Blackwater Lights Read online

  Blackwater Lights is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A Hydra eBook Original

  Copyright © 2013 by Michael M. Hughes

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America by Hydra, an imprint of the Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  HYDRA and the Hydra colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  This novel was inspired by the author’s short story entitled “The Blackwater Lights” which was originally published in Legends of the Mountain State: Ghostly Tales from the State of West Virginia (Chapmanville, WV: Woodland Press, 2007).

  eISBN: 978-0-345-54880-1

  Cover design: Dreu Pennington-McNeil

  Cover illustration: © Paul Youll

  www.readhydra.com

  v3.1_r1

  For Susan

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Apocalyptic Organ Grinder

  Excerpt from The Faceless One

  Come forth, o children, under the stars, & take your fill of love!

  —Aleister Crowley, The Book of Lies

  Chapter One

  The phone call came late on a Saturday night. Ray had just turned off the TV and was heading to bed. No one called this late, not even on a weekend.

  “I need to see you,” Kevin said. It had been months since they’d spoken, but he dispensed with all formalities. They’d been friends since they were kids, having grown up on the same suburban street, and Ray knew immediately, the way old friends pick up on such things, that Kevin was more than a little upset.

  Ray tried to calm him down. “Easy, easy. What’s going on?”

  Kevin hesitated. “It’s happening again.”

  Ray’s throat tightened. He felt poised on a tightrope, as if the world on both sides of him had disappeared, dropping into darkness. “It is? All of it?”

  “Yes.” Kevin’s voice faltered. “The dreams. Worse than ever. The wake-ups, the doctors, the machines—all of it. Almost every night for weeks now. I feel like I’m going to crack. Just like when we first got home from camp.”

  Ray remembered those childhood nightmares all too well. “God. I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  “No. And it’s different this time. You need to come here. You need to see something.”

  “See what?”

  “I can’t talk about it on the phone. You need to see it for yourself. It validates everything. It proves it. We weren’t crazy.”

  Ray wiped his brow. He was sweating, despite the gooseflesh on his arms. “All right. But I can’t just jump in my car right now—”

  “You have to. This is big, man. You need to get your ass here. Stay the weekend. Take a week off. Make it a little vacation. School’s out, right? Aren’t you on summer vacation?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t start teaching his summer classes for another two weeks. “But I have to straighten up my office before they wax the floors. The vice principal will be on my ass if I don’t.”

  “Listen, I need you. You’re the only other person who understands. I can’t talk to anyone but you, and I need to talk about this.” His voice caught. “Please. I’m really close to losing it, man. It’s too much for me to deal with by myself. Please.”

  Ray massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed. “All right. I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon. How long will the drive take?”

  “Four, maybe five hours. I’ll email you directions.”

  He drew in a breath. “I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks,” Kevin said. “You’ll understand when you see it. I promise.”

  Ray hated the mountain roads. The trees were too close, the curves too sharp, and the hills pushed his Corolla’s engine to its limits. He’d driven for almost six hours when the sign for Blackwater appeared around a curve. Next to the sign lay a bloated deer, its stiff legs pointing toward the exit, a thick cloud of flies swirling around it. He rolled up the window and covered his nose with his hand as he drove by it, but the stench of summertime roadkill still made him gag.

  You need to see something, Kevin had said. Something that proved they weren’t crazy or suffering from a delusional artifact of childhood imagination, but that the dreams and the rest of it were real. Validation. Maybe even an explanation.

  A cicada smacked into the windshield. He squirted a pale stream of washer fluid onto the glass and the wipers smeared the guts in a yellow arc. He could have blamed his rapid heartbeat on the nerve-racking drive or the crappy fast-food coffee, but he knew it was more than that. Because the previous night, for the first time in years, he’d had the dream again, too.

  He was stuck at a light in front of the Blackwater High School parking lot. A marching band had begun to snake out onto the road in front of him. Antique cars, costumed kids, and a line of bright parade floats. A young cop, bored and aggravated, stood in front of Ray’s car.

  The Elkins Beavers—as announced by their gaudy banner—were mostly overweight teenagers in white, ill-fitting polyester pants and red sequined shirts. They started playing something—a popular, top-forty song from the 1970s. Steely Dan, maybe? Fleetwood Mac? The drums rattled the windshield.

  A black Cadillac convertible turned in front of him. A magnetic sign on the side of the car read CHURCH OF THE OPEN DOOR and below it, in smaller type, ALL ARE WELCOME IN JESUS CHRIST OUR SAVIOR. A wooden cross was propped in the backseat, hanging out of the back of the vehicle and casting a long shadow on the street. A black man, in his sixties or seventies and dressed in an out-of-style white suit, sat in the passenger seat.

  The older man’s skin was deep brown, nearly black, his face pockmarked and trenched with wrinkles, his nose wide and flat. His hands rested on a cane propped between his knees. A preacher, maybe even from one of the snake-handler churches Kevin had spoken about, where the congregants took up serpents and drank poison and spoke in tongues.

  Their eyes met. The preacher smiled. He had a large gap between his front two teeth. And those eyes—something was different about them. They were curious. Looking at Ray almost as if he knew him. It felt like recognition.

  The Cadillac passed, and the connection broke. Ray shook his head. Okay, that was weird.

  Kevin’s house was hidden on the outskirts of town, at the end of several miles of dirt road that wound up and down hills deep into the woods. Ray slowed the car as the house appeared in the clearing. Very impressive. Kevin had shipped the prefab from Portland, a limited-series, eco-friendly design from a famous architect whose name Ray could never remember, and he’d plopped it down far away from any other human beings. An enormous satellite dish pointed at a patch of sky overhead. Towering old trees dwarfed the dw
elling, and thick patches of rhododendron, lush with summer growth, seemed to be reaching out to claim it.

  An envelope was taped to the inside of the screen door.

  Ray—had to leave. Emergency. Hang tight. Back as soon as possible. Make yourself at home.

  Inside the envelope was a key.

  The interior was even more disordered than he had imagined: bookshelves overflowing and surrounded by piles of unshelved paperbacks and magazines, retro science fiction posters and sea-creature-like glass objets d’art, and bathroom wallpaper made out of 1980s Playboy covers. The office, the only windowless room, looked like the bridge of a dilapidated spaceship, a mass of hard drives, electronic assemblies, wires, hefty computer manuals, and enormous flat-screen monitors. The home of a brilliant eccentric with a lot of money and exceedingly odd taste.

  Pornography and a precocious talent with computer programming had made it all possible. Seemingly overnight, in the blooming days of the Internet, Kevin created a prototype business model and software for streaming porn. A year after starting his basement business, he’d decamped from Baltimore and moved into a high-tech business park in Portland, joining the millionaire club by the time he turned thirty-six. His latest project was SeXplanet, a social media service for finding sexual partners. Ray didn’t get it—he had never been into Internet socializing—but SeXplanet had become an instant success. Kevin had been hailed as “Hefner rebooted” in a Wired cover story.

  Ray’s stomach rumbled, empty and acidic from the lousy coffee. He opened the fridge. Freezer-burned burger patties, buns, and crusty jars of condiments. Some containers of unidentifiable carryout food. A few bottled microbrews from the West Coast. That settled it. Dining out was his only choice.

  Time to see what this town was all about.

  Chapter Two

  He ate at Doris’s Diner, a tiny white brick building on Main Street that backed up against Blackwater Municipal Park. The hot smell of frying bacon hit him as soon as he opened the door. He chose an empty booth, the green Formica tabletop worn thin and dotted with a constellation of cigarette burns. The menu was sticky with maple syrup.

  A waitress stopped at his table. “Hi,” she said. Her drawl was striking, and Ray realized that he’d crossed the line to a region where he would be the funny-talking guy. She was cute, with blond-streaked hair pulled into a not-so-tight bun and spilling out in little fan-like strands, but looked like she needed more sleep. “Coffee?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  She filled his cup. Her black nail polish was chipped. “I’m Ellen. I’ll be taking care of you.”

  “Thanks,” Ray said. He ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and fries. He handed her the menu and smiled. Her eyes seemed to brighten a bit.

  He looked out at the main drag through the window. He sipped his coffee, wishing he had brought a magazine from home to read. Not much was going on in downtown Blackwater. There was very little traffic and only one pedestrian, a thin, elderly man inching forward with his aluminum walker. A cigarette dangled from his mouth. Each step he took gained him six inches or so, and after every few steps he paused, sucked on his cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. With any luck he’d make it where he was going before he exhausted the whole pack. Or keeled over.

  “Cigarettes are bad for you,” someone said. A kid’s voice.

  Ray turned around. A boy, maybe eight or nine years old, leaned over the back of his booth. He had curly dark hair that sat in a mass on his head and glasses that magnified his eyes. He was alone in the booth, with a spiral notebook and a half-consumed milkshake.

  Ray nodded. “Yeah. They sure are.”

  “Do you smoke?” the kid asked.

  “No,” Ray said.

  The kid approved. “My mom does. And she used to be a nurse. She tries to hide it, but I can smell it. And I know where she keeps her cigarettes.”

  “Maybe you can help her quit.”

  The kid rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He sighed. “Do you like books?”

  Ray smiled. “Yeah, I like books.”

  “I’m a writer.” He said it with practiced nonchalance. “You want to see my book?”

  Ellen had returned with his food. “William, leave this nice man alone to eat in peace.”

  Ray held up his hand. “It’s okay.”

  She put his plate on the table. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. It’s okay. It’s nice to have some company.” He tilted his head toward the opposite seat. “William, you want to join me while I eat? Let’s check out your book.”

  Ellen raised an eyebrow.

  William grabbed his notebook and his milkshake and slid into the seat across from Ray.

  “Would you like anything else?” Ellen asked. “Dessert? We have fresh-baked cherry pie. And pecan.” She said peekin.

  “Cherry pie sounds delicious,” Ray said. He would have preferred the pecan, but he didn’t want to sound like he was correcting her.

  “Ice cream on top?”

  Ray shook his head, but then shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

  Ellen turned. “Be right back.”

  William opened his notebook. “Do you like stories about robots?”

  Ray held out his hands. “Of course. Who doesn’t?”

  “You’d be surprised,” William said. “Not many people do, actually. Most kids in my school are into NASCAR and wrestling. Do you think professional wrestling is stupid?”

  Ray nodded. “Yeah. And it’s fixed.”

  “Totally.” The kid held out the notebook. He had written Earth Protection Force 2277 in thick black marker on the front. “This is the beginning of the second book of my trilogy. The first book takes place five hundred years earlier.”

  “Let me check it out.”

  “I’ll tell you the background first. Since you didn’t read the first book, you’ll be kinda lost if you start with this one.”

  By the time Ray finished his pie he’d learned all about the war between the Earthbots and the invading Darkbots, including the Darkbots’ bug cannons and vicious flying-snake pets. The kid was bright and literate beyond his years, but Ray found himself wondering how well he fit in with his non-robot-loving peers. It probably wasn’t easy.

  Ellen dropped off the check. “So, you learned all about the Darkbot invasion, I’ll bet.”

  Ray nodded. “Their bug cannons are pretty impressive. And those snakes …”

  She laughed. William rolled his eyes.

  “Are you just passing through?” Ellen asked.

  “Sort of,” Ray said. “I’m visiting a friend. For a few days, maybe a week.”

  Did her smile fade just a bit? “Well, thank you for keeping William company.”

  “My pleasure.”

  William closed his notebook. “If you want a copy of my first book, I can get you one. I’m selling them for ten bucks, but I’ll give you a five-dollar discount.”

  Ray scratched his chin. “Hmm. I gotta say, I’m really curious about how the bad guys got into the Earth Force headquarters in the first place.”

  William pushed his glasses up with a forefinger. “I’ll be here tomorrow night, right, Mom?”

  Ellen nodded.

  Ray shrugged. “It’s a deal. I’ll stop by for dinner.”

  Ellen picked up his check and money. “I’ll get you some change,” she said.

  He shook his head. “Keep it. My contribution to the Earthbot Defense Force.”

  The kid tried awfully hard not to smile.

  It was getting dark, and he was stuffed, but Ray knew he needed to get some groceries or he’d be doomed to Kevin’s freezer full of artery-clogging microwaveable crap for breakfast. He drove past tiny, weathered antique shops with hand-lettered signs and windows full of junk, a bank, a dollar store, and a laundromat. He pulled up to a stoplight and an obese, greasy-haired woman rolled across the intersection on a motorized scooter. Three young children on bicycles and a tired, scraggly dog followed in her wake. The dog yapped at him when the light tur
ned green, and the children stared.

  Why in the hell had Kevin decided to live here? It had never made any sense.

  It had happened here. That’s why. And somehow he knew it.

  He found a grocery store in a strip mall at the edge of town. He bought some eggs, sandwich fixings, and a bag of oranges, then topped it off with a case of domestic beer. In Baltimore you couldn’t buy beer in grocery stores, which didn’t make a damn bit of sense. Blackwater at least had one thing in its favor. And if he was staying here for a few days or even a week with Kevin, the two of them could easily knock back a case. Like the old days.

  The sky clouded up. What the hell. Ray popped open a can and sipped from it. If the number of beer cans he’d seen by the side of the road was any indication, drinking-and-driving laws were not very well enforced.

  Chapter Three

  Kevin still hadn’t returned. After dinner, Ray checked his email. Nothing. He thought about going for a walk around the property, but the clouds had darkened to an ominous shade of purplish gray. It was going to get dark soon, and he didn’t care much for the woods, not even in daytime. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever liked being in nature. Nature was full of bugs that were poisonous and spiderwebs that you didn’t see until you’d walked face-first into them.

  Kevin had what seemed like a never-ending number of channels on his satellite TV, but Ray turned the box off when he realized he’d skimmed through all of them twice. He popped open another beer and sat on the porch as the last pink swath of sunlight faded over the mountain ridge. Maybe this visit wasn’t such a bad idea after all, provided he could make a bit of a vacation out of it. He’d been in a funk since his breakup with Lisa, and Baltimore had started feeling claustrophobic. He took a swig of beer and lit a citronella candle. The noises of the insects and frogs were deafening. He could barely hear himself think over the chirping and buzzing and droning. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. There was an undercurrent, like an electrical tower, and overlaying it were call-and-response click-click-click noises from different directions. The night talking to itself.