Blackwater Lights by Michael M. Hughes Page A

paranoid schizophrenic. So he stared at the wood grain in the table, at his hands, at the grass.
    “And I can’t remember anything—anything at all—after I got in the pool. It’s like the rest of the night is just spliced out.” He looked across the table. She didn’t look like she was going to run and scream for the police, but she was scared. Her mouth had tightened.
    “And you’re convinced the dreams you had—the dreams you’re still having—are the result of something that happened to you? Something real?”
    “I know it was. Believe me, I’ve tried to tell myself nothing happened. Lisa—my last girlfriend—told me I was obsessed, so I just stopped talking about it. I suppose she was right. But how could I not be obsessed? Do you know how maddening that is? It’s been nagging at me since Kevin and I were kids, and it’s always there, in the back of my mind. Torturing me.”
    “Wasn’t there anyone else you could ask about it? Your mom? Your dad? One of the other kids?”
    Ray shook his head. “My parents were no help at all. My dad was a workaholic and I wasn’t that close to him. I definitely couldn’t talk to him about bad dreams—he would have just told me to buck up. He was old-school like that. My mom said all she remembered was that after I got back from camp I said I never wanted to go camping again. She remembered me having bad dreams afterward but figured it was just some kind of stage I was going through. I was a quiet kid. It’s frustrating. I didn’t know any of the other kids except Kevin, and my uncle isn’t around anymore—he died in some nursing home about twenty years ago.”
    Ellen swallowed. “I have something to tell you. About a year ago, a guy your age came into the diner. He didn’t eat anything, just sat drinking coffee for a long time.” She reached into her purse. “I’m sorry—I need a smoke.”
    “Please. Go ahead.”
    She lit a cigarette, glancing behind at the diner, and took a long drag. “I’m trying to quit,” she said. “But I need one right now.”
    Ray felt his breath catch. The closer he got to answers, the more he worried that the truth might be too much to handle.
    “He asked me about a camp. If I knew of a camp from back in the seventies. Said he’d been here as a kid.”
    Ray’s stomach contracted. He lifted the iced tea to his mouth. His hands were shaking.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I’d completely forgotten about him until I met you.” She blew a cloud of smoke over her shoulder. “I told him I didn’t know of any camp. Just like I told you. He seemed disappointed. Just like you.”
    “What happened to him?”
    “No idea,” she said. “Never saw him again. But he had the same look as you. I don’t know how to describe it. Excited, I guess. But spooked.”
    “So then … that means I’m not nuts. I mean, if it was just me and Kevin, I could suppose we were both feeding off each other’s delusions. But if someone else is involved … then it
can’t
be a delusion. Right? All of this isn’t just me going crazy.”
    She shook her head. “Well, you might be a little bit crazy.” She held her palm against the side of his head. “But I believe you. And if half of what you’re saying is true, anybody would be more than a little crazy.”
    Her fingers were warm and smelled of cigarettes. “I swear. It is true.” He reached up and held her hand.
    “I know,” she said. “I know you’re telling the truth.”
    They sat silently. A crow cawed in the tree above them. Ray breathed deeply through his nose. “Thank you for listening to me. I needed to get that out.” He closed his eyes. “It’s so nice to sit here in the sunlight. Everything seems so bright and safe and normal.”
    “It’s going to be okay,” she said.
    He wasn’t so sure. But it did seem like it would be okay, at least temporarily.
    They both jumped. A football bounced off the picnic table and wobbled at their feet.
    A long-haired