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but his speed forced him to make a much wider circle.
"We're going to cross the wake!" she yelled.
I knew enough to lift my butt slightly off the seat and keep my knees soft to handle the shock. It was rocky. We bounced over the small sharp waves that had been created by the speedboat, our engine whining each time we rose up out of the water. With each wave we got air, then crashed back down. It was teeth-rattling. Once we had done a three-sixty, Sydney accelerated toward shore. I looked back to see that the cigarette boat was making the same circle, though much wider. Sydney's maneuver bought us enough time to reach the shallows.
"Nice," I said.
"What do you mean Reilly's possessed?" Sydney asked. "You mean like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something?"
I was impressed that Sydney knew that reference. Maybe there was a little bit more geek to her than she let on.
"No," I answered. "It's more like Gravedigger is frightening people into doing things. Like George O. committing suicide. Sheriff Vrtiak went nuts too."
"My god," Sydney whispered as she glanced quickly back over her shoulder. "We can't outrun that boat . . ."
"Go close to shore," I instructed. "Find a dark spot and kill the engine."
Sydney didn't question me. She drove us to within ten yards of the shore and brought us to a stop. We drifted under the branches of a tree that hung out over the water. Once the Jet Ski's engines were quiet, all I could hear was the roar of the cigarette boat. It was coming up fast.
"How shallow can that boat go?" she asked.
"I don't know, but he'd have to be crazy to speed that fast close to shore." As soon as I said that, I realized what a dumb comment it was. Reilly was crazy, thanks to whatever Grave-digger was doing to him. The guy was a jerk, but I didn't
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believe he was a killer. Not normally, anyway. But this was all about Gravedigger.
"He's still coming," Sydney whispered, as if her words might carry over the water to Reilly.
"Get ready to start up," I said. "If he sees us, we'll beach it and hit the woods."
The small stretch of rocky beach led to thick forest. I didn't know which was worse, dueling Reilly in his killer boat on the lake, or facing Gravedigger in the middle of a dark, desolate forest.
The cigarette boat was headed directly toward us.
"Does he see us?" Sydney asked.
I didn't answer. I didn't know. I wanted to wait as long as possible before abandoning ship.
The cigarette boat kept coming, but it slowed. Reilly made a course correction and turned left until he was traveling parallel to the shore.
"He's searching," Sydney whispered. "He doesn't know where we are."
The cigarette boat slowed even further. Reilly was definitely hunting for us. Alone. Gravedigger wasn't next to him.
"We'll wait a few minutes, then head back for the party boat," I whispered.
Reilly drove his boat farther away, going south toward town.
"What if he circles back?" Sydney asked.
"Then we'll--"
I stopped talking.
"Did you feel that?" I asked.
"No, what?" Sydney replied.
"I don't know. It was a wave or something."
"It's not the wake from the cigarette boat," Sydney said. "That hasn't hit yet."
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"There!" I exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "You had to feel that."
Sydney tensed up. She felt it too. "It's like . . . like . . . something swam underneath us."
The Jet Ski rocked on the water, and it wasn't from the oncoming wake.
"There's something down there," she said in a frightened whisper. "It must be a fish."
I shook my head. "There's no fish in this lake that's big enough to do that."
The Jet Ski was bumped from underneath. Sydney yelped. I looked ahead to see the cigarette boat moving further away from us.
Where was Gravedigger?
I heard something slap the water behind us. Sydney and I both turned to look in time to see the rings of a big ripple that was growing larger.
"I don't want to know what made that," I said.
"Let's go, Marsh," Sydney whined.
I looked at the cigarette boat. It was still too close. If we started the engine, Reilly would hear it.
"It could be a turtle," I whispered. "Or . . . or . . . maybe there really is some freak big fish. Every lake has one of those, right? You know, the big old bass that everybody has stories about and--"
Sydney gasped. Not five feet from the bow of the Jet Ski, a dark, reptilian shape lifted out of the water, then sunk down and disappeared. For that brief moment the dark scales on its back glistened in the moonlight, and then it was gone. The thing was moving fast. There was no way to tell how long it was, or how wide, or what kind of creature it was, but there was no question about its size. It was big.
"That's not normal," Sydney cried.
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The water bubbled behind us. We looked toward the stern to see the scaly back rise up once more.
"Look!" Sydney shouted, pointing forward.
Another black, scaly spine broke the surface. Or maybe it was part of the same creature.
"It's circling us," I said, unbelieving.
"Is this an illusion?" Sydney whimpered.
"Who cares? Let's get the hell out of here."
Sydney didn't need convincing. She fired the engine and twisted the throttle just as the creature rose up directly in front of us. I caught a quick glimpse of a black eye the size of a tennis ball. It was sunken into a scaly reptilian head that could have been a snake or an alligator or the Loch Freakin' Ness Monster for all I cared. The head had barely broken the surface when the Jet Ski hit it and skimmed over the top. I felt the back of the Jet Ski kick up as the creature rose out of the water. For a second I thought we'd do an end-o and somersault forward, Jet Ski and all. Luckily, we had gotten too far ahead for that to happen and instead came crashing back down to the water as the head of the creature continued to rise. I looked back to see a dark, dragon like head lift out of the water and open its mouth to reveal an impossible number of sharp teeth set into alligator jaws.
My brain told me it was an illusion. There was nothing like that in Thistledown Lake. There was nothing like that anywhere. That was small consolation. We had both nearly been killed by an illusion before.
"What is it?" Sydney called back while keeping her eyes forward.
"Nothing," I lied. "It's nothing."
I watched as the giant reptile splashed back down into the water and twisted its snakelike body our way.
"But don't slow down," I added.
Looking to my right, I saw exactly what I feared. Reilly
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had heard us power up and was coming around to chase us. He was a couple hundred yards away, but the speedboat could cover that distance in seconds. We were headed toward the party boat, but it was at least a half a mile away. Behind us I saw the dark shadow of the reptile sliding through the water, right on our tail. I didn't think our situation could get any worse.
I was wrong.
Sydney was focused on the Nellie Bell, pushing the Jet Ski to move as fast as possible. "Do you hear that?" she asked.
I listened. It sounded like another engine.
"Maybe it's the police," I said hopefully.
I looked to our left and saw another cigarette boat closing in on us. It wasn't the police. It was an exact duplicate of Reilly's boat and we were seconds from crashing bows.
"Look out!" I shouted.
Sydney made a quick glance left and reacted instantly, throttling back. The Jet Ski slowed as the big boat crossed our bow, barely missing us. At the controls of this new threat was Gravedigger. Mystery solved. He turned and smiled at me as he flashed past.
"Go!" I shouted.
Sydney throttled up and continued our dash back to civilization.
"Where did that come from?" she screamed.
Before I could answer, I saw another flash of white headed our way. A third boat was speeding toward us from the right.
"Two o'clock!" I shouted.
"What?" Sydney shot back.
"Turn!" I commanded, grabbed the right handlebar, and yanked it.
The Jet Ski made a sharp turn to the right as the third boat flashed by on our left. This new threat was identical to
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the other two boats. At the wheel was Gravedigger. Again. There were three boats in the water, all hunting us down. Gravedigger was at the controls of two of them. Who knew how many more would show up?
"Are they real?" Sydney asked, breathless.
I looked ahead. Another boat was bearing down on us, head on.
"That one is!" I yelled.
It was Reilly's boat. The other two had maneuvered us into a collision course. Sydney turned hard to the left, making a sweeping turn. Too soon. Reilly's boat hadn't arrived yet. Instead of letting it pass behind us, we were about to collide.
But Reilly didn't react fast enough. He had too much speed to make the slight adjustment that would have killed us. Instead he crossed our bow.
The water was churning from the wake of three huge boats. The little Jet Ski bounced like a toy in a turbulent ocean. Sydney hit the throttle, the engine whined, we lurched forward . . . directly toward the open mouth of the reptilian monster that had been shadowing us. The beast rose out of the water, its mouth gaping wide. Sydney screamed but stayed focused and turned hard to her right ... to see that the first Gravedigger boat had made a huge, looping circle to make another run at us.
"Keep turning!" I screamed.
Sydney kept the Jet Ski in a tight right turn. The maneuverability of that little craft was keeping us alive. The Gravedigger boat rocketed by on our left, kicking up a wake that buffeted us so hard, I feared we would capsize.
"Now left!" I screamed. "Hard!"
Sydney reversed the turn and brought us around so we were once again headed toward the party boat.
"What is that?" Sydney yelled, looking ahead.
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I didn't want to know if it was another impossible villain headed our way. But of course, I had to. Far ahead, near the party boat, I saw a flashing red light. It was a rescue craft.
"The police!" I shouted. "Go, go, go!"
Sydney gunned the engine and set course for the party boat and help. The moment of relief didn't last. I looked back to see all three boats were circling around to make another run at us. The serpent was nowhere in sight. A quick calculation made me realize that no matter what we did, at least one of the cigarette boats would reach us before we got to the police. All we could do was move as quickly as the Jet Ski could take us.
"Fast is good," I cautioned.
"We're wide open," Sydney shot back.
We were moving closer to the party boat, but not fast enough. The cigarette boats were closing in on us from three different angles. There would be no maneuvering out of danger this time. Whichever way we turned, we'd end up right in the path of one of the boats.
"What do I do?" Sydney asked, her voice finally showing the strain.
"I don't know."
The boats were converging. All three looked to be at full throttle with plumes of white spray flying from behind. We had no hope of outrunning them.
"The other two boats," Sydney said. "Do you believe they're illusions?"
"Does it matter?" I yelled back.
"Yes! If they're not real, I mean physically real, all they can do is make us do something dumb. Like the blood in the boathouse."
"You don't think the other two boats can hurt us?" I asked.
"Not unless we do something stupid, like turning into Reilly's boat to get away from them."
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It made sense. Was anything we had seen real? Or were they just shadows that were there to push us toward danger? If so, there was no giant lake serpent ready to eat us and Gravedigger wasn't behind the wheel of two different boats. That left only one very dangerous guy trying to run us down.
Reilly.
I glanced around to see the three boats converging. Left, right, and from behind. I had a quick hope that somehow they would all slam into one another, but if the illusion theory was correct, that wasn't going to happen.
"We have nowhere to go," Sydney cautioned.
I heard the far-off sound of an amplified voice. The roar of the four engines made it impossible to understand what was being said, but it had to be a warning from the police. I didn't think for a second that it would help. Reilly's boat had taken the lead. We couldn't outrun it.
"Seaver? What do we do?" Sydney asked on the verge of panic.
Reilly was nearly on us.
"Turn! Now! Do it!" I screamed.
Sydney made a sharp left, turning us square into the path of a Gravedigger boat. Reilly flashed by behind us, but I barely noticed. We were on a collision course. I hugged Sydney hard around the waist and tensed up, as if that would have helped in a head-on collision. The boat loomed over us . . .
. . . and we passed right through. It was like moving through a cold cloud of vapor.
"Yeah!" Sydney shouted.
"Head for the party boat!" I screamed.
We had won a battle, but the war wasn't done. Reilly was still after us. Sydney turned hard to the right and accelerated toward the Nellie Bell. We were still at least a quarter
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of a mile away . . . and in trouble. Reilly had come around and was now lining himself up for another run at us. We were in open water with nowhere to hide. Sydney slowed. Reilly adjusted. We sped up. Reilly adjusted back.
He had us.
"What do I do?" Sydney cried.
I felt something move near my stomach. It was a twitch, as if somebody had poked me. Whatever it was, wasn't natural. My hand went to my belt instinctively and felt something in the pocket of my hoodie. I knew instantly what it was, though I had no idea how it had moved on its own to poke me. That was a question for another time. I reached into my pocket and grabbed it.
"The flare gun," I said.
"Use it!" she screamed back without hesitation.
I had completely forgotten about the orange pistol that I had shoved into my pocket at the marina. It was a weapon, sort of. I had never fired any kind of gun before, let alone at another person. I wasn't sure if I could do it.
"Shoot it in front of him!" Sydney yelled. "It might throw him off."
"He's gotta be closer," I said. "This thing isn't that accurate."
I had only one shot. If I fired too soon, there was no chance of getting the flare anywhere near him. If I waited too long, we'd crash.
"Keep it steady," I said.
I held the pistol in my right hand with my arm out straight. With my left hand I grabbed my right wrist to steady the gun. The Jet Ski bounced every time we hit a ripple. No matter how good my aim was, if we bounced at the wrong time, I'd end up firing the flare into the water. Or the sky. We were going to have to get very lucky for it to work.
"Now, Marsh!" Sydney yelled.
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I didn't fire. I wanted Reilly closer. Both crafts were racing toward the same imaginary point. If we both reached it, we'd be dead. Reilly's boat probably wouldn't feel more than a bump . . . just like when Cayden destroyed Cooper's boat.
"Turn on your lights," I said. "The police should see this."
Sydney toggled the light switch, and the running lights of the Jet Ski flared to life, along with the headlight.
We were close enough that I could see inside Reilly's boat. He was alone. Gravedigger was going to let him finish the job himself.
"Shoot him!" Sydney bellowed.
"Not yet. . . ," I said while taking careful aim. I focused on a spot out in front of the cigarette boat. I had to try and calculate the speed of the flare and how fast the boat was going so that it would pass as close to Reilly as possible. It was guesswork at best.
"Marsh!" Sydney scream
ed. "Shoot!"
We were seconds away from a collision.
I squeezed the trigger and felt the kick from the charge as the flare rocketed from the barrel. With a sharp crack and the smell of burning chemicals, the flare lit up the water. I knew instantly that I had miscalculated. The burning missile sped on a dead-straight line, trailing smoke, on a course that would take it behind Reilly. I had blown our one and only chance.
I want to say that what happened next was impossible, but after all we had been through, I have to reset my ideas of what's possible. The flare was moving in the wrong direction but not for long. The burning projectile made a sharp course correction. I saw the trail of smoke it left behind. It shot straight on its natural course, then suddenly took a left-hand turn and curved toward Reilly. The flare seemed to speed up as it headed directly for the guy. It flashed no
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more than a foot in front of his face, and when it passed him, it lit up even brighter and exploded like a fireworks display. That wasn't how flares worked, but I wasn't about to complain.
Reilly reacted by throwing his arms up to block his eyes. He recoiled from the light and fell back into the boat. Nobody was at the controls. The boat swerved to its right, away from the line that would have crashed it into us.
"Turn right!" I shouted.
Sydney turned hard, but it wasn't enough. The Jet Ski clipped the back end of the cigarette boat and spun our craft around. We were both nearly thrown into the water but managed to hang on. The cigarette boat charged on with nobody at the wheel. Sydney brought the Jet Ski around so we could see what happened next.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
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