Mystery Lake

[14] Help

The remains of Sherry and the parasite on her shoulder shrieked and skittered away like a flurry of bats in a cave. The other Hollows stepped forward as she retreated.

"You... what do you want? This is not your place. This is not your space. Go away!"

Cerberus was dressed as he had the last time they had met: thick black glasses and the same suit, though he had ditched the helmet. In the vast darkness of the diner, he looked more like the outline of a person than the actual shape.

"These kids are my responsibility. They are leaving with us. If you have any objections, my associate Rydia and I will kindly take them under advisement. But you won't like our advice."

A hulking mass shifted in the darkness, as if a piece of the firmament itself had aggressively stepped forward. The growl that emerged was more like the earth shifting than a human voice. Roxanne couldn't see Rydia, but she could feel her presence.

"This is not your business; this is our feeding ground. You're interfering!"

"You have no idea what is or is not my business. And you don't want to get on my bad side, Hollows." Cerberus replied without a single trace of fear or hesitation. "Let them go, or you will regret it in ways you cannot imagine."

It was hard for Roxanne to see with all the black-on-black and dark creatures, but she was sure that Cerberus's arms were much longer than they should have been, and it felt like his shape extended in all directions, as if he were the embodiment of the night sky, a void between the stars that consumed all and left nothing behind.

Barry told Joel about that once, and it really stuck—about how empty space was, so infinitely, maddeningly empty. How could it be so empty? And that emptiness, that endless, empty, hungry, consuming abyss, was now staring down a pack of creatures she didn't know were dark fairies, ghouls, or whatever with broken glass wings. And those same terrifying creatures...now looked like they wanted to cry for their mommies.

Their tone immediately shifted to a demure, respectful note barely above a whisper. "We apologize if we have offended you and your associate. It was not our intention to anger. We were only feeding. It is what we do, as we have done for ages. The little one is young and still working on her visions, and they smelled so good—an easy meal for the youngling. But they sour their flavor with coarse, wicked humanity. They are free to go with you or wherever they please. There are better, purer souls elsewhere."

Cerberus took a few steps forward and remarked, "That's a lot of talk. I'm a talker myself. But right now, I am more in the mood for results, if you please."

A crunch, like fingers snapping together violently, filled the air in the space, which suddenly felt much warmer and brighter. Roxanne looked up and was almost blinded by the noonday sun. They were in the parking lot, sitting on the sidewalk. She turned around to look at the diner. It was nothing but a cement slab with some minor supports, a worn, faded fence surrounding the property, and a dense collection of overgrown shrubs and wild plants. The elevated sign for Molly's diner was still there, but it was barely a trace of white on broken lights. The cracked and gravelly parking lot contained only one car, theirs. There was no one else but the six of them in sight. They were alone.

"Can we fucking go now?" Ross asked, not so much for permission but as a plea thrown behind him as he sprang to his feet and rushed over to the car. The others soon followed suit. It took Chiara a shaky moment to press her key into the lock and open the doors for the group. They swiftly assumed all their previous seating positions, although it looked like Ross wanted to cling to as much of the front of the car as possible, not because he wanted to sit with Roxanne or anyone else, but more because it put as much distance as possible between him and that damned diner.

Chiara practically looked like a wavy blur with all the shivering she was doing, fumbling with the ignition and the wheel. Miranda, back in her seat beside her, reached over and wrapped her hands around Chiara's arm to calm her down. The shaking lessened but didn't stop. It was enough to help her guide the key into the ignition and start it up. A moment of silence lingered in the cabin before the engine roared to life, as if waking from a long nap. The clock on the central touchscreen read shortly after one in the afternoon. All-you-can-eat breakfast was over.

Everyone clung tightly to their seats, as if they were perfect statues, all obediently propped up. As Chiara swung around the car, she squeaked in alarm as Cerberus stood in their path with one arm raised above his head. Roxanne was pretty sure that he hadn't been there a minute ago, but that was the least surprising thing about him lately. He brought his hand down, and Roxanne noticed that he was holding a large metal thermos in his other hand. Calmly, he gestured for them to roll forward and shuffled over to stand on the driver's side. Chiara slowly advanced, her feet trembling above both the brake and the accelerator. She slowed the car to a stop right next to the strange man in black and gradually lowered the window.

Cerberus leaned toward the window to look in, but kept a healthy distance. He cleared his throat and said, "Nasty bunch. Sorry you had to deal with that, but it's been taken care of. At least it wasn't squirrels. I promise you'll all feel better once you put some distance between you and this place. Your stomach may feel a little upset, but that should pass soon. You'll soon feel quite hungry again."

He turned and pointed to the two-lane highway. "I recommend Pete's Truck Stop just right down that road, no turns, about three kilometers. If you're looking for something hardier, I can vouch for Sophia's off of West River Branch. You just take the second left and follow it to the local Grange. Big purple building, for some reason, but clearly marked. Damn fine cup of green tea, too." He emphasized the point by showing off his thermos.

Cerberus concluded their conversation. "I hope you folks have a nice rest of your day and vacation, and I really hope we don't need to run into each other again." Roxanne was sure there was more he wanted to say, but he didn't. Chiara's hands remained firmly on the wheel as her head nodded through everything Cerberus said like an obedient bobblehead doll.

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The man in black didn't bother to wave or say goodbye. Chiara carefully accelerated away from the remains of the diner and the parking lot that now seemed so desolate. As promised, the nagging feeling that they had eaten rotten wild grasses and dirt faded. But it left their tongues parched and their bellies grumbling—Brock's, most of all, for the loss. One concern nagged at Roxanne that she suspected would never get answered: Where and how did they go to the bathroom? Her hands didn't appear dirty and didn't have any lingering odors on them either. Perhaps best not to think about it. They passed around water from the back and held the lukewarm bottles close.

Roxanne knew there was a hell of a lot to say about all that, but no one could or wanted to talk about it. Those who could check their phones found that the tiny data bar that had been popping in and out was finally back, though not with enough connection to be even remotely useful as a distraction from all the recent events. Roxanne actually considered picking up the blasted romance book she had abandoned beside her feet. She looked behind her.

Layla was back, with her sleeves flapping gently, as she seemed to slowly be recovering to her usual level of enthusiasm. She was humming and bobbing her head, but not making a sound. The watch from Cerberus was still on our wrist. She had to wonder if he was tracking them with it, and maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

She reflected on all that had happened since they stopped, not that she expected to make much sense of it. Fake diner like a spider trap. Dark predators teaching a young one how to hunt. And the smell of fairies. Apparently, they had that on them. It felt like more than a hunch, but Roxanne suspected it had something to do with the lake.

Well, if they ever ran into something like that again, she knew that insulting their prudish sensibilities was one way to go, though they still needed outside help.

The road ahead of them straightened out, feeling more like a proper thoroughfare than a secret, fragile ribbon of cement barely carved into the ground, tracing the strange contours of the wilderness. Next to Layla, but so very far away, Ross curled up like a forgotten fly on a windowsill and stared blankly through.

Chiara and Miranda considered using one of their phones to play some music over the audio system, but Miranda grimaced as she scrolled through the autoplay selections on her phone. Though a hesitant film major, Duncan had collected a wide and eclectic list of ambient and suspenseful official soundtracks and instrumentals.

When he went over to visit Duncan's dorm, his friend wasn't just in the middle of a regular afternoon nap but an epic final battle between good and evil. Joel didn't mind his musical choices. It just wasn't the music for right now, when they were all still reeling. Chiara's phone was probably still full of upbeat and energetic Japanese pop tunes with a mix of K-pop and other, similar-sounding stuff beyond Joel's awareness. Layla would likely and happily get into it any day, even right now. But it would still feel strange.

Joel could probably guess what kind of music was on Ross's phone and figured it would just be a downer for the group. And Layla's playlist would probably have the same problem as Chiara's. Not that Roxanne thought that Joel's or Jess's taste in music would have been any better. He leaned towards classic rock and techno, dance, and electronica for workouts; Jess definitely had some spillover from Joel, along with alternative and indie. Maybe this moment didn't call for musical accompaniment. Just push down the road to somewhere far, far away from here.

It wasn't long before the truck stop that the agent had mentioned came into view, with a bigger, bolder sign than Molly's. Chiara slowed down and checked with her co-pilot, then behind her. She didn't ask any questions, but none of them looked like they were ready to answer. She pulled into the stop, which wasn't quite as big as a Buc-ees Joel knew from family trips down South, but it still looked comfortable with plenty of options to replace what had been sublimated away from their bellies.

Parking was slow and creeping to get around the busy gas pumps, but they found a spot off to the side near a display of propane accessories. Chiara parked perfectly in the bright white lines between two other cars, leaving everyone plenty of space to open their doors. She shut off the engine and slumped forward, resting her forehead on the wheel and letting out a sigh that was more of a whimper, but she didn't cry. A long spell of quiet filled the car, interrupted only by muffled announcements from a loudspeaker at the front of the building, vague pop songs, and the faint conversations of people coming and going, paying and peeing.

No one wanted to move or say anything. Miranda eased back into her seat, as if she had just finished a 10K race, and gave herself a few steadying breaths. Jake leaned gently against Roxanne's head while her hands gripped his tightly. It wasn't until then that she realized her eye had been twitching. She had no idea for how long.

Behind them, Layla leaned forward in her seat and spoke in a calm, warm, full, and caring voice like everyone's mother when they were at their lowest and most frightened: "It's okay. It's over. We're safe now."

They all needed that to give them something to hold on to, even if it was a comforting lie, and an even worse set of horrors was poised to drop on them next, and this truck stop was another cruel illusion about to ensnare them.

The six released their seatbelts and scooted their way to the doors. When they stepped outside, it felt strikingly warm, like stepping out of cold storage and never noticing for the longest time how frigid they'd been. But this was normal for April in Michigan.

This was real. It had to be. Roxanne noted a variety of truckers striding by. Several gave them lingering looks, with one whistle aimed in the general direction of Chiara and Miranda.

Yeah, real enough.