Ondine stirs in her sleep, and at the exact same moment Robbo says, “Woah – that water’s on the move.”

Sure enough, in the gentle moonlight I can see the water undulating, like someone is tugging on it from the other side of the shore. In the next second the bubbling intensifies and soon water is churning onto the shore.

“Ondine get up!” I say, leaning down to shake her. “We’ve got to get back!”

She’s on her feet in an instant and the three of us rush up Rufus’s sloped lawn. “What the hell is going on?” Robbo asks, anger discernible in his voice. “It was like a thing possessed.”

He just gets the word out when we see the water rushing up the slope after us. “This is not normal. Water shouldn’t do that. Tell me I’m still dreaming,” Ondine says in a quiet voice.

“Follow me,” I say, and rush up the wooden steps onto the deck. It’s about ten feet off the ground, and I cross my fingers that the water won’t reach us.

“I thought your father said the water level had gone down. What’s this all about?” Robbo asks, staring down at the water in disbelief. Amazingly, it’s still rushing up the garden.

“It’s like what happens when a tsunami hits,” Ondine says. “But if that’s the case, there has to be an earthquake or some other kind of disturbance out there.”

“Or the water could be reacting to Thom. It’s a bit more extreme than we’ve seen, but maybe it’s because we’ve been hanging around here for so long.”

“Any word from Rufus while I was asleep?” Ondine asks.

“Not a peep,” I reply.

“Now would be a really great time for him to explain just what’s going on here.”

“My words exactly,” Robbo says.

And then we hear it – a sound just like heavy rain on a glass roof, only there is no roof above our heads. I look up and see the swell of water curving upwards and bowing down, about a foot away from where we’re standing.

“Is it coming for us?” Ondine asks in disbelief.

I reach down and feel around under the potted ficus plant on the corner of the deck, moving my fingers around the ceramic stand where Rufus’s parents used to hide a key, because Rufus was forever losing his. I almost can’t believe when my fingers close around the cold metal. I open the back door just as the first drops of water land on the deck, and call out to Ondine and Robbo to get inside.

“When you said this is the worst place on earth you were not wrong,” Ondine says quietly, looking through the glass pane in the door.

“Did anyone get hit by any water?” I ask.

“I felt a wee pelt on my shoe, but that was it,” Robbo says, leaning down to feel the point of impact. The inside of the house was in darkness so we couldn’t see anything, but then Robbo said, “Well I’ll be damned. There’s a hole in the top of my shoe that wasn’t there before.”

“Is it trying to chase you away?” Ondine asks. “Maybe it doesn’t like whatever it is that Rufus is going to say.”

For a minute I can’t speak. It’s hit me all of a sudden, that I’m standing in Rufus’s house. Somehow it still smells the same and I have the irrational sense that Rufus is going to come barreling down the stairs, demanding to know who snuck into his house. Finally, I manage to say, “Maybe.”

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“What if it’s the portal?” Ondine asks. “The whirlpool could be responsible for making the water go a bit crazy, couldn’t it Robbo?”

“I mean, it’s a tough call given that to me it’s invisible but in theory, yes, it is very possible that it is causing a disturbance.”

“Maybe the portal is trying to get your attention. Maybe that’s the way to get to Rufus,” Ondine says.

“I don’t know much about portals, but it could be that the water is responding to portal activity.”

“You mean things coming through the portal?” I ask. Robbo nods and I say, “I think I need to get back to the whirlpool.”

“You can’t! The water will burn you,” Ondine says too loudly. So loudly, in fact, that the next thing we hear is the unmistakable sound of a floorboard creaking overhead.

“We have to get out of here,” I say, hurrying them both towards the front door. I pull the door closed behind us just as lights go on upstairs, and the three of us run across the front lawn towards the street.

“There’s no water at this level,” Ondine says. “Even so, you can’t risk going back to the portal.”

“It’s okay - I have a plan,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “But it’s not without risk. I want you both to go back to my house. Try not to wake my father. In the morning, tell him I was working through the night and am sleeping in so that he doesn’t worry about me.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Ondine says.

“I told you I’m not letting you face this stuff on your own,” Robbo says gruffly.

“I know, and I appreciate it, but my plan will only work for me. I know of a way I can get to the whirlpool without getting burned by the water, but it’s a one-person mode of transport. Trust me. I’ll be fine. And I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Reluctantly they agree, telling me to be careful, and then I’m running down the main road that leads to the north shore of the lake, where the boathouse is. I hurry down to the dock and there it is – just like I remember it. It’s a boat version of the AMC Pacer, a car that my father owned in the 1970s. It’s a pedal boat, so it won’t get me to the whirlpool quickly, but my feet will be safely inside, generating the motion that will propel it forward. Rufus and I used to love it when our parents gave us money to rent these boats for an hour, pedaling for all we were worth up the dark grey lake, crashing into each other like they were bumper cars.

“Hang on Rufus, I’m coming,” I say as I start to pedal, but I’ve forgotten that it takes about a minute of furious pedaling to propel the boat forward less than an eighth of an inch. In less than five minutes I’m sweating so much I have to keep wiping my brow. The permanently-glowing neon signs on the main street give off an eerie hue as I make my way south towards the whirlpool.

For the first half hour I feel as though I’ll never get there but then something happens – as I draw slowly nearer, the whirlpool sucks me into its orbit, and I begin to move more quickly, as though the little boat is motorized. Five minutes later the boat starts spinning around so fast that I feel dizzy. No amount of pedaling will do anything to change the onward momentum, so I just stare out the giant windscreen.

At first all I see is water lashing against the boat, which then starts tumbling over itself, spinning and turning 360 degrees. The sound is as loud as I imagine it would be if I was shut in a giant washing machine. My lower back burns with whatever sign or warning it’s trying to give me, and then dizziness strikes and I think I might pass out.

All at once it stops and I open my eyes wide, trying to focus on something – anything – but all I can see is the grey blur of water moving quickly. I realize the boat is wedged in and I lean to the left and then to the right, trying to dislodge it. I can’t see a thing. Suddenly, a bright green glow appears from behind me and I try to turn and look over my shoulder. I see what might be a shadow of something moving quickly, and then I hear a soft voice in my ear.

“Hello Thom. I’ll bet that was a thrill for you, like the aquatic equivalent of bumper cars, no? I’ll also bet that this isn’t such a thrill, though. A bit disappointing to come all this way and find he’s not here waiting for you?”

That voice – it makes me want to scream and cry at the same time. “Saphrine – of course I’m disappointed. I hoped to never have to see you or talk to you again. Are you trying to abduct me, too?”

“I’d say you’ve abducted yourself, no? Climbing into this ridiculous boat and launching yourself into a whirlpool. That’s a very stupid move, even for you.”

“Where is he Saphrine? Where’s my best friend?”

“Oh he’s around here somewhere. But first, you and I are going to have a little chat.”