29

BENEATH THE SURFACE

The house was silent and still. Victor Jones was long gone. He had told Kallie the night before he needed to set out early for the office to sort out a few things. He promised he would return for her in the late afternoon so they might go to the hospital together.

Kallie sprang out of bed at the sound of her alarm. She’d set it a whole hour and a half early. With no time to waste, she prepared herself quickly, forgoing all her usual routines. And the strange thing was, she didn’t seem to miss any.

Getting to Plattsburgh and back by the afternoon was her only focus. It would be difficult at best, if not impossible. She couldn’t squander a moment.

Wrapping herself in her mother’s maroon sweater, she slung her leather satchel over her shoulder. In it, she tucked the box. The bones rattled and clattered violently as she fled down the porch steps, as though fighting to get loose.

It was one of those September mornings that reached for autumn with icy fingertips. The cool air quarreling with the still-tepid waters of the lake conjured up a thick, shapeless fog. It rolled off the surface and into town, consuming everything in its path.

Kallie could barely see three feet in front of her as she picked a path around the side of the house toward the garage and got out her bike. Fog pressed in on her from all sides as she made her way toward the school. Though she felt solid and sure on her bike now, she rode extracautiously, stopping at each intersection to make certain it was safe to cross.

Anna was waiting in front of the old building. She greeted Kallie with a cheerful wave. Together they rolled down Main Street toward the lake and the Burlington Bike Path.

The path followed the old Rutland Railroad route. In 1901, the trains trundled passengers and freight from Vermont to western New York and on into Quebec. It was never a solid financial operation, and the company declined steadily until it was abandoned altogether. Eventually a recreational trail was created over the old trestles. The path wound through Burlington, Colchester, and then over a marble causeway toward South Hero.

Kallie had traveled only short distances on the path. She had never ridden all the way along the fourteen-mile trail. After the first few miles, she began to huff and puff, but she pressed herself to continue at top speed because there was little time to spare. Anna rode out ahead, swallowed up entirely by fog. Luckily, her incessant chatter was like a beacon of sound for Kallie to follow.

The path took a sharp turn and left the mainland, continuing out on the narrow causeway over the foggy lake. Kallie paused a moment before venturing onto the single-lane path that disappeared into the fog. She could hear Anna’s disembodied voice calling to her but she could no longer see her. She put a shaky foot back on the pedals and began moving onto the path. Glancing over her shoulder, she could no longer see solid land. It was as though she were gliding out of reality and into a dream.

“Slow down,” she called to Anna.

“It’s like flying over the water!”

“If you’re not careful,” said Kallie, “you’re going to fly into the water!” The only response was a soft giggle.

As they continued toward the center of the lake, the fog began to change. It lifted off the surface like a layer of sunburned skin. Then the wind teased it, pulling wisps upward like ribbons of cotton candy, stretching them long and lean, twirling them toward the sky like wispy vines.

“The dance of the steam devils,” whispered Kallie.

She had watched this phenomenon many times with Grandpa Jess from the safety of the swinging benches. But out here, on the lake itself, it was as though she had become part of the dance.

Suddenly, she heard Anna screech to a halt. Kallie snapped from her trance and hit her brakes. The path ended abruptly at a little white shelter with a bright-blue sign announcing: WELCOME TO THE LOCAL MOTION ISLAND LINE BIKE FERRY. They had halted just in time. Another few feet and they might have broken through the barrier and gone into the lake.

The two girls dismounted and headed down the ramp. The ferry arrived in no time. It was a small vessel. They paid their fare, anchored their bikes, and sat opposite each other on white wooden benches. A heavy silence filled the space between them as the ferry dipped and swayed, shuttling them quickly across the two-hundred-foot gap between causeways known as the Cut.

It took only a few minutes. Before she knew it, Kallie had left the ferry and was pedaling on toward Grand Isle and the second ferry—the one that would take them to Plattsburgh. She and Anna purchased their tickets at a small wooden hut, boarded the large ferry along with several cars, and waited for it to leave the dock.

Kallie hadn’t been worried on the bike ferry—that was like being out on the Escape. But taking this particular vessel was different. A lump began to form in Kallie’s stomach as she stared out at the choppy water, thinking. Wondering.

The captain blew the whistle, and the ferry began to drift. Once out on the open water, the boat rocked and swayed. Kallie kept far from the railing, while Anna insisted on hanging over it and looking out. The last vestiges of fog rose from the surface, reaching up with misty tendrils before dissolving into nothing.

“Get away from the edge,” warned Kallie, but Anna wasn’t paying attention. She had dropped her big backpack onto the deck and was leaning farther over the railing. “Be careful, Anna,” Kallie tried again, but the girl paid her no mind, practically dangling over the side.

“Look!” shouted Anna suddenly, pointing and stretching her arms as if to touch something elusive. “It’s Champ!”

In one slow, spiraling moment, Kallie watched, paralyzed, as the ferry hit a rogue wave and dipped downward so sharply that Anna lost her balance. She flapped like a sheet in the wind and then flew over the railing and into the dark water, disappearing under the waves.

Was this how it had happened all those years ago? Had Kallie’s mother simply lost her footing? Drowning wasn’t the loud, splashy panic people imagine it to be. Kallie had researched it extensively. Drowning was quick and quiet. People just slipped beneath the water and were gone.

Searing and strangled thoughts snapped Kallie back to the moment and spurred her into action. She wasn’t going to let Anna slip away from her, too. She let out a guttural cry for help and then jumped into the lake, clothes, satchel, and all.

The air left her lungs as her body smacked the cold water. The lake sucked her downward, but she battled hard, kicking wildly, reversing direction, and losing her shoes in the process. She breached the surface, gasping for air, swallowing greedily.

Her glasses were in place, but it was like trying to see through a rain-soaked windshield. She searched frantically for Anna. In the distance, she glimpsed a head bobbing in the waves. It came up briefly, hands clambering as if to climb an invisible ladder, and then she was gone again.

“Anna!” Kallie screamed, taking in a mouthful of musky water and gurgling it back out. “Hold on, Anna! I’m coming!”

The leather satchel and wool sweater, saturated and heavy, threatened to drag Kallie back beneath the waves. She disentangled herself from both and began swimming as hard as she could toward the spot she had last seen Anna. Straining every muscle, she struggled against the current. In the distance, she could hear a cacophony of voices coming from the ferry. They had heard her call. That was good.

Kallie’s arms and legs ached, but she pressed onward. The head came up once more and then was gone again. But Kallie was close—only about twenty feet away. She swam harder, her muscles burning, until she reached Anna, who was now facedown in the water. This was a good thing, because a panicked victim could turn the would-be rescuer into a second victim.

Kallie thrust her arms under Anna’s. She lay back, bringing Anna’s head above the water. She began to whip-kick toward the ferry, which had stopped. Two men had jumped into the lake as well and were heading toward them with a flotation device. Kallie was quickly running out of steam. The two men reached her just as Kallie felt herself sinking.

Anna coughed and sputtered water as they were pulled back onto deck. Someone threw a scratchy gray blanket around Kallie’s shivering shoulders as she hovered over Anna, watching one of the men check her ABCs—airways, breathing, and circulation.

“I’m fine,” Anna insisted. She sat up, grinning. “Really. Just a little wet, but no worse for wear.”

The other man handed Kallie her sopping leather satchel. He had fished it out of the water along with her sweater. She had forgotten all about the satchel. And the box.

Kallie opened the satchel and shook it frantically, but it was empty. She cast it aside, despondent.

“I-I’m sorry,” said Anna, reaching for her arm.

But it was too late. The box was gone and along with it all hope Kallie might return it to the faceless man.

“Grandpa,” she whispered softly.