Hazy View: Souls of the Vanished (4 page)

“
Then we start again at
first light. If there's a child here we'll find it.”

A faint cry whistled through the wind
distinct from the sounds already around. It wasn’t the searchers.
It drifted in from the water around the rock face. It was a
sorrowful weep, a desperate, lonely and painful cry.

“
Did you hear that?”
Tiffany whispered freezing in her tracks.

“
It's faint. It's coming
from the lake, is that ... a child crying?”

“
That's an odd sound, a
distinct sound.”

“
Yes, you can’t mistake
that cry. It's a child crying.”

Andrew's heart started to pound. He
felt the urgency coming from the cry as he emptied his longs into
his whistle. Tiffany shot off a flare. The searchers gathered
quickly. Andrew scanned the water far below with a spotlight.
Tiffany scanned the rocks and bushes around and slightly down the
rock face.

Becoming louder, they heard the cry
above falling rain and howling wind. It was desperate and filled
with horror.

“
Where's the child?” One
of the volunteers asked still trying to catch his breath from
fighting through the vegetation.

Another volunteer stepped closer and
pointed down the rock face. “The sounds coming from below the rock
face.”

“
Don't be stupid, there’s
no way a child can get down there. These rocks are treacherous on a
dry day, wet it's deadly.”

“
Maybe he’s trapped on a
ledge after he fell.”

Andrew anchored his rope around a
large tree some distance from the edge. “Then we go down, don't you
think.”

“
I'll go down with you
deputy.” The volunteer offered.

*~*~*

*VII*

Helen James-Leigh sat on her new porch
watching rain fall. Wind swept dead leaves across short grass. She
curled up into her coat, hugs a hot cup of cocoa, and sipped it
occasionally.

Helen was a twenty-six year old, newly
divorced mother who had just moved into her new home. Her shoulder
length brown wavy hair played in the wind. She was slightly chubby.
A pair of glasses rested neatly on her nose.

From a distance a sorrowful, desperate
cry swept across the water. Helen took note. It wasn’t her
daughter, but a young child on the lake. A high-pitch scream broke
off and started again as a shriek of stark terror. Helen was down
the steps making her way across the lawn to a private pier jotting
out across the water.

It was dark, occasional lightning lit
her way. Rain hammered her head and soaked her coat. A terrified
scream came from a small rowboat close to her pier. The sound of a
struggle and oars hitting water echoed in the wind. With renewed
haste Helen reached the pier. Hidden behind a curtain of rain two
silhouettes were barely visible. A breathless scream a fear invoked
voice echoed in the wind. Helen readied her small motorboat and
glanced back at the house. Darkness still overwhelmed the house.
She boarded the boat.

A Ghastly high-pitch eruption of rage,
a hideous cry of a different source froze her for a second. A thick
mist formed on the water.

The engine started.

Nearing the rowboat a strange light
shone, it vanished and appeared.

The shriek deafened her.

Then silence.

The light vanished, her heart pounded
so hard that she felt slightly dizzy.

She opened the throttle and sped the
rest of the way.

The scream of an entity rose as it
came closer to her.

She heard a haunted moan all around
her. Mist covered her boat blocking her view. The air turned a
deathly cold.

A sharp blinding light burst through
the night sky and darted down at her. In the center a figure stood,
arms opened. Her hair was dripping wet and flowing as if in
currents. Her ripped clothes were bloody and her eyes were cold and
gray. She came closer humming and screeching simultaneously. She
stopped so close that Helen could see the gray in her
eyes.

Helen felt her horror and rage all
around her. She felt fear rushing through her body. The entity
turned and dove into the water with an unearthly high-pitch
scream.

She vanished, calm returned to the
lake.

Helen reached the rowboat.

“
Hello, are you okay?”
Helen asked out of breath.

“
Did you see what that
was?” A frightened voice echoed from the stranded boat.

Helen pulled the rowboat next to hers
and looked down into the white scared face of a seventeen-year old
boy. Edwin Adams curled up on the small bench. He remained
still.

“
Do you need help? Are you
okay?”

Water was filling the boat. Some
supplies drifted on the water. Edwin was staring at a bundled
tucked in the bottom. He wept softly. Helen entered the boat
carefully. Blood splatter and finger marks stained the wood works.
She reached to touch Edwin.

He turned to her.

His eyes were bloodshot and wide from
terror. His hair was wet and his hands folded so tightly into his
chest the blood flow became restricted. He was trembling
uncontrollably.

Edwin looked up, his voice trembling.
He wept fearfully. “Is she gone?” His voice faded into the
rain.

“
Yes I believe so.” Helen
insured.

“
Thank God.”

“
Do you need
help?”

“
No, can you help my dad?”
Edwin got up and tried to lift his father from the bottom of the
boat.

“
We need to get him to my
boat. This one’s going to sink soon.” Treading carefully she helped
Edwin. “What happened?”

Edwin's voice still trembled. “It came
out of nowhere and started to attack us.”

“
Isn’t it too cold and
rainy for fishing? What are you doing?” Helen asked noticing no
fishing gear.

Edwin paused to catch his breath.
“We're helping the deputy searching for a child. We’re searching
the water around the rock face. As we fell behind, she came and
hurt my dad. I tried to get her to leave but she's too strong. Do
you know who that was?”

A few deep breaths and heavy lifting
got Dillon Adams on board Helen's boat. She turned to Edwin
sympathetically.

“
I wish I could tell you,
I don't know.”

“
What if she comes back to
finish what she started?” Edwin asked scanning the water around him
holding his breath with renewed fear.

“
I don't think she will.” Helen assured looking around the
boat nervously.

*~*~*

Chapter Three

*I*

Martin stood in a quiet moonlit room.
A soft breeze blew in through an open window behind him. A soft
lace-curtain fell and rose from the window as the breeze played
freely. Colorful cartoon curtains hung to the side of the window.
Toys were clearly visible but neatly stored on shelves and in an
open toy box. A small bed with bedding that matched the curtains
stood in the center of the room. A small boy was peacefully asleep.
He slept on his back, one arm above his head and the other draped
across his chest. He smiled, eyelids moved slowly.

Martin stepped closer to the bed. The
child was unaware of his presence. Martin looked down at his hands,
blood dripped from them. He stumbled backward.

The small boy was no longer sleeping
peacefully. The bedcover fell half off the bed. A pillow covered
the boy’s face. His breathing stopped his body still.

Martin rushed forward and grabbed the
pillow. His bloody hand stained the vibrant colors. The boy was
staring into nothingness. His lips blue, his mouth open. The room
turned icy cold.

Martin closed his eyes tightly. He
buried his head into his bloody hands and sunk to his knees. Cold
sweat covered his body. He felt weak and dizzy.

“Christopher... No, Christopher!”
Martin cried in a hoarse whisper.

Martin woke up with a jerk. Cold sweat
covered his body. The sun shone through a small uncovered window,
burning his eyes. His body felt too heavy to lift. He sunk his head
back into the pillow and closed his eyes. He sat up quickly,
fearing he might fall asleep and dream again. He tried to stand up
but tiredness had robbed him of energy, he stumbled back. Music
came from the kitchen. Between songs a message filled the
airwaves.

The radio announcer’s voice carried
through the small trailer. “Last night local police undertook a
search for a lost child around the lake and forest. Despite efforts
from police and volunteers, the child remains missing. There’s a
few injuries suffered but it's not too serious. Deputy Foster
called off the search after heavy rain posed a threat to searchers.
We will keep you updated during the day as we receive more
details.”

Martin got off the bed on shaky legs.
He studied himself in the mirror for a brief moment. He turned away
hating the man he had become fearing what might become of him if
anyone discovered his darkest secret. He dressed into the uniform
he once respected and lived to uphold. The cool air blew through
the window. He looked out the window.

Clouds were forming slowly. He placed
his sunglasses to ease the burning in his eyes and stumbled into
the kitchen.

He sunk into the small cubicle in
front of a plate set with bacon, eggs and toast. Vanessa McPherson
poured a glass of gin on the rocks and placed it next to Martin’s
plate. He lifted the glass while she joined him.

Vanessa was twenty four and she knew
she was attractive. The lounge portion of the trailer held all her
feather scarfs and revealing outfits to cater for most fantasies
that men couldn’t get at home. Polystyrene heads held wigs and an
open box stored custom jewelry among make-up and bottles. She would
cater for no more than four men at a time. They could visit on
regular bases as long as they kept the cupboards full, money in her
pocket and the bills paid.

“
Did you have another
nightmare?” Vanessa asked to break the awkward silence.

“
Don’t worry about me,
I’ll be fine.” Martin assured, but his voice betrayed his
lie.

Vanessa knew different and changed the
subject. “Last night was exciting.”

“
Yes it sure was.” Martin
took a last big swallow of gin.

Vanessa ate her food quietly and got
up. She collected a bottle of painkillers from an overstocked
cabinet. She filled Martin’s glass and dropped a few ice blocks
into it.

Martin swallowed the painkillers hard
with the gin. “Thanks I needed that.” He started after a moment of
silence. “I’m leaving town this afternoon, but I need you to do me
a favor. I need you to call me as usual today.” Martin added in a
soft voice.

“
Would you like me to call
around the same time?”

“
Yes.”

“
Where will you go?”
Vanessa asked trying to keep the conversation alive.

After a moment of silence Martin
finely looked up at Vanessa. “North to where I don’t have
memories.”

“
Are you going to come
back?” She asked hoping against meeting with him again.

“
No, I’ve already sold the
house and Deputy Foster’s taking over my job. There’s nothing
keeping me here.” Martin said coldly and stood up.

Martin placed the empty glass on the
table. Took his jacket from the backrest and headed for the
door.

“
Well then I wish you the
best. Is it okay if you call me so I don’t worry too
much?”

“
Sure.” Martin lied and
walked out of the trailer.

The wind was a gentle breeze. The
bright sun burned down from a clear sky. Water puddles appeared
smaller. The clouds were further than they appeared from the
window. Martin got into his vehicle and left.

*~*~*

*II*

Yvonne Hooper sat behind her desk
outside Martin’s office door. She was a thirty-two year old
good-looking woman. Her platted hair hung neatly against her back
and her blouse allowed for just the right amount of skin. A small
dolphin pendant was visible. She wore very little make-up, her
cheeks were naturally rosy.

Andrew was at his desk opposite
Yvonne’s, making notes and occasionally engaged in conversation
when Martin walked in. Yvonne got up quickly with files, the
morning paper and night reports.

“
No!” Martin said
firmly.

Yvonne turned to Andrew as the office
door slammed shut. “What have you done this time?”

Andrew smiled innocently. “You have
nothing on me.”

“I don’t believe you. Anything that
goes wrong’s your fault. Ask the sheriff, he’ll tell
you.”

Andrew laughed softly. “You’ve got
nothing on me. He’s just cranky from last night’s heavy drinking. I
bet you anything.”

“
Do you think I should
take him a peace offering?” Yvonne offered.

“
Try or else we’ll have
hell again today.”