Lost on the Water

by D. G. Driver

“Uncle Robert,” I whispered, “if you really exist, how about you ride with me? I could use your help.” An icy cold breeze whipped across my face and through my sticky short hair, sending a chill down my neck. “Thanks.”

  11

  Searching for Any Sign of Alex

  The water was so much colder at night, and a light breeze constantly swirled around my head. Pain throbbed behind my eyes as my sinuses filled up with allergic reactions to the dogwood tree pollen. I checked my watch for the first time since landing on the island. It was after nine o’clock. We had wasted so much time. If Alex was lost or stuck somewhere, I bet he was really cold and freaked out. I would be if I were him.

  I looked over my shoulder as I rowed into the deep water and saw Lamont and all of his buddies disappear back into the trees.

  I hoped they walked back to camp with a little more urgency than they had shown trying to get to the rowboat. I didn’t want to be stuck out on this lake all night, wandering around, looking for either Alex or some parents having cocktails on a pontoon.

  “Uncle Robert,” I said to the air around me. “I have some serious doubts that you exist. I’m not a big believer in ghosts. I watch that show on Discovery channel where they claim to find ghosts with all their high-tech gadgets, but I don’t buy it. I mean, have you ever noticed that they never show the ghosts? It’s always, ‘I just heard something’ or ‘I just saw something.’ But they never catch it on the video. That show sucks, now that I think about it.”

  I paused for a second, realizing what I’d just said.

  “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t have seen the show, would you? You’re dead. Plus, even if you are a ghost, you haunt a boat on the lake. Pretty unfair deal, if you ask me. I’d rather haunt Grandma’s house. She has cable.”

  Uncle Robert, if he was in the vicinity, didn’t say anything back to me. I didn’t get some lingering whiff of his odor or a breath on my cheek. No mysterious words were whispered in my ear. I can’t say I heard any odd music playing anywhere. That feeling you get when someone is sitting too close to you, that uncomfortable tingle of your skin—I didn’t feel that either. None of the stuff they say happens when you’re near a ghost happened to me.

  No. I was utterly alone on a lake, in the dark, in a thirty-five-year-old, handmade rowboat.

  My sneakers were wet, and my feet were cold. The water that had been in the boat all day was still there. It seemed deeper, which I thought was strange with the boat having been on shore all evening. Sure, maybe it hadn’t dried up, but it shouldn’t have gotten deeper.

  I rowed ahead, trying to use the light of the half moon and the stars to see outlines of the shore and trees up ahead. The sky truly was beautiful here. Nothing like home, that’s for sure. I hardly ever saw stars back at home, even sitting on the beach. There was always too much air and light pollution. Here the sky was perfectly clear, and you could see every constellation. I wished I could remember some of them from when we learned them in school, but all I could remember was Orion’s Belt. And I only remembered that because of the little cat from the movie Men in Black.

  My mind wandered as I thought of funny scenes from the movie while I continued to row into the oblivion. Just as I was chuckling over the scene where the roach dude gets mad at the desk guy at the coroner’s front office for smashing the flies, I realized that my ankles were under water. That snapped me back to reality quick. The water level in the boat had definitely risen. I couldn’t deny that fact any longer. I closed my eyes again and took another long breath through my nose—the only things I could think of to help me stay calm.

  “Uncle Robert,” I said, “we have a little problem here. Looks to me like the boat has a leak somewhere. It was fine earlier. So, did you have anything to do with this? A little sabotage, maybe?”

  I thought hard about where all the guys had been standing on the beach when we got to the boat. Did Chris have a second to do something to the boat? He’s the only one who acted like he hated me. Would he be that vicious? Nah. He was more talk than anything, I decided. Besides, I don’t recall him even touching the boat. To tell the truth, he kind of seemed scared of it, like he really, honestly believed all the stories about it.

  The only way the boat could have gotten a puncture along the bottom was because of the way I dragged it over the rocks. It was my fault, because I was dumb and didn’t know how to do anything. Now I was going to sink in the middle of this stupid lake and be food for the catfish.

  What were my choices? I could turn around and try to get back to the island. The water was creeping up my shins, and the boat was getting heavier. It was harder to row with the water weight and the fact that it was sinking. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to row all the way back.

  Another choice was to keep rowing ahead, hoping to hit land. I could see it up ahead. Due to the darkness, I couldn’t judge how far it was exactly, and that seemed scarier to me than turning around.

  The third choice was to wish and pray with all my might that one of the parent boats actually patrolled around the island instead of staying anchored on the side of the island where the camp was located.

  “Uncle Robert,” I whispered, too afraid to be able to speak at full volume. “Could you put in a word for me with the Big Guy up there? I could use a little intervention right about now.” My stomach turned over, and I whimpered. “You can’t, can you? You’re not up there with Him. You’re stuck down here with me.”

  Water seeped in a little higher, halfway up my shins now. The legs of my sweats were soggy and the combination of them and my wet jeans underneath made my legs feel heavy as anchors. I struggled with the decision to keep rowing or to stop and use my hands to try to splash some of the water out of the boat. I didn’t know which would give me more time. I knew how to swim all right. If I could just get the boat close enough to land, I might be able to swim to it. So, I used the left oar to spin the boat back the other way toward the island. My effort tilted the boat too much and some more water poured in over the side.

  I slid to the opposite side of the boat as quick as I could to get the boat straightened out, but it was too late. The water was now just below my knees, lapping against the back of my thighs. Finding some adrenaline I didn’t know I had, I rowed as hard as I could.

  My heart thumped. It was hard to catch a breath, my chest was so tight. All I could think of was Grandma. She was probably so worried about me by now. Wondering where I was and if I was okay. And if the ghost story, drowning thing really was true, then this had to be killing her. From what they said, my grandma freaked out so bad when her son died that she couldn’t come back here for twenty years. What would happen to her if I drowned too?

  I thought of my parents in Europe. They were probably waking up in some nice hotel and getting ready for a breakfast of crepes and croissants, blissfully unaware that I was in danger. I bet they had no idea anything was wrong here at all. Grandma probably hadn’t told them. How would Mom and Dad feel when they found out? They were so far away.

  I was freezing. I know that it was the middle of summer, the hottest time of the year, but the water was cold. It wasn’t like a Southern California beach or a heated pool. It was freaking cold. My nerves and the temperature sent uncontrollable shivers through me. It felt like I was having a seizure or something like that. My teeth were clenched, my jaw so tight it hurt. My neck was so stiff I could barely turn my head when I caught a yellow flash of something in the corner of my vision.

  Creaking my head to the right, I tried to find the source of the yellow. The moonlight revealed the outline of a shore slightly ahead of me. If I kept going straight, I would drift into it. I scanned the shoreline for a light or brightness, but everything was very dark. Then, when my boat rose over a bigger swell in the water, I saw it again. The yellow. I paddled toward land to get to safety and to find the yellow object.

  As I got closer, my view of the yellow got better until I finally saw what I’d been hoping for. It was Alex’s kayak settled up on the rocks. It was
at a steep angle, as though the water had been working hard to grab it and pull it back out. Water was up to my knees and threatening to go over the bench I sat on, so I knew I didn’t have much time left. I rowed hard to get close enough to shallow water where I could escape the boat safely.

  When I could touch the bottom with my oar, I stopped rowing. I stood up, feeling my two layers of pants soak up water all the way to my hips. The boat rocked under me as I balanced myself by spreading my legs farther apart. Then I slowly bent over to grab the left railing and braced myself to jump out. I don’t know why I thought that would work. Of course, it didn’t. It wound up tipping the whole thing over. I tried to get out of the way as it came crashing down on me, but the water resisted my fast movements, and the boat wound up banging me pretty hard on my right shoulder, arm and hip.

  “Ow!” I yelled, wanting to cuss but biting it back. “Sh..! Fri..! Da...!”

  Now the rowboat was upside-down beside me. My sleeping bag was bobbing in the water, one heavy, soaked bundle of nylon. Jasper’s flashlight sank to the bottom. I watched the light fade as it went down and then short out.

  “Great,” I said. “That’s what I needed.”

  I could stand in the lake, water up to my chest. I took a couple heavy steps toward shore, so the water wouldn’t be over my hips and used one arm to drag my rowboat behind me. When I had enough leverage, I planted my feet firmly on the soft, sandy ground and lifted the boat from its suction hold on the water below. With a shove, I flipped the boat over. I lunged toward it, to grab the boat and pull it behind me to shore, but the boat drifted quickly out of my reach. Trying to catch up to it, I took a step and slipped on a slick rock under the water and went under, jamming my right knee on a bunch of stones.

  As pain ripped through my leg, I struggled to get my head up above the water. It was shallow, but with my senses out of whack, it seemed like a long way back up to the surface. Finally, I burst through and gulped in air in between coughs. I stumbled toward the shore, using my hands to bear crawl because my right leg wasn’t being very cooperative. Thankfully, the shore was close, and I collapsed on the rocky beach to catch my breath, pulling my right knee up to my chest to check out how bad the damage really was. My knee was dark and stained, but I couldn’t tell in the dark if that was blood or mud. I pulled my soggy sweatpants off and rolled my jeans up past my knee and got a good view of the big gash going at an angle across my kneecap. The cool air made it sting. Gently, I rolled my jeans back down to cover it up again.

  I wanted to be done. I didn’t want to move any more that night. Frustrated and on the verge of tears, I watched my rowboat drift away from me. There was no way to go after it, so now I was stuck. A big part of me considered just lying down and going to sleep. In the morning, someone would find me. Surely, someone would be looking by then, if they weren’t already. In the daytime, I’d be easy to find. The boys would point which direction I went, and, voilà, here I would be.

  I curled up on my left side because my right side was out of commission. My clothes were soaked through, and I shivered uncontrollably. It occurred to me that lying in wet clothes, with a cool breeze and a bloody knee that was probably going to get infected was not a good plan. I might be dead before morning. Or at least really, really sick.

  With some considerable effort, I pushed my upper body back up again. No, I wouldn’t go to sleep. I had to keep moving. I willed myself to stand and climbed over the rocks to Alex’s kayak. I adjusted it so that it would be a little steadier on the rocks. We couldn’t afford to lose both boats. From what I could see, his kayak was in fine shape. It didn’t look like he had crashed or that the boat had failed him somehow. What this meant to me was that Alex had purposely landed here.

  But why? Did he think this was the island? Did he think this was that little fishing cove he had been talking about? More importantly, was Alex still here somewhere?

  “Alex!” I called out. I didn’t expect a reply, but it didn’t hurt to give it a shot. Maybe he had run up into the bushes to pee or something and would return. No reply came, so I figured he was out of earshot. I looked up at the trees lining the shore. It was another thick wooded area, just like on the island. Only this time I didn’t see a nice torchlight to follow. My flashlight was at the bottom of the lake. Going into those woods in the dark would be worse than being out in the middle of the lake. No one would find me there, and I could stay lost for a long, long time.

  “Alex!” I hollered again as loud as I could. “Where are you? It’s Dannie! I came to find you!”

  All I heard in response was some chirping and buzzing from the cicadas, crickets, and frogs around me. Lake water lapped at the shore and the odor of wet moss on the rocks made me queasy. Those hot dogs I had crammed into my stomach earlier burned at the back of my throat, threatening to come back up. Alex was long gone from this beach, and all I could hope was that he had some idea of where he was going, because this time, I didn’t think going after him was a smart idea at all.

  A foghorn blared somewhere out in the lake, making me nearly jump out of my skin. Scrambling to my feet, I strained my eyes to find anything out there. I couldn’t see the source from which the horn came no matter how hard I peered into the darkness. Nor could I see my rowboat any longer.

  I glanced at the kayak, thinking it would be easy to jump in it and row out in search of the boat with the foghorn. Obviously, whoever was on it had blown the horn for a reason. There sure wasn’t any fog. Maybe they had seen my rowboat and were trying to get the attention of whoever should be in it. They would see the boat was empty as they got closer, and then they’d come looking for the person who was missing. Me.

  Then again, maybe they wouldn’t. The story the guys had told me was that the boat floated to the island every year, empty except for the ghost. If that was the case, then whoever was on the boat with the foghorn might not be surprised to see it empty on the water.

  Only, Grandpa was the person who set the boat going in the first place every year. He wasn’t here anymore, so he couldn’t have done it. Everyone in town would know that. People would wonder how the boat got there this time.

  My thoughts went around in circles as I tried to decide what to do. Ultimately, I just wanted to be rescued. However, concern for Alex still nagged at me. Where the heck was he? Chris was certain Alex wimped out and headed home. I guess that could have happened, but I honestly believed he wouldn’t have stayed at home once he got there. He would have had his dad or someone take him to the island. Plus, he left me hours ago. He would’ve been home a long time ago and gotten to the lake by now. That, and someone would have come for his kayak. He wouldn’t have just left a brand-spanking-new kayak on the lake overnight, would he? I knew I wouldn’t.

  One time, right after I got my new BMX, my friends and I all rode down to Fashion Island, this really posh mall near where I live. We hung out most of the day watching movies and playing in the water fountains, and it was after dark before we were done. We called my mom to tell her we were headed home, but my scared-of-everything mom thought it was too late to ride our bikes home safely. She came and picked us up in her SUV, dropped all my friends off at their houses, and then we went back to the mall to pick up the bikes. We knew they’d get ripped off if we left them until we could come back and ride them home the next day.

  I don’t know if anyone that lived in Smithville would rip off a kayak, but surely there was some thirteen-year-old kid around here aching for one to have for the trip next year. Besides, Alex went on about that kayak like it was the greatest thing he’d ever received, and he’d need to have it to row home in the next day. No, they’d have come back for it by now.

  For some reason or another, Alex didn’t make it home today. He was lost, or worse, he was hurt. He could have tripped and broken a leg. A scarier thought hit me, and my heart lurched into my throat. What if he’d been bitten by a snake and was dead out there in the woods?

  I made a decision. Certain that a boat was out there, not
too far from where I was, I knew that once I got on the water and started back toward the island, I’d be found. All I wanted to do was take a couple minutes to poke around in the woods and see if there was a path or somewhere obvious that Alex could have gone. I wouldn’t go far, just deep enough to convince myself that he was safe. Of course, if I found him, hurt or lost or something, then I’d try to get him back to this beach. Either way I’d run back out here, take his kayak and go find help.

  Plan made, I turned away from the lake and stepped purposely into the dense cluster of trees. The darkness overwhelmed me immediately as the leafy branches overhead blocked the moonlight completely. I felt blind and walked with my hands outstretched in front of me while dragging my feet, so that I wouldn’t trip over anything. After only three or four yards I walked smack into a thin tree trunk that my hands had gone completely around without noticing it was there. My nose and cheek stung, and I guessed that I’d have yet another bruise to add to my collection of welts and dings. Grandma was going to wig out when she saw how banged up I got on this outing.

  I continued to call out for Alex, but he didn’t answer. I walked a little farther, but caution started nagging at me. Turning in a slow circle, I noticed that from where I stood, all directions looked identical. It would be so easy to get lost if I went any farther. Already the view of the lake had been obliterated by the trees, but I was pretty sure that I could still make my way back. If I went any deeper into the woods, I don’t know if I would stay as confident. I also didn’t know if I’d be going parallel to the shore or moving farther from it. Alex could be one direction, and I could very easily walk the opposite way and never find him.

  I had made a lot of mistakes on this trip. Nearly everything that I needed to succeed, I neglected to bring. Along with those forgotten items was a lot of my common sense. For the first time today, I decided not to be a complete idiot. I backtracked while I still had some sense of where I’d come from and went back to the beach where the kayak remained on the rocks.