Something’s in the Water

Something’s in the Water

The water was colder than it should have been for mid-July; the spring rains had held out well into June, all but removing the chance of Passamoonshine Lake getting above sixty-five degrees. Christine Prince gazed down at the choppy waves, internally screaming as she realized how long she’d be in the icy bath. Katy Ledecky could do the mile in what, fifteen minutes? Christine was no Katy Ledecky. She’d read somewhere that an average swimmer in their teens could do it in fifty-five, but the water was so rough, she guessed it would take a little over an hour.

Frankly, it didn’t matter how long it took; Christine had to do it. Her parents had decided it was something good for her to do and had signed her up at the front desk on the day of her arrival, the instant the counselor had brought up the mile swim badge. Not to mention, half of Camp Matagamon had taken up residence at the waterfront and were now watching her.

Two other teen campers, Matt Wakefield and Isaac Brewster, were also attempting the challenge, though Matt was on his school swim team, so it really wasn’t a challenge for him. Matt was well-built and muscular, with a long wingspan and shiny black racing goggles. Isaac was not nearly as impressive as Matt, barely clocking in at five feet and possessing knobby knees and large feet. He was chipper enough to make up for any physical shortcomings, though, waving happily at Christine as she made eye contact.

Then there was Christine: tall for a girl but average in every other regard, from her chopped, short, blond hair to her slightly protruding belly that made her self-conscious in her light-pink bathing suit. She was the sort of person who possessed the uncanny knack for both talking too much and saying too little.

A steady breeze swayed the pine trees towering above, occasionally sending a flurry of needles fluttering to the ground. Three kayaks bobbed against the dock as they waited for the event to begin. The pilots for these scuffed, ancient vessels were a trio of teens around the same age as Christine. They were at the waterfront shed putting on lifejackets as she watched.

The unusual shape of Lake Passamoonshine made the kayak escort necessary. The lake was a u-shape that narrowed significantly at the bend and bulged out on either stem. In fact, in the spot where the docks were, the water got so narrow it almost passed for a river, which is why the Camp sent the swimmers out into the larger part of the lake. If there were no one following them in the boats, they would be completely on their own.

One of the kayakers, Tabitha, waved when she saw Christine staring. For a girl she’d met just four days ago, Christine trusted Tabitha way more than she probably should have—or usually did. A calmness surrounded Tabitha like a cloud; Christine would be lying if she said that she wasn’t envious of her effortless tranquility.

The kayakers got the go-ahead from the lifeguard and headed down to get into position.

Tabitha was in the blue kayak with a large scratch on the side and a paddle held together with duct tape and a prayer. Christine felt the muscles between her thighs tighten as the reality of the situation set in. She couldn’t back out now; that would make her look like both an idiot and a coward. Digging her nails into her palms, Christine marched down to the edge of the dock, keeping squarely between Matt and Isaac.

The wood was rough against her feet. It was a solid, pressure-treated cedar with grooved lines carved into it. The edge was covered in sandpaper-y tape to prevent slipping. The water was deep here and a menacing gray-brown under the cloud-covered sky. Fish the size of golf balls swam beneath the surface, half-visible in the silty haze.

The lifeguard, a nineteen-year-old named Ash, moseyed up to the trio, smacking his gum and swinging his whistle in a circle.

“So,” he said as the whistle made another rotation, “we gotta go over the rules. First, don’t do anything stupid. Two, to complete the mile, you gotta make it to Turtle Rock and back. Do you know where that is?”

The three swimmers nodded.

Satisfied, Ash continued. “Third, stay with your kayaker at all times. If you need help, they’ll be there. If you get too tired, they’ll pull you out of the water. Finally, as you swim past Scuttle Island, stay away from the weed patch surrounding it.”

Isaac raised his hand. “Why?”

Ash shrugged. “Dunno. Grass is supposed to be spiky or something. But it’s the rules, so promise me you won’t go near it.”

Ash waited until the swimmers affirmed his request. He looked as serious as a grave.

“Good. Any questions?” he asked, face switching back to its old chipper form. Receiving none, he blew his whistle. “Okay, get in the water. And remember—don’t go near the island.”

Shakily, Christine pulled her goggles down over her eyes and gave them a good smack with the palm of her hand to seal them to her face. Stealing herself for the cold shock, she leaped into the water. She saw the bubbles escape her mouth and made for the surface.

Ash checked his watch. “Okay, it’s three fifteen. You’ve got till five. Good luck.”

Another sharp trill from the whistle signaled the swimmers off. A cheer went up from the bystanders on the dock as the trio began furiously pulling themselves through the water. Once a little ways from land, Matt took the lead by about ten yards, followed by Christine, and Isaac in the rear. The kayakers hung to the side, lazily digging their paddles into the water.

The swimmers quickly made it around the bend and into the wider part of the lake, losing sight of the camp. The noise of people disappeared, replaced by the sound of wind and their own limbs chopping through the water. Though they were only two-hundred yards into the journey, the remoteness of the situation was setting in. Christine was glad she had Tabitha keeping an eye on her.

She focused on pacing herself, keeping her breaths even and her strokes clean. Matt could handle the speed he was going; Christine knew she couldn’t. She swam plenty, competing occasionally, but she’d never done distance swimming before. She supposed you just needed to keep a rhythm—and ignore the depths below you.

The gaping maw of this end of Passamoonshine Lake was the stuff nightmares were made of. Ominous black water, deeper than the eye could follow, barren save for deadfall and some sleek mud-colored fish. There may have been a skeletal tree or some long weeds down there because Christine swore something was growing just past the extent of her vision. She tried her best to ignore the fear as she pushed forward.

Isaac fell further behind, slowly but surely, and Matt swam further ahead. Soon, Christine realized she was all alone in the middle. Well, except for Tabitha.

“Hey, Chris! You okay?” Tabitha yelled over the splashing. “F-fine!” Christine cried back between breaths.

Tabitha raised a thumbs up. “You’re one-third of the way there! We’re passing the island right now!”

Sure enough, Scuttle Island greeted Christine when she looked up. It was a barren crag about the size of a bus jutting out of the water. Frowning, she wondered how close she was to the weed patch.

As if to answer, something brushed against her leg. Christine let out a muffled squeal and looked for whatever had touched her. Nothing—except for an ink-black shimmer that disappeared after a second.

“What was that?” Tabitha asked, craning her neck.

Christine’s heart pounded, but she laughed it off. “Stick touched my leg!”

Her heart beat furiously in her chest. She did her best to quell it by focusing on the task ahead, but she caught another sight of the shimmer, this time near the surface.

She decided to pick up the pace.

*

Another ten minutes passed, and Christine’s limbs started to tire. Thankfully, Turtle Rock was only a couple of yards ahead. She tagged its smooth surface, marking the halfway point of her journey and leaving a wet handprint behind. Tabitha let out a whoop of support and turned her kayak around. Christine smiled to herself.

The sun began to peak from behind the clouds, and Christine felt her back start to warm. Just as she came up to Scuttle Island again, she noticed the two other kayaks floating there. Their occupants were frantically searching the water, aided by Isaac, who’d climbed up onto the kayak paddled by Jackson, his assigned rower, and was clutching the bow.

“Everything alright?!” Tabitha hollered.

The group waved their arms wildly at the girls, pointing at the lake and yelling unintelligibly.

Finally, Isaac reared back his head and bellowed, “SOMETHING’S IN THE WATER!”

Whipping around, Christine made a beeline for Tabitha. She heaved herself onto the kayak’s hull and, with Tabitha’s help, scurried away from the edge of the boat.

Tabitha paddled over to the group, Christine now precariously balanced on the bow, like Isaac. Jackson grabbed the strap on the front of the girls’ kayak. Alex, on the other end, reciprocated the gesture, locking the vessels into a sort of wagon fortress, like settlers used to do on the prairies.

“What’s going on?” Christine asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, partly from exhaustion but mostly from panic. Her hair clung scraggly to her head, and the sun suddenly became uncomfortably bright. “Where’s Matt?”

“Something’s in the water!” Isaac repeated.

Alex shook his head. “I told you, man. It’s a snake. It got Matt.” Jackson glared at him. “We don’t know that, Al. Maybe Matt—” “It ATE him!”

“Enough with the damn snake!” Jackson yelled. “There is no—” “LOOK!” Tabitha cried, pointing.

A shimmering, oil-black line curled through the water off the left side of the wagon circle. It appeared to be at least three times the size of a kayak and thicker than a telephone pole. The creature kept its distance, circling slowly, the gleam of its scales being the only indicator of its location.

“I told you!” Alex exclaimed, voice rising several octaves. Jackson’s jaw fell. “What the hell is that?”

“A SNAKE. I TOLD YOU.”

“Shut up, Alex!” Isaac snapped.

Christine leaned over, careful not to put the boat off balance. The Snake Thing slid gracefully through the murk, growing closer with each rotation, like Ash spinning his whistle.

“Th-they’ll come looking f-for us at f-five, right?” Christine squeaked. “Yeah! Of course! We just need to wait here!” Tabitha added.

The Snake Thing dove under. For a horrible second, everything was still. The lake was unblemished by ripples as the moments ticked away.

“It’s gone,” Jackson said.

Then Tabitha’s kayak pitched. Christine slipped—and nearly fell. She dug her nails into the plastic in an attempt to prevent herself from plunging into the water, and Isaac flattened himself to the hull of Jackson’s kayak to avoid the same.

“Shit!” Jackson cried, lunging forward to grab Isaac.

The Snake Thing smacked into the boats a second time. Christine screamed as they threatened to flip. She clung to the kayak, her eyes squeezed shut. Sweat beaded up on her palms, the smooth plastic shell becoming increasingly harder to cling to.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to five o’clock!” Alex cried.

Isaac glowered at him as he attempted to steady the boat’s rocking. “Oh, shut—”

“No, he’s right,” Jackson agreed. “We’re not going to make it that long.”

“Then what the heck do we do? It’ll capsize us before we can get back to shore,” Tabitha said.

The Snake Thing had disappeared again.

Christine kept her eyes locked on the water. Something occurred to her as she stared at the murky, choppy waves.

“Do you th-think it can l-leave the water?” she asked. “What?” Jackson asked.

All eyes were on Christine. She felt her cheeks grow red.

“Well, um, if it c-can’t go out of the water, w-we can get to Scuttle Island and be safe from it, y-you know? It’s just a thought,” Christine half-mumbled.

Isaac nodded. “Yeah, that could work.”

“What if we capsize and that thing grabs us?” Alex questioned.

Christine tensed up, swallowing heavily. “M-my gr-grandfather’s from Florida, he had a b-buddy who got attacked by an alligator once. H-he told me that they have a flap in the b-back of their throat—you reach into their m-mouths and p-pull it open, and they start to drown. Maybe it’s got one of th-those. If not, I guess you could p-punch it in the gills l-like a shark.”

“We’re gonna die,” Alex said.

Jackson glared at him. “You will if you’ve got that attitude.”

The stillness of the lake disturbed Christine. She knew that the Snake Thing hadn’t gone anywhere; it was waiting, waiting for their next move. The instant the kayaks made ripples, it would come up for another attack.

The kayaks had drifted closer to Scuttle Island. It was a little under a hundred yards away, considerably closer than the shore. Still, just thinking about how far away it was, Christine felt lead fill her lungs.

Isaac let go of the strap on the front of Tabitha’s kayak. Tabitha tentatively dipped her paddle into the water.

“Make s-sure to go slow,” Christine urged. “Splashing w-will attract it.”

Gently, and taking turns so as not to have a series of splashes at once, the group began steadily making their way toward Scuttle Island. The soft sound of water dripping off the paddles, combined with the low wail of the wind, raised goosebumps on Christine’s arms. Isaac and Christine watched the water below for any sign of the ribbon of death. Alex was muttering to himself.

It was slow going, like this. The kayaks only moved a foot or two per paddle, but it made a difference. The island was under ninety yards away now. Christine thought she saw something; she went to yell, but on second thought, she clamped her mouth shut. What if she were wrong? Would the others panic?

Then she heard a splash, followed by a strangled cry. The blade of Jackson’s paddle had fallen off into the water. It floated on the surface like the bright orange eye of a dragon.

The air stagnated in Christine’s chest as the rest of them froze. Five seconds passed. Then ten.

“I’m sorry!” I’m sorry!” cried Jackson, pawing at the floating piece of plastic.

His kayak rocked back and forth as he tried to retrieve the paddle.

Isaac let out a grunt. “Stop rocking the kayak! I’m going to fall in!” “I’m trying! We don’t have a paddle now!”

“Use the other side, you idiot!” Alex interjected.

Tabitha attempted to break up the fighting. “Stop it! Stop it!”

The Snake Thing sunk its teeth into the kayak’s body, pulling it backward and sending it into a tailspin, away from the other kayaks. Despite the chaos, Christine was able to get a quick glance of it. Its head was the size of a serving platter, and oval-shaped, with fishy yellow eyes that faced the front. Its scaly skin was jet black and speckled with dark brown dots. Thin perpendicular lines that looked like jagged gills ran down its side.

The glimpse didn’t last long as the creature flung the boat violently. Christine was thrown from the hull like a skipping stone. The boat flipped over, and Tabitha fell out the other side.

Christine trod water, looking around for Tabitha. Tabitha was struggling to stay afloat, even in her life jacket. Panicked, she thrashed wildly.

Christine’s eyes widened. Tabitha was making too much noise.

The Snake Thing cut through the water toward her.

No. No. Not Tabby—she was nice. Christine couldn’t let this happen.

Still wearing her goggles, she stuck her face in the water, screaming as loudly as she could and furiously splashing. Her vision below the surface was frighteningly clear. She watched the Snake Thing slow and turn its gaze upon her. It started coming toward her. She clenched her fists. She didn’t really have a plan, just wanted to give Tabitha enough time to get to the island.

Now, she could see that “snake” wasn’t the best word to describe the creature. It was vaguely reptilian, though streamlined like a fish, and it might have had small fins on its side—or were they feet? It had four oval-ish black and yellow eyes, two on the front of its head and two on the sides near its gills; however, the side eyes may have been false, or at least somewhat blind, as they didn’t appear to be staring at Christine like the front ones.

“Tabby! GO!” Christine cried as she began to swim deeper into the lake, leading the creature away from the group.

She kicked and kicked like she was back in the fourth grade, desperately trying to win the relay for her swim team—this time, she wasn’t going to fail her friends. It didn’t matter if she was caught; she’d win by giving the others time to get to the island.

Pain flared in Christine’s calf, and she was jerked under the surface. She hung in the water in complete shock for an eternity, her blond hair floating around her head like a dead-white halo. Silt danced between her and the creature as she desperately clawed for the surface.

Somehow, Jackson had paddled over to her. He stuck their half-paddle into the water for her to grab onto. She reached for it. He and Isaac were screaming her name over and over.

The creature darted away, pulling Christine downward by the leg. Its teeth, which lined its maw like little razors, clamped around her calf. Blood spurted, almost green-looking, into the dark water.

Air escaped Christine’s lips as she screamed in pain. The creature dove, pulling her down with it, and water rushed up her nose. Christine choked. Leaves, weeds, and other debris pelted her. A long stick got caught in her hair, pulling it painfully.

In desperation, she grabbed at the stick. She pulled it free, tugging her hair out with it, and plunged it wildly into the creature. The stick sunk into the creature’s head with a wet squish, going in easier than Christine had assumed. The creature finally stopped descending, allowing her to see that she’d managed to embed her weapon into one of its shining eyes.

After a beat, Christine realized that the creature’s jaw was slack enough to fit her arm into it. Barely considering how the situation could backfire, she jammed it into the creature’s maw, hoping against hope that it was something like an alligator.

The Snake Thing twitched, convulsed, and released her leg.

Little pieces of flesh and blood plumed into the water. A row of garish bloody holes made a semicircle across her calf. Bolts of pain danced up her leg.

She was free.

Christine swam for the surface, leg throbbing painfully, every limb burning with lactic acid, but she couldn’t let the pain get to her. She burst through the surface, gasping for air and coughing up a great deal of water.

The shore was nearby. She swam for it faster than she’d ever dared to swim, tearing at the water like a madman. Every inch of her burned. Her vision blurred, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing.

The ground came up to meet her feet, and Christine stumbled onto the land, slogging the remaining few yards to the shore. Her leg buckled as she hit solid ground, blood soaking into the mud. She landed face-first onto an outcropping of roots.

Everything hurt as she rolled over and stared back out onto the lake.

The Snake Thing wasn’t pursuing her. Other than the skim of blood on the top of the water, there was no sign of it. She scanned the water near the island for Tabitha, Isaac, Alex, and Jackson.

They’d all made it to Scuttle Island and stood there waving at Christine. The kayaks were pulled up onto the narrow beach. They were soaked but fine. Relief washed over her.

Christine waved back. Glancing down, she passively examined her mangled leg, which, thankfully, wasn’t aching any more than the rest of her yet. She gave them a thumbs up.

Someone would soon be around looking them, she knew. She closed her eyes, pulled her goggles off, and threw them away from her.

Then she heard something. Her eyes snapped back open, and she sat up.

Tabitha screamed again. A shimmer of black right next to Scuttle Island had caught her attention. But the water wasn’t deep there? How could it—?

Jackson stumbled backward, pulling Tabitha by the shoulder after him. Alex stared, paralyzed. Isaac tugged on Alex’s shoulder, trying to get him to move.

The creature’s head breached the surface, its telephone pole-thick body slithering in a wave behind it. Those weren’t gills Christine had seen. They were small legs, something similar to a centipede, dozens of them, running along the length of the creature’s body. They’d been pulled tight to its sides, making it hard for them to be seen when it was underwater. The new appendages stretched out–as if they hadn’t been used in a long time–revealing they were jointed and ended in insectile hooks.

She watched in horror as the creature crawled forward, out of the shallows and onto the land. It pushed the kayaks aside, sending them spinning back into the water. It crawled up onto the rocks, dragging its endless back half onto the land like some great aquatic centipede. Its reptilian feet scurried across the terrain towards them.

The teens jumped into the water on the other side of the island, swimming for it. All Christine could see was a wall of white, splashing water.

The Snake Thing scampered across Scuttle Island and dipped back into the murky depths of Passamoonshine Lake, pursuing its prey. Christine watched, too far away to help, as it sliced through the water towards the faint outlines of the fleeing swimmers.