Twisted Creek

Chapter 26

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time we reached the north boundary and turned into the area where the dilapidated lodge now haunted the shoreline. The road was as bad as I remembered it, only the Cadillac took the hits like a true fighter.

Mary Lynn hadn’t said a word. The blackness of the trees around her must have spooked her as bad as they did me. If we’d been in an old black-and-white horror movie, I had the feeling we were headed straight for the monster’s lair.

Finally, Mary Lynn said in jerky little sentences that matched the bumpy ride, “I remember when I was real little. This place was still open. Lots of church groups came out here to sit around the campfires and sing. Kids stayed at the lodge and meeting house, couples rented those tiny cabins. They walked around the lake on group hikes. I’d come over at night when my father preached.”

“That must have been fun.”

Mary Lynn nodded. “It was. I believed in him then.”

“Your father?” I’d heard the sheriff’s version of Mary Lynn’s heartbreak, but I didn’t want to let on.

“Yes,” she said. “I grew up believing everything he said, but then he left surrounded in questions.”

I guessed she didn’t want to talk about it. For a while we were silent. I tried to imagine what that kind of loss could do to a girl. No wonder Mary Lynn was so shy.

We reached the cabin closest to the road.

I jumped out and ran to an open doorway and into a single room. After one wide circle with the flashlight I ran back to the car. “Nothing.”

Mary Lynn shoved the Caddy into gear like a seasoned getaway driver.

We hit the next cabin, and the next.

The blackness pushed in on the flashlight’s beam, giving me the feeling that something waited just outside of the light. Its foggy breath blurred the light now and then. I fought to keep my hand from shaking.

As we rolled to the next group of cabins, Mary Lynn whispered, “My father said that when he was little they used to have parties here. Big ones as festive as any county fair. He told me that a little circus even stopped here once and stayed a few weeks. Then the Baptists bought out the place and the parties stopped.”

I blinked, praying none of the descendents of circus animals lived in the thick trees. I could almost hear them in the roar of the wind. “I wish I’d left my imagination at home.”

Mary Lynn laughed. “I know what you mean.”

We pulled deeper into the night.

The next cabin’s roof had fallen in. I had to climb over rubble, but I did my search, even calling Timothy’s name.

Nothing.

When I walked back to the car, I stared across the lake, letting the tiny lights of Jefferson’s Crossing ground me.

We moved closer to the water and circled around the burned cabin. I thought I saw Willie’s light far up by the dam. The beam moved slowly along the water, telling me he hadn’t found anything yet.

The next cabin was farther back in the trees. Mary Lynn got as close as she could and parked. “Should we skip this one, or walk the rest of the way?”

“Walk,” I answered, knowing it was unlikely if Timothy were hurt that he’d go so far, but if we were going to search, we needed to be thorough.

We climbed out and held hands, steadying one another as our flashlights bounced their beams off the trees and brush. After about ten feet of eroded path, the ground leveled and we walked the last twenty feet or so to the cabin. Perhaps because it had been protected by so many trees, this cabin looked in better shape than most. Its door and windows were still intact.

I moved to the corner of the porch and shined my beam along the side of the cabin. A little inlet of water fingered into within a few feet of the back steps. The rain off the porch overhang plopped water into tiny sandy pools on the side of the house.

I retraced my steps and shoved on the door. The knob fell off in my hand. The door didn’t move.

“Timothy?” I yelled, doubting he would have had the strength to shove this door open after he’d crawled to shore. Thunder drowned out my second call.

“The storm’s getting worse,” Mary Lynn whispered as if the weather could hear and respond.

“We’d better hurry,” I whispered back.

Mary Lynn, standing on her toes, held a light to the only clean pane in the window.

I turned. “Let’s try the next.”

“No,” she whispered. “I just saw something move in there.”

I didn’t even want to guess what animal might be holing up inside, but I shined my light and yelled above the rain, “Timothy!”

For a second the wind seemed to hush, then I heard, “In here.”

Mary Lynn and I rushed to the door and both shoved hard. It didn’t budge.

“Let’s try the back.” I yelled, “Tim, we’re coming.”

We splashed down the line of sand puddles to the back door.

It was open. A moment later, we were inside.

“Timothy? Are you all right?”

The cabin must have been used for storage because chairs, boxes, and parts of boats were scrambled like some kind of garage sale salad all around us.

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding out of breath, “but I think he’s hurt.”

Mary Lynn shoved her hood back and knelt. It took me a minute to get my flashlight to focus on the floor.

Timothy knelt, fighting to shelter something wet and black that had curled in the fetal position. Rain dripped from a leak in the ceiling.

I circled the beam of light until I saw Tim’s face. He shivered, wet and frightened but unharmed.

I moved the flashlight to see what he was shielding. I could hear Mary Lynn stripping off her coat. Her flashlight lay on its side, reflecting a muddy floor spotted with bright red drops of blood.

Shifting the light, I saw legs, then a hand, then a body curled on the floor.

“Hold the light high, Allie,” Mary Lynn ordered. “I have to see where he’s hurt.”

“Who?” I stared at the shadow that was Timothy.

He looked up and I could barely make out his thin face filled with an overload of sadness.

“Dillon,” he said calmly. “I saw him jump off the dam.” Tim sounded like he’d been crying. “By the time I got to him, he was floating facedown. I pulled him up by the back of his letter jacket. He gulped for air, then went limp again. I couldn’t pull him all the way into the boat, but I held on to him and tied a rope around the handle of the motor. I thought I could make it back to Mrs. Deals’s house.”

“Hold the light steady,” Mary Lynn said. “He’s bleeding and may be going into shock.”

I adjusted my flashlight to shine on the floor by Timothy, but I couldn’t follow the beam and see where Mary Lynn worked. I forced myself to keep looking at Timothy.

“I hit a bad spot on the water and flipped the boat. It went wild, circling around and slamming into the dam wall.” He sounded as if he’d aged since dinner. “We were in shallow enough water when it all went to hell. I managed to get him here. But something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.”

Mary Lynn blanketed her coat over Dillon. “Allie, we need help fast. I can’t tell how badly he’s hurt.”

“Can we get him to the car?” Dillon was no small boy. He outweighed Timothy by thirty or forty pounds. I wasn’t sure all three of us could carry him, and if we managed it wouldn’t be easy to cross to the car without someone to hold the light.

Mary shook her head. “Run to the beach and keep blinking your light at Willie’s boat.”

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my flashlight and ran out the door. For a second, I thought of crossing back to the car and looking for the flares. But there wasn’t enough time because even if I found the flares I’d still have to find the path to the shore.

I splashed through the water at the back door. This would be easier and probably safer.

I stepped into knee-deep water and took big steps, hoping I didn’t plunge into a five-foot-one-deep hole.

As soon as I saw Willie’s big light, I began flicking my flashlight on and off, continuing to move out away from the trees.

The water had reached my waist by the time I saw the boat turn and head toward me. “Help!” I yelled. “We need help!”

I turned and guided them down the inlet. The boat was even with me when we were within ten yards of the cabin’s back door.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Luke said, low and angry.

“Did you find Timothy?” Willie shouted over Luke’s comment. “Is he alive?”

“He’s fine,” I answered as Luke jumped from the boat and bumped into me. “But he’s got Dillon and the boy is hurt.”

“Dillon Fletcher?”

I nodded as if he could see me in the shadows of the trees. My flashlight was still on, but the beam bounced like a hyper firefly.

Luke’s arm circled round my waist and swung me out of the water and onto the porch, then he disappeared into the cabin.

I helped Willie pull the boat as close as we could and the old man cut the motor. He shot one question after another at me without waiting for any answer. “How’d you get out here? Where is everybody else? What was Dillon doing out here? Why didn’t he come out?”

I leaned against the cabin, shivering with cold and worry as I tried to offer a steady light, but my fingers were so cold the flashlight slipped from my hand and rattled across the porch.

Willie flicked the spotlight toward the cabin.

Luke stepped into the light of the beam with Dillon in his arms.

Mary Lynn followed. “He needs to get somewhere dry and warm as fast as possible.”

“Take him with you, Willie.” Luke lifted the boy over the side of the boat. “The fastest way to Jefferson’s Crossing is straight across.”

Mary Lynn sent Timothy to fetch a blanket from the car while we settled Dillon into the bottom of Willie’s boat.

I noticed that while I’d been gone Mary Lynn had wrapped her scarf around Dillon’s arm.

“Take care,” she fretted. “I don’t think he’s got any broken bones, but I’ll have to have light to know for sure.”

Luke helped her into the boat. “Can you keep him calm? Willie will make faster time if he takes just two across. I’ll follow in the car with Allie and Timothy.”

“Of course. I may not have finished nursing school, but I read all the books.” Mary Lynn turned to me, her voice level with authority. “Get a blanket around Timothy and get him back to the store as fast as you can. Just because he’s not bleeding doesn’t mean he didn’t get injured when that boat flipped.”

Willie pulled the motor back into action and Luke jumped into the water to help guide them. I stepped in as well, shining my light as they backed out.

Finally, Willie took off across the lake. Luke ordered Timothy and me to the car with a short, angry snap.

Timothy didn’t seem to notice. He crawled into the backseat with a blanket and cradled the thermos of coffee. He rattled on with every detail he could remember about what had happened. Then, he told of what he feared might happen if someone didn’t find them fast. He was shaken to the core. He repeated several times that he preferred his adventures to be in books, not in life.

Luke drove the bumpy road faster than Mary Lynn had and I was thankful Timothy didn’t try to open the coffee. I cranked up the heater and tried to stop shivering. My clothes, from the waist down, were heavy with lake water and my tennis shoes had turned icy.

When we made it to the main road, I took the thermos from Timothy and poured him half the lid of steaming coffee.

He cupped it in his hands and drank in little sips as if the coffee were too hot, but he wanted it anyway. When he finished, I poured the same amount in his cup and handed the rest of the thermos to Luke.

He shook his head, but didn’t look at me.

I told myself I didn’t care if he was mad at me. We’d found Timothy and Dillon and that was all that mattered. Besides, who was he to order me around?