Lure (24 page)

"Easy girl," Shells said. "We'll get you some food right quick. Maybe I'll even let you have some of my silenced canines. I wonder how they shut 'em up?"

Duncan's turned out to be an earthy sort of joint that was just Sam's kind of place. With firewood piled alongside the building and wood smoke pouring from a chimney, it smelled better than it looked and seemed not to think too much of itself.

"Can I get y'all some sweet tea and hushpuppies?"

"Sounds good," Shells said. "Say, how do you shut them puppies up, anyway?" The waitress cast her a puzzled glance, and Shells waved her off. "Never mind," she said. "Forget I asked."

Sam flipped through the menu and quickly honed in on shredded pork with red sauce. Unsure what other kind of sauce there could be, she put down the menu; her decision already made.

When the waitress returned, she brought oversized glasses filled with the high-octane stuff the southerners called sweet tea. Sam had to admit that the stuff did have a way of jumpstarting the day.

"What'll y'all have?"

"What do you recommend?" Sam asked.

"Barbecue, ribs, and chicken are all good. And the cole slaw."

"How about bringing us a some of each of those and we can all share?"

The rest nodded in agreement.

"Y'all oughta go sit out back," the waitress said. "I'll bring your food out in a few minutes."

"I have a rule in life," Greg said. "Whenever a waitress tells me I ought to do something. I do it."

"Maybe she should tell you to leave a big fat tip," Shells said. Greg ignored her and moved toward the back door. The scene that waited outside proved that Greg and the waitress were right. Towering walls of granite soared toward the heights of Chimney Rock, and at their base was a murmuring river filled with giant stones the size of elephants. On many of these stones were girls in bikinis and shirtless young men trying to get the attention of the aforementioned young women. The dark water swirled around the stones forming eddies and waves that sparkled in the noontime light. Birds sang from the trees, and it seemed that nothing could possibly be wrong in the world. The scene was so idyllic that Sam wondered why anyone would ever leave such a place.

"You know," Shells said after they settled around an aging but nonetheless comfortable picnic table. "They say water can be a source for paranormal activity, and this place has an abundance of it. Do you think that's part of why there seems to be many strange things going on around here?"

"It certainly doesn't hurt," Sam said. "And there does seem to be a lot of history here as well. Early Europeans and Native Americans alike seem to have recognized the natural beauty and resources of this place, and surely this place has been considered sacred for as long as humans have known about it. I can think of no better place to find paranormal activity. There certainly seems to be a lot of stories and legends about this area, and historians will tell you that even the most fantastic oral traditions usually have some grain of truth to them. With so much energy funneled into a single area and trapped here by the very rock itself, I have to admit that I can almost feel the power of this place. It's like its calling to me and trying to tell me something, but I don't have a clue as to what it's trying to say."

"Me either," Shells said.

Sam's ruminations were cut short when the waitress arrived with plates piled high with food. The smell alone was enough to drive any other thoughts from her mind, and her stomach grumbled again. Sam found herself reaching for food before the plates ever hit the table. She probably would have been embarrassed if she had been the only one, but the others couldn't seem to wait either. By the look on the waitresses face, she feared she might lose an appendage.

"Y'all like the view?" she asked.

The answers she received were grunts and mumbles of approval from the people who were already stuffing their faces.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. "Can I get y'all anything else?"

"S'more mapkins," Shells said, her mouth full. The waitress interpreted it properly and returned moments later with more napkins and a pitcher of sweet tea to refill their glasses. The thumping of a helicopter cut through the stillness and disturbed the otherwise pristine day; it also reminded Sam that she could not be fooled by the beauty of this place, and she could not let the serenity of it lull her into a false sense of security. Strange things were afoot, and she needed to find out what they were; partly for Michael, but mostly for herself.

For much of her life she had been rooted in the down to earth absolutes of life. Her job had been to deal in facts and that which could be proven; but all that had changed the day she saw the spirit of that little girl who'd just lost her life. From that moment on, she'd had to accept that there were things in life that she could not prove. In truth, she hadn't accepted it. She'd fought that realization with every fiber of her being, but more and more life proved to her that there was more than met the eye. There were things the scientists didn't know; things the doctors and the priests didn't know; things the police and the military didn't know. Though, given the current circumstances, she wondered just how much the military actually did know. Just how many of the conspiracy theories and stories of cover-ups she had once considered fairy tales actually contained some grain of truth? Were they truly any different from the oral traditions the historians talked about?

"You OK?" Shells asked after a long silence. The others had been quiet while consuming large amounts of food, but Sam realized that she had just been sitting there, lost in her thoughts. The food she had piled onto her plate was getting cold.

"I'm OK," she said. "I just have a lot on my mind."

Maddie just nodded, a look of understanding on her face.

"What's good?" Sam asked, trying to decide where to start, but one look at the plates should have answered that question; everything.

"Michelle seems to be enjoying the vegan spare ribs," Greg said with a grin. "What kind of tree do those things grow on anyway?"

"Shut up, Greg," Shells said, while licking her fingers with a most guilty look on her face. "It's just wrong that those things taste that friggen' good. And how the hell was I supposed to sit here and eat coleslaw and hushpuppies while y'all stuff your faces on ribs and chicken? It ain't even fair I tell you. If God didn't want us to eat the fuzzies, why'd he have to make 'em taste so damn good?"

"If God didn't want us to eat the animals," Greg said, "he wouldn't have made them out of meat."

"Shut up, Greg. You're an asshole."

"Well, you know what they say about assholes don't ya?"

"No. What?"

"Everyone needs at least one."

"Yeah. That may be true and all, but I'm betting if I sewed your mouth shut, I could prove that you're not the one I need."

Chapter 14

As Sam made the right-hand turn into the parking lot at the Lake Lure Inn, she was greeted with an odd sight. To the left of the main building stood what might have once been a carriage house but now looked more like an oversized garage. With his head poking out of the side door of this building was Michael, and he was waving at her to come to him. His manner conveyed a sense of urgency and secrecy, and Sam drove toward the garage with increasing anxiety; this was definitely not what she had been expecting. When she was within ten feet of one of the larger garage doors, Michael raised the door and waved her inside.

"What the hell is going on?" Shells asked before they were even inside.

"Beats me," Sam said. "But I'm betting we're about to find out."

As soon as the back bumper of Sam's Camaro cleared the threshold, Michael pulled the door down. To Sam's surprise, they were not alone in the garage. Toward the back wall waited a group of people, some of whom Sam recognized; including the Woods Woman Psychic, the strawberry blonde screamer, and a few other faces she'd encountered in their travels around the area.

"What's this all about?" Sam asked as she stepped from her car. Michael just waved her to the back of the garage where the rest waited.

"I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting," Michael said, "but now that most of you are here, there are some things I need to tell you.

"This had better be good, Mikey," Shells said. "You're starting to freak me out." A number of others gathered there nodded in agreement but no one else chose to speak.

"That's fair," Michael said. "But you're going to have to bear with me. There's a lot going on here, and this will not be easily explained. I'll start by asking how many of you here feel that you've been drawn to the lake in recent days?"

Many of those assembled raised their hands, and Sam was surprised to see Greg raise his hand, though Maddie came as no shock at all. Shells didn't raise her hand and looked extremely confused.

"Now, how many of you consider yourselves to be psychic?"

A smaller group raised their hands this time. Sam and Greg both kept their hands down, and Michael laughed.

"For those of you who raised your hands the first time and not the second, I hate to break it to you, but you've just been outed. Whether you know it or not, or whether you choose to believe it or not, chances are that you have some psychic abilities."

Mumbles rolled through the crowd and Greg looked at Sam. She just shrugged, uncertain what to believe.

"I'm sure you have all noticed the helicopters flying in and out of the valley-"

"I've only seen one helicopter," Shells interrupted.

"There have been more," Michael said, "but you were only supposed to see one of them; so it's not surprising that you haven't seen the others. I'm betting at least one of your companions, on the other hand," he said with a look at Sam, "have seen at least one more. Am I correct?"

Sam nodded silently, and Shells' jaw dropped open, an accusatory look on her face.

"The truth is that there is no forest fire. The helicopter that most of you have seen is being used for surveillance and the fire is but a ruse. All of us are being watched."

"OK, now you're really freaking me out," Shells said. "Spill it, Mikey. What the hell is going on here?"

"I can't be certain, but I'll tell you what I know and what I think is going on. First, let me ask how many of you have noticed the excessive number of military and police personnel in the area?"

About half of those assembled raised their hands.

"It's not by accident or coincidence," Michael continued, "that much I can guarantee you. Something is going to happen here, but I don't know what. I think all the military types are here to cover up whatever it is. Mark my words; they are going to evacuate Lake Lure and soon."

Again his words caused a murmur to rise from those assembled.

"If you want to see what they are trying to hide, you are going to need my help. Before I tell you any more, is there anyone here who does not want to know? Is there anyone here who wants to leave now or when the evacuation order comes?"

Silence hung in the garage, and no one raised their hands at first; but then the strawberry blonde stepped forward and raised a trembling hand. It took her a moment to find her voice.

"I'm scared," she said finally. "I did feel like I was drawn here, but I don't know if I want to stay."

"Don't worry, baby," Shells said, "I got your back."

The young woman flushed deep crimson and didn't immediately speak. After a few minutes and some reassurances from those around her she said, "I don't know if I could live with myself if I didn't stay to see what drew me here. Thank you all for your support. I'm still scared, but with all of you willing to help keep me safe, I suppose I could stay."

"This could be dangerous," Michael said, and the young woman looked as if she might reconsider. "But I don't think the military types are here to keep us from seeing what is to come; I think their purposes are quite different."

"What do you think is going to happen," Shells asked, and the rest seemed grateful that she asked the question that waited on their own tongues.

"I honestly don't know," Michael said, and he pushed on despite Shell's exasperated sigh. "Most believe Lake Lure was built to create a place where people with breathing disorders could come to breathe the fresh mountain air and to create a resort town; but I think it was created for a very different reason. I think it was created to hide something; something so important and powerful that it could affect the course of human history. There are many things around here that are not what they seem, and I think there is more truth to local legends than anyone would ever admit. I've talked to people who worked at Chimney Rock Park, and they have told me stories about a network of tunnels that run through the mountains themselves, and these are far more elaborate than what the moonshiners could ever have created. I've climbed Rumbling Bald and have been to the place where cold air always rushes from a mighty gash in the stone. I've seen the Brown Mountain lights. No one could convince me that these things are not real, especially since I am privy to some of the secrets of the Lake Lure Inn; one of which I will share with you now."

This statement silenced everyone in the garage, and even Shells waited in tense anticipation without saying a word. Michael walked to the back of the building and pulled an old workbench away from the wall; it groaned and made a grinding noise as it moved. The wall behind where it had stood was dirty and covered in cobwebs and the grime of many years. At a place where two boards came together, there was a small gap that was wider at the bottom, as if part of the wood had been broken away ages before. Michael slid his fingers into the gap, and Sam had visions of something waiting in the darkness to bite his fingers. It was a silly thing to imagine, but she couldn't help herself. She'd always had a fear of old, dark places.