by Jason Hawes
“You okay?” Mike called back.
“Fine.” She kept her eyes on the bony hand. She felt her heart beat faster. She really didn’t want to find a body in the water.
“It’s a branch,” Lyssa said suddenly. She waded out to stand beside Mike. “From some kind of bush, I think. Look at it again, Mike.”
Mike let out a long, slow breath. “You’re right. It is a branch,” he said. “Boy, do I feel dumb.”
“At least you saw something that’s actually there,” Lyssa told him. “That’s more than I can say.”
The two turned and walked back to the edge of the lake. Mike handed Lyssa the recorder. He turned off his flashlight and put it in his pack. Then he took the recorder back.
“Let’s try making contact again,” he suggested. “If we still get nothing, we can turn around. We’ve almost reached the end of this half of the lake anyway.”
“Good idea.” Lyssa pulled in a deep breath, steadying herself. “Is there anybody out there?” she called. “I’m Lyssa and this is Mike. We want to find you. Please. If you can hear my voice, give us a sign.”
Nothing. Nothing at all. But then…
“Hey, do you feel that?” Mike asked. “The wind’s come up.”
“Yeah,” Lyssa said. She shivered. “And it’s cold.”
“The temperature must have dropped ten degrees,” Mike said. “Maybe that’s the sign we’ve been asking for!” His voice sounded excited. “Charlie said she felt a cold wind when she saw the boy, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did,” Lyssa answered.
“Are you trying to communicate with us?” Mike called out. “Are we getting close to where you are?”
For the first time, Lyssa heard the water of the lake. It slapped against the shore.
Like it’s trying to get someone’s attention, she thought.
Then she heard something else.
“What’s that?” Mike asked suddenly. “What’s that weird hissing sound?”
“I don’t know,” Lyssa said. An eerie sound, like whispering and hissing, filled the air.
“Shine the light over there,” Mike said. He put a hand on Lyssa’s shoulder and pointed. “That’s the direction it’s coming from.”
Lyssa aimed the flashlight in the direction Mike pointed. Back and forth, she swung the light across the water. Then the flashlight caught a glimpse of green.
“There! Stop right there!” Mike cried.
“It’s the willow tree,” Lyssa said. “Wow! That’s all the way at the end of the lake. I didn’t realize we’d come this far.”
Lyssa aimed the flashlight at the weeping willow. She’d never seen one so large. Its branches reminded her of long, green ropes. They swayed and whispered in the cold wind.
“What do you think we should do now?” she asked Mike. “Officially, that’s Jason and Grant’s side of the lake.”
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “But I think we should investigate that tree anyhow. Maybe the wind came up just because it did. Or maybe there’s something there.”
“Come on,” Lyssa said.
She lifted her foot to take a step. The flashlight went out.
She whacked it with the side of her hand. “Oh, come on. Not now!”
“I’ll get the backup out again,” Mike said. “Here, hold this.” He thrust the voice recorder into Lyssa’s hands. Then he froze. “What’s that? Can you hear that?” he said.
Somewhere in the darkness, they heard an eerie howl.
“Roscoe,” Jen called out to the dog. “What’s the matter? Why are you howling? Where are you, boy?”
She and Mark were in the house, on their way to Charlie’s room. They were halfway up the stairs when the dog began to howl.
“Maybe he misses the family,” Mark said. “They did leave him behind.”
“Yeah, and maybe it’s something else,” Jen said. She and Mark reached the top of the stairs. Jen shone her flashlight down the hall. The beam caught the glint of glassy eyes.
“He’s right outside Charlie’s room,” Jen said. “Just like Charlie said.”
The dog sent up another howl. It was a long, sad sound.
“Hey, Roscoe,” Mark said. He held out a hand and moved cautiously down the hall. “Good dog. What’s the matter, boy?”
Roscoe’s mouth opened to reveal a set of sharp, white teeth. Then, totally without warning, he lunged.
“Mark! Look out!” Jen cried.
Mark threw himself sideways. Roscoe raced past him, heading for the stairs—and Jen. She flattened herself against the wall. Roscoe shot by, as though she wasn’t there at all. He galloped down the stairs and vanished into the dark first floor.
“Mark!” Jen sprinted toward him. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Mark said. “Just clumsy, that’s all.”
“I’m thinking it’s a good thing you got out of his way,” Jen said. “I wonder what that was all about.”
“Something tells me the answer may be inside Charlie’s room,” Mark said.
“I’m with you on that,” Jen said. She held out a hand and helped pull Mark to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.”
The door to Charlie’s room opened easily, soundlessly. Jen and Mark stepped inside. The room was big. In the light of her flashlight, Jen could see a bed and night table on the left wall. Opposite them, on the right, she saw a desk and chest of drawers. Two big windows were just across from the door. The shades were up. The windows looked like two staring eyes.
Jen crossed the room to stand in front of the windows.
“I think you can see the lake from here,” she said. “I can see flashlights moving around.”
All of a sudden, she shivered.
“It’s cold in here, colder than in the hall.”
Mark blew a puff of air. It showed white, even in the darkened room. “Yep, it’s definitely cold.”
“Is there someone in this room besides us?” Jen raised her voice. “We want to find you. We know that you’re lost.”
“Can you give us a sign?” Mark asked. “Let us know if you’re here with us.”
The bedroom door suddenly slammed shut!
Jen and Mark spun toward it. The beam of Jen’s flashlight danced crazily across the bedroom wall. Mark walked quickly to the door. He turned the knob, then pulled with all his might.
The knob turned easily. But the door wouldn’t open.
“We’re trapped,” Jen said. “We’re trapped inside.”
“Well,” Mark said. “Let’s look at it this way: we asked for a sign. Looks like we got one.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right,” Jen said. She took a deep breath. Then another one.
“Are you trying to communicate with us?” she asked. “Is there something you want us to know? Are you trapped somewhere, too? Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”
Whoosh! Crash! BANG!
As if to answer Jen’s question, the room went wild. The window shades crashed down. Desk and dresser drawers shot open, then banged closed. The closet door flew back, then slammed shut. Over and over and over.
“What happened to you? Can you tell us?” Jen cried. “This was your room, right? Did you get lost by the lake?”
“You have to help us,” Mark said. “We’ve only got tonight. After that, we’ll have to go away. We want to find you. But first you have to let us out of this room.”
The room fell silent. Jen held her breath. Then she felt Mark’s fingers wrap around her arm.
“Look, Jen,” he whispered.
The door to the room was slowly swinging open.
“Okay, everybody,” Jason said the next day. The team was in the TAPS office conference room. “Let’s go over the evidence we collected.”
“I wish we could have more time!” Lyssa exclaimed. “I feel like we only just got started.”
“I always feel that way,” Mark said.
Mike poked his twin in the ribs. “That’s because you’re always behind.”
“I’m sure we all wish we had more time on this one,” Grant spoke up. “Still, I think we made some progress. We now have some pretty good reasons to believe that Charlie really did see and hear something.”
“Even if her parents don’t believe it,” Lyssa muttered.
“They might change their minds when they hear this,” Jen said. “Hold on a sec.”
She tapped at her laptop keyboard. A moment later, a strange hissing sound filled the conference room.
“That’s the sound we heard at the willow tree,” Mike said at once. “I’d recognize it anywhere. That was one seriously spooky sound.”
Jen held up a hand for silence.
“I’m Lyssa and this is Mike,” Lyssa’s voice came on. “We want to find you. Please. If you can hear my voice, give us a sign.”
On the playback, they could hear the way the wind came up so suddenly. The strange hissing and whispering from the willow tree got louder and louder. Then, over the noise of the tree, they heard something new.
“Did you hear that? What was that?” Mike exclaimed.
“It sounded like a voice,” Mark replied.
“Did anybody catch what it said?” Mike asked. “It was kind of hard to make out.”
“Jen, play it again, please,” Grant said.
Jen tapped the keyboard again, and the sound cut out. She continued to type in commands. A moment later, it came back on.
Lyssa leaned forward, straining to listen. She and Mike didn’t hear a voice last night. But maybe they caught an EVP—a sound the recorder could pick up but a human ear couldn’t.
“… lake…” She thought she could make out the words now. “Lake… find…”
Then there was just the sound of the wind twisting the branches of the willow tree.
“That’s it,” Jen said. She killed the sound.
“Did anybody else hear the word lake?” Lyssa asked.
“Either lake or rake,” Mark said. “I couldn’t quite tell.”
“Lake makes more sense,” Lyssa said. “Mike and I were standing right on the shore of the lake at the time.”
“It would also fit with what Jen and I experienced in Charlie’s room,” Mark said.
“And don’t forget the boy appears to Charlie down by the lake,” Jen added. “I think something happened there.”
“Like what?” Lyssa asked.
“Well, when Mark and I were locked in Charlie’s bedroom, we felt trapped. So I’ve been wondering if maybe somehow the boy got himself trapped.” Jen looked at the others. “Does that make sense to anyone else?”
“Actually, it does,” Grant said. “Mark, tell them what you found.”
“I did some research when Mike and I got home last night,” Mark explained. He slid a piece of paper into the center of the conference room table. On it was a picture of a boy.
“This is Ben Bristow,” Mark said. “His family lived in the Hazelton house in the late 1980s. At the time this picture was taken, Ben was five years old. The same age he was when he went missing.”
“Five,” Lyssa murmured. “So young.”
“Nobody knows quite what happened to him,” Mark continued. “He simply disappeared one night. Right in the middle of a big storm.
“The newspaper stories I read said his mom went into his room. She knew he was afraid of thunder and lightning. But when she got there, Ben was gone. They started to search for him right away. But the storm made searching nearly impossible.
“It turns out the storm was famous around here. It was a really big hurricane. It shut down power all up and down the East Coast. Emergency crews in the area were out around the clock. They responded to the Bristows’ call for help, of course. But no trace of Ben was ever found.”
“Did they search the lake?” Lyssa asked.
“The reports don’t say,” Mark answered. “But they must have.”
“The water would be pretty churned up because of the storm,” Grant put in. “Lots of debris could make it difficult to see underwater. Maybe they just plain missed something.”
Jason consulted his case notes. “I’m here. Find me. That’s what Charlie claimed the boy’s voice said.”
“But how do you get trapped in a lake?” Mike asked. “There’s nothing down there. No boat dock. Nothing.”
“But there is,” Lyssa said. “There’s the willow tree.”
“Just what I was thinking.” Grant nodded.
“So what do we tell the Hazeltons?” Mark asked.
“We give them the results of our investigation,” Jason said simply. “We let them listen to the evidence and make up their own minds.”
“Once Mr. Hazelton hears the EVP, my guess is he’s going to want to get to the bottom of this himself,” Grant added. “Even though he doesn’t believe in ghosts.”
“Hey, check it out,” Grant said a few weeks later. He came into the office with the day’s stack of mail. “There’s a letter here from Charlie Hazelton.”
“What does it say?” Lyssa asked.
Grant opened the envelope and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper. He perched on the edge of his desk to read while the rest of the team gathered around.
“Dear Jason, Grant, Lyssa, Jen, Mike, and Mark,” Grant read. “Thank you for coming to our house. Thank you for believing me when nobody else would. Though Mom and Dad do, too, now. Sort of.
“After you guys came back and made your report, my dad hired some guys. They explored the whole lake.”
Grant looked up from the letter and grinned. “I told you so.”
“Keep reading, smart guy,” Jason said.
“I bet you can guess what finally happened,” Grant continued to read. “They found Ben Bristow.”
“Oh, wow,” Lyssa said. “This is incredible.”
“He was underneath the willow tree. Trapped beneath some branches and a really big root. There was a lot of mud. Maybe that’s why he didn’t get found the first time. I don’t know.”
Grant switched to a new page.
“I’m getting used to living in the country. It’s not so bad, I guess. And I’ve finally persuaded my parents to let me go down to the lake whenever I want,” Grant read on. “But now that we found the bones, I don’t see the boy anymore. And Roscoe’s stopped howling. Big plus. Dad says it’s all for the best. He says we should stop thinking about it—just put it all behind us. But I want to remember. At least for a while.
“Not how Ben Bristow died, of course. But what happened later. I want to remember that we helped to find him. Can you get a degree in helping ghosts? If so, please let me know. Dad says it’s never too early to start thinking about college.
“Sincerely, Charlie Hazelton.”
IT’S JUST A DREAM
“No!”
With a cry of panic, Angie Larson sat straight up in bed. She pressed one hand to her chest. She could feel her heart pounding. It felt as if it were trying to slam its way right out of her body.
A dream. It’s just a dream, she thought. Another one. She had them every night. They were always different, yet always the same. Every night, Angie woke up terrified.
But that wasn’t the worst part. Even worse was what happened when Angie woke up. Her dreams, her nightmares, came true. Whatever happened in her dream happened again in real life. Angie couldn’t stop it from happening no matter how hard she tried.
The dreams came true. Always. Every single time.
She had the first dream just a few nights after she moved into this house. Angie was taking care of the house for her friend Ellen while she was away. Angie was supposed to live here for a year. Ellen really needed her to keep an eye on everything, so Angie had to stay.
But after that first dream, Angie wished she could change her mind. She wished she could escape. In the dream, weird things happened inside the house. Angie walked into the living room and a window shade rolled up—all by itself. Next she was in the bathroom, and the water in the sink turned on, even though she hadn’t touched it.
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sp; The dream had definitely creeped Angie out. But after she woke up, she told herself she was making too much out of it. Until she walked into the living room and the shade rolled up. Until she went into the bathroom and the water turned on all by itself. That’s when Angie realized her dream was coming true.
Tonight will be different, Angie told herself. I’ll do what the sleep doctor told me to do.
He’d said that when she had a dream, she had to write it down before she forgot it. Then she was supposed to turn on all the lights and watch TV—or do jumping jacks or sing a silly song. She could do anything, except what she had done in the dream.
Angie turned on the lamp next to her bed and reached for her pen and notebook.
I’ll do what the doctor said, and this one won’t come true, she vowed.
Angie hoped the doctor was right. She really, really did. Because tonight’s dream had been the scariest one of all.
The shadow woman was in the dream tonight.
That’s the first thing Angie wrote down.
The shadow woman. Angie thought of her that way because she never saw the woman’s face. All Angie could tell was that she wore long dresses. And sometimes Angie saw something sparkling near her neck—maybe a necklace. Lately, the shadow woman appeared in Angie’s dreams more and more. She seemed to follow Angie wherever she went—watching and waiting.
What does she want from me? Angie wrote in her journal.
Suddenly, Angie realized she was shivering. When did it get so cold? She pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Then Angie choked back a cry of fear. She remembered now.
Feeling cold. That’s exactly how the dream had started. She was in her bedroom, sitting up in bed. She was writing in her journal, and she realized she was cold.
And in the dream she had pulled up her blanket. It was all happening exactly the way she’d dreamed it.
No! she thought. No, no, NO.
Angie knew she couldn’t stay in bed one minute longer. She threw off the blanket and got out of bed. Beneath her bare feet, the wooden floor was icy cold. I closed all the windows before I went to sleep. I know I did, she thought.