Lights Over Cloud Lake

by Nathan Hystad

  I thought about myself, and Mark Fisher’s disappearance, even old Chester Brown claiming his cousin was taken. She was wrong. Things like this had a tendency to happen in Cloud Lake, but perhaps no more often than in any other small town in America. I felt like I was grasping at straws and realized this visit had absolutely nothing to do with the story any longer. It might have begun as that, but now I couldn’t even think to the future. I could imagine trudging to the office to sit in a cubicle, waiting for Barns to tell me the magazine was shutting down.

  My life was here in Cloud Lake at the moment, and there was nothing past this. I’d almost lost everything in this place, and I could feel my arms tiring as I tried to tread the water now.

  “Eva?” Maddie asked, wiping her eyes with a tissue. I was staring out the window like I’d suffered a hit to the head.

  “Yes, five houses that direction. Do you have their house number? I wouldn’t mind walking around the street, just to see it.” I hoped she would bite. The Uptons might have been listed, but they also might not have been, especially after this ordeal.

  She told me an address, and I made notes on my phone, thanking her for the information. “Is there anyone that would have wanted to take Carly? Are there any suspects around town? New people, offenders?”

  “You sound like McCrae.” She laughed and blew her nose. “Nancy can’t think of anyone. No one has seen any men like that around the block, and McCrae says there are no offenders listed in the area.”

  “And there’s no way Carly ran away from home? Thirteen is a tough age, and kids are growing up so fast these days…”

  She cut me off. “No. Nothing like that. She’s a kid. She loves her parents and her little brother. She was… is a great girl, from a church-going family.” I smiled, as if going to church solved all of life’s little problems. It didn’t. I was a testament to that.

  “Okay, Mrs. Lawson. Thanks again,” I said. She continued at her computer without saying another word, and I left the library, still with the book under my arm. I’d forgotten to ask her to check it out, and I contemplated turning around, but kept walking instead. I’d drop it off in a couple days.

  Being bombarded by the hot morning reminded me I needed to get the groceries over to the cabin, and that was where I headed next. The roads were busy, Monday in the middle of summer. I saw the public beach access from the road leading to the Cloud Lake Cabins, and the parking lot was nearly full. Through my open window came the sound of screaming kids, and Top 40 music droned through the air from a distant speaker. These were happy noises, and I found myself smiling.

  What would my life have been like if we’d stayed home instead of coming to see Grandma that summer? Maybe I would have been married with my own kids now, coming to the lake for holidays, blissfully unaware of how lucky I was.

  As I pulled into the Cabins, I noticed Trevor, the young guy that worked there, bringing a white garbage bag out of unit five. He tossed it into a bin and waved at me as I drove by. The place was dead at this hour, most of the people staying already departed for their day’s activities. It was perfect beach weather. Hot, the sun high in the sky, with the occasional cloud roaming in like a lost puppy, giving brief reprieve before being dragged away by its owner.

  I realized I hadn’t even brought a bathing suit in my haste to pack. This wasn’t a vacation, and I pushed the idea of lazing on the beach, reading the book I’d recently pilfered, from my thoughts. The groceries found a home inside the fridge of Cabin Ten, and I dropped the book titled They’re Among Us onto the small table before using the bathroom to rid myself of that last cup of coffee from Buddy’s.

  I glanced in the mirror, wondering if a white blouse with khaki capris was the right choice for sleuthing about a neighborhood. To be safe, I peeled the top off and threw on a black V-neck t-shirt in its place, electing to throw socks and runners on instead of the flats I’d been sporting. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, sliding a black elastic around it. Perfect.

  Once outside, I looked over to Clare’s cabin, which appeared empty. There was no car in the parking lot, and Clare wasn’t in her usual spot by the firepit or on the porch. I worried about her. The yelling I’d heard last night wasn’t the normal “couple in a spat” type; it was abusive. I wanted to tell her to dump the guy, get the hell away from him before she was hurt, or worse. But I’d only just met her, and it wasn’t my place to stick my nose in her business. Not yet, anyway.

  Inside my car, I cranked the AC again and keyed the address into my GPS, finding it was only five minutes away. The good thing about being in a small town like this was the commute. I passed cars heading to the lake, kids bouncing excitedly in the backseats, families walking along the side of the road carrying inflatable animals, the dads all seeming to have a blob of thick sunscreen on their already burned noses.

  Eventually, I turned onto Ash Street, where the trees were huge, happy, and sheltering, stretching across the roadway to make a canopy. It was beautiful, and I decided if I were ever going to move out of the city, I wanted a similar setting. Not in Cloud Lake, but this cozy idyllic idea. It made me long for a different life, something more than working and listening to New York taxicabs.

  No wonder the Millers felt safe here. How could someone come onto their street, this picture-perfect row of forty-year-old colonial homes, white picket fences, and manicured landscaping, and rip their child from their lives? I slowed as I neared the address of Carly Miller’s sleepover friend, counting five away from it to see where the Millers lived. I didn’t have to work hard. The house was beautiful, but the grass was too long, Mr. Miller obviously unable to cut it in the last week since his daughter had been missing.

  A small forested area ended the opposite side of the street across from the Uptons’ house, where ash tress grew in close proximity. I drove past the house Carly had last slept over in and turned around at the end of the street, parking a few houses down beside the treed copse. There weren’t many cars on the street. This kind of neighborhood kept tons of space between the homes and oversized garages to house any vehicles they cherished.

  My first instinct was to head into the trees. She’d gone missing, and if there was anywhere someone would have taken her, it was into the woods. I knew the sheriff’s department had done a thorough search of the area, and the community had helped, just like they had in 2001. I pictured my dad walking through the forests near the lake, screaming out my name time and time again, until his throat was raw.

  I stepped into the treeline and instantly transported to another world, one run by birds and squirrels and spiders. The grass was decimated from the search parties, which made it easy to navigate. I wanted to see where the thicket led and meandered through the trees, getting scratched by low-hanging branches and prickly shrubbery. A bird squawked at me as I neared its nest, a mother protecting her babies. I veered to the right, avoiding upsetting the bird further, and kept moving until I saw a break in the small forested area.

  All in, I’d only been walking for ten minutes, and my pace hadn’t been fast. We were probably only a half mile from Carly’s house, and already I was exiting the trees. I stepped past them, raising a hand to cover the overbearing sun. The land beyond dipped down, giving me a panoramic view of farmland. My heart raced as I noticed the familiar structures a mile off in the distance. That was Chester Brown’s house. He’d seen the lights over these fields. The very same fields that were adjacent to the missing girl’s home.

  I squinted into the sky, imagining Carly out here, perhaps dared by friends to walk through the trees to hang out here. I noticed a few crushed beer cans and cigarette butts on the grass, directly beside two large boulders. If I were a betting woman, this was a spot local kids came at night. It gave an amazing view of the huge sky above and would be quite the sight on a cloudless starry night. Which was similar to the night a week ago, judging by the weather reports.

  So what had happened? Carly came here, and there happened to be a man waiting, sitting on the rocks, idly c
hatting to make her comfortable before abducting her, or… had she seen lights flicker over the black expanse of space and been taken by something entirely different? No. I was being foolish again, letting a little girl’s stress-induced memories take over.

  I was about to turn when I heard a sound. It was like a sick cat mewling, and the noise was coming from a short distance. I closed my eyes, straining to hear the source, and turned toward the field beyond a barbed wooden fence.

  I saw her there, brown hair a mess, clothed in pink pajama bottoms and a white long-sleeved shirt that said Princess across the chest in glittering gold writing. It was Carly Miller, and she was alive.

  July 13th – 2020

  “Carly, you’re going to be okay.” I was kneeling beside her. The girl’s hair was greasy, matted to her head. Her lips were dry and cracked, a pale version of their former selves. Her brown eyes were shut, but she was trying to talk.

  I leaned in and heard the same two words, repeated over and over. “Help me. Help me.”

  “I’m here, baby,” I said, trying to be comforting, even though I didn’t know her. “You’re going to be fine. I’m going to call…” I patted my pocket, seeing that I didn’t have my cell phone with me. It was still in the car, a half mile of trees between us.

  I wanted to slap her, to snap her out of the near-comatose state she was in, and ask what happened. I wanted to yell “Who did this?” at the top of my lungs. Was it the lights? Then I felt foolish for even thinking it. I thought about a crime scene and knew I couldn’t leave her alone. How did she get here? A week later. A week… it was the same amount of days as when I…

  “Help me,” she said again, and I smiled as her brown eyes tried to flutter open. They were semi-closed by a crusty goop on her eyelids.

  “Don’t panic. Close them, and I’ll help you,” I told her. She listened, and I used my fingers to brush enough of the gunk away for her to open them fully.

  She swung around with panic before her gaze met mine. She sat up, her thin gawky teenage arms wrapping around me, pulling me tightly as she sobbed into my t-shirt.

  “Shhhh. You’re safe now. Don’t worry. You’re safe.” I held her like that for a minute before telling her we needed to go. I didn’t ask her a thing about what happened, no matter how much I wanted to. I remembered the confusion, how scared I’d been, the series of questions being thrown at me by the sheriff, my dad, anyone within earshot.

  The only thing keeping me from screaming in frustration at my own memories was the little girl in front of me. I had to be strong for her. She needed me.

  I was going to ask her if she could walk, but she didn’t appear to have the strength to make it the uneven half mile or so, and she couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds, so I picked her up, cradling her small frame in my arms. She nuzzled in, not saying a word, only pressing her forehead firmly against my neck as I walked, at first awkwardly climbing over the fence before entering the trees.

  We didn’t speak for the next fifteen minutes as I carried her through the forest, trying hard to avoid letting any branches scrape her. My arms were turning to lead, and my legs burned with fire, and I whispered to her that we were almost home. Finally, we breached the trees once again, and I viewed her house down the block. She didn’t seem to react to anything, her head still pressed into me, and I saw a woman jogging by.

  “Help!” I shouted, but she didn’t pay us an attention. “Help!” I yelled, and this time she stopped, running on the spot, and she pulled out her earbuds.

  She was across the street, her head tilted acutely to the side, trying to decipher what it was she was seeing. “This is Carly Miller. Go to her house. Call the police!” I said, as I set the girl on the ground. I couldn’t hold her any longer, not even for the half block to her home. I fell to my knees, panting, feeling light-headed in the immense heat of the afternoon.

  The woman stood there like a statue. “Now!” I ordered, and she turned around, running toward the Millers’ house. Someone came out from the Uptons’, and I heard the man shout into a cell phone. At least someone had the sense to phone the sheriff. I was breathing hard, a combination of the onslaught of anxiety and stress behind my own memories of appearing much like Carly, and the exertion in the heat. Black spots appeared in my vision, and as the man from the Uptons’ house approached, I could hear screaming from down the block, likely Nancy Miller, shouting for her returned daughter.

  I smiled briefly, and fell face-forward into the grass.

  __________

  “Miss. Can you hear me?” I was asked. I blinked my eyes open, realizing I was in the back of an ambulance, lying on a stretcher. A cool cloth was draped over my forehead, and the man passed me a water bottle. I felt my legs draped over a box, giving blood flow to my heart.

  “What happened?” I asked, trying to recover the few minutes I had blanked out. It took a moment, but I remembered. “Where’s Carly?”

  He didn’t answer that question, just the first. “You passed out. We think you were too hot, overdid it. The sheriff wants to talk to you. I told him it would take you a few. Are you ready to talk to him?”

  I nodded, sitting up. I felt a little weak, but otherwise fine. Once I was perched on the rear of the ambulance, I searched for Carly. A sheriff’s car was parked in front of the Millers’ house, as well as an ambulance. Both had their lights on, but no sirens.

  The EMT left my side, and Sheriff McCrae arrived not long after. He looked worse than he had since I last saw him, his eyes dark, his stubble grown in more than he was probably allowed. “Miss Heart. Imagine my surprise when I heard who was found beside Carly Miller out here. I’d given up all hope of ever finding the girl, and here we are, one week later, and you, a reporter, somehow managed to save her.” His eyes told another story, and I wondered if he was seriously thinking I was involved in her abduction in any way. They’d gotten my ID, which meant they’d been in my car; they’d see the UFO book, maybe even the notes in my tablet… the folded article about my disappearance beside my wallet.

  “I came out here to investigate the area she went missing from. I honestly didn’t expect to find anything, not after you all searched it high and low. I broke through the trees and heard a noise fifty yards from the boulders.” He nodded, as if he knew about the spot where kids drank beer and smoked cigarettes.

  “And there she was?” he asked.

  “There she was. Her eyes were crusted over. She only asked me to help her, nothing else. I had no choice but to carry her, since I didn’t have my phone, which I’m assuming you already know,” I told McCrae, and he nodded.

  He ran a hand through his thinning hair and laughed, a sound so unexpected it shocked me a little. “She’s back. I saw this miracle once before in my tenure. I was fresh-faced then, with big hopes and dreams, and when that little girl was taken, it threatened to ruin me. She returned too, and we nailed the bastard who took her.”

  I grabbed the water bottle and drank it down, my hand shaking so badly, I spilled it on myself. McCrae didn’t notice.

  “Anyway. I’m grateful the Lord has helped get another girl home safely, and I thank you for being here. Who knows how long she was outside? Maybe the perp returned her after seeing the parents’ plea online.” He scratched at his chin, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t even have the box cover for.

  Relief flooded me. They weren’t going to bring me in for questioning. If they did, McCrae might learn my last name, and if he found out I was the other girl he was mentioning, there would be a lot more questions, ones I didn’t want to endure.

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  “She will be. Still not saying much. Her mom couldn’t get anything out of her. They’re bringing her to County General a town over to look her over for…” He stopped and looked at me. “Anyway. Thank you. Thank God for your woman’s intuition, or divine intervention, but if you need anything while you’re here, you only have to ask, Miss Heart. I will need your number, though. In case we have some follow-u
p for you.”

  I gave him my cell, writing the numbers with shaky penmanship. He took the paper, smiled, and patted his stomach slowly as he backed away, leaving me in the ambulance alone.

  By the time I made it to my car, it was already six. Events had caused the day to fly by, and I found John’s number in my phone, texting him to say I was running behind. He replied seconds later, letting me know that wasn’t a problem.

  I considered calling him for a ride but felt fine. The EMT had provided another bottle of cool water, and I opened it, drinking half before starting the car. I drove by the Millers’ house, and the police and ambulance were noticeably gone. That poor girl. I knew what she was going through. I might have lost a week, but everything that happened afterwards was as clear as crystal. The tests, the questions, the anger from the sheriff and my father. The accusations, the trial, all of it.

  I pushed it aside, the flood of memories, like I always did, and reconstructed my barriers in my mind. Forget the past, don’t stress the future. You are here. Forget the past, don’t stress the future. You are here. I said it twice and could feel the knot of anxiety begin to melt away.

  The drive was quick, and I’d nearly forgotten about my date, even though I’d texted John moments earlier. When I showed up at the cabin, John’s truck was parked in my spot, and I pulled up beside it. The second I stepped out of the car, I heard laughter from next door, and John’s affable voice carried over to me. I glanced at the grocery bag and hoped nothing had spoiled. I placed it in the shade on my porch.

  I walked around Cabin Nine. The three of them were sitting around their picnic table, each drinking a bottle of beer in the sun. John turned to me, his eyes glimmering as he found me standing there.

  “Eva! We were just talking about you,” he said with a big smile on his face.