Skinny-Dipping at Monster Lake (11 page)

“The
WHAT?”
Ted yelped.

“Aberration,” Jordan repeated.

“Isn't that one of those Australian guys?”

Jordan's lip curled way up on one side. “No, you ditz. You're thinking Aborigine. I said aberration.”

Jordan turned to me. Leaning over so he could look me square in the eye, he made sure he had my attention. “Kent, was this where you last saw the
monster
?” He stressed the word
monster
and shot another irritated look at Ted.

I nodded, then pointed. “Yeah. It was right there. Out in the water. I was standing between those two cottonwood . . .”

The word
trees
never came out.

My voice trailed off. My eyes flashed.

That's what it was! That's what was wrong! There was only one big cottonwood tree in front of
Mrs. Baum's place. There had always been two. But . . . now . . .

Once I figured out what was bothering me—what was different—it just took a second to spot where the tree had fallen. A huge ball of dirt-covered roots stood up where the base of the tree used to be. It was bigger around and taller than the three of us put together. The trunk, limbs, and branches were in the lake.

“That's it! The tree. One of the big cottonwood trees must have blown over during the storm.”

Wanting to investigate closer, I started toward it. Then I stopped. Be just my luck for Mrs. Baum to be watching. She'd come out and yell at us to get away from her yard. Then she'd stand watch—all night. We never would get to investigate the little shed.

“I see no reason to be apprehensive,” Jordan said. “The wind blew a number of trees over. And as for any concerns you might have about the monster . . . You and Zane, both, spotted the aberration late at night. It is doubtful that it would appear this early.”

Ted jabbed his fists on both hips and glared at Jordan. “All right! What is it with this
aberration
stuff? Just exactly what does that mean?”

“Well,” Jordan began. “It's where, due to your
position or the refraction of light, you see one thing and it appears to be something else. For instance, people on the desert often see a lake where there is none. They see a mirage or an aberration. Its simply heat thermals bending the light so the sand looks like water.”

Ted's upper lip curled so high, it almost touched his nose. “What's that got to do with the Lake Monster?”

Jordan heaved a disgusted sigh. “Obviously, there is no such thing as a Lake Monster. Correct?”

Ted nodded.

“Still,” Jordan went on, “Zane, Kent, and various other people have seen what
appears
to be the Lake Monster's eyes. Agreed?”

Frowning, Ted nodded again.

“Logically, if there is no such thing as a monster, yet people keep seeing what appears to be a monster—it has to be an aberration. A thing or object that is not what it seems.”

Leaving Ted with his mouth gaping open, Jordan turned and started toward the last bank pole. “Of course,” he said over his shoulder, “there is a secondary meaning to the word.”

“And what's that?” I asked.

“Aberration also means disorder or unsoundness of the mind.”

“What?” Ted chimed in.

Jordan's sides jiggled in and out. Even with his back to us, I could tell he was laughing. “Unsoundness of the mind—like, crazy. It means you and Kent are nutty as a fruitcake.”

With that, Ted shoved his minnow bucket at me. “Here. Hold this.”

Legs churning and hands digging the water, he took off after Jordan. “Crazy? You'll think crazy!”

Jordan heard him coming. Laughing—out loud this time—he sprinted away. They chased and dodged and laughed until I thought they both were going to fall dead in the water from exhaustion. When Ted finally caught him, he grabbed Jordan from behind. He wrapped his arms around Jordan's, pinning them to his sides so he couldn't fight back. Then, lifting with all his might, and leaning to the side, he dunked him. Jordan came up sputtering, but still laughing. Ted dunked him again.

This time, when Ted brought him back up, I saw the strange look on Jordan's face. Eyes wide, he didn't even try to spit the water out. Mouth gaping open, he looked puzzled or scared . . . or something.

Ted threw him under again.

“Stop!” I screamed, racing toward them. “There's something wrong with Jordan!”

I could tell from the look on his face. He'd either swallowed too much water or got choked or . . .

Whatever it was, it was bad!

Ted instantly pulled Jordan back to the surface and loosened his grip. I reached out to help Ted hold him up.

Jordan didn't need help.

He yanked his shoulders back and forth, to get loose. For a moment I thought he was just faking so he could get away.

But once free, he didn't try to run.

Instead he just stood there, frowning down at the water. Then he stuck his head under.

“What is it, Jordan?” I asked when he popped back up. “Are you hurt?”

“Yeah.” Ted leaned in from the other side. “What's wrong?”

“SHUT UP!”

Jordan screeched the words so loud, Ted and I kind of jerked back.

I guess the others had heard the commotion, followed by the sudden silence. Flashlights bobbed and bounced down the hill toward us. Jordan stuck his head underwater again. This time Ted and I did the same.

The only thing we could hear were voices and
shouts and splashes. We looked up. The guys raced out in the lake to see what we were doing.

“Everybody
STOP
!” Jordan barked. “Stand real still and put your head under the water. Don't say anything, just listen.”

Daniel kind of sneered at him. But when everyone else did what Jordan told them to . . .

At first I didn't hear a thing. Then faint—far away—I heard it.

Tap, tap, tap.
A long pause.
Tap . . . tap
 . . .
tap.
Another long pause, followed by three more quick taps.

All of us snapped our heads up about the same time.

“What is it, Jordan?” Foster wondered. “What's going on?”

“Somebody's in trouble,” he barked. “They need help.”

Daniel, our fearless leader, folded his arms. His lip curled up on one side.

“That's bull. It's just somebody tapping on something. Jordan—the nerd—is flippin' out again.”

Jordan turned to glare at him. “Three short, three long, three short. It's an SOS. It's Morse code, you moron! A distress signal.”

Daniel bristled up like a porcupine. His sunken
chin sloped so sharply toward his neck, it looked like he was about to swallow it. “I'm the general of this outfit! Nobody calls me a moron,” he snarled. “I'm gonna beat the snot out of . . .” Fists doubled, he charged toward Jordan.

I jumped between them and tried to stop Daniel. He took a swing at me, but I ducked. Then Pepper was there, holding him. Chet jumped in to help Pepper.

“I'll get both of you,” Daniel threatened as they walked him to the bank. “I'll tear both of you to shreds.”

Jordan ignored him and started talking to Ted about how they could home in on the sound. I pretended to ignore Daniel, too. He was popular at school and a good athlete, but there was still something kind of sneaky about him. Especially when he was mad. I felt like I needed to keep an eye on him.

Daniel paced up and down the bank, glaring out into the lake at Jordan and me. After a while he even climbed up on the trunk of the fallen tree and stomped around. It was like he was trying to get closer to us. Sort of reminded me of a cat waiting for the opportunity to pounce on a mouse.

“Kent?”

The sound of my name turned my attention back to Jordan. “What?”

“I'll need your mask and snorkel,” Jordan said. “We also need something metal, like a couple of wrenches or something so I can communicate with this guy. Try to find out where he is and . . .”

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream shattered the night air. It made us jump. Sent the chills racing all over me.

For an instant I thought it was Mrs. Baum. She must have finally spotted us, really close to her front yard, and was yelling at us to get off her property.

I froze in my tracks.

“The
MONSTER
!” The scream came again. “It's here! It's right here!”

Frantic eyes darted about. I finally spotted Daniel, out on the fallen cottonwood tree. He jumped up and down a couple of times, pointing at the water. Then he spun to race back up the trunk toward shore.

Only he turned too quick. His foot slipped.

Arms flailing—spinning round and round like the blades of a helicopter—he swayed one way, then the other. Finally he toppled over. Crashed through the branches and splashed into the lake.

Out of sight for an instant, he finally fought his way to the surface. He yelled again:

“It's the monster! It's got my leg!
Help
!”

P
anic does funny things to a person. Here Daniel was—in trouble—screaming and flopping around in the lake. He needed help.

The rest of us took off. We were a good twenty yards up the hill before we stopped. I don't even remember running. I was just there, panting for air and looking over my shoulder. All seven of us were clumped together like a covey of quail. Trembling and shaking, we reached to our sides and behind us, searching for someone to cling to.

And just as quickly as the unexpected scream had sent me running for the hill, I spun and raced back.

Panic is the most dangerous thing in the world when someone is in the water. I'd been to enough water-safety courses with Dad to know that. Most times—even being trapped underwater and running out of air in a scuba tank—a person could survive. He could get free, save his life, just as long as he kept his cool. Just as long as he stayed calm.

Daniel was
not
calm!

As I ran toward him, all I could see were his face and hands. Fingernails dug at the bark of the cottonwood as he tried to pull himself up. Face barely above the surface, he kept yanking and tugging. Fighting for his life.

I leaped to the trunk of the tree. It was wide and so heavy in the water, there was no spring or bounce. I ran along the length, squeezed past one huge branch, and hopped around a smaller one. Finally I was right over him.

I'd never seen such a pitiful, terrified, helpless look on anyone's face in my life. Daniel was always the leader—the take-charge guy. But not now. Eyes wide and filled with tears, he reached up to me.

“It's got my leg! It's trying to pull me under. Help me! Please . . . please . . .”

I dropped to one knee and reached out an arm.

But before Daniel could grab for me, I yanked my hand back and scrambled to my feet.

“When you're in the water, never let someone in a panic get hold of you. They'll take you under with them and you'll both drown.
” Dad's words echoed in my ears as if he were standing right beside me.

I looked around for a long stick or broken branch. Something I could hold out for him to grab. Daniel slipped under the surface once more. He came up sputtering and coughing.

“The monster . . . Help me, Kent!” he begged. Fingertips clawing at the tree bark, he pulled up, then let go with one hand and reached out to me.

A sudden smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Each time Daniel kicked and struggled, a little clump of leaves, about three yards behind him, sloshed and splashed the water.

“Daniel, you're hung on a tree limb. It's not the monster. Just relax.”

His eyes were wide and frantic. “It's got my leg! It's trying to drag me away. Help—please!”

“It's a tree limb, Daniel!”

He didn't hear a word I said. I looked around. Behind me the others had worked their way, cautious and slow, to the base of the fallen tree.

“Kent . . . don't let it eat me,” he whimpered. “I don't want to die.”

Once more he lunged and jerked. Loosing his grip on the tree, he went under. Bark ripped beneath his fingers as he violently clawed his way back to the surface. The leaves behind him splashed and bobbed.

I dropped to my stomach on the log. Quick as a cat—so he wouldn't have a chance to grab my arm—I reached out and bopped him on the head. He didn't even notice. So . . . I hit him again. Harder this time.

Daniel's eyes flashed. He blinked a couple of times and looked up at me.

“It's a tree limb.” I spoke softly. “Quit yanking.”

“But . . . but . . .”

“Be still. You're tangled up in a branch. I'll get you out, but quit crying and jumping around. Just hold on a second.”

Once calm, I had Daniel hold on to my arm. Then I told him to feel around with his other foot to see if he could tell how he was stuck.

“Okay,” he said finally. “There's a
V
or a fork over the front of my right foot.”

“Can you slide your foot back?”

Daniel shook his head. “No. There's another branch behind it. It's really stuck.”

I felt his fingers tighten around my wrist.

“Okay. Calm down. Slide your left foot behind your ankle. See if you can wedge your toes in there and shove the branch off. If not, try to push it far enough so you can wiggle your heel out.”

His grip tightened even more. I grabbed his wrist with both hands. Suddenly Daniel's eyes flashed wide. Without a word of warning, he grabbed my elbow with his free hand. Then my shoulder, and finally a fistful of my hair as he climbed his way up me to get out of the water.

I felt like I'd been in a fight with a bobcat or
something. I was scratched and clawed and probably bleeding.

Never stopping to say so much as thank you, Daniel climbed over me. Staying on all fours, he crawled down the log and hopped onto the shore. By the time I got back to them, they had already asked Daniel about seeing the monster.