The Secret of Excalibur (10 page)

I slowly become aware of soft snores. Opening my eyes I see Ruth curled up next to me, her arm slung across my chest, face buried in my neck. But the snores aren't what woke me, or the spittle trickling out of her mouth, dripping on my shoulder and arm. No, there's something else, another sound. There … a muffled cough, feet scraping on the wooden floor. Someone … no … two people are outside our door.

Without moving and disturbing Ruth, I mentally open up and scan the hallway.
Damn, Dobie's men. How the hell did they find us way out here?
I probe their minds. Of course, there's a homing device wired to Ruth's little car. Dobie wasn't taking any chances; the two men are guarding our door.
As if we need guarding
, I think, feeling my ire rise.
Damn Dobie.

Trying to quietly untangle from Ruth, I notice the dark circles under her eyes.
Damn, I'll have to be more careful with my mental pushes. I could do permanent damage.

While I'm in the shower, I think about Dobie again. Actually, I shouldn't be upset about the homing device on Ruth's car. I should've expected it. But I seem to be getting angry over everything now. When I saunter out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel, Ruth's eyes are open.

“Morning, sunshine.” I flash a smile, throwing the towel across the back of a chair.

No answer. She rolls to the edge of the bed, sitting up. “Uhgh. I hate mornings.” Rather unsteadily she stands and stumbles into the bathroom. After the toilet flushes, I hear water running in the shower.

I conjure up a pot of coffee, a pot of tea, then sugar and two cups. Somewhere a person's expensive and valuable set of gold-rimmed, pink rose patterned china disappeared. I only meant to take two teacups, but teleported the whole set. The china's packed in a box, wrapped in waxed paper, and the two teacups sitting on the table are also wrapped in waxed paper. Rubbing my forehead in confusion, I think,
yeah, sometimes I forget how powerful I am.

Ruth glides out of the bathroom wearing a towel, drying her hair with a smaller one. “Is that tea I smell? I sure could use some. Do you know that I'm sore?”

These are rhetorical questions as she can see there's tea, as she already has a cup, plus what is there to say about her being sore.

She stops sipping her tea long enough to say, “God, last night was wonderful. I never imagined sex could feel like that. I thought I was going to die, Arthur, really.”

I don't mention to her that I did too. “I'm afraid I cheated a little, kid,” I say with a sheepish grin, “that's why your orgasms were so powerful.”

“Oh, I realize that. I think you've ruined me, I'm hooked.” She sets her cup down and pats my hand. She's okay, back to normal.

I watch her rummage through her suitcase, pulling out her clothes. Even in a towel, she looks breathtaking. She drops the towel and begins to step into her panties, then stops. With pink cheeks, she asks, “Please don't watch me, Arthur. I know it's silly, especially after last night, but I'm embarrassed with you watching me as I get dressed.”

In the process of taking a sip, I choke, hot coffee snorting out my nose. I'm sure a psychiatrist could make sense out of her statement, but it sure as hell doesn't make any sense to me. Wiping my nose, I reluctantly turn away and begin telling her about Dobie's men and the homing device.

Rolling her eyes, she retorts, “I should've expected something like this. I'm sorry.” Pat. Pat.

“It's okay, kid. I don't really care about them. How can they bother us when we can go anywhere in a blink? I already burned the homer off the car.” I lean over and catch myself ready to pat her hand, so I quickly jerk back.

Ruth cocks her head, asking, “Are you okay?”

Yeah, I am now.

Not answering, I say, “Hey, instead of going back to London, let's go to the lake you were talking about. I really want to do some fishing.”

Ruth's tying on brown tennis shoes. “Well, I've never fished in my life; maybe you can teach me. But, we're supposed to meet Dr. Tober and Commander Dobie at the Institute Monday morning.”

“Fuck them, Ruth,” I blurt. “What's more important anyway? Besides, I'm your project, remember? You have to stay with me. And me, kid, is going fishing. Let Dobie stew,” I declare in a petulant tone, “I couldn't care less.”

“Uh, may we drive there? I mean, no'popping'?” She closes her suitcase, giving me that pleading look.

“Sure, then maybe you'll have time to finish your story.” I grab her bag and set it by mine at the door.

There's a knock on the door, not hard, only a soft tapping.

“Mornin' Lady and Gent,” Mrs. Moynin says after I open the door. She notices the coffeepot, the teapot, and the cups, shooting me a quizzical look. “Uh. I see ye have yer own coffee, sir.”

I can't think of her first name. Oh, yeah.
“Mary, funny you should mention that. We were just talking about what a shame it is we don't have room in our car to take the tea set with us. I'd be pleased if you would keep the set for us.”

With round eyes, she stares intently at the expensive set of china. “Oh no, sir, me ol' man would have a fit he would,” she ruefully declines, but she never takes her eyes off the china.

“Then, why don't you hold the china for us, for safe keeping?” I prompt.

“Oh, sir, I'd be proud to do that fer ye. I'll put em away so no one can get near them.” Her fingers are itching to touch them.

“No, Mary, I'd prefer they're on display or being used. A set like this shouldn't be kept hidden away.” While we're talking, I rewrap the cups. As I hand her the box, I think,
strange, she's so mesmerized by the china she doesn't realize we didn't have the box when we checked in
.

Women.

“Oh, and Mary, can you call ahead for us and make a reservation at … ?” I glance over at Ruth, who seems to finally notice the china herself.

“Uh. Oh, Lake George Lodge,” Ruth stammers, staring googly-eyed at the box.

“Why I'll be pleased to, sir. I know them folks around there. Why, me ol' man and me got us relations up there, we has. I'll call soon's I put these away.”

Changing the subject, I ask, “Do you know anything about the two men out in the hallway?” I'm trying to scan her mind, but God, her mind is a mess.

“Oh 'em, sir. I'm not surprised ye didn't hear 'em check-in and come up last night, what with the fair amount of creakin', bumpin' and screamin' we was a hearin' from up here. Four of em, sir, and just now come fer breakfast.” Looking at me sideways, she says, “And I'll be tellin' ye, it's been far too long since we had honeymoonin' here. Far too long, sir. Why, after a hearin' all the noises last night, me ol' man even got frisky.” In her head are memories of her own honeymoon, and that's about everything I can read. She's blushing, bright red spots on her cheeks.

“Why Mary, are you blushing?”

“Aw, go on with ye, sir, I got me duties to do.” And out she goes.

Ruth's face is a deep, crimson color. “God, Arthur, after what she told us, I'm too embarrassed to go downstairs now.”

“Why, Ruth? We did exactly what they knew we were going to do.”
Damn, I almost patted her hand.

“But the screaming, I don't remember any screaming. Did I scream?” she asks in a small voice, toying with her necklace.

Kid
, I think,
they probably heard you for a block
.
Bet it brought back fond memories of witches screaming while they were burned alive.

“You may have, I can't really say, kid. I was sort of involved too. Hell, it might've been me, or both of us.”
Damnit, that time I did pat her arm.

Moving closer she hugs me, nuzzling my neck by my ear. “Okay, then. It doesn't matter whether they stare. Last night was worth it. Let's go.”

Good girl.

As we wander downstairs, I notice four men in black suits sitting at Godzilla's table, drinking from mugs. I sit our bags down as Ruth fetches us more coffee and tea.

“Sugar, right?” she asks with an arched brow.

“Yep, you're getting to know me pretty well.”

Ruth heads back for muffins, butter and cream cheese. In the last few days, I've eaten more cream cheese than I have my entire life. The English love cream cheese.

I glance at the men in black suits. Two of them look tired, the ones I'd focused on outside our door earlier. They must've been keeping guard in the hallway all night.
Good.

Mrs. Moynin strides out of the backroom with a piece of paper. “Here ye are sir, yer all reserved at the Lodge. I told em ye was honeymoonin', so they'll put ye off alone, and ye get champagne too.”

Ruth begins blushing again; probably thinking about everything this woman told them.
No wonder they put us off alone.

“Uh, sir, after the china set ye gave me upstairs, I'll be feelin' bad 'bout this, but got me duties.” She places a paper on the table. The bill.

I study our hotel bill. The room rate's been crossed out, marked PAID, but there at the bottom is a note stating I owe for one bottle of Schnapps.

“Me mister said some of the men from last night paid yer bill, and he chipped in too. Twas worth it fer what ye showed us, and fer shuttin' up that fool Barney. And me ol' man says if'n ye leave the bottle here, he'll be a keepin' it right up there, where she is on the mantelpiece, fer all our customers to see. And 'sides, we're gonna enjoy watchin' Barney keep a tryin' to get his coin outta the bottle,” she ends with a snicker.

I do a sweeping gesture with my hand, reach out and dip into her apron pocket, producing several bills. “Here you are, Mary. I'll pay for our room. You tell your husband to use the money that's left to buy those fellas from last night a few drinks.”

“My sir, this here's more'n four times what it cost.” She recounts the money.

“Mary, its only money, and besides, the government's paying for our room.” The men at the table glance at me with startled looks. “Boys, we're going up to Lake George to do some fishing. Follow us, if you want. Oh, and I removed the homing device from our car. Tell Dobie we don't want to be disturbed.”

As I pack our bags into the little car's small trunk, from across the street several villagers are watching us. One of them is Godzilla.

Yeah, they'll be talking about last night for a long time.

Out on the road, glancing into the rearview mirror, Ruth drily comments, “We're being followed.”

I peer over my shoulder.
Yep, about half a mile back, our four tagalongs. Maybe I should do some minor damage to their car. No, that's childish.
Instead, as we turn onto an old, rutted, gravel and dirt road, I telekinetically knock over a big, old tree sitting next to the road. It's dead anyway, but our four babysitters will need time and sweat to move the tree.

Bump, bump. “I'm sorry, Arthur,” Ruth says, holding the steering wheel in a two-handed tightfisted grip. “The scenery on this road is prettier than the new highway. I hope you don't mind the rough ride.”

As we zoom along, with me gripping the armrest and dashboard, I tell her, “Your car is leaving the ground, kid. If you don't slow down, we won't be going anywhere; your car will fall apart from beneath us.”

Ruth slows to the speed of sound, and the ride becomes less bouncy. No holding hands or laying one on my leg this trip. She needs both hands to keep us on what was once a road, long ago. She reduces speed again as we begin to hit potholes that jar every bone in our bodies. We're traveling at ten mph and the ride is still rough. I feel as if we're four-wheeling, but without the monster truck.
Thank goodness the top's down. Otherwise, I'd be smacking my head against the roof every few feet.

“Hey, kid, it's only eight o'clock, we have all day. If you go slower, we can at least talk without yelling.” I'm not sure, but it sounds as if the whole exhaust system was scraped off at that last crater. ROAR.

“That's the worst part of the road. It's better from here all the way to the Lodge,” she yells back. Giving me a quick glance, she asks, “Uh, Arthur, can you do something about that?” She must mean the exhaust, but I'm not sure.

As we ROAR along, at twenty mph, I close my eyes, visualizing a gigantic muffler.
Yep, quiet.
The little car now has a new muffler that would silence a 747.

“Thank you, the noise was deafening.” As she looks over at me, we go airborne again. Kaboomp, a double bouncer.

Sure glad the worst of the road is behind us
, I think, pulling myself back into my seat. “Uh, Ruth, will you stop by those trees?” I ask through clenched teeth, hoping the proper amount of urgency is in my voice. Guess not, though.

“Why, what's wrong?” she responds with a puzzled frown, but at least she's reducing speed again.

“All the coffee I drank this morning is passing through in a hurry, kid. Must be from all the bouncing around.” I'm on the verge of crossing my legs, squirming on my seat.

“Can't you do something about that? I mean 'pop' the urine away?”

“No, when I have to pee, I have to pee, and kid, I HAVE TO PEE.” I already have my door partly open, ready to jump out of the moving car, if I have to.

Ruth slams on the brakes, and we skid to a stop in a dust cloud. I sprint for the nearest trees, unzipping my fly along the way.
Jeez, 'Pop' my piss away?
Even if I could, I doubt it'd feel as good as taking a piss with an overfull bladder.
Ahhh.

Zipping up my fly on the way back to the car, I notice Ruth is gone. Her car sits idling; her purse is there, but no Ruth. Concerned, I quickly look around, mentally scanning at the same time. With a sign of relief, I find her squatting behind the bushes across the road.
So, she had to go too
, I think with a smirk.

She meanders her way out from behind the bushes. “I would've had to stop in a minute anyway,” she explains with a grin.

“How much farther is the Lodge?” I ask, after she hits second gear, swerving around a tree stump in the road.

“I guess they don't service this old road anymore,” she says with a chuckle. “The Lodge is three hours away. Should I tell you the rest of my story?”

She swerves again.
What the hell was that?
I wonder, as I crane my neck around to look.
It's a damn truck tire
. Probably fell off the last truck that drove this way. Now I know why they closed this road, and made the new highway.

“Yes, if you can talk and dodge these obstacles at the same time, go ahead.”

“Sure I can, don't worry.” Kabump. “Oh, sorry,” she says, with an impish grin.

She sits quietly for a few minutes, her forehead creased in concentration. Thinking she's changed her mind about telling me the rest of her story, she swerves the car around another tree stump, clears her throat and begins. “If I remember right, I just told you about the map.”

I nod, checking behind us to be sure we aren't being followed.

“Okay, so the time is two in the morning, and Dr. Tober is telling me how often the lake has been mapped, above and below the surface. Of course, parts of the lake are so deep you can't get down to the bottom with regular scuba gear. So, they used sonar to scan parts of the deeper areas of the lake. Cameras were even lowered to take photos of the old shipwrecks.” Looking my way, she asks, “Did I tell you about the shipwrecks? If I didn't, I will, but now is when everything starts to happen.

“Dr. Tober finally became tired and wanted to stop talking for the night. I didn't want him to stop until my friends returned. I didn't think they'd be gone that long and I was afraid he'd see or hear them return. Then, we heard the first terrifying screams.” She pauses for a few seconds, removing her hand from the wheel long enough to touch her necklace. “The screams were coming from the direction of the lake, though we didn't know exactly where, but we knew it had to be close as the screaming was so loud.

“We ran out of the tent and saw it out in the water. It was skimming along in the moonlight, leaving a white wake. Not a very big wake, just enough to reflect the moonlight. We heard a loud crunching noise, more crying, then we saw several people swimming in the water towards us. I wanted to jump in after them, to help, but Dr. Tober held my arm with one hand and kept pointing with the other, as he yelled. All the screaming and yelling finally awoke the other kids, and we stood along the shore, paralyzed with shock. Then it disappeared and was gone.

“Dr. Tober was shaking me, pointing and yelling, 'Did you see it?'. That's when it dawned on me I had really seen it. I'd been so worried about my friends, you see, it didn't register before what I'd seen.

“Well, a few of the boys overcame their shock and pushed the other two boats out into the water, rowing as fast as they could to our classmates swimming towards shore. Yelling was still coming from the lake, but I couldn't see why they were screaming.” Ruth coughs, takes a deep breath, then swerves around what was either the biggest goddamn rabbit I've ever seen, or was a small bear.

“Arthur, I was so terrified. I'd seen it, right out in the lake. The local legends say that whoever sees it or are searching for it will die horribly soon afterwards. I know I almost had my Doctorate, and those types of legends shouldn't bother an educated person, but my God, I'd seen it right there in the moonlight, then it disappeared. By the time the rescue boats came back in, I was in a real state. Those old legends you grow up with, that frighten you half-to-death at night, don't go away so easily, let me tell you, sir.”

During her storytelling, Ruth began sweating, and the car is now barely creeping along. But she didn't downshift, so the motor is lugged down, then with a few bucks and a jump, the car dies. I sit quietly while she restarts the engine and takes off again. Her hand trembles whenever she's not holding something.

“Well, I'll tell you, we were all terrified. The survivors told Dr. Tober they'd seen it skimming along on the lake, so they rowed over to see what it was. But it kept moving along, and when it collided with the rowboats it didn't even slow, just slashed them to pieces and kept going. They said once they hit the water, they could feel it trying to pull them under the water. Then two of the boys were suddenly sucked down and never resurfaced, so the rest frantically swam for their lives.

“It was there, Arthur, and not some old fairy-tale legend, it was real, and in the lake. I saw it. Dr. Tober was hysterical; he didn't even realize two of his students had drowned. When he finally did, he sent Gordy to fetch the constables, and we spent the rest of the night being asked questions by men who thought we were either lying, crazy, or covering up something. Their whole investigation was crazy, really.” Tears are flowing down her face, unnoticed.

“Dr. Tober tried telling the constables what we saw, but they ignored him and kept asking the same stupid questions. That stupidity went on the rest of the night. At daylight, the constables forbade us to search for the missing boys, instead, sending for their divers, who also acted as if we were crazy. For three days, they searched and never found anything but pieces of the torn apart rowboats.”

With a tearstained face, she glances at me. “Do you know what the fools put in their reports, and what the press announced over the radio? They claimed the two boys rammed into each other in the dark, smashed the boats enough to tear them apart, then they accidentally drowned. Now, is that stupid or what?” she asks with disdain.

“Those were old rowboats. Even the man we rented them from told the constables the boats were motor-less, they only had oars. The coppers claimed the kids obviously mounted motors on the boats and the motors sank to the bottom of the lake during the collision. That's when the locals became upset and stepped in, because see, they knew what kind of rowboats we rented. The boats resembled oversized canoes, they could be rowed in either direction, and there wasn't any way a motor could've been mounted on them. That meant the boys rowed fast enough to smash up the two heavy, old rowboats. Impossible.” She pounds the steering wheel for emphasis. By now, the car has stopped, but she doesn't seem to notice as she's still moving the wheel back and forth as if she's driving.

Absentmindedly wiping the snot running down her face with the back of her hand, she says with resignation, “That's how the official report read: Death from a boating accident. They even alluded to the possibility it was a hoax, because the bodies of the two missing boys, or the motors, were never found by their divers. And the accident happened in sixty feet of water.

“Right after the accident, the University and the Historical Society forbade groups of more than six people to go out on the lake to do any research. Records from the present to several decades ago document that each time there are large groups at the lake for several days, there will always be more sightings. Almost like it's attracted to the large groups of people. The authorities denied what really happened, but by enforcing the ban, they're admitting that it's there. Don't you see, whether they don't believe it's real, why forbid large groups of people?” Ruth's yelling at the windshield, face red with anger and frustration, panting as if she ran a marathon.

Whatever the hell she's talking about and whatever she saw that night had frightened her, and still does. For a second, I fear she's going to hyperventilate, but she finally calms, leaning her head against her hands on the wheel.

“You okay, kid?” I ask with concern, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her close. She immediately breaks down into big, wracking sobs, shaking the whole car.
Best to let her cry it out
, I reason, softly rubbing her back.

As I'm holding her heaving body, I notice far off in the distance what looks like a castle. In the heat waves, the building is indistinct, wavy looking, but it sure looks like an old castle to me. Or I'm seeing a mirage. Feeling Ruth stirring, I return my attention to her.

Taking a deep breath, Ruth wipes her red-rimmed eyes. “I'm sorry for being distraught. The accident was long ago, but their deaths are still in my mind as if it were yesterday.” Now that she's purged herself, she's calmer. She glances up and says, “Oh look, the Lodge.” That castle is the Lodge? “Oh damn, Arthur, I'm a mess,” she says between sniffles.

Squirming around, I take a handkerchief out of my back pocket, offering it to her. After drying her eyes, she blows her nose. With a shy grin, she starts the car and we commence our drive.

My mind's swirling with questions.
Why is Ruth so frightened? What had she seen that moonlit night? How had the boys died? How could two wooden rowboats be ripped apart?
I want to ask, but she looks like she'll start crying again any second, so I quell my curiosity and decide to wait.

After driving a mile-long curve, and up and down rolling hills, we see the lake.
Now, that's one big sucker.
The lake disappears out of sight into a distant mist. I comment that the lake is one big puddle.

“Oh, you can't even see half the lake from here,” Ruth explains, “it's too big. In fact, the lake is more than eighty miles long and more than forty miles wide. I don't remember the exact dimensions, but I'm sure the Lodge will have some pamphlets.”

We're now driving along the side of the lake. Whatever had been a road here before is long since gone, the only thing remaining are vague impressions in the overgrown road. We're swishing through weeds as high as the tops of the doors. The thicker weeds thump against the body of the car or bang on the undercarriage as we drive over them. Suddenly, we're invaded by a horde of flying insects, so Ruth hurriedly raises the top as we roll up the windows.

Switching on the air conditioner, Ruth resumes her tour guide role. “Way over there, about thirty miles, is the river entrance that leads to the sea. And over there, behind those trees, is the inland river. That river runs all the way back across to the ocean. Long ago, the old sailing ships used to dock here. I've seen a few of the shipwrecks at the bottom of the lake. And right over there is where we were camped that night, and out in the lake,” she says, repeatedly pointing her finger at the windshield, “right there is where I saw it. Although I've been here frequently on mapping trips, it was my one and only time. But once is enough, don't you think?” she says sadly.

Gearing down, she drives up on an arched, wooden bridge I have serious doubts about crossing on foot, much less a car. Looking at the wide, deep, slow-moving river with apprehension, I mentally prepare to Blip! the car away if the bridge starts to collapse. After much creaking, snapping, and groaning, we land safely on the other side. With an internal sigh of relief, I ask, “Why would there be an arched bridge out here? What purpose did it serve?”