His father had smiled and told him that it probably got there attached to the rest of the car. When Tony frowned, his father had explained. “People take out insurance policies on cars, just like they do on houses or on themselves and their families. That way if they smash up the car or it gets stolen, the insurance company pays them for their losses. Some folks take advantage of the insurance company. When they need money or they don’t need their car, they simply call the insurance company and say the car was stolen.”
Tony had sat turning the old mirror over in his hands when the realization hit him. “Then they dump the car into the lake.”
“That’s right. They take them over to Hospital Hill and just roll them off the cliff.” At this he pointed across the lake to where a sheer thirty foot face of rock stood above the lake, beyond which stood the old insane asylum.
It suddenly occurred to Tony that his father knew an awful lot about the subject. More than someone just picks up in passing. He thought of the old Ford wagon that had been stolen a few years back.
“Under the lake is just like a mountain that got covered with water. It’s almost all rock. That’s why you hardly ever see any weeds when you’re fishing or swimming. Other than some rocky ledges, the lake is pretty much bottomless.”
A sudden ripple broke the mirror-like surface, then another. Something bumped the canoe stirring Tony into semi-wakefulness from his memory. He pulled his Red Sox cap off his face and looked around. Swirls of current were forming in the lake all around the canoe. Tony sat up, only to be knocked back down when the canoe began rocking violently. He sat up again, now fully awake, and his eyes widened when he saw the whirlpools that surrounded the small canoe. He quickly grabbed the life jacket that had been serving as a pillow and strapped it on. Another blow to the bottom of the canoe threatened to overturn it, but it remained afloat. Then all the turbulence stopped. The whirlpools dissipated to small ripples just as quickly as they had come, and soon the lake was glass-smooth again.
Tony shook his head, wondering if he had been hallucinating. He moved into the middle seat and grabbed the oars. Dream or no dream he was heading for the shore. He began rowing, immediately breaking a sweat in the blistering heat. He reached for the cap to keep the sun off his head when the rear of the canoe was suddenly thrown upwards. Tony was sent flying through the air as the canoe slapped back to the water, miraculously landing right-side up. Tony hit a second later, six feet in front of the canoe. The life jacket kept him above water and he quickly looked around to see the where the canoe was, gasping from the shock of the cold water. He looked back and forth from the canoe to the shore, unsure of which way to go. The shore was still a good thirty yards away, but the canoe offered little safety even if he got back in it. What the hell bounced it out of the water like that? He scanned the shoreline for someone to yell to for help, but it was deserted. Not surprising since the rest of the world was either in school or at work.
After being unable to find his old gang, he had walked through the woods to get to the lake. When he came across the canoe just sitting there tied to a mooring he couldn’t resist. Now he would give anything to be sitting in class listening to Mrs. Fryman drone on about the Civil War. He decided to head for the shore but when he started to swim toward it, he discovered his foot was tangled in some weeds. The harder he pulled to try and free it, the tighter the weeds seemed to close around his ankle. He looked down to try to see what was wrapped around his leg, but the reflection off the surface wouldn’t allow it. He tried to push himself under to see but the buoyancy of the vest was too great. He reached one hand down and tried to pull his leg up enough to free himself, but whatever was tangling him up had him too tight and his leg wouldn’t raise enough to meet his hand. He stopped struggling for a minute, listening to the water lapping around the canoe and thought of his father’s words.
The lake is pretty much bottomless… that’s why you hardly ever see any weeds.
The words pounded in his head. He began breathing harder now, shivering in the cold water. He held his breath for a moment and put his face in the water. The lake was pretty clear and he could see down to his knees before it began to get really murky. He could make out his sneakers only because they were so white. Whatever was around his ankle blended in too well with his jeans and the darkening water to make it out. He pulled his face out of the water and wiped his eyes. Then he felt a sharp prick on his ankle, not unlike that of a bee sting. Immediately his whole leg began to go numb. It felt a lot like the numbness in his face when the dentist shot him up with Novocain to pull a bad tooth. Panic seized him and he began to struggle madly to get toward the canoe. He felt like he was in a dream, trying to run with legs that only move in slow motion. The numbness was spreading rapidly and soon all movements stopped, and strangely he felt calm. As he floated motionlessly, he noticed his impressions of his surroundings were suddenly intensified. All the colors seemed brighter and clearer. He could smell crocuses in the stifling air, and freshly cut grass. He couldn’t remember why he had been struggling to escape such a wonderful, serene feeling. Then something began to pull him under. With a sudden jerk, he went completely under, orange vest and all. As his lungs filled with water, his father’s words echoed in his head. The lake is pretty much bottomless… that’s why you hardly ever see any weeds.
The empty canoe drifted lazily around the calm lake, a Red Sox cap sinking slowly next to it.
(13)
“Let’s stop and take a break.” Denny said, sweat dripping down his face.
“Okay, but just for a minute. I really want to find those caves my dad told me about,” Billy replied, swatting at some gnats that were buzzing around his face.
Denny sat down on a fallen tree trunk and opened his canteen. He drank greedily, and then poured some water over his head. The weather continued to be unseasonably hot. The day had dragged on endlessly at school and Denny was relieved to finally be out in the woods. The whole week had been one ordeal after the next and for a while it looked like the trip might be cancelled. First there was Bear’s disappearance, then the Cat-woman called Denny’s house raving about his dog eating some of her cats. When Denny had tried to explain again that Bear was still missing, she would not hear it. She claimed seven or eight of her cats were gone and it must have been that awful dog that took them. On top of all that was the return of the Butcher. Denny had seen him from the bus for the last couple of days working on his house. Rumors were flying all over school about Paul Greymore and how he had attacked Dale Crawford. Dale was saying that his father was going to put the Butcher right back in jail first chance he got.
“How much further until we get to those caves?” he asked Billy.
“My dad said if we went straight in from the back of your house for about two miles the woods should start sloping downward. There are some burned-out foundations there from the old military storage plant that blew up during World War Two. On the other side of the buildings we’ll start going uphill again and the caves are in the far side of that hill somewhere.”
“Let’s go before it gets too dark to find anything.”
They shouldered their backpacks and headed deeper into the woods. An occasional squirrel or chipmunk darted out in their path but other than that they were on their own. Denny wished for the millionth time that Bear was with them. There had been no sign of his dog all week and Denny was beginning to fear the worst. Every day he got off the bus without Bear’s greeting was another lesson in sadness. The nights in his room were lonely, empty. Occasionally Bear would stay out overnight and Denny knew the dog would wander through the woods to the lake following whatever it is a dog follows. But this time he was gone too long.