Maybe it was a fish?
Only …
There’s something floating out there.
A log?
No … not a log. It’s too pale. And yet colorful. I can see spots of color on it—blue and green and red—and as it floats closer, I realize that it’s far too big to be a branch or a dead fish.
I want to step away, but I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, staring at the whatever-it-is as it slowly floats closer to me.
And then I hear another splash, a plop, like someone’s thrown a pebble onto the lake.
I look toward the noise and realize it’s not from something falling into the lake … it’s from something rising up from it.
Another shape surfaces, small waves rippling out.
And, like the first, even though there’s no wind, it slowly makes its way toward me.
Another plop.
Another shape.
And another.
And another.
Half a dozen.
A dozen.
Too many to count.
All different colors, all different shapes.
A new set of chills races down my spine as I realize what they are. Or what I think they are. But they can’t be. They can’t.
I watch, transfixed, as the shapes near.
The one closest to me is only a few feet away. When it draws close to the shore, it catches on something underneath.
It rolls gently,
revealing its underside.
I gasp.
I want to scream, but the sound doesn’t come out.
Fear clenches my throat. I can’t speak. I can’t even close my eyes as the body floats closer.
It’s a kid.
My age.
His eyes are wide open and glazed white, and tiny barnacles cluster over his skin.
The colors I’d seen are from his faded Hawaiian-print shirt.
I don’t recognize him.
How could I, when half of his face is covered in slime and shells?
The other shapes near.
Coming to me.
Coming for me.
I want to move.
I want to run far, far away.
But I can’t move
as body
after
body
piles
up
along the shore,
flipping over
at the last moment
to reveal
faces
in various states of decay.
A girl in a sundress.
Twins who can’t be older than five, wearing matching T-shirts and shorts.
A boy in a formal suit.
And not just children, either, but older bodies.
Men and women,
my parents’ age and my grandparents’ age,
of all shapes and sizes and colors,
wearing fancy clothes or plain.
* * *
Dozens of them,
piling
up
at
my
feet.
* * *
And then, farther out, another shape rises to the surface.
I know this one even before it nears.
It is the last to reach the shore.
The latest in the drownings.
She floats toward me,
face up,
her long black hair a halo and her blue eyes reflecting the sky.
Not nearly as decayed as the others.
She almost looks peaceful.
Except for the fear plastered on her face.
Rachel.
Rachel’s body thumps against another body, and silence stretches across the lake once more.
Silence and stillness and my frantic breath.
I have to get out of here. I have to—
Cold hands clamp down on my shoulders from behind, and a face with long wet black hair—I can’t see her face, but I can smell the rot and the water—leans over to whisper in my ear.
“The dead do not forget.”
Her fingers tighten.
“The dead will have their revenge.”
She pushes me forward. Onto the pile of bodies.
I stumble.
Fall forward.
Finally, my vocal cords decide to work, and a scream rips from my lungs as I plunge toward the nearest bloated corpse.
I land on my hands and knees in the shallows.
The empty shallows.
I gasp and look around.
No bodies.
No corpses.
Just the wind and the birdsong and the waves lapping over my hands and knees.
I look back.
No one behind me, either.
When I bring my attention back to the water, I look down and see clouds of red twirling around my hands and knees from where I skinned them. I see my reflection staring back.
I look terrified.
Shivering, I push myself to stand up and glance around.
I should go home.
I should definitely go home.
There’s no way I’m going out on the water.
No way—
“There you are!” Rachel calls out.
She jogs toward me. Coming not from the path but from deeper in the woods.
What was she doing there?
How long was she watching me?
And who—or what—put their hands on my shoulders and pushed me in?
“I thought you’d decided not to come,” she says brightly. She hesitates. “But what were you doing in the water? Warming up for our swim?”
“I, um,” I stammer. Water and blood drip down my fingers.
Rachel steps forward.
“Ooh, we better take care of those scrapes. I bet Bradley has a first aid kit on the boat.”
Her head tilts to the side.
“We better take care of it soon. You don’t want to get too much blood in the lake. It might make them … hungry.”
I don’t ask what she’s talking about.
I know. I already know.
As she takes me by the arm and guides me toward the docks—docks where I can now see a few kids milling about, putting things in a pontoon boat while faint music plays—I know I don’t have a choice. I’m trapped.
And if I’m not careful, I’ll be one of those bodies soon.
“Are we boring you?” Bradley asks.
I quickly try to cover another yawn with a bandaged hand, but it’s too late. He and Christina and Mario glare at me. Rachel just looks amused.
The five of us are lounging on his boat in the middle of the lake. It’s not much of a party, and it’s clear they don’t want me to be there, but there’s not much I can do to change it at this point. Pop music blasts from his speakers, and he and the rest are laughing and drinking soda and throwing candy at one another.
Or at least they were until my yawn made them pause.
“Ugh, I should never have agreed to letting you bring her,” Christina says snidely. “She hasn’t said a thing; no wonder you stopped hanging out with her. I thought she was supposed to be, like, edgy.”
“She is,” Rachel says. “She’s a cold-blooded killer.”
She says it coolly, as if it’s a compliment, but I know what she means. Despite the heat, I feel frozen in anticipation at her words. Is she going to tell them what I did?
Christina just rolls her eyes.
“She’s boring,” Christina replies. As if I’m not here at all. I really wish I wasn’t here at all. “I’m surprised you even wanted her to come here. After what she said about you.”
Memories try to rise to the surface, but I force them down. Of course it had to be Christina here. Her and Bradley. Mario is the only one I don’t have a bad history with, but I have a feeling we’re about to have a bad future.
Rachel’s planning something. I know it.
And I don’t want to walk into her trap. Whatever it is.
Trouble is, I know that by coming out here, I already hav
e.
They go back to talking and laughing, and I try to tune them out. I lie at the front of the boat and stare up at the blue sky and try to keep my breathing calm, try to enjoy this moment, even though I’m definitely trapped. There’s no way to get back to shore without making a scene or jumping into the body-infested water. And there’s no way Rachel just brought me out here to relax. This is about as far from relaxing as it could be.
A year ago, these kids wouldn’t have looked at Rachel twice. And now they’re talking and laughing like she’s always been their best friend. They actually seem impressed by her.
“I still don’t know how you were able to do so many one-handed push-ups,” Mario says. “I can’t even do one!”
The group laughs as he demonstrates this, trying unsuccessfully to do a push-up with only one hand.
“I guess you just have to be hungry for it,” Rachel says. She looks at me when she says it, a menacing glint in her eye.
“Or you just have to want to show off!” Bradley responds, which makes Rachel look back to him with a smile.
“Speaking of showing off,” Christina continues. “I think Mrs. Kavanaugh nearly choked when you answered all her questions before she could even ask them. How did you even know?”
“They were predictable,” Rachel says coolly. “I guess after months of being on the outside and observing people, I’ve learned how to guess their behavior. Everyone is predictable once you know their traits. Once you know what someone’s going to do, it’s easy to beat them at their own game.”
Again, that menacing grin my direction.
Again, everyone else fails to notice the dire tone.
I close my eyes and try to ignore them.
“That’s so cool,” Christina says. “You’ll have to show me how to do that someday.”
“Oh, you’ll be like me sooner than you think,” Rachel says.
“I hope so!” Christina replies.
I swallow what I want to say—No, you don’t. You definitely don’t.
“I bet you know everything about everyone,” Bradley says.
Rachel smiles knowingly. “I know enough.”
“So,” Bradley continues, “you’d know everyone who has a crush on me.”
My cheeks go hot immediately. I resolutely don’t look over to them. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope against hope that she doesn’t say anything.
Even with my eyes closed, I can feel her look my way.
“Of course I do,” she says.
“Who?” he asks.
She chuckles. “I can’t just tell you. That would be too easy. How about we have another contest?”
I open my eyes and look over.
“What sort of contest?” Mario asks.
“A swimming contest, of course,” Rachel replies. She stands and points to the far shore. “If you can beat me there and back, I’ll tell all of you who has a crush on you. I can tell you all the secrets everyone in the school is trying to hide.”
“Deal!” Bradley says. The boat sways as he leaps to his feet.
I glance over just in time to see him pull off his shirt. My cheeks go hot and I look away as he and the others leap into the lake. The boat rocks ominously with the waves from their splashing. I swallow my fear and squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the rocking to pass. I know it’s stupid, but it feels like the boat could tip over or capsize at any moment. Like there are creatures beneath trying to drag it down.
And there are. There are.
The boat slowly rights itself, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Bradley and the others splash and laugh, but I don’t look over to them. I keep my eyes closed. I want to pretend I’m safely on shore. My feet on solid ground.
Ideally in a desert—as far away from water as possible.
Hopefully this will all be over soon.
“What’s the matter?”
I nearly jump overboard at the sound of her voice.
Rachel stands in front of me in her swimsuit, her hair lank and long around her shoulders. Even now, in the bright sun, she looks almost translucent. Slightly iridescent, like fish scales.
Otherworldly.
Terrifying.
She takes a step closer. Her shadow falls over me, along with the scent of swamp water. “Aren’t you having fun? I’m having fun.”
Something about the way she says it makes it sound like a threat.
“Yeah,” I say. “Lots of fun.”
“Then you should swim with us,” she says. And there’s no mistaking the threat in her words this time. “Or are you scared?”
“Yeah, come on, Samantha!” Bradley calls from the water. I sit up and look out to him and the others. The fact that he’s looking at me, asking me to join in, almost makes me consider it. Almost, had I not seen what was floating deep in the lake’s murky depths. “The water feels great!”
Rachel kneels down by me. “You don’t want to let your new friends down, do you?” she asks quietly.
“They aren’t my friends,” I reply.
There had been a time, once, when I’d tried to get Bradley to notice me. I’d smile at him while passing in the hall or try to sit by him during class, but he never seemed to notice. Or worse, if he did notice, he didn’t care. Rachel had helped me through my disappointment.
“Oh, I’m not talking about them,” Rachel says. She leans over the edge of the boat, resting her chin on her crossed arms and smiling down at the water. I can’t help it—I follow her gaze. “I mean them.”
And I see it then.
I see them.
The corpses of everyone who’s drowned in the lake.
Except unlike before, they aren’t just floating bodies. They shimmer beneath the water’s surface, just out of full sight.
They’re moving.
Swimming.
Their mouths are open wide, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth, like sharks or eels. Their skeletal, webbed fingers are covered in long black talons.
The breath catches in my throat. I open my mouth to call out, because there’s no mistaking it—the drowned are heading straight toward Bradley and Christina and Mario.
The drowned are going to pull them under. I push myself up. I have to call out. I have to save them—
“Shh,” Rachel says. She puts a hand on my shoulder. Gently, but firm. “We don’t want to scare them off.”
I try to scream. I really do. But the words are caught in my throat. The breath is gone from my lungs.
One of the drowned nears the group. Grabs on to Mario’s ankle.
One moment he’s splashing away happily on the water’s surface. The next, he’s dragged under, his shocked face covered by the thrashing bodies of the drowned swarming him below. The monsters that only Rachel and I can see.
“Hey!” Bradley yelps a second later. His head bobs under briefly, and he splashes back to the surface. “No fair, Mario!” he calls out. He looks around at the water, trying to find his friend, whom he clearly thinks is messing with him. “I told you not to get my hair wet—”
Before he can finish his sentence, he’s pulled under. The water froths with bubbles.
Christina swims lazily, watching the bubbles with a grin on her face.
She thinks this is a game. She thinks they’re just playing.
Even when a drowned grabs her ankle and pulls at her, she splashes to the surface with a laugh. “Not funny, boys!”
She bobs under again.
The next time she thrashes to the surface, she’s no longer smiling.
Her eyes are wide with panic. She splashes frantically toward us, trying to scramble closer to the boat.
“Help!” she calls out. “There’s something in here! I think it’s a shark!”
“There aren’t any sharks here!” Rachel calls with a smile. “It must be some seaweed. Here, I’ll come help you.”
Rachel looks to me with a sly grin on her face. And in that moment, she doesn’t look anything like the girl I once knew. Her skin is so pale I can
see her skull and her sharp, pointed teeth beneath her lips. I can see her pale blue eyes behind her blinking eyelids. She is one of the drowned.
Only now she’s undrowned.
“I was starting to get hungry,” she growls to me.
Rachel leaps into the lake with barely a splash, a perfect dive.
Christina watches me with fearful eyes. Like she thinks I could help. Little does she know that I’m the reason for all of this.
A second later, she goes under with a splash.
I watch.
I wait.
Just like before, I don’t make a sound.
Just like before, the water stills, becomes glassy and clear, revealing nothing but darkness.
Just like before, no one—not even Rachel—comes back to the surface.
I wait, staring at the water for what feels like hours but might only be seconds.
I keep waiting for the kids to splash to the surface, for this to all be some big practical joke.
But just like before, that never happens. This is no joke. This is life and death.
I’m in the middle of the lake in someone else’s boat. I don’t know how to get it back to the docks. And judging from the noise I hear in that direction, people are starting to show up to their boats. Right now, the lake is empty, but soon? Who knows.
I can’t be out here in someone else’s boat when others arrive.
They’ll think I stole it.
Or worse—they’ll know that Bradley and others were out in it.
They’ll ask questions.
They’ll think I killed Bradley and Christina and Mario.
And I did.
I did, because I didn’t call out the danger.
I didn’t jump in to save them.
Just like I didn’t jump in to save Rachel.
I created the monster that killed them.
Guilt squirms in my stomach. Is that why she brought me out here? To see if I’d try to save them? To prove that I’m just as much of a monster as she is?
Or did she want to use it against me—if I saved them, would that mean I valued them more?
I want to be sick, and it’s not from the gentle rocking of the boat.
On top of all those thoughts and realizations, I also know that the only way out of this is to swim. Through the lake of drowned bodies. Bodies that now include Bradley and the others.
I take a deep breath. Try to calm myself. The sound of a motor revving by the docks tells me I need to worry about all that later.
The Undrowned Page 8