The Haunting of Silver Creek Lodge Read online

  “Taking my advice, I see?” she said, and her voice was definitely hoarse. “Getting to know the other residents?”

  “I stopped her from jumping.” I couldn’t help but let my chest puff with pride. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

  Lily lost her balance, almost falling down the rest of the steps.

  “Whoa!” I grabbed her by the arms and hugged her close. Though her regular warmth was present, something was missing between us. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded weakly. “The energy here ebbs and flows. If other people are using it copiously, I can’t get enough. That’s why I get sick.”

  “Is that why I’ve been sick?”

  “Most likely.” Lily clung to me as we made our way to the first floor. “You can learn to control it, though. We don’t have a choice.”

  “This is more complicated than I thought it would be,” I admitted. “Where’s the science behind it all?”

  “Maybe you can find out.”

  We made it back to my room. The facade had been lifted. There were no more seventies decorations or furniture around. The air mattress looked lonely in the middle of the barren room. The thought of climbing in alone made me sad.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” I asked Lily.

  “Of course.”

  13

  In the morning, Lily was gone, but there was a dent in Simon’s pillow and the sheets were warm as if someone had just gotten up. I rolled out of bed, stretched, and checked outside. The sun was out, and some of the snow on the ground was melting. It was a nice morning for a jog, so that’s what I decided to do.

  I put on my running gear, made sure to wear a scarf to protect my mouth, and took a quick lap through the nearby woods. When I returned to the Lodge, cold and out of breath, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Though I didn’t recognize the number, I answered anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Maxine?”

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “This is Dr. Fitzgerald,” a warm voice replied. “I’m calling on behalf of your husband, Simon.”

  I tensed. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s great,” he assured me. “He’s doing well. We’re going to run a few more tests today to make sure his concussion hasn’t progressed in any alarming fashion. As long as nothing changes, you can pick him up later this evening.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  “Would you like to speak to him?”

  I hesitated, but Dr. Fitzgerald had already handed the phone over.

  I heard Simon mutter something before he said, “Hey, Max?”

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you doing okay?”

  “The doctor said I’m fine. Are you going to pick me up?”

  “Later tonight.”

  Simon groaned. “Can’t you come now? I don’t want to do all these extra tests. I feel fine.”

  “I’d feel better if you do the tests,” I told him. “What if you come home and something goes wrong?”

  “Fine,” he said shortly. “Never mind. See you later—”

  “Simon, come on—”

  He hung up on me. Frustration almost convinced me to hurl the phone across the snowy yard and into one of the hot springs. I curled my fingers tighter around the phone then slipped it into my pocket to prevent myself from doing something stupid.

  The hot springs steamed and bubbled. I watched them from a safe distance. I couldn’t look at the heated pools without reliving yesterday’s incident. Though I knew the truth now, it didn’t change the things I’d seen. Somehow, what had happened in the hot springs affected me more than seeing Christine on the roof. Being naked had a way of making the most invincible people seem vulnerable.

  If Lily were around, she would tell me to face my fears and confront whatever waited for me in the hot springs. If I didn’t do it now, it would come back to haunt me later. Literally.

  With short steps, I walked closer to the hot springs. Remembering Lily’s advice, I tried to keep an open mind. It wasn’t her I’d seen under the water. Someone else had died here, and like Christine Higgens, they also had a reason for accidentally torturing me.

  As I neared the deepest pool, a figure shimmered into existence. I hid behind the corner of the Lodge and watched. He was a short, squat man with a square face and a neatly combed mustache. Most of his rotund body was hidden beneath the water’s surface, except for his shoulders and head. He flicked bubbles with obvious glee. He sighed heavily and let his head rest back on the land.

  As I was about to step out from behind my hiding place to introduce myself, the man began to cough. He pounded himself on the chest as if to dislodge something. His face turned red then purple. He gasped and wheezed for breath. Then his head sank below the pool’s surface.

  I darted over and looked into the springs. The man stared back at me, his pudgy fingers opening and closing as he fought for whatever life he could cling to. I thought of the hands clamped around my ankles yesterday. This man needed a lifeline.

  I lay on my stomach near the pool, rolled up my sleeve, and plunged my hand into the water. I fumbled around, feeling nothing, then touched the man’s clammy palm. I clasped his hand and pulled him upward with all my might.

  His head broke the surface, and he launched himself out of the pool. With his face pressed to the dead grass, he heaved for air. I thumped him on the back to help dislodge water from his lungs.

  “Earl?” he asked hoarsely without turning his head. “Is that you?”

  “Uh, no,” I answered. “I’m Max.”

  The man rolled over, and his eyes went wide with surprise. “Shit, are you kidding me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He scrambled to his feet and covered himself with a towel that appeared out of nowhere. His round belly spilled over his short swim trunks. “Of all the people that coulda pulled me out of there, it’s gotta be a gal that looks like you. Christ, that’s embarrassing. Where’s Earl?”

  “The former owner? He passed away.”

  “That explains it.” The man wiped water from what little hair remained on his head. “Where’d you come from?”

  “We moved in last month,” I explained, wondering if I’d ever get accustomed to speaking so casually to someone who didn’t have a heartbeat. “We’re renovating the Lodge. What about you?”

  “Jersey,” the man grunted. “I’m Walter. Walter Briggs.”

  I gestured to the hot springs. “Does that keep happening to you?”

  “Every damn day,” Walter replied grumpily. “Until Earl started pulling me out.”

  “Earl pulled you out?”

  “Yeah, I started expecting him. Then he disappeared, and I thought I was doomed until you showed up.” He dropped the towel around his butt and flossed it back and forth to dry off his swim trunks. “Thanks again for the save.”

  “What happened to you before you went under?” I asked. “You looked like you were choking.”

  “Heart attack,” Walter answered casually. “A guy like me really should have been watching my cholesterol levels, but what can I say? I was a big fan of cheeseburgers. Bit me in the ass, didn’t it? No one pulled me out when it counted.”

  “You mean when you were alive?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly well-practiced with tact, are you?”

  I grimaced. “Sorry about that. I’m new to all of this.”

  Walter smiled wryly. “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it. And yeah, about twelve years ago, I came to Silver Creek to get a big job done. Celebrated with a nice dunk in the hot springs. Didn’t expect to die there. That’s for damn sure.”

  “No one saw you go under?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I was here during the off-season. The place was pretty empty. Earl feels bad, but it wasn’t his fault. He had other things on his mind.”

  I stomped my feet to warm them. “What do you do for work?”

  “I build safes,” Walter answered. “Not sure why Ear
l wanted one here, but—”

  “Whoa, back up.” I put my hands up to silence him. “Did you say you built a safe on this property? In the Lodge?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “First floor, in one of the back rooms. It’s a thing of beauty. Still there if you want to check it out.”

  “Why did you build it?” I asked.

  Walter looked at me like I was crazy. “Honey, someone hired me to do it.”

  “No, I meant what was the safe for?” I clarified. “What did Earl intend to put in it?”

  “No idea,” he answered. “It wasn’t any of my business. All I know is he wanted a safe built into the foundation of the house. I obliged.”

  “It’s locked,” I told him. “We tried everything and can’t get in. We called a professional and everything—”

  Walter released a big belly laugh and patted himself on the back. “I did my job well then, huh? I used to advertise my safes as uncrackable. Whatever you put in there is safe from every person on this earth. Except me, of course.”

  “Are you saying you can get into the safe here? Without the combination.”

  “Sure, sweetheart.”

  “No strings attached?” I clarified.

  He gestured to the hot springs. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re already square. Let’s go see my finest piece of work, shall we?”

  Walter hung the towel around his neck and walked right through the wall of the Lodge. I rolled my eyes and used the actual door to follow. When we met in the smallest room on the first floor, Walter had swapped his swim trunks for a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt with the name of his company embroidered on the front.

  We hadn’t done anything to cover the safe door. The wall around it was ripped away, and the cold, metal door took up most of the space like a weird decoration. Each time I passed by this room, a strange vibe radiated out to meet me and sent shivers up and down my spine. At some point, I started avoiding the safe.

  Walter squinted at the spinning dial on the safe door, but when he attempted to grasp it, his fingers melted right through. “Ah, hell. It’s not my lucky day.”

  “You can’t do it?” I asked.

  “I can’t touch it,” he corrected. “That’s not to say I can’t do it. I built a back way into all these safes. I don’t need a combination. Come here. I’ll show you what to do.”

  Goose bumps crept up my arms as I stepped between Walter and the safe. Energy pulsed from the other side and washed over me like a series of small sonic waves.

  “Do you feel that?” I muttered to Walter.

  “We all feel it.” He put his hands on my shoulder and squared me off against the safe like he was the referee of a wrestling match. “Okay. Do exactly as I say. You can’t mess this up.”

  “Is it wired to explode if I do it wrong?”

  “No, it just won’t open.” Walter chuckled at his joke. “All right, see that little tab beneath the dial?”

  I ran my fingers around the dial and located a tiny piece of metal that didn’t fit smoothly into the rest of the locking mechanism. Were it not for Walter, I would never have known it was there.

  “Got it?” Walter said. “Now wiggle your fingernail under the tab and pry it up.”

  I did as he said. With some fine finagling, the tab popped loose. I took a firm hold of the end and pried it from beneath the dial. A long, thin piece of metal—like a sturdier sewing needle—came out in my hands.

  “Excellent,” Walter said, beaming. “That was step one.”

  “How many steps are there?”

  “About ten more before we can get in there,” he answered. When he spotted my aghast expression, he shrugged. “What? I had to make sure no one else would figure out how to open it.”

  After several additional puzzles—the strangest of which included tapping on the safe door in a specific rhythmic manner—Walter finally asked me to input a combination and spin the dial.

  “Zero, six, zero, seven, sixty-seven,” he said.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Not exactly the hardest code to crack.”

  “It’s my birthday,” he said. “Besides, no one ever got in, did they?”

  I couldn’t argue with him there. What with all the shenanigans required to bypass the owner’s combination, I doubted anyone but the person who installed the safe—Earl, according to Walter—had been inside.

  I listened to each click of the dial as I spun it to the correct numbers. When I got to the last seven and pressed the dial inward, a satisfying clunk echoed from behind the locking mechanism. Walter lifted his arms in triumph.

  “There you have it, girlie,” he said.

  I made to pull the door open, but Walter stepped between me and the unlocked dial. A gust of freezing cold air made my hair stand on end as he seized my arms and pulled me away.

  “Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his face scrunched in a way that didn’t suit his happy-go-lucky attitude.

  I shrugged off his chilly grip. “Opening the safe.”

  “Give a guy a warning,” he said. “I told you I’d help open it, not stick around to see what’s inside.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Hell yeah,” he replied. “And I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

  “I thought you didn’t know what was in the safe,” I said.

  Walter faded, his figure shimmering at the edges. “Sometimes, it’s better to stay ignorant.”

  He vanished completely, and the warmth returned to the room. I faced the safe again, staring at the unlocked dial. With a quick spin, I could make sure no one opened it. I could stay ignorant like Walter advised.

  A whisper tickled my neck. It crept along my skin and crawled into my ears. Like before, I couldn’t understand a word, but I did comprehend the intention of the speaker. It was a request: open the safe.

  I grasped the bulky metal handle and pulled. The door swung open. My pupils dilated, fighting to see inside. With no windows, the room inside the safe was utterly dark.

  I grabbed a flashlight and switched it on. From a safe distance, I shined the beam into the mouth of the secret room. As my nerves stood at attention, I highlighted old wallpaper, moldy carpeting, and a single wooden desk: the remnants of the old Lodge.

  When nothing threatening barged out of the darkness, I stepped closer and peered inside. The room was mostly empty. If I wanted an explanation for the odd pulses of energy I’d felt through the door, I was out of luck.

  I lifted my foot over the lip of the door and stepped inside. The smell was odd, like rusted metal and dirt. It reminded me of Lily, though not as pleasant. I couldn’t find a light switch, but I did locate a box of matches on a shelf and several tall candles placed around the room. One by one, I lit the candles until a fluttering yellow glow filled the room.

  I switched off the flashlight and spun on the spot. The room was just a room. It didn’t hold any fantastic secrets or piles of money. Disappointment and annoyance fought for dominance in my head. We could’ve used a pile of cash.

  I almost left, bored with the place already, but something caught my eye. A piece of paper stuck out from one of the desk drawers. I pulled open the drawer and found several rolls of thick glossy maps. I unfurled the first one and laid it flat on the desk’s surface, but as soon as I let go of the corners, it sprang back to its original shape.

  Four heavy paperweights, each cast out of iron in the shape of the earth, rested nearby. I set one on each corner of the map to hold it in place and bent over to examine it. This one was a regular map of the world, but someone had drawn across it with a permanent marker. Strange lines covered the map, weaving in and out of each, intersecting at certain points. No matter how long I squinted at them, I couldn’t make sense of the lines. They weren’t coordinates or fault lines or anything else I could think of that someone might mark on a map. It was almost as if they’d been drawn at random.

  Near the points where certain lines intersected, the mapmaker had included additional markers in red p
en. The map was dotted all over with these, but there was no key to explain what they signified. Looking for an explanation, I took another map from the drawer and unrolled it.

  This map covered Europe. More strange lines and red dots decorated the various countries. Some red markers had been drawn larger than others as if to symbolize something of greater importance. Again, there was no key.

  One by one, I unrolled the rest of the maps. By my count, there were thirty-seven from all around the world. Each one focused on a different part of the earth. The United Kingdom had three maps all to itself as if the map owner was particularly interested in the subject there. When I unrolled the last map, I recognized the outline of the location.

  “Silver Creek,” I muttered to myself, tracing the drawn lines.

  The final map, unlike the others, featured a single asterisk, drawn over the intersection of two lines. I leaned closer, squinting at the unlabeled land. The asterisk was scribbled right on the spot where the Lodge sat. In minuscule handwriting, someone had written “ley lines” beside the Lodge’s location.

  Armed with the single map of Silver Creek, I drove into town. The library was Silver Creek’s pride and joy. It was one of the largest buildings in town and loomed over the smaller shops and restaurants along Main Street. I had never been inside before, but when I caught sight of the high ceiling and soaring shelves, I regretted not having come in sooner.

  I approached the front desk. The librarian was an older man with jowls, wearing a brown woolen vest with a nametag pinned to it: Charles. Though the library had a computer to organize everything, the librarian recorded the dates of recently returned books by hand.

  “Hello, miss,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Can I help you find something?”

  “Yes, I’m looking for some information on ley lines.”

  Charles chuckled as if enjoying a private joke. “You too, eh? Follow me.”

  He set aside his pen and led me deeper into the library. I couldn’t help but stare upwards. The shelves went so high that it seemed impossible to reach the books up there without a crane.