Black's Creek (17 page)

‘T
he phone lines are finally up,' Jessica Mantle said, placing a humongous breakfast in front of me, just as I sat down at the kitchen table. Her voice was matter-of-fact, as if last night's terrible revelations had never revealed themselves. ‘I just got off the phone to your pa.'

‘Dad? How'd he sound?' I asked, dreading the answer.

‘Very concerned, as can be expected, but relieved that you're safe and well. He said he'd get here as soon as possible, but with the snow still falling, it might take some time.'

I had asked Jessica Mantle not to call Mom, who was probably waiting to flay the skin off my ass for not doing the driveway, on top of all the trouble I'd caused falling into the lake.
So inconsiderate of me, destroying all my clothes in that icy water. I doubted very much that she'd have any sympathy in her pockets with my name on it. I could picture her now, arms folded defiantly, waiting for me with her scary war-face.

‘Thank you, for everything, Mrs Mantle,' I said, tucking into the enormous stack of pancakes and syrup.

‘Eat,' was all she replied, before exiting the room.

It was almost two hours later, watching through the window, that I spotted the pickup approaching from the snowy nothingness. The large, bulbous vehicle with its plough attachments resembled a metal pig feeding nervously at a trough, as it gingerly worked its way through the snow. As it got closer, I recognised it as belonging to Jim Johnson, one of Dad's buddies.

The pickup stopped directly at the door and Dad stepped out from the driver's side, glancing about. I couldn't help but notice that he didn't have his happy face with him. He looked tired. I waved from the window, but he didn't acknowledge it. Perhaps he hadn't seen me? I hoped that was all it was.

Jessica Mantle met him at the door. Dad said something to her, and then reached out his hand. After a few seconds of hesitation, she took it, and they shook hands. They talked some more, and then she showed him inside.

‘Here he is,' she said, opening the kitchen door.

Dad entered, stared at me, and said, ‘I've had the entire force out looking for you, Tommy, along with neighbours and friends. Everyone's been sick with worry.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Sorry doesn't cut the mustard with your mother. I hope you understand that?'

‘Am I in for it, with Mom?'

He ignored my question, matching it with one of his own. ‘Did you thank Mrs Mantle, for all she did?'

Mrs Mantle cut in. ‘He's thanked me a hundred times, Sheriff. No need for any more.'

‘Okay, then, Tommy. Ready to go?'

I nodded. ‘Yes …'

‘Go on out to the pickup,' Dad said. ‘I'll be along shortly.'

It was twenty long minutes before Dad emerged from the house. I don't know what was said between him and Jessica Mantle, but he looked anxious, an emotion he rarely exposed in public.

The moment he got back inside the pickup, I told him of the young girl in the lake. He said nothing. He probably thought I was trying to avoid the inevitable justice that awaited me from Mom, by inventing an outrageous story. Then I waited for a lecture about my conduct. Troublingly, only silence prevailed, and I was forced to listen to the drone of the engine all the way home.

The forty-minute journey seemed to last for hours, until we finally drove up our driveway. The snow shovel was still there, sticking out of the mound like a salient cross on a grave – mine.

Dad turned off the annoying engine, and then looked at me. ‘I guess it's time to pay the piper.'

I wasn't too sure what he meant, but it didn't sound good.

‘Pay the piper? Who's the piper?'

‘Remember the Pied Piper of Hamelin?'

‘The guy that chased all the rats?'

‘Remember the townspeople didn't pay him, after agreeing the deal?'

‘Yes, they went back on their word.'

‘The consequence was losing their children to the lure of his pipes. That's why you must always pay your debts, Tommy. Always. No ifs, ands or buts. Clear?'

‘I … I think so.'

‘Good. Well, you're about to pay the piper in the form of your mother. You've put her through Hell on earth, this last couple of days, and I don't think she's in a debt-forgiving mood.'

I knew I still had Mom to contend with, but strangely, I was more concerned with Dad believing me about the girl in the lake. ‘You don't believe me, about the young girl in the lake, do you?'

He sighed. ‘Right now, Tommy, I've other things on my mind. Come on. Let's go.'

I followed him to the door, feeling like a condemned prisoner going to the electric chair.

Dad opened the door, and there stood Mom in the hallway, her face knotted.

‘I'm taking the pickup back over to Jim's. See you both later,' he said, leaving me alone with my executioner.

‘Well, Mister? What've you got to say for yourself?' Mom said, looking as if she were about to give me a karate chop in the neck.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I'm sorry …'

‘Sorry?
Sorry?
'

The way Mom said the second ‘sorry' made me jump. The word sizzled with venom, like fat burning on a hot pan.

‘I … I just wasn't thinking,' I finally mumbled.

‘Thinking? Ha! That's your problem, you
never
think about anything other than what
you
want. Do you know what we've gone through, this last couple of days? No word from you. Nothing. We thought the worst had happened. That you'd been …'

Her words trailed off, but I was certain ‘abducted' would have come next.

‘The phone lines were down, Mom, so there was no way I could call.'

‘An answer for everything, as usual. What on earth were you doing, walking on the frozen lake? I suppose you have an answer for that too?'

‘I … I thought I saw something, someone, in the middle of the lake. I
did
see someone. I just … well …'

Mom made a movement towards me. I held my breath, steeling myself for the parental punishment, hoping it would
be swift and not too painful. But instead of a whack to the head, she grabbed me, and pulled me into her warm and lovely-smelling body.

I could feel her warmth oozing through the sweater Dad had bought her last Christmas. She smelled of soap and that special smell all moms have. It made me feel safe, tenting in her clothing, feeling all lost parts rushing together; parts I had never experienced before. Everything was going to be okay. My only wish was to stay in this embrace for as long as possible, because I knew she would probably never embrace me again. It wasn't in her nature.

‘Don't
ever
do anything like this again. Do you understand?' she said, tightening her grip, as if fearful I would flee back to the woods.

‘Yes,' I feebly replied.

‘Good. Now, go and have a hot shower,' she said, ushering me away, not allowing me to see the tears staining her eyes. ‘You stink.'

‘I
just got off the phone to Mrs Mantle,' Mom said, sitting down at the table for dinner later that same day. ‘What do you say to a woman who has just saved your son's life?'

Mom seemed to be directing the question at herself, but Dad answered her. He looked uncomfortable. His tone was edgy.

‘There's nothing you can say, except “thank you”. That's the answer in a nutshell.'

Mom stared at Dad for a few seconds. She obviously didn't like his tone of voice. I thought she was going to say something in response. She didn't.

‘Do you realise just how lucky you were that Mrs Mantle was in the area when you fell through the ice?' Mom said,
directing this next question to me. ‘Your guardian angel must've been watching over you.'

‘I suppose so …' I mumbled through a mouthful of spaghetti. What I really wanted to say was that Mom was right on the money about the guardian angel. A guardian angel named Devlin.

‘You still haven't explained to us why you were out on the lake in the first place.'

I swallowed what was in my mouth before answering. ‘A … girl. I saw a girl.'

‘Girl? What girl?' Mom looked confused. ‘No one told me about a girl.'

It sounded like an accusation, the way she said it.

‘That's the reason I was on the ice. I thought it was a wounded bird, but it was a girl.'

‘You saw a girl on the ice? What on earth was she doing out there, at that time of night?'

‘She wasn't
on
the ice, Mom, she was
underneath
.'

‘Underneath …?' Mom's face went into total puzzlement.

‘I saw her when I fell through … she was dead.'

A brick of silence fell into the room, landing directly on the table. A horrified Mom looked across at Dad, who in turn looked at me. It was hard to read his face, but he looked very uncomfortable.

‘There really was a girl, Dad. I saw her.'

Dad put his fork down, and looked at Mom, then me.

‘Tommy, you were in a state of shock. You almost died out there. People see things in terrible situations. Unexplainable things.'

‘I wasn't seeing things.' Anger was beginning to rise up in me.

‘You said that about the snowman, don't forget.'

‘I
know
what I saw.'

‘We can discuss this later, Tommy. Right now, I want to enjoy this meal.'

‘Shouldn't you check it out, Frank?' Mom said, looking terribly concerned. ‘Just to make sure?'

‘There's been no report of any girl missing, either here or in surrounding counties. I checked, as soon as I got home. Anyway, I don't have the resources, Helen. It's not realistic to just go and dredge the lake, looking for a supposedly dead girl. Do you know how many men and hours it would take, in these conditions?'

‘I suppose an awful lot. I'm sure Mrs Mantle didn't wonder about resources, when she risked her own life to save your son.'

Dad looked as if he had just been kicked in the balls by an angry mule. ‘That's unfair, Helen.'

Mom stood. She had hardly touched her meal. ‘There's hot apple pie in the kitchen. Help yourselves. I'm going to bed.'

Unlike the pie, Mom's voice was cold. I couldn't look at Dad. The last thing I wanted was to cause an argument
between him and Mom, but I knew what I had seen out there beneath the frozen grey ice, and it wasn't a figment of my imagination.

Dad stood up, looked at me for a moment, and then left the room. A few seconds later, I heard the hub door slam, hard. The prodigal son had screwed things up, big time. As usual.

F
ourteen men were involved in combing the lake, beginning at first light the next day. They were mostly volunteers – part-time firemen, ex-deputies and a couple of lumberjacks. Most owed Dad something for some favour or other he had done them, over the years. Now he was calling in those favours.

I could tell his pride wasn't too happy about asking all these men for help, as he stood beside me on the embankment, walkie-talkie in hand. He had tried to keep the search secret, restricted to those taking part, but a couple of local reporters had somehow gotten wind of it. They were taking photos of the search team, and doing their utmost to find out what the hell was going on.

The search was organised into three teams, armed with an assortment of misfit contraptions, ranging from lethal-looking chainsaws to downright ugly and rusted augers. From the embankment, they looked like a medieval hunting pack.

For two grueling hours, they tormented the ice, taking turns to chip and erase, all the while inching three small rowing boats agonisingly slowly towards the aperture of my departure into Hell. The original hole was practically refrozen, with barely visible telltale scars on the surface. But it didn't fool me for one second.

‘That's it! That's where I fell through the ice!' I said, as one of the boats touched the frozen, jagged scar.

‘You're sure, Tommy?' said Dad.

‘I'll never forget it.'

Dad quickly spoke into the walkie-talkie. ‘Okay, Jack. Let's take it from there. Tommy reckons that's where he crashed through the ice.'

‘Okay, Frank,' came the metallic reply on the walkie-talkie. ‘Bob and Red are suited up. They're gonna take the first dive.'

‘Tell them to be careful. Not to take any chances. The freezing temperature won't be long resealing any holes we make.'

‘You got it.'

Bob Hays and Sean ‘Red' McRae were both part-time deputies, the other part of their time – the major part – being taken up with hunting, fishing and all means of outdoor activity. They had both rescued people from the lake in the past,
and both knew the deep waters like the backs of their gnarled but skillful hands.

The rest of the men frantically hacked at the ice, creating enough space for Bob and Red to work in. Then, about twenty minutes later, the two divers slipped into the hole. They looked like James Bond in
Thunderball
, slick and cool. But just watching them disappear into the freezing water made me shiver.

‘Dad?'

‘Yes?'

‘You're not mad at me, are you, for all this?'

Dad looked at me, and then removed his pipe from his pocket. He lit the pipe up and exhaled smoky curlicues above his head. The smell of burning tobacco made me think of home, warmth and comfort. I wanted to be back there, right now, reading
Green Lantern
or
The Flash
.

He didn't answer my question, preferring to ask me one instead. ‘Do you know what a paradox is, Tommy?'

‘No,' I said, shrugging my shoulders. I could hardly pronounce the word without slaughtering it, let alone know its meaning.

‘I hope you're right about this, Tommy. But I'm also hoping you're wrong. That's a paradox.'

I was still confused, but didn't ask him to explain further. Instead, I just took in the aroma of his pipe, and sealed the scene into memory. Years from now, I would remember it
with fondness, rather than with the trepidation gnawing my stomach at that moment.

Twenty minutes went by. Nothing. Then Bob and Red reappeared. I could barely see the tops of their heads, but they resembled sea lions. They seemed to be talking to one of the other men in the boat. Then they slipped back into the water.

‘Frank?' said the metallic voice of Jack on the walkie-talkie. ‘Bob and Red think they've spotted something. Not too sure what, but they're going back down to investigate further.'

‘Jack, I don't want them down there too long, in case of hypothermia,' Dad said, bringing the walkie-talkie close to his mouth. ‘The next time they come up, they stay up.'

‘Okay, Frank, but you know what they're like, once they get the scent of something. Two damn bloodhounds.'

For the longest time, Bob and Red stayed submerged. Dad was looking increasingly worried. He was just about to speak into the walkie-talkie when Bob and Red surfaced. A commotion ensued as the other members of the team pulled them onto the boat. A few seconds later, a third person was pulled on board.

‘I told you!' I said triumphantly. ‘I told you she was there. Now you believe me?'

‘Jack?' Dad said, frantically talking into the walkie-talkie, ignoring me. ‘Jack, what's happening? Did they find her?'

The walkie-talkie crackled. Dad held it to his ear.

‘Frank …? We've got her, but …'

‘But what? What the hell's going on?'

‘Frank … we're coming back. Don't want to say anything on the air, in case someone's eavesdropping. Be there shortly.'

There was a terrible stone of silence. Dad looked at the walkie-talkie as if it were an unexploded hand grenade.

‘What is it?' I asked. ‘What's happening?'

Dad didn't answer. Instead, he watched the boats slowly edging towards us, returning to the embankment.

Jack quickly jumped out and came straight to Dad.

‘What the hell happened, Jack?'

‘It … it was a mannequin, Frank. Lifelike, yes, but a damn mannequin, all the same.'

‘No way!' I shouted. ‘I know what I saw.'

‘
Quiet
,' said Dad, in his don't-have-me-say-that-twice voice.

We stood in silence, as the team carried the naked and mud-covered mannequin over, dropping it onto the snow beside me.

‘Give her a kiss, Tommy,' Red grinned, still in his diving suit.

‘A mannequin …' Dad just shook his head. His face had an expression on it, but I couldn't tell if it was shock or anger.

I stared at the mannequin, the large eyes and sad smile, and for the first time, doubt took over. It hadn't been a girl, after all. Just a life-like piece of moulded plastic, no better than one of Horseshoe's
Aurora
monster kits. Jessica Mantle had been right.
Guilt confuses the mind. Guilt had made me see things that were never there in the first place.

‘Sorry about this, Red,' Dad said.

‘Think nothing of it, Frank. Better safe than sorry, says my book. What do you want me to do with that?' Red said, pointing at the mannequin.

‘I'll take it home and dispose of it. Damn clothing stores, dumping their crap in the lake …'

Over the next hour, the men slowly packed up. Dad thanked each of them as they left. He looked terribly embarrassed. A couple of them looked at me, grins on their faces.

‘Put that mannequin in the trunk,' Dad said gruffly, not looking at me as he headed for the vehicle.

I grabbed the mannequin by the feet and dragged it to the car, before opening the trunk and dumping it inside.

I walked to the passenger side and slid in as silently as possible, trying to pretend I wasn't there. Dad was glancing out at the lake, the scene of his humiliation. I'm sure he wanted to kill me at that particular moment. He seemed lost. It was the same look he had when speaking to Jessica Mantle the day he came to collect me.

‘There
was
a girl in there, Dad,' I said, finally breaking the tormenting silence. ‘I know what I saw.'

Dad turned, and glared at me. ‘Just like you saw Norman Armstrong standing naked outside our house, freezing his ass off?'

‘Armstrong
was
there.' I felt frustrated anger bubbling up in me.

‘You made a mistake. That's all. A person who makes no mistakes makes nothing. Making mistakes is nothing to be ashamed of. We all do it. I've made quite a few of them lately.'

‘I know what I saw.'

Dad sighed. ‘Look, Tommy, I understand you're going through a lot right now. It hasn't been easy for you, but now it's time to move on. I don't want to hear another word about any girl in the lake – ever. Clear?'

Reluctantly, I nodded. ‘Yes …'

Little did we know, we were
both
going to hear plenty more words about it.
Lots
of words, in fact. The fan was just about to get hit with an awful lot of proverbial shit.