'all can board now. Welcome aboard."

"You're just being paranoid," Shells said when Sam opened her mouth. "It's just a friggen' boat ride, don't go all titanic on me. Although if you want to stand up front and do that king of the world thing, I could be up for that. Dig?"

"Dig."

All those aboard looked like normal vacationers to Sam, and as the boat eased away from the dock, she left most of her tension behind. Trying her best to just enjoy the ride, Sam sat back and let the wind caress her face. The sparkling water was clean, clear, and looked tropical.

"My name is Captain Pete, and don't hesitate to ask any questions you may have. Lake Lure came into being after the construction of Turner's dam in 1925. This lake was once a river valley with homes and stores and everything you would expect to have found in a small town at the turn of the twentieth century."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Shells looked at Sam. "It's nothing," she said. "You're just being paranoid."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Sam wasn't so sure, and the skin on the back of her neck crawled. The thumping grew louder and a flat black helicopter appeared from behind a ridgeline, looking like a giant insect as it followed the contour of the valley. Hanging from it by long cables that looked perilously thin, was something that resembled an oversized canvas.

"Don't be alarmed," Captain Pete said. "There are some fires on the other side of that ridge, and the helicopters take water from the lake to douse the flames. As long as the wind doesn't shift this way, we should be all right. I don't want to be the one to spoil anyone's vacation, but I've heard rumors that they are considering evacuating this area until the fires are brought under control. I don't think there will be any problem, mind you. But I can understand their concerns about the mountain roads making for trouble evacuating so many people in the event of an emergency."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The helicopter grew louder as it drew closer.

"It seems they are going to put on a show for you," Captain Pete said.

Lowering the tarp-like contraption into the water slowly and not far from where Captain Pete now brought their boat to rest, the pilot kept them hovering in place for a few moments before lifting off with a full load of water. In that time, Sam locked eyes with the passenger, who had been pointing a camera with a long zoom lens at them.

"Did that guy have a camera?" Shells asked. "Was he taking pictures of us?"

Sam was glad Shells saw it too.

"That may be one of the guys from the newspaper taking pictures of the wildfires. Every once in a while they send us pictures they've taken from the air so we can use them as publicity photos and such. I wouldn't worry about it."

Sam couldn't help but worry.

"OK. Maybe you weren't just being paranoid. That was creepy."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The noise of the helicopter faded after it made the turn and disappeared behind the ridgeline.

"When the lake waters rose," Captain Pete continued, "it drove snakes onto the increasingly sparse and small bits of exposed land, and so it was that the islands were uninhabitable at first. The man who designed the lake had purchased a rather choice piece of land that is now an island. He put an ad in the paper that he would pay a $100 reward to anyone who could get rid of the snakes on his island."

Sam got lost in his words and the soft breeze.

"A local farmer responded to the ad and offered to put some hogs on the island," Captain Pete said, and he gave everyone a moment to ask: "Why Hogs?"

"Hogs, it seems, love to eat snakes," Captain Pete said. "And they say the hogs have thick skin with few nerves and capillaries, and even the venomous snakes don't bother them. It's said that by spring they had to build a bridge to the island in order to get the hogs off, which cost most of the hundred dollar reward."

Though still listening, Sam had to wonder why the lake had been created in the first place, and Captain Pete's next words only served to reinforce her curiosity.

"Now keep in mind that Dr. Morse bought out an entire town to construct this lake, and folks, it's still down there. That's right. There was no real need to demolish the town; all they had to do was finish the dam and the water would make the town disappear. But this lake is as deep as 110 feet in places, and the water is cold. That town has been mostly preserved; so much so that a group of divers went down and found the old fire truck still in the firehouse. With the exception of a couple flat tires, it was in pretty good shape, so they raised it up, restored it, and now they drive it around in parades."

Closing her eyes, Sam drifted on her thoughts. Captain Pete's words just background noise that didn't register with her consciousness. The power of the water called to her; in itself it was magical and it had a cool aura that beckoned to her, begged her to dive in and immerse herself in its coolness. It was a strange feeling, something Sam had never experienced before, and in a way, she liked it. To want something was to be alive, and to want something badly was to be very alive. Captain Pete had slowed the boat again, and Sam reached her hand out to the water, barely able to touch. It was then that she remembered the stone the man at Arrowheads had given her; an offering to the lake.

Pulling it from her pocket, Sam looked over the river stone one more time, taking in the significance of this offering. It was supposed to be in respect of what the land had once been, despite the fact that Sam was quite happy with its current form. She felt almost hypocritical to apologize for something she enjoyed, but she decided to honor the strange man's wishes and tossed the stone into the still water of the lake. Nothing happened, except an annoyed sound from Captain Pete.

"That wasn't litter, was it?" he asked, with a hand on his hip.

"No. It was a river stone," Sam said. "An offering to the valley."

Captain Pete didn't look convinced. "Littering here is illegal and carries with it a heavy fine. If you have anything you think you need to throw from the ship," he paused and looked at Sam, "then put it in the trash receptacle on the inside of every row."

The rest of the trip was less pleasant, and Sam was glad to get off of the boat. Captain Pete looked down his nose at her, and she gave him the finger, which left those at the dock speechless. Everyone moved out of Sam's way as she strutted back down the dock, and Shells came in her wake.

"I need a drink," Sam said.

"I second that emotion," Shells said, and they were soon on their way back to the Inn and the waiting bar.

A casual buzz filled the Inn, and a small crowd had gathered at the bar. Sam and Shells slid to the end of the bar and immediately drew attention. At least three men were eyeing them, or at least they were eyeing Sam.

"Don't worry. I got your back," Shells said, but then a skinny, strawberry blonde at the other end of the bar smiled at her. "Scratch that. You're on your own."

Sam just shook her head and tried to get the bartender's attention. It was a man, so she put her elbows on the bar and leaned over a little too far. It wasn't long before she caught his eye. "Sorry if I kept you waiting," he said. "What can I get you?"

"Absolut lemon drop with a bud draft chaser."

"That sounds horrible," the man said with a wink.

"It is," Sam said. "We call it a redneck lobotomy. If you're feeling pain, it'll cure what ails ya."

"Until morning," said the bartender as he slid her a shot and a dish with a sliced lemon and some sugar on it.

Sam slammed the shot down and didn't even look at the lemon. "Where's that chaser?" she asked, and the bartender slid her bud draft down the bar. "Thanks," she said after a long pull. "You're all right. What's your name, cowboy?"

"Derek."

"Looking sharp, Derek. As you were," Sam said, and after he turned around, he turned his head to see if she was checking out his ass; she, of course, was. Derek and Sam became fast friends, and the bar tab seemed more like a score sheet; Sam was winning.

Later that evening, as she lay in bed trying to will the world to be still, all she could hear was the squeaking of a mattress, and occasional moans. Eventually it became clear that the strawberry blonde was a screamer, and that Shells must be some kind of magician. Either way, Sam's thoughts drifted to Greg for the first time in a while. She wondered how he was doing, and with the orgasmic ensemble going on next door, who he was doing.

* * *

When Shells met Sam in the lobby the next morning, she couldn't seem to wipe the grin from her face. "Good morning!"

"You would say that," Sam griped, her head still throbbing. "Have fun last night?"

"Damn straight," she said with a grin. "That's the first time I ever did a psychic, and I'm telling you, she totally saw it coming."

Even hung over, Sam had to laugh.

"I thought you and Derek might hook up," Shells said.

"Nah. He said he'd lose his job, and apparently I don't look
that
good."

"Close, though."

"Yeah. Close," Sam said.

"We should get the equipment today," Shells said, "and we've got massages scheduled for two-thirty, so it looks like we've got a morning to kill. Do you want to go hang out at the beach?"

"No beach," Sam said.

"Are you being paranoid again?"

"Something is going on around here, Shells. Trust me. I want to go back to Arrowheads. I want to know what that guy was on about when he wanted us to leave so badly."

"That's cool," Shells said. "I'm hungry, and there should be something good to be had around there."

Michael stood at the reception desk as they walked by, and his eyes followed Sam. One disadvantage of looking good was not knowing why men were watching you. She had a damn good walk, but there seemed to be something else there as well. What it was, she couldn't decipher, but it bothered her deeply.

"Any deliveries for us?" Shells asked Michael, but the man just shook his head in response. She turned to Sam and said, "You look like you've been sucking on a lemon. What's up?

"Nothing," Sam said. "I was just thinking."

"That's bullshit, but I'll let it slide this time. But if this keeps up, we're gonna have to go back to that woods woman psychic chick and see if we can get her to actually fly around the room. For real. No bullshit."

Beams of bright light streamed through the glass in the double doors; Sam put on her dark shades and still squinted as they entered the bright daylight. The roar of motorcycles mixed with the sounds of playing children from the beach across the street. Blue skies harbored fluffy white clouds and gave no indication that anything could be wrong in the world. There was not even the slightest hint of smoke, which Sam found odd. She continued to hear about these fires across the ridge, and yet she hadn't seen or smelled any evidence whatsoever. She was starting to think the fires were nothing but a ruse to explain the helicopter doing surveillance on the entire valley.

Everywhere Sam looked, she saw people that could be plants, spies, militants; she wasn't certain how to classify these people without them taking any action. So far, all she had seen was evidence of a military or police presence. Yet she could find no way to explain it. As if just to remind her, the black helicopter emerged from the valley beyond the nearest ridge and soared over the lake, taking in a view of the beach and roadways before lowering the tarp. It looked as if they were putting on a show for those gathered, and Sam thought that was exactly what they were doing.