“Off, Gary, turn it off,” said Mike.
Gary fumbled for the big dial and spun it with both hands until the knob clicked off. Mike turned back to his readout, horrified. “It’s still drawing,” he informed them. “It’s drawing more than ever.”
“I think they see it,” said Katie, drawing their attention back to the video displays.
On the screen, the teens had dropped their bottle and their circle had flattened, with all five members scrambling backwards, away from the water’s edge. One boy, in the direct path of the creeping entity, seemed paralyzed.
“Why doesn’t he run?” cried Katie. “We should go help him.”
“This is amazing,” said Gary. “We’ve never caught anything this good.”
“But what’s going to happen to that kid?” Katie scanned the various displays, distressed.
“They can’t hurt you,” said Gary. “They’re like psychic movies.”
“We’ve never seen anything this powerful, Gary. She might have a point,” said Mike.
Before they had a chance to act on any decisions, the blob leapt towards the drunk teen, gaining definition as it moved closer. Even through the crude night-vision, the researchers could discern a gaunt woman with shoulder-length hair and tattered clothes resolving from the green blob.
“It’s a woman,” said Katie.
“A girl,” corrected Mike.
When the girl from the river reached the closest teen, the spell on the other four seemed to break. She clamped down a thin hand on the boy’s leg as the others ran, fleeing up the rocks. The boy in the white t-shirt remained motionless, until the girl from the river backed up, pulling him by the leg. He made no attempt to escape her grip.
“Go, go, go,” said Mike. “Let’s get down there, now!” he shouted.
Gary fumbled for the door, trying to open it without taking his eyes from the monitor.
“Go!” yelled Mike, pushing Katie into Gary’s shoulder.
Gary looked down and threw open the door. The three researchers spilled into the gravel parking lot. Mike was the first away, running down through the scrub and vaulting the chain-link fence. His eyes had barely adjusted to the night when he arrived at the rocks, and he nearly plunged over a small ledge. Mike turned left at the last instant and ran along the edge of the drop, waving his colleagues to follow.
He arrived at the clearing just as the boy’s legs slipped into the roiling river. Mike threw himself to the ground and grabbed the boy’s shirt.
“Hey, kid, hey!” he yelled, but the boy’s gaze remained on the turbulent water.
Gary arrived as the boy’s shirt tore away and Mike shifted his grip to under the boy’s arm. Gary grabbed his other arm and they both pulled against the single boney arm dragging the boy into the river.
In the starlight, the river’s surface was black. Their tug-of-war was a standoff. Mike strained against the shore, trying to keep his grip while pushing with his legs to drag the boy back. His jaw dropped when he saw another thin arm appear from the water, moving towards his own foot. Just before it reached his shoe, the world lit up from a bright flash behind them.
Gary and Mike jolted back with the flash. They pulled a few inches away from the river and the hand near Mike’s foot had disappeared. Mike looked back to see Katie pointing a camera.
“Do it again, make it flash again,” grunted Mike.
Katie obeyed and they jerked back again, gaining more ground.
“Fast as you can,” said Gary.
Each time Katie took a picture and the flash lit the river, they pulled more of the boy from the water. Within a dozen pictures they had dragged him safely back.
“What are you doing?” The boy snapped from his trance. “Shit, I’m all wet. Get off!” He shook his arm away from Gary.
“Look, kid,” said Mike.
“Get away,” said the boy in the white t-shirt. Before Mike could explain further, the boy was off—running up the rocks to the bridge.
“Did you get anything?” Gary looked over Katie’s shoulder at the camera’s display.
“Not really,” said Katie. “The flash only goes so far.”
“Let’s get back up to the van and check the readings,” said Mike.
They backed slowly up the rocks, not willing to take their eyes off the water’s edge until they had made it back to the chain-link fence. Katie paused to take a picture of the sign mounted on the fence.
“Danger,” she read. “No kidding. What was that thing?”
“I’ll tell you when we get back in the van,” said Mike.
Safely back among his instruments, Mike told her the story: “She’s the reason we came here. Her name was supposedly Marcia Taylor, but we haven’t been able to turn up any records to corroborate. She was seventeen or eighteen; at a graduation party on the Brunswick side of the river, like twenty-five or thirty years ago. She turned down the host’s advances, and he kicked her out. She had to walk home and cross the old railroad bridge alone, but she never made it across.”
“Why didn’t she take the footbridge? It has railings,” said Katie.
“That part we do know. The footbridge was closed for almost six years because neither town would pay for the repairs. Supposedly they both contributed after Marcia’s death.”
“So she fell off and drowned?” asked Katie.
“Yeah, but there’s a little more. The story says that she was an excellent swimmer, and even made it alive over the dam. She managed to get all the way over to that shore, where those kids were. Like tonight, more drunk teens had gathered by those rocks. They saw her crawl out of the water, but instead of helping her, they ran. They didn’t want to tell anyone because then they would have been caught drinking. When the dam operators opened the gates that night, she was still unconscious on the shore and she drowned.”
“Oh, man,” said Katie. “So now she seeks revenge?”
“No. Well yes, I guess so,” said Mike. “Until tonight nothing has really happened, as far as we know. A couple of kids have said they saw something, but dragging people away is unprecedented.”
“Maybe it was your machine,” said Katie, excited.
“Maybe,” said Gary.
Mike turned back to his instruments.
CHAPTER FOUR
Davey
MELANIE REACHED FOR A SUGAR PACKET and then put it back down. The tea had lemon; it didn’t need any sweetener. Something about socializing while sober still made her nervous. She still didn’t know how to act.
“Has it been two years now? Well good for you,” Sherry congratulated Melanie.
“Yeah, thanks. I stopped drinking just after Christopher,” Melanie admitted.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I never made the connection,” said Sherry. She reached across the small table and touched Melanie’s hand.
“It’s okay,” said Melanie. “I mean it’s as okay as it will ever be, I think.”
“You’re so strong,” said Sherry. “And you’re doing such a great job with the kids.”
“Oh,” Melanie laughed and wiped the corner of her eye, “I don’t know about that.”
“Sure you are,” stated Sherry. “Considering everything?”
“Susan is just so difficult,” said Melanie. “Everything is a fight with her. School, friends, how she dresses, when did twelve-year-olds get so mature?”
“It’s just different now,” said Sherry.
“I’m worried about Davey, too,” said Melanie.
“Why, what’s going on with Davey? He seems so healthy and happy.”