Skinny-Dipping at Monster Lake (8 page)

We swam and played tag and took turns dunking one another. When we headed home, I knew I was going to sleep like a log that night.

When we got home, I brushed my teeth and went straight to bed. I pulled the sheet over me and reached over to pat the nightstand. The two pieces of gum, wrapped in foil, were there and waiting. All I had to do was stay up until Mom and Dad were asleep.

I glanced at the clock beside my bed. Eleven fifteen. Late as it was, it shouldn't take long at all.

W
hen I yawned and stretched and finally forced my eyes open, I glanced at the clock beside my bed.

Twelve fifteen.

It was eleven fifteen when I went to sleep. I'd only been out for an hour and . . .

Something wasn't right. I sat up and yawned again. There was light coming into my room. I tugged at the shade, then let go. It spun and whizzed open. My eyes snapped shut as tight as I could get them.

It wasn't twelve fifteen at night. It was noon. I'd slept for . . . for . . .

I was still too sleepy to even count. I staggered into the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Mom greeted from her office as I waddled past. I backed up so I could see her through the doorway. “Hope you're caught up on your sleep. Fixed you a sandwich. It's in the fridge. There are some chips in the pantry.”

I missed out on going to the lake last night
because I fell asleep. I guess the rest of the guys slept in, too. The phone never rang. I ate, then watched TV for a while. At four I went back to my room for a nap. I had to be able to stay awake tonight.

At supper Dad reminded me that our scuba classes started week after next. He suggested that I get my regulator and tank out of the closet, clean them, and make sure everything was in good working order. Since most of the guys were going to be gone on vacation, I was looking forward to having something to do. I promised him that I would. Then Dad helped me with the dishes and we went to watch TV. I was wide awake, but I kept yawning. Maybe it was contagious and Mom and Dad would get sleepy, just watching me.

I thought they would never go to bed.

• • •

Really-n-truly, I never expected to see the Lake Monster. First off, I didn't believe in monsters. Then, too, I'd had enough time to convince myself that whatever Zane and I thought we had seen . . . well, whatever it was, we really
hadn't
seen it.

Sneaking out of the house was something I had never ever done before—so I just had to do it.

The instant I shut the door to my bedroom, I shot straight to the window. A little white wire
came through the ceiling and down to a tiny plastic rectangle on the edge of the window frame. There was a magnet inside. Another little plastic rectangle was attached, with screws, to the part of the window that went up and down. I stood there, holding my breath, until I heard the little
beep, beep, beep
that came from the alarm box in the hall. That meant Dad had set the thing for the night.

Careful as could be, I eased the flattened gum wrapper between the two magnets. Holding it in place with my right hand, I raised the window with my left. The foil stuck to the magnet on the window frame. I guess it fooled the alarm into thinking that it was still closed.

Once that was done, I turned out my light and waited. Mom and Dad had a TV in their bedroom. It stayed on for about twenty minutes, then everything got quiet. I gave it another twenty minutes before I sneaked down the hall.

Holding my breath, and quiet as could be, I leaned an ear toward their bedroom door. There wasn't a sound. After waiting a little longer, I listened again, then tiptoed back to my room. Using both hands and moving so slowly that the window screen wouldn't scrape or squeak, I lifted it out of the frame and placed it gently on the floor. Only then did I take a deep breath. Careful and slow, so
as not to disturb the gum wrapper, I eased through the opening and crept to the edge of our yard.

I'm not scared of the dark.

At least, that's what I kept telling myself. There was no moon—not even a little sliver. The gentle breeze had just enough push to rustle the dry blades of Johnsongrass. The sounds made me pause and turn my light toward them. Moving carefully and shining the beam at each spot before I took a step, I finally made my way to the place where I saw the eyes. Sure there were no snakes crawling around the bank, I flipped the flashlight off.

Water sloshed and patted against the shore. From across the lake, I heard a car horn and the sound of an outboard motor near the marina. The boat must have come from this side of the lake, because the waves started rolling louder and closer near my feet. It takes a while for a wake to make its way into shore. Still, I couldn't help but flip the light on again, to make sure it was just water sloshing.

A little rock knoll stuck up about twenty feet to my left. It was back a ways from the water and would give me a higher spot where I could see better. It would also get me farther from the water snakes or whatever else might be lurking around
the shore. I climbed to the top of it and found a flat rock to sit on. Once again I turned my flashlight off—determined, this time, not to risk scaring away the Lake Monster.

The thought made me bite down on my bottom lip and snort.

“Lake Monster,” I scoffed, whispering inside my own head. “How stupid can you get? There's no monster.”

“But whatever it was,” I argued with myself, “it might see the light and you'll
never
know.”

There were crickets chirping and little crunchy sounds that came from the dry grass at times. Convinced the “crunchies” were mice, I kept the light off. Something rustled some cattails out in the water. For only an instant I flipped my light on and decided it was just the waves.

Last year, for my birthday, Dad had given me a nice dive watch. It had hands that glowed in the dark. It was only ten forty-five. I'd give it until midnight.

The next time I looked, it was ten forty-nine. Maybe I'd give it until eleven thirty.

The rock where I'd picked to sit was smooth and flat. At first it was comfortable. After about thirty minutes I decided it was the hardest rock I ever met. I kept shifting my weight—leaning from one
side to the other—but nothing seemed to help. My bottom ached and no matter what I tried, there wasn't any way to get comfortable.

At eleven forty I just couldn't take it anymore. I struggled to my feet and set the flashlight down so I could rub my aching bottom and my legs. As I raised up and leaned back so I could massage the sore spot in the small of my back, I looked out on the lake.

Eyes looked back at me!

About three feet beneath the surface, they were bright and burning. Not orange or yellow this time, they glowed almost white-hot as it stared at me.

Slow and steady, they moved beneath the surface. They were coming this way!

C
hances were, I'd probably break my neck if I tried to jump from this pile of rock and go running for home. I'd more than likely end up lying on the ground, with two broken legs. Totally helpless—all I'd be able to do was wait for the monster to crawl out of the water and come after me.

There were all sorts of stories about the Monster of Cedar Lake. Late at night, fishermen had seen its eyes. They had tales about it chewing through trotlines as smooth as a hot knife cuts butter. One fisherman had told that something grabbed his boat anchor and dragged him and his boat halfway across the lake before the rope broke. People had seen the eyes—glowing beneath the surface of the water. But nobody had ever seen the monster. And even seeing the eyes . . . well, the stories were few and far between. It just didn't happen that often. I couldn't believe that I saw them again tonight.

Trouble with seeing them was . . . if this thing kept coming, straight at me . . . well, I was going
to see the Monster of Cedar Lake—“up close and personal.” That was something I simply
did not
want to do.

The way I figured it, there wasn't much choice. I was going to have to jump from the pile of rocks and try to make it to the house. Maybe—even if I broke my leg, I could still drag myself and . . .

What if this pile of rock I'd picked to watch from was its lair—its nest? Maybe there was a cave under the rock. Maybe . . .

Legs tensed, knees bent, I was just ready to jump when the eyes slowly turned to my left.

Motionless, I held my breath until I finally realized the eyes were moving away. They were headed toward the end of the lake. Trying to climb down off the pile of rock, and still keep from losing sight of the eyes, was a challenge.

Once on flat ground I had to run to catch up with the monster. Jogging in the dark was kind of tricky, but I stayed between the lake and the grass line. Even at that, I hit the water a couple of times, but I didn't slow down.

I followed the eyes for nearly a quarter of a mile. When they stopped and turned back to look at the bank, I froze in my tracks. I was on Mrs. Baum's place, not far from the little work shed that stood in the middle of her yard. With my luck, she'd
probably come out of her house and start screaming at me to get off her land.

There were two huge cottonwood trees in front of me. Hard telling how old the things were, because they were enormous. About twenty yards apart, their limbs stretched out over the lake and toward each other, until the branches touched. The trunk on the nearest tree was gigantic. It would be the perfect place to hide and watch.

I only took a step or two toward it when the eyes blinked. They were coming straight for the trees.

Instantly I dropped to one knee. I'd hide right here in the open. This was close enough.

The eyes moved nearer. Closer. Whatever it was, the thing was going to come out on the bank, right between the two huge cottonwood trees.

But the eyes stayed under the water.

As I watched, my shoulders sagged and my head tilted so far to one side, I almost lost my balance. It didn't come out. I couldn't see it. I couldn't hear a splash.

Ted and I had run bank pole lines just up the shore from here. It was shallow. The shore sloped gently, and there were no canyons or streams hidden beneath the surface. It had to come up.

Between the two trees, and right before it touched the bank . . . the eyes disappeared.

I waited and waited. Finally I eased to my feet—just in case I had to run—and shone my flashlight at the spot between the two big cottonwoods. If it was there, it would see me for sure. I'd have to get away quick.

There was nothing. Just the two trees, the bank, and the water. No eyes. No huge, lurking, lumbering shape. Nothing.

Frowning, I moved closer.

Maybe it closed its eyes, turned around, and swam back out into the lake.

The closer I got to the water, the tighter my legs felt. They trembled and hesitated longer and longer between each step. My feet touched the ground like they were searching for something—like a twig or an eggshell might suddenly snap or crack beneath my sneakers. When I realized what I was doing, I felt like such a wimp.

Inch at a time, I finally found myself standing between the two giant cottonwood trees. There were no tracks. Not even a wet spot where something had stepped or dragged itself out onto the shore.

The strange hissing noise behind me sent a chill shooting up my spine. I was a good twenty yards up the bank before I even realized my feet were running.

Stopping, I made myself turn back and shine my light. Again . . . there was nothing there. Just the little, rickety work shed in front of Mrs. Baum's house.

Another hiss came. This time the panic didn't grab me. I turned my head, listening. When the sound came a third time, I aimed my flashlight at the work shed. I took a step toward it.

The trembling across my shoulders and up my back almost shook the flashlight from my hand. More than anything, I wanted to run home. Fingers so tight around the handle that my knuckles hurt, I turned the light off. But I
did
keep my thumb poised above the off/on switch and kept it aimed toward the sound.

Then . . .

The door creaked. It opened.

Eyes wide, I held my breath.

“Who's there?” A loud shrill voice knifed through the night. “Who's out there?”

It was Mrs. Baum. I wanted to turn the light on and make sure, but if I turned the light on, she'd see me. Alone in the dark, I dropped to one knee and hunkered low to the ground. The door creaked again.

I couldn't see a thing without my light. And there was no way I was going to switch it back on.

“I've got my shotgun,” the high, shrill voice threatened. “If I see anybody out there, I'll fill your hind end with buckshot.”

Yep. There was no mistaking that voice. It was Mrs. Baum's. I'd heard that shrill high screech, more than once, telling me to get my horse out from in front of her house.

The door slammed. Inside the little shed, I could hear clunking, thumping sounds. Someone was moving things as if looking for something.

I'd done some dumb stuff. I guess all of us do. The first thing that came to mind was trying to jump Bobcat Canyon on my bicycle. But there had been others, far too many to flutter through my mind's eye at this particular second.

The vision that did come was terrifying.

In the dark . . . inside my head . . . I could almost see grouchy old Mrs. Baum . . . armed with a shotgun.

Like I said, I'd done some dumb stuff. That didn't mean I was a
total idiot.

I took off!

Forget going down to the lake where the ground was smooth. Forget shining the light before each step to make sure there wasn't a snake.

Go home!

I couldn't have run faster if the Lake Monster
itself had been breathing down the back of my neck.

Things were going great . . . until . . .

I forgot about the fence at the edge of the Ferguson place. From then on, it was downhill all the way. A total disaster.