The Lake

by Natasha Preston

  Oh crap, she’s out there!

  “Was that someone?” I ask.

  Olly takes off running.

  “Olly, no!”

  Andy catches me as I make a run for it too.

  “Stop, stop, stop. Esme, you can’t go out there,” he says, wrapping both arms around me.

  I wriggle in his firm hold. He does not look this strong. “Let go! Olly could get hurt!”

  This is all my fault. It should be me chasing her.

  “Stay here. I’ll go.” Andy twists us around and pushes me deeper into the room. “I’ll go, Esme.”

  Pressing one hand to my chest, I pant and my eyes sting with the threat of tears.

  Do not cry.

  Andy dashes from the cabin.

  Walking backward, I let my legs hit a bench and then I sit.

  I take a long breath and release it slowly as my head swims. This is all getting to be too much.

  If Olly gets hurt because I wouldn’t let go of my secret, I’ll never forgive myself. Kayla and I need to have a chat, because we can’t keep this up. We can’t let someone else get hurt because of what we did.

  I watch the door, willing Olly and Andy to come back. Maybe I should follow them? My getting lost in the woods isn’t going to help anything, though. I’ve done that already.

  What if Lillian’s leading them away so she can get to me?

  Calm down. Breathe.

  With my heart racing a million miles an hour, I get up and walk into the kitchen. The cupboard with cleaning supplies is padlocked for safety. I twist the numbers to 9-4-5 and the lock springs open.

  I grab two buckets, new sponges, rubber gloves and strong chemical cleaners. I’ve noticed the products used on the tables are much more eco-friendly. They won’t cut it for this job, though.

  I fill one of the buckets with hot soapy water and chuck the sponges into the empty one. Then I carry them both into the room, ready to clean when Olly and Andy get back.

  I can’t believe I’m having to do this.

  Now there is nothing I can do until they return.

  Unless…

  No, there is no way I can roll that deer onto the blanket and wrap it up myself.

  No. Way.

  My eyes slide to the deer. It stinks like death, all musty and gross.

  I can’t sit and do nothing. I think about the last time I was this close to a dead deer and steel myself.

  Taking shallow breaths, I pull on the black latex gloves, pick up the blanket and press my lips together. I wish I didn’t need to breathe during this. The closer I step, the stronger the smell.

  Laying the blanket out, I shake my head.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I walk around to the deer and reach down. My hands circle a front and a back leg.

  The stench hits the back of my throat, and I swallow a gag.

  Why would Lillian do this?

  Leaning back, I pull the deer and it rolls effortlessly onto its other side.

  Stepping to the side, I turn my head away and try to breathe some fresh air.

  “Right, I need to wrap you now,” I mutter, walking around to the deer’s back. I can’t get too close—I don’t want to step in the pool of blood. But I manage to lean over and grip the edge of the blanket and then tug it up.

  Gritting my teeth, I lift with every ounce of strength I have and push. The deer rolls again, and I cover it with the blanket. Now it can’t be seen.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as if it can hear.

  I pull the bucket of water close and get on my knees. Gripping the big yellow sponge tight, I wipe the blood with it. The sponge glides gracefully, picking up a line of gloopy blood as it goes.

  So, so nasty.

  The water turns pink as I dip the sponge into the bucket and squeeze it out.

  Oh God.

  “Esme?”

  I drop the sponge and stand up as Olly and Andy come back into the room.

  “You’re okay,” I say.

  She didn’t get them.

  “We couldn’t find whoever it was. No one else is awake,” Andy says.

  “You wrapped it?” Olly asks, smiling with pride.

  “Yes. It was awful. You might want to roll it a couple more times before you take it out.”

  Andy clears his throat. “Thank you, Esme. Good job.” He turns to Olly, who nods at his unspoken question. Yes, he is ready for them to dump the deer in the woods. I want to ask them to bury it, but that seems ridiculous and time consuming.

  I get back to the cleaning and sneak a glance at Olly as he and Andy make light work of rolling the deer further into the blanket.

  By the time they have the thing all rolled up and ready to go, I’ve got most of the blood up.

  “I’d like to come,” I say, taking the gloves off and putting them in the other bucket full of blood-soaked sponges.

  Olly looks up through dark lashes.

  “I’ll bleach the floor after,” I say.

  “Of course, Esme,” Andy says. “We’ll all help with the floor once we get this little girl to the woods.”

  My heart pinches. I wish he wouldn’t refer to the deer as “little girl.” It’s sad enough that Lillian did this to her. We don’t need to make her sound like a pet.

  Andy and Olly lift the deer and walk slowly outside.

  I follow close behind. It’s so dark out; the only light is the reflection of the moon on the lake. I squint to see. As it creeps closer to five a.m., we’ll have some light.

  Andy and Olly walk down the steps and we go around the food hall and into the forest.

  “How far are we going?” I whisper, treading carefully.

  “Only a couple of minutes,” Andy replies, his voice strained due to the deer’s weight.

  We dodge smaller trees and bushes as we walk through the forest rather than on a trail.

  “All right, about here, between those heavy bushes,” Andy tells Olly.

  They lay the deer down and gently pull the blanket, rolling her onto the ground. Andy gathers the blanket in a ball and sighs. “How has it come to this?”

  I dip my head, guilt stabbing me in the chest, feeling Olly’s intense gaze on me. Does he want me to fess up right now? Spill everything about that night to Andy? He must suspect there’s more to it.

  “Let’s get back,” Olly says. “We can discuss who, what and why later.”

  He says it to both of us, but I know it’s for me.

  We head back to camp in the dark. I breathe easier the more distance we put between us and the deer.

  “Are you two okay?” Andy asks. “You should never have had to do that.”

  I nod and Olly tells him he’s fine.

  “If you need to talk, my door is always open. As CITs none of what happened tonight is your responsibility. I appreciate you helping me take care of it.”

  “No problem,” I tell him.

  “I don’t really feel like a CIT anymore,” Olly says.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “I’ve got to say, you don’t seem like it either. There has been so much more you’ve had to deal with than any other CIT any other year. All of you have taken on every challenge with grace and maturity. You’re a credit to this camp,” Andy says.

  I’m a curse to this camp.

  Olly and I glance at each other, then I look away. We’re both thinking the same thing. It’s my fault this is happening in the first place.

  We get back to the food hall and put on rubber gloves. We need this place clean and sterile so that everyone can eat in here in four hours and thirty minutes.

  I get onto my knees with tears in my eyes, while Olly gets a new bucket of water and Andy chucks the blanket in the trash. There’s still a wet sponge on the floor near the trash bucket. I p
ick it up and freeze.

  Written in blood are the initials LC.

  41

  Lillian snuck in here to write this when we left. If I hadn’t gone with Andy and Olly…

  Don’t think about that.

  “Esme?” Olly says, his tone asking what’s wrong with me. He kneels down. “Oh my God. This wasn’t here before, was it?”

  “No. I definitely would have noticed.”

  “Andy, do you know anyone with the initials LC?” Olly asks as Andy walks toward us, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.

  “I’m not sure, why?”

  “Look.” Olly points to the letters on the floor.

  “My goodness.” Andy shudders. “Well, this could at least help narrow the search further. I’ll have a look through the staff files and see who fits.”

  “Can I clean it up now?” I ask.

  “Just let me get a picture.” Andy takes his phone out and as soon as I hear a click, I dunk the sponge in water and scrub it over her initials.

  “Didn’t you want to bleach?” Olly asks.

  “After this is clean,” I reply, gritting my teeth.

  Just. Go.

  Whose blood did she write it with? I cleaned the deer’s up. All that’s left is a stain. Her blood? Am I washing away forensic evidence?

  I use both hands and scrub as hard as I can. Andy and Olly help. Only one of them is aware that I’m unraveling.

  If Lillian never worked here, Andy won’t find her in the files. She’ll want to remain hidden. I don’t think she has been to the camp other than to snoop. I think that her accomplice is the one who worked here. Maybe still works here.

  “All right,” Andy says as we finish cleaning up and then wash our hands. “We should all get back to bed.”

  You would never know anything happened here. The floor is lighter and patchy where the blood was, but unless you were looking for it, you probably wouldn’t notice. And if anyone does notice, we’ll say food was spilled. The campers sure can make a mess.

  Andy clears his throat. “I’ll take the trash out. You two get some rest. Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight. It won’t be forgotten.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Olly and I leave first. We walk in silence out of the food hall and down the steps.

  I swallow a sob. Don’t break down! “That was intense.”

  “Who is LC?”

  “Olly, please,” I whisper.

  “Not happening.” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me in the opposite direction to my cabin.

  “What are you doing?” I tug my arm, but he doesn’t loosen his grip, just keeps dragging me along with him. “Olly, let me go!”

  “Shh. In here.”

  The multiuse cabin. We were in here last night.

  “This is becoming our thing,” I grumble as Olly shuts the door behind us and finally releases me.

  He flicks on just the far lights, the ones that won’t be visible from outside. The thick blinds are down too.

  I fold my arms and glare at him. “What do you want?”

  “The truth.”

  That’s rich.

  “Ditto!”

  His eyes darken. He’s mad…again. Well, so am I! “Esme, who is LC?”

  I remain silent. Olly stalks closer. I narrow my eyes and hold my ground.

  Stopping right before the toes of his shoes touch mine, he says, “LC just left a dead deer for us.”

  “I remember!”

  Sighing sharply, he looks up at the ceiling.

  “I didn’t sneak out with anyone called LC,” I tell him. “Now it really is your turn.”

  “Then who is it?”

  “Olly! Where are you from?”

  “Missouri.”

  Not buying it.

  He said he wants to be away from “here” and he’s super evasive. He probably chose Springfield because it’s the same name of the town in The Simpsons, his favorite show.

  He must be from Texas.

  Oh God. That’s it! How did I not connect the dots earlier?

  “You said your favorite thing to do as a kid was visit Six Flags Fiesta. Fiesta. That one is in Texas,” I say.

  He winces, grinding his teeth.

  “Tell me the truth. Now.”

  “Esme, you’re—”

  “No! I don’t want any dumb excuse or bullshit story. Tell me the truth, Olly.”

  “All right! Fine.” He takes a long breath. “I moved from Texas to Missouri when I was fifteen.”

  I take a step back. I knew it. “Why would you lie about that?”

  “I haven’t been back here in a long time.”

  “Three years isn’t a long time, Olly.”

  “It feels like it.”

  “You lived here? In this town?”

  “No, the next one over. The towns share this forest. I wanted to come here without baggage.”

  Oh God.

  “You said you didn’t know your way around town.”

  “That wasn’t a lie. I’ve only been there a few times in passing.”

  “Where is Jake from?”

  “Texas.”

  Of course he is. Both of them are popular and athletic, and they’re too close to be two-week-old friends.

  “Right. So you did know each other before coming here.”

  “I’ve known him since we were about five. We kept in touch after I moved.”

  Great, twelve years, not two weeks.

  “This makes no sense. Why would you lie about either of those things?”

  “I used to go into the woods with my friends and older brother at night,” Olly says. “Since I was about eight, we’d sneak off and hike or make a campfire. There was a large group of us.”

  My stomach clenches.

  Where is he going with this?

  “Olly…were you there that night?”

  I turn around, unable to look at him. Shame washes over me, and I feel sick.

  His footsteps creak on the wooden floor as he gets closer.

  “Yes,” he whispers, his breath blowing across the back of my neck.

  I close my eyes.

  “What did you see?”

  “I got lost in the woods that night for the first time ever. We were walking, and I heard something. The others told me I was crazy and kept going, but I ditched them and came back. I saw the most beautiful girl—she looked like an angel—about my age, hanging out with her friend. You were both wearing pajamas, so I figured you had to be campers.”

  I look over my shoulder and he wraps his arms around me, hugging my back to his chest.

  “It’s okay, Esme.”

  “You saw the fire?”

  “Yes. I saw you stack too much wood on the fire. I saw that girl come and talk to you and Kayla. I saw the fire get out of hand, and…I saw the fight.”

  I lick my lips, my heart thudding against his arm. “What else?”

  “The branches fell, and the fire took the trees.” He lowers his head, resting his forehead on my shoulder. “I watched you go to help the girl, but Kayla pulled you back and you both ran. Did you know that you are the only one who looked back? Kayla didn’t.”

  Tears prickle behind my eyelids.

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “She was burned, but she eventually got up. But that’s when I heard Jake shout my name and I left. I wish I had gone over to her. I’ll always regret not helping her. What?” Olly asks as my body turns to stone.

  “Lillian was hurt.”

  I have the same regret as Olly. The guilt of not helping her is something I live with every day.

  “Lillian? LC? What was her surname?”

  “Campbell. I tried to look her up on social media, but she’s not there. Why did
n’t you tell me this when I confessed about the fire?”

  “That was only yesterday, Esme, and we got into an argument. Remember, you thought I was the one messing with the camp.” I start to pull away, but he stops me. “No, we’re not fighting again,” he says.

  “I’m tired,” I tell him. Suddenly I feel like I could curl up on the floor and sleep for a month. My head is going to explode.

  “Me too, but we still have a lot to discuss. Lillian. That’s who you think did this?”

  “You knew this whole time.”

  “Yes. I was waiting for you to tell me the whole truth.”

  “I was waiting for you to tell me any truth.”

  Olly lowers his head closer to mine. “Lillian was burned. That’s motive enough.”

  “I hate this.”

  His expression softens. “I know you do. What happened was an accident. You’re not a bad person. In fact, you’re one of the best.”

  “What do we do now, Olly?”

  “I’m going to kiss you and then we’re going to figure this thing out together.”

  I can’t think of a better plan right now.

  He closes the small distance between us and I sink into him.

  Suddenly the light turns off with a snap, like the power has been cut.

  I gasp, and Olly stands taller.

  Lillian is still here.

  42

  “I swear if you suggest we go outside, I will throw you in the lake,” I whisper while my heart tries to break out of my rib cage.

  I can’t see well in the dark, but Olly’s arms are still very secure around me.

  “I wasn’t going to suggest we go out there.”

  “No way.”

  “She’s just a girl, Esme.”

  I elbow him hard in the chest and he hisses through his teeth. “See, women can hurt too,” I say.

  “Unnecessary,” he growls. “We can’t stay in here, but who knows what she’s got planned out there?”

  “She’s dangerous; we both know that. Let’s call Andy for help,” I say, checking my watch. We don’t have long before sunrise.

  “There are four cabins full of sleeping children between this cabin and Andy’s.”

  He unwraps his arms from around me and I faintly make out him rubbing his chest. That will teach him for insinuating that women are weak.