Dark Water (Cooper M. Reid Book 1) (15 page)

“What’s that?”

“As you know, the caverns were closed a few years back because the terrain further down was too treacherous. People were slipping even with the stairs. We got two broken arms and a dislocated hip out of a few tourists. It got pretty nasty. The ceilings were starting to crumble in a few places, too. So it was an obvious decision to close the place down.”

“I sense a
but
coming on,” Cooper said.

Jack nodded and said, “
But…
among myself and a few of the other tour guides, we were almost glad to see the caverns close. I know it sounds stupid, but there was something about that place that never seemed right. I won’t go so far as to say it was haunted or anything, but there was a feeling…I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Was it just the guides that felt it?”

“Oh hell no,” Jack said. “We had at least thirty or so tourists over a five year period to freak out when they were down there…and not just from pressure or claustrophobia. People were saying that they felt a tugging at their clothes and weird voices whispering in their ears. There was one lady that even said that she had clearly heard a man say
‘I’ll kill your children.’
Keep in mind that the guides never revealed that part of Pickman’s story to the groups we took down. No one really wants to hear that sort of stuff before you lead them down into a deep dark hole in the ground.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” Cooper said.

“You can decide whether or not to include that in your book. Just don’t use my name.”

“As far as any further information,” Cooper said, “are there any maps of the caverns down there? Like any sort of actual schematics, layouts, anything like that?”

“You mean like a map of the actual cavern system?”

“Yes sir.”

“Not that I know of. And even if there were, I’d highly suggest you not go down there even if you could. It’s dangerous and, if I might be so honest, creepy as hell.”

Cooper didn’t bother hiding the disappointment from his face. “Well again, thanks for your help.”

“No problem.”

Cooper got into his car and pulled out of the visitor center parking lot. He looked back in his rearview and wasn’t surprised to see Jack Paulson standing in the same place. He stood motionless, watching Cooper’s car head back towards the beach as if he didn’t quite trust the man that was driving it.

20

With a few hours still remaining before nightfall, Cooper spent the rest of that afternoon in his motel room, browsing the internet for more information on Douglass Pickman. He didn’t find much and what he
did
find was just different variations of what Jack had told him. What Cooper found most interesting of all was that during Pickman’s escape into the caverns, the locals were thought to have blocked the cavern off. This was despite the fact that no one ever found Pickman or his daughter.

Cooper assumed this meant that Pickman had either found some other way out of the caverns and made his escape, or he had died in there.

When dusk fell, he took a quick shower and drove to Mary Guthrie’s house. He caught glimpses of the sun’s last glimmering rays on the ocean between the beach houses and motels that he passed on the way. Part of him wanted to slow down, maybe to park the car and sit on the beach to watch the day come to a close. Everything in the last two days had happened so fast, including his reunion and subsequent departure from Stephanie, that he thought it might do him some good to slow down.

Yet, of the many things that had changed about him sense his disappearance a little over a year ago, there were a few things that had remained very much the same. Chief among them was his aversion to sentiment. He’d never been a very emotional person, so things like beautiful sunsets and lost loves didn’t usually stir much in him. That was one thing that his time away had apparently not changed about him.

The sunset and deep inner thoughts of all that he had been through would have to come some other time. If he planned to live life in constant motion, moving from place to place to help people like the Blackstocks, he was sure he’d find plenty of time for reflection.

He arrived at Mary Guthrie’s house at 8:50, just as the last hues of sunlight were fading from the sky. The sky was a dark purple, tinged with black at the horizon. It looked like a large bruise over the ocean.

When Mary answered the door, she looked both excited and fearful. It was a peculiar look to see on the face of a woman that was nearing sixty mainly because it made her look younger in the eyes, but older everywhere else on her face.

“Come on in,” she said, ushering him inside.

He did as she asked, walking through the door and into a small foyer. The colors in the foyer were bright and beachy, clearly having recently been cleaned and decorated for the vacationers that would be occupying the house in the coming months. There was even a decorative wooden sign along the foyer wall featuring flip flops and a beach umbrella that said
Welcome to the Beach!

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked before stepping through the door.

“Absolutely.”

He noticed at once just how quiet the house was. There was no TV on in the background, no music. Even the crashing lull of the ocean through the walls seemed to be more muffled than usual.

Mary led him straight through a hallway and into her kitchen. They sat down at her kitchen table where she already had the bag of Scrabble tiles out.

“How does this work?” Cooper asked. “Do you just ask them if they feel like talking?”

“No. Usually, they do as they please. Most of the time, they’ll talk if they see the Scrabble tiles out.”

“And it doesn’t scare you?”

“It did the first few times. I felt like I was maybe getting involved in something that I wasn’t supposed to be messing with, you know? I’m not a religious or spiritual person by nature, but I do know that there is evil in the world and that things out of our sight and control probably shouldn’t be tampered with.”

“A good train of thought to live by,” Cooper said.

“Given everything you and your lady friend told me about your history, I assume you have never really lived by those rules, though. Right?”

Cooper smiled, not quite sure how to respond. He had done a lot of self-reflection since reappearing nine months ago and had discovered some things that had come as quite a surprise. He had yet to voice any of these things and found himself anxious to get them out. Did it really matter if the first person he spoke some of these things to was a stranger?

He didn’t think so.

“I was very cocky and sure of myself not too long ago,” he said. “My book was being gobbled up by not only the paranormal community, but was also getting respect from some mainstream outlets. And the thing that got me all of that attention was my fascination with those very things you feel we shouldn’t mess with—trying to communicate with the other side and all of that.”

“Do you think there
is
another side?” Mary asked.

“I do. I just don’t think it’s what we all think it is.”

“And what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Admitting it hurt him a bit. After all he had been through, before, during, and after his disappearance, he still had no idea what all of his efforts had been for.

“Well how do you feel about what we’re about to do? This thing with my Scrabble tiles…is that dangerous in any way?”

“There’s no way to be certain. But I don’t think so.”

“I use what I have,” she said, with a smile. “I thought about going out to get a Ouija board and try that but the idea of it scared me.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t know how it happened, but Ouija boards got this innocent sort of board game reputation somewhere in the last decade or so. The truth of the matter is that if you use them in a place where there is real, legitimate power and evil, they can be dangerous. They can be doorways.”

Mary’s face grew very serious and alarmed. Cooper had never been good at filtering himself. He had to constantly keep reminding himself that not everyone was as accustomed to the supernatural as he was. He could be off-putting to say the least. Stephanie’s absence was proof of that.

“You’ve seen this?” Mary asked. “This…
evil?
”

“I have,” he said coldly. The memory of it still chilled him years later. What made no sense to him in that moment, sitting with Mary in her kitchen, was that he had gone back looking for similar things time after time.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. It does me some good to talk about all of this. Especially now.”

He could sense her wanting to ask more questions about his past. Part of him wished that she would so he could verbalize some of it, hoping to uncover some hidden truth he had yet to realize. But another part of him wasn’t quite ready to look into the darker shadows of his past—especially not with an older woman he didn’t know.

Instead, they shared a string of polite conversation about the upcoming tourist season. As they spoke, Mary put on a pot of coffee. The conversation eventually led Cooper to sharing details about his day and what he had discovered about Douglass Preston. Mary knew very little about the more intimate history, having only heard the whitewashed version of it. The tale seemed to make her uneasy.

Still, as ten o’ clock approached, he saw Mary slowly reach out for the bag of Scrabble tiles. She dumped them out onto the table with delicate care. Cooper watched as she started to flip them all over, letters-up. Cooper joined in and they sat there with the tiles between them, pushed to the edge of the table as if awaiting a third person to start a game.

“That’s it?” Cooper asked.

“Yes. Of course, now we just have to wait for them to come.”

Cooper nodded, but even as she spoke, he started to get a very familiar feeling. It was one that he had felt so much in his past that it had become almost common to him. It was the feeling of a slight chill to the air accompanied with the feeling of being watched. He felt something very close to a mild pins and needles sensation in his fingers, groin, and neck.

He was pretty sure that Amy and her friends were already here.

With a shaky sigh, Mary turned towards the open kitchen and adjoining living room.

“Amy?” she asked. “Are you and your little friends here? I have a friend of my own here that would very much like to speak with you.”

A minute passed. The room was silent and still, yet Cooper continued to feel that familiar sensation. He was certain that there was
something
here with them. Based on past experiences, the slightness of the sensation indicated that whatever force was here with them was a harmless one. In cases where the unseen force or entity was malevolent, there was usually a weird unsettling feeling in the stomach of anyone within the room. Some people also reported a scent similar to charred bread or thick dust.

But Cooper was not picking up any of that.
What I wouldn’t give for some of my old equipment,
he thought to himself.
An EMF detector or even just a thermal imager would be incredible right now.

He took a sip of his coffee to calm himself, knowing that something important and probably supernatural was about to happen.

Cooper almost opened his mouth to call for Amy as well. But before he got the chance, the Scrabble tiles on the table started to move.

There was nothing dramatic about it and nothing at all frightening. The tiles just moved, sorted by invisible hands, scattered across the table softly. Cooper watched, fascinated. He was very aware of the smile on his face but let it stay there.

As he watched, two tiles were pushed out across the table. They were then scooted side by side, forming
HI.

“Hello,” Cooper said, trying to sound serious and friendly rather than excited and awed. “Are you Amy?”

The
HI
was pulled down to the rest of the pile and then other tiles were sorted through. Again, two more tiles were pushed away from the others and placed side by side to spell a word. This one was
NO.

“What’s your name?” Cooper said.

He watched the tiles move as if by magic again. He resisted the urge to reach out and feel the cold spot that he was certain would be at the end of the table. He looked across the table to Mary and saw that she was smiling, but nervously.

After a few seconds, Cooper got his answer.
KEVIN ELEVEN YRS OLD

Cooper’s body went cold all over. Oddly, his thoughts turned to Kevin’s parents, having left the beach and headed somewhere else to escape the recent death of their son.
If they only knew,
he thought.

“Nice to meet you Kevin.” He almost added
Sorry about what happened to you,
but he wasn’t sure how the ghost of a recently deceased child might handle a reminder of their death.

Mary then spoke up, speaking softly. “Is Amy here, Kevin?”

They watched the tiles move for another thirty seconds or so until they received an answer:
NOT RIGHT NOW.

“Kevin,” Cooper said, “I am trying to find out why a little boy died a few years ago. His parents are very sad and miss him and there are strange things happening in their home. Their son’s name is Henry. Henry Blackstock. Do you know him?”

The letters moved again, a bit quicker now as the ghost of Kevin got more familiar with them. There was a confidence in the way the tiles moved now, clicking and clacking against the table.

I DO NOW BUT NOT BEFORE

The answer was loaded with mystery and begged more questions. But Cooper was pretty sure he knew what it meant. And while he certainly appreciated Mary’s approach at handing what seemed to be the ghosts of children with kid’s gloves, he had never quite operated that way.

“Do you know what happened to you?” Cooper asked.

After a few more seconds of clattering tiles, the answer appeared.
DROWNED