Red Water, Shadows of Camelot Crossing Page 8

  And then she was alone again. The chill dissipated, leaving an electrical buzz hanging in the air, and the unmistakable smell of rain permeated the space. The app dropped its goofy filter, searching again for a face to frame. She slammed the door and turned to run back to her bed, wishing to throw the covers over her head and hide like a frightened child. As she did so, she tripped. Coraline was low on her haunches, right behind her, a silent snarl making the dog almost unrecognizable.

  "Ugh, Coraline!" Hazel stammered, trying to keep herself from falling on top of the dog. Hearing her name, the dog dropped and rolled over, revealing her belly, as if waiting to be petted. The dog's whining belied her need for a belly rub and frightened Hazel even more. Righting herself, she reached for the dog. "Come on, Cora, it's okay." The dog followed her to the bed and jumped up next to her.

  None of the Weizaks slept well that night, but for Hazel, the terrifying dreams made it almost impossible. The nightmare roared to life behind her closed eyes shortly after she nodded off. It was vague and surreal, with no real beginning or end. It had an out-of-body feel too. There was water; she was sinking. The water was red and swirling, there were flashes of light and booming, thunderous sounds. The most striking part of the nightmare was the helpless feeling, like there was no hope and all was lost. This time she woke herself from the dream, crying. She could not remember a time when she had awakened from a dream crying. Her sobs awoke Coraline as well. The dog whined and placed a paw on her face in an act of concern. Hazel drew the dog close, but sleep eluded her until the dark sky brightened.

  Seventeen

  The following day was gloomy. Pop-up storms built and broke off and on as the day passed. Hazel spent the entire morning in her room on her MacBook reading everything she could about Laura Combs. She was surprised at how much information there was, especially since so little was known about what could have happened to the girl so many years ago.

  She watched the piece that had aired on “Unsolved Mysteries.” The video clip had been uploaded to the Facebook page. The host recounted the scant details in a serious voice, his cadence paced perfectly, setting an ominous tone for the riddle.

  As she watched the clip, she was struck by the feeling she had seen the place where Laura Combs had lived. The notion seemed ridiculous since she hadn't been in Stillwater long, and she certainly hadn't had the chance to explore the town. As the host relayed the chilling account, images from Laura's life flashed on the screen. The scene opened on the front gate of a place called Dark Horse Ranch, and panned to a tree trunk wrapped in yellow ribbon that was tied in a bow, and an old mobile home. There was a brief interview with Laura's mother in which she sat on a small bed in a room where posters of horses, kittens, and dogs hung on the wood paneled walls. Footage of Bubba Wallace entering the police station sent a chill up Hazel's spine. His dark eyes glared at the camera, unblinking and angry. Mr. Wallace had promptly left town as soon as the case was closed. There was a photo of the man too. A mugshot that made him look dark and mean.

  Unable to shake the nagging feeling of familiarity, Hazel opened a maps app and typed Dark Horse Ranch, Stillwater, OK in the search bar. As the request loaded, she almost dropped her phone. She was shocked to see how close the ranch was to her house. Dark Horse Ranch was less than three miles away by car, but the property lines were much closer. If one were to brave the woods behind the Weizaks’ house, they could stumble upon Dark Horse Ranch in no time. The ranch and the Shrek house were, in a sense, neighbors. The map prompted her memory, and she realized where she had seen the Dark Horse Ranch. Anyone heading to Camelot Crossing drove past the gate and its molded iron sign.

  She read the write-ups on The Charley Project and theories on WebSleuths and Reddit. She had no idea so many kids went missing every day and tried to avoid being sucked in by the haunting images of hundreds of vanished children. It was appalling and sad and terrifying. Where did they all go? What happened to them? Some profiles contained ample information and details leading authorities to believe the children had been abducted by family members. Hazel had to hope those kids, while in horrible situations and being missed by countless people who loved and cared for them, were safe. Others had barely any information, only scant, sketchy details. No one knew what had happened to those children. It was as if they vanished into thin air. Laura Combs was one of those kids.

  Around noon, Mom knocked on her bedroom door and asked her to come have a bite to eat with her. She had made Hazel's favorite rainy-day lunch—grilled cheese and tomato soup. As the two sat together, Hazel shared what she had learned about the missing girl. She had pored over the Facebook page dedicated to leads and information regarding Laura.

  "At first I thought maybe her dad kidnapped her. But he came forward when she disappeared and was cooperative. He even took a lie detector test. His alibi checked out. He was in Vegas when she disappeared."

  "Her poor mother. I can't imagine anything worse," Mom commented, pushing her unfinished soup away.

  "That's not the worst of it. So many sightings have been reported, still to this day. Most are blatant fabrications. Greedy people, out for the reward money."

  "Vultures," Mom said, shaking her head.

  "Did you know people try to sell information to families of the missing? Weirdos insisted she had been kidnapped by aliens. Psychics claimed to know where she was buried or being held. Some of them even appeared on talk shows. Obviously, none of their predictions led anywhere. Maybe she was trafficked."

  "How dare people try to profit off such a horrific loss," Mom replied, as a tear slid down her cheek.

  "She lived really close to here, you know?"

  "Did she? How close?" Mom asked.

  "Just through the woods behind our house," Hazel told her.

  "Shut up!" Mom replied, looking out the window over her shoulder.

  "Right? I wonder if someone who built this house knew something."

  "Why would you think that?"

  "The writing on my bedroom wall. Maybe someone knew something, had a guilty conscious. Or maybe you knew something, or someone involved. You are the only one of us who lived here before.”

  "Well, that seems like a stretch. I've lain awake at night wondering about it. I don't remember hearing anything when I was in college. But I didn't pay much attention to local news, especially if it wasn't campus related. The names don't sound familiar to me. I barely knew this neighborhood existed."

  Hazel noticed Mom's laptop and saw that Mom was doing some research herself. On the screen was an image of the missing poster.

  "You know, I think you look a lot like her," said Mom, turning her attention now to her laptop.

  "Mmm, no, I don't see it," Hazel said, moving the laptop closer for a better look.

  "Maybe we should send her mother a Facebook message," Mom suggested.

  "What would we say? ‘Hey, Alexa told us about your missing daughter. We have these strange things happening in our house. Thought we'd reach out tell you about it.' She would think we were crazy, no better than the psychics and UFO people."

  "True."

  The presence knew it would have to summon more strength. It would have to speak louder, find new ways to make itself heard. It could not be silent. It could not be ignored. The presence had watched the family closely and knew who to focus its energy on. The younger girl. She was almost there, almost ready to hear what the presence needed to say.

  Eighteen

  "I'm reminding you, check the pool." Alexa woke them at midnight. In every room, the devices repeated, "I'm reminding you, check the pool. I'm reminding you, check the pool."

  Hazel woke, confused and groggy. Her device seemed to be yelling at her. She commanded, "Alexa, stop!" Her Dot quieted, but she could still hear the unnerving echo blaring loudly through other parts of the house. Coraline jumped off the bed and was barking at her door. Hazel got up and left her bedroom. Mom and Dad were already in the hallway, and Holden exited his room at the same time she did, everyone mumbling
questions. Holden had shut his Dot up. Mom was heading for the exercise room to quiet the device housed in that room while Dad headed downstairs to hush the gadgets on the lower level. They were all so loud, they reverberated through the walls.

  Dad came back up the stairs slowly, scratching his chest, seemingly still half asleep, but obviously not amused by the rude awakening.

  "I don't know which one of you is responsible for this stunt,” he said, “but I don't find it one bit amusing. Tomorrow we will get to the bottom of it, and there will be repercussions. For now, get back to bed. Good night!" He and Mom returned to their bedroom and Dad calmly closed the door behind them.

  Holden and Hazel stood in the hallway, looking at each other questioningly, each of them waiting for the other to confess to having executed such a daring but miserable prank. Neither one of them bent, and finally Holden shrugged, turned back to his room, and closed his door.

  Hazel stood in the hall a moment longer, feeling anxious. Check the pool. What could that mean? Who had scheduled some middle-of-the-night reminder on all the devices and increased the volume? It didn't seem like anything Holden would have come up with, much less spent the time and effort pulling off.

  She felt overwhelmed by it all as she returned to her bed and called Coraline to come up. Too on edge to sleep, she reached for her Kindle to take her mind off things, hoping some light reading would lull her back to sleep. It had been a while since she had used the e-reader. She couldn't remember what she had been reading but was happy to see device still had some battery life. She opened the first listing in her lineup, a poetry book. What appeared on her Kindle was not poetry. The screen was filled with the same message hidden behind her tapestries: HELP LAURA COMBS, HELP LAURA COMBS. The words filled the screen like a strobe light, and the message scrolled repeatedly. She pushed the page forward button, hoping the message would disappear. While the plea for help was gone, a new message kept repeating: CHECK THE POOL. CHECK THE POOL. She was too unnerved to try another page and tossed the device under her bed without turning it off.

  She considered leaving her bedroom light on, like a child afraid of the dark, but willed herself to get a grip. It took forever to fall asleep again and when she did finally doze off, her dreams were filled with broken images and a sense of dread and despair. This time, however, there was more to the nightmare. She was outside in the thick of a storm and was looking into the woods. As lightning flashed, she could see an outline of a man standing in the tree line. She awoke again, in fear—panic, really—with tears streaming down her face. These nightmares were starting to wear on her. Each night a little more was being revealed, but they still held no context.

  Bleary eyed, she rolled over to check the clock. The sun had yet to come up, and her room was still cast in dark shadows. She was surprised to see the time on her Dot was 9:18 a.m. The sun was definitely up. Still reluctant to get out of bed, she grabbed her phone to check the weather, expecting to see another rainy day. But when she opened her weather app, she was surprised to see the forecast indicated sunny skies. Disbelieving her sources and hoping to fall back asleep for a couple of more hours she rolled over, pulled the covers over her head as she asked, "Alexa, what's the weather like?"

  Alexa promptly replied, "Currently in Stillwater, Oklahoma, it is eighty degrees Fahrenheit with sunny skies. You can expect plenty of sunshine today with a high temperature of ninety-two degrees Fahrenheit."

  Sunny skies? The absence of light in her bedroom did not reflect sunny skies. Reluctantly, she threw the covers back and sat up in bed. She eyeballed the clock on her Dot and compared it to her phone. They both read 9:22 a.m. It was then she noticed the buzzing noise. It was a hum of sorts that she couldn't place.

  She got out of bed and went to her window to see why it was so dark. The entire window, or what was on the other side of the curtain, was moving. She couldn't make sense of what she was seeing, and confusion gave way to trepidation as she felt something other than soft carpet under feet. It made crunching noises each time she took a step.

  She was afraid to pull the curtains back, and afraid of what she might see behind them. Bracing herself for what, she didn't know … to scream, run, sit down and cry … she called Coraline over to her side. Hesitantly the dog came to her, whining and sniffing the air, elevating Hazel's fear. If the dog sensed danger, something was wrong.

  With one hand on Coraline and clenching her eyes tightly closed, too afraid to take in what was lurking behind the curtain all at once, she grasped the curtain and yanked it back. Nothing jumped out at her, but as she opened her eyes something touched her face. The sight stole her breath and stopped the cry building in her chest. On the outside of the window was what she could only comprehend as a swarm of bugs. One had landed on her face, and she brushed it away. Insects covered every inch of the window, blocking the light from outside. The bugs had breached the sill, and a line of insects were crawling down the wall. Others were taking flight, while some crawled across the floor. She turned to see where they were going. The mural was in motion; the entire wall was undulating and buzzing.

  She rushed to her light switch as several of the bugs landed in her hair. She swatted at them madly. When the chandelier illuminated the room, she was horrified by what she saw—the bugs had obliterated the mural, covering the entire wall. Some had landed in her bed while others lay lifeless on the floor. Coraline was barking furiously and lunging at the wall.

  She stared as the swarm moved frantically in a dizzying dance. She was too mesmerized to move. They were thousands and thousands of ladybugs. More bugs landed in her hair, breaking her from her frozen stare. She called Coraline away from the wall and backed out of the room, grabbing the dog by her collar. Every time she set her foot down, she could hear the crunching sound of dozens of bugs being crushed under feet. She slammed the door behind her and ran, not sure where she was going. As she raced down the stairs, she yelled, "Mom!"

  Mom exited the living room with a worried expression on her face. Hazel, in her panicked state, collided with her as she came around the corner. Unable to complete a coherent sentence, Hazel grabbed Mom's wrist and said, "Come!" She half-dragged, half-led Mom back upstairs. As they approached the bedroom door, Hazel could hear the droning of the bug's wings beyond the door and was afraid to open it. She paused with her hand on the knob, and saw several of the ladybugs had escaped her room and were crawling on the carpet just beyond the threshold.

  "What's going on, Hazel?" Mom asked impatiently.

  Hazel couldn't answer that question, so she threw the door open. She was sure that more bugs had entered her room just in the few minutes she had been gone. A few of them made a break for the door. Mom stood with her mouth agape, speechless. Hazel slammed the door before more bugs could escape.

  "What … What's happening in there?" Mom uttered, finally finding words. Hazel did not have answers. Coraline was clawing at the door. "I'm going to get Dad."

  Hazel followed, not wanting to stay alone so close to the horde of the gentle insects.

  The two went to Dad's office and entered without knocking. Before he could get upset about the intrusion, he noticed his wife's pale face as she said, "Come quick! There are bugs all over Hazel's room!"

  As the three ascended the stairs, Dad couldn't help but question the belief that bugs were an emergency that warranted interrupting his workday.

  "Sorry ladies, I know bugs might freak you out, but maybe you could've asked Holden to help you. I'm sure he could dig up a can of bug spray and take care of the problem."

  "You have to see for yourself, Dad. Bug spray isn't going to fix this," Hazel said, unable to prepare Dad for what he was about to see.

  Dad didn't hear the buzzing sound and reached for the door, opening it before Hazel or Mom could stop him. Their numbers had grown, all the bugs in flight or crawling to the mural. Some flew off course and headed toward Dad as he leaned inside the room to get a better look. He swatted the bugs away before they could land, closed the door
, and stood silent, unsure of what to do or say next.

  "Maybe we should call Dave," he finally said, already dialing the number for Critter Getters as he descended the stairs.

  Nineteen

  Critter Getter Dave arrived within a couple of hours, and Hazel couldn't help but wonder what her room looked like by that time. She envisioned the entire room with every inch taken over by the bugs. Dave started his probe outside at the back of the house, where Hazel's bedroom window was. The swarm had begun to dissipate, taking flight to other areas around the yard and woods.

  After looking things over in Hazel's room, he told Mom and Dad, through a mask, "There is a small gap between the frame and the wall. That's their entry point. I don't have an answer yet as to why they were drawn to that spot. There's no food source in the bedroom, so it really doesn't make much sense yet. But I sealed the crack so no more can get in. I'm gonna get my ladder and take a look. I'll also look at the tree outside the window and see if it holds any clues."

  After checking a few more things, Dave descended the ladder and joined the anxious family on the back lawn. "Well, folks, what you have here is called a loveliness—it’s the official term for a large gathering of ladybugs. I've honestly never seen anything like it in all my years. It isn't uncommon to have a swarm of flying ants or termites inside the house. I see that stuff all the time, but this is a first for me!"

  Mom cringed at the thought of termites. Dad said, "Well, I guess ladybugs are better than termites."