by Alexie Aaron
Risen
A Haunted Series novel
by Alexie Aaron
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
~
Copyright 2017 – Diane L. Fitch writing as Alexie Aaron
ALSO BY ALEXIE AARON
HAUNTED SERIES
in order
The Hauntings of Cold Creek Hollow
Ghostly Attachments
Sand Trap
PEEPs Lite Eternal Maze 3.1
PEEPs Lite Homecoming 3.2
Darker than Dark
The Garden
Puzzle
Old Bones
Things that Go Bump in the Night
Something Old
PEEPs Lite Checking Out 9.1
PEEPs Lite Ice and Steel 9.2
The Middle House: Return to Cold Creek Hollow
Renovation
Mind Fray
The Siege
NOLA
Never Forget
The Old House
Restitution
A Rose by Any Other Name
The Long Game
Given Enough Rope
The Return
Risen
CID GARRETT P.I. SERIES
Cid
High Court
Coming soon: Tiny Houses
CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES
Decomposing
Death by Saxophone
Discord
The Wages of Cin
Unforgivable Cin: An Opera in Three Acts
I dedicate this book to my brother Steve Zaske. He loved books with action. He stressed that I should let my readers’ imaginations take hold instead of weighing a book down with too much description. I miss you, Steve. Although, I see you in so many of my characters that I sense, in some way, you have never left me.
Table of Contents
A Day at the Beach
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Glossary
Alexie Aaron
A Day at the Beach
The last shuttle from St. Kitts was filled. The swimmers settled in for a ride over to what was advertised as a Day at the Beach. In this case, it was a deserted beach on an uninhabited island. The cruise ship offered outings for the select few who could afford the additional service charge. Meanwhile, the others toured the island, and if they wanted to use the beach at St. Kitts, they would have to deal with the touristy atmosphere. This trip promised a secluded island that wasn’t even on the map.
When pressed, the crew admitted that they weren’t sure what the island was called. “Let’s call it Hidden Island,” the EM, event manager, said. “I have an idea. Let’s name it when we return for the day.”
There were nods and whispers of names ranging from the poetic to the erotic.
The four boats moved swiftly through the water, following the wake of the catering boat which had gotten a late start. The small island which the cruise ships normally frequented was temporarily unavailable. A celebrity wedding was scheduled to take place on its sandy shore. A lot of money had crossed the hands of the governing authority, and the cruise companies were paid for their inconvenience.
The parent company of the ship decided that it could use this as an opportunity for the ship to make more money. They directed the crew to find another island. Surely, there was some remote island on which they could spend the day. As long as the crew cleaned up the beach, no one would be the wiser. This was an opportunity to maybe discover another island, one that the government didn’t ask for remuneration to use.
Event Manager Anders Larsen watched the crewman as he navigated around a few tiny outlying islands. As they approached the island, Anders started to feel the tension leave his body. He had no idea what they would find. The tip for this island came from a former mate who was now running a scuba-diving excursion franchise. The mate couldn’t vouch for whether the island had fresh water on it, but there were waterfalls on the north side, so he assumed that there must be water. “Test it first,” was all he said as he pocketed the finder’s fee. “I’ve never been on shore. We spend our time under the water on the sea side of the reef that circles the island, not tanning on the beach.”
“What’s it called?” Anders asked.
“I’m not really sure. Out here there are six names for every place. It depends who you ask.”
Anders took this answer in stride. The Caribbean islands had had quite a few masters in their past. If the GPS got him to the island safely, then the name wasn’t necessary. After all, their normal swimming spot would be available the next time the ship docked at St. Kitts, if this one didn’t prove adequate.
Departing the boat, Anders was amazed that this island hadn’t already been picked up by Sandals for an all-inclusive resort. The setup of a deep white sandy beach edged by tropical flowering plants was ideal for the hoteliers. Behind the flowers was a gradual rise of thick jungle, dotted with tall, swaying palm trees.
“It must be owned by an eccentric or a shell corporation for future use,” Anders said.
“I’m sorry, sir, were you talking to me?” the assistant chief caterer asked.
Anders looked down at the pretty woman and shook his head. “No. I’m just pleased to find an island untouched by greed.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Sally said. “With television series showing that you too can own an island, some lottery winner will snap this gem up.”
“You have a lot of faith in the lottery,” Anders commented.
“It’s my retirement fund,” Sally said and walked away to direct her staff on where to set up the refreshment marquee.
Anders watched as a few of the crew assembled a makeshift shelter for the chemical toilets they brought with them. He had yet to see someone use them. This was one reason Anders never swam with the cruise crowd.
He listened to the chatter of the birds and wondered what other fauna inhabited this small piece of paradise. The birds protested the noise of the tent stakes being pounded into the sand for a moment before they went quiet. The sky darkened. A cold breeze moved past Anders. He rubbed his goose-pimpled arms. The birds resumed their chatter, and the fair-weather cloud moved away from obstructing the sun.
The sounds of the other boats floated over the water, bringing back an air of normalcy and immediacy. Now began his task of setting up the lifeguards, one on the beach and two on the boats that would be anchored offshore on shark watch. Anders pulled out his
radio. He called, but he found that he couldn’t connect with the other boats. He tried his cell phone, but that too wasn’t working. He resorted to hand signals to get the crew organized.
Bruce and Jeremy Gable were determined to ditch their parents, Karl and Marie. The teens wanted to hang out with the college crowd. The boys didn’t see the harm in two fourteen-year-old twins mixing with the experienced girls who wore the smallest of bathing suits. Their parents, however, were still determined to keep the twins’ innocence intact for a few more years.
Karl was annoyed that the family had voted for the swim excursion instead of touring the town. He suspected that his wife was being blackmailed by his sons. He couldn’t fathom why his wife would give up a shopping opportunity. He caught her a few times eyeing one of the lifeguards, but aside from a mild flirtation, Marie knew better than to encourage a shipboard romance. Although, it didn’t stop her open adoration for the muscled, tanned men who worked on the cruise ship.
The said lifeguard cleared his voice and announced, “Attention. We will be landing soon. Please take your bags with you, as some of these launches will be anchored offshore. If you didn’t bring sunscreen, it is available for purchase at the complimentary refreshment table. Just sign your name and give the crewman your room number. We will be here for approximately three hours, depending on weather. Please do not venture beyond the beach. Thank you.”
The announcement was repeated verbatim on each of the other boats. The crew waited for a signal from the shore before moving forward to beach the boat and disembark their passengers.
Anders walked the perimeter of the beach, stopping to hand his guards a bottle of water. The two security men had established themselves at the edge of the beach on a rocky outcropping. The height gave them a clean path of sight across the flat, white sand beach. The refreshment marquee dominated the rear of the center of the beach. It was positioned there so that the catering crew would have additional sets of eyes on the patrons to make sure that the swimmers confined their activities to the beach and the water beyond. Caribbean island interiors were notorious for their hazards. Anything from snakes to poisonous plants were known to wreck a vacation, and when the reviews hit social media, it could ruin the careers of the crew members who were responsible for the excursion. Anders was up for promotion. He didn’t want some curious tourist to get in the way of a possible higher paycheck and a single-bunk room.
Anders stopped and opened a bottle of water. He wanted to pour it over his head, but he didn’t want to spoil the white, polo, uniform shirt he was wearing. Instead, he took a deep pull of the icy liquid. He stopped and stared out across the beach towards the water where the beachgoers were wading. The sandbar was longer than expected, making the distance the lifeguard boats had to be anchored farther from the shore. Gentle waves rose and fell as they tracked over the sandbar before kissing the shore. It was a beautiful sight if you ignored the two teens who were floating on their backs in their swim shorts pointing out the tenting of the fabric where it had caught air. They would turn and let the bubbles out, making farting noises with their lips.
Was he ever that young? Was there a time when he thought that an underdeveloped pimple-studded body was hot enough to attract the sexy older women, otherwise known as the college girls?
A shimmer in the sand stopped his thoughts. It was just a ripple, but the light caught the white sand as something appeared to be moving underneath it. It was moving fast towards the water. Surely there weren’t sea snakes here! He took off running towards the disruption, stopping at the water’s edge where he expected the reptile to exit the sand. Nothing happened. Anders looked back and noticed a dozen or so snakelike ripples moving in various directions across the sand. Maybe crabs? Turtles? Whatever they were, there were a lot of them. Anders put his whistle to his lips and blew it to get everyone’s attention. “I think it’s time we headed back. Please return to the beach and collect your things.” He signaled the crew to bring the boats into shore.
Marie was irritated. First, she had to endure the bouncy ride to the island. Second, her favorite eye candy was stationed out in one of the lifeguard boats. There was no way she was going to ruin her designer suit in the saltwater. Third, the twins were acting up, which was making Karl crabby. Fourth, there was no alcohol aside from some bottled wine coolers. Did they really expect those were going to entice her? She turned on her back, ignoring the order to pack up. She needed at least twenty minutes of sun to even out her tan. She wasn’t going to move until she had achieved it.
The twins came running up and dripped water on her as they reached for their towels.
“Do you mind?” she said, shooing them away.
“Mom, it’s time to go.”
“It will take time to load the others. I’m not waiting in line in this hot sun. You go ahead. Where’s your father?”
“Last I saw, he was climbing those rocks over there.” Bruce pointed to the west end of the beach.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to go there,” Marie said, shading her eyes, trying to spot Karl.
A woman screamed. The Gables turned to see a college boy pouring a cold bottle of water on one of the girls. She was dancing around, much to the appreciation of the teens.
“Look at the tits on that one,” Jeremy said before his mother shushed him. He resorted to miming his appreciation.
Bruce laughed.
Anders jogged to the refreshment tent. “Grab whatever is valuable and get to the boats.”
“Why?” Sally asked.
“I have a bad feeling that I can’t shake. We need to get these people off this island. Something is moving under that sand,” he said.
Sally took off her Oakely glasses and nodded. “Looks like a lot of somethings.” She turned and began tossing the battery-operated blenders in the traveling cases. It wouldn’t be the first time that a water excursion was ruined by the natural world. At least it wasn’t sharks. Sand fleas or crabs she could deal with. The dead-eyed predators of the deep, she could not.
Marie lay back and closed her eyes. She ignored the chit who was screaming for attention.
“Help me! Something’s got my leg!”
“Mandy!” a man yelled. “Where the hell is my daughter? She was just beside me!”
The screams multiplied. Marie hit the sand with her hand and sat up. She looked down the beach, not trusting what she saw. She grabbed her prescription glasses and jammed them on her face. All around her, people were being dragged under the sand. Others were running for the boats as soon as they got near enough. The tall drink of Swedish water was picking up the children, charging into the water, and dropping them in the arriving boats. People were abandoning their stuff and running for the skiffs.
“Mom!” Jeremey called. “Get to the boats. I’m going to find Dad.”
“Where’s Bruce?”
“He’s already out there.” Jeremy pointed to the group of college kids in an overfilled boat.
“I told you to…” but Jeremy had already run off towards the west end of the beach. Marie watched him as she put together their stuff. She wasn’t going to leave thousands of dollars’ worth of electronics and designer sunglasses. She stood up, and the ground dropped out underneath her. Her beach towel twisted around her legs as she was caught up in some kind of a swirling eddy of sand. She screamed, but her voice was just an addition to the chaos. Her one voice could not be singled out from the horror around her. She was spinning slowly around as she was pulled under the sand. Marie watched helplessly as the people on the beach were pulled under the sand around her. In the distance, she saw Karl. He was trying to pull her son Jeremy up on the rocks.
She didn’t see him succeed in extracting the teen from the moving sand. Marie’s eyes were closed in a vain attempt to keep the sand out. But the deeper she was pulled, the more the sand pushed them open until they were scraped raw. For a moment, there was no air, and then there was a rush of stale air that smelled like rotten eggs. Marie fainted but was revived b
y the strong odor which acted like smelling salts. She wasn’t able to fall into the oblivion she wished for as she was dragged along. She heard the screams of the others and put her hands on her ears, praying for the horror to stop. Whatever had pulled her stopped. She felt hands grab her and toss her on a soft, warm, squirming pile of people. Her eyes were too damaged to see, but she smelled cocoa butter and expensive perfumes.
“Help me,” she said, reaching out. “I have children for God’s sake!”
A dry scratching preceded the sound of a long-silenced set of vocal chords attempting speech. It screeched out something over and over again, and finally, Marie could hear what it was saying. “What’s God got to do with this?”
Karl hauled Jeremy up on the rocks. He turned the teen’s face away from the horror of the people on the beach running towards the water only to get pulled under the ground by a long tentacle of some kind. His wife was too far away for him to save her. He watched as she collected her belongings before being sucked into a hole. She was twisting around and around until finally she was gone. Karl could see the EM jump in one of the boats and order it to move along the shoreline, plucking the few people that made it that far into the boat.
Anders continued his fruitless patrol until it became apparent that, aside from the two Gable men on the rocks, no one else was to be seen on the island. He motioned to Karl to stay put. He yelled, “Stay off the sand.”
Although tempted to yell back, “I know jackass,” Karl held his tongue.
“Dad, what’s going on?” Jeremy asked.
“I don’t know. But for the time being, we’re safe. Your brother is safe on the water…” Karl stopped. Where were the boats? He could only see two of them. Did they speed away? He hoped to God that was what happened. There were only two skiffs in the water. One was headed out to sea. The one the EM was on was just a few feet offshore, heading towards the rocky area, hoping to retrieve the Gables.