The Lake of the Lost

 Sensitive content: grief

Zac Porter drove the van along the winding gravel road, with his wife, Sarah, next to him. He was thinking about the days when they would have been blasting the tunes to break the monotony of the long journey, but things were different now, and it did not seem like they would ever go back to such carefree ways. Just this morning when they were setting off the children had objected to his music!

Suddenly, Sarah’s voice broke the silence. “We must be nearly there now,” she insisted, “unless you missed the turn.”

“I’m sure I didn’t miss it,” Zac whispered emphatically. 

However, Zac, was not so sure now. The landscape seemed different, more winding, narrower than the last time he was here, about twenty years earlier. This whole area seemed unfamiliar, uninviting, eerie. The almost bare branches of some trees reached into the road, like arms waving, menacingly, as if messaging him to stop and turn back. 

Zac wondered if this trip was a mistake. The two oldest children were happy to be out of school, but not so happy to miss trick or treating. Sarah, who worked from home, was happy to come away, but not so happy to leave her work behind. And Zac, well, he simply was not so happy. 

Thirty-eight was too young for a mid-life crisis. But there were pressures at work and too many demands on his time. So, this invitation to come to the cabin, had seemed like a good idea, a chance to spend some quality family time in nature before winter took hold. The children could run around and experience the great outdoors all day long. They could be as loud as they wanted without disturbing the neighbours who had mostly left the area to return to their permanent residences. The outdoor fire pit would be great for cooking. And in the evenings, the family could retreat indoors to sit in front of the fireplace. Zac was hoping that the nights would bring some much-needed alone time for him and Sarah. 

Zac was still thinking about the possibility of alone time with Sarah, when her voice interrupted his thoughts, “Zac,”

“Yes, hon,” he replied, while gently placing his hand upon her leg.

His move was met with swift rejection as she brushed his hand off and complained, “Geez Zac, that’s not helpful. I was about to say how badly I need to pee. I hope we find the place soon.”

“Here, look, I’ll pull over and you can just dip down into the ditch and behind a tree. There’s nobody around anyway.”

“Ugh, okay! I hope there’s nothing lurking in the bushes!”

Amazingly, the children did not awaken when the vehicle stopped. Zac, trying to be thoughtful, got out of the van too and listened for sounds of approaching vehicles. There were none.

Nevertheless, Zac felt uneasy, almost vulnerable standing there on the side of the road. It was late afternoon, and although sunny, there was a definite chill in the air. The leaves that remained on the trees were hues of red, orange, and gold, dancing on the branches, as if attempting to avoid their inevitable fall. 

What should have been enjoyable scenery was making Zac anxious. A gust of wind dropped leaves on top of the vehicle, making him jump. The breeze was speaking to him now, in hushed tones. Is that a voice, calling my name?

Zac looked around for Sarah. What is taking her so long? He thought about going after her, but she would be annoyed if her pants were down. He thought about calling out loudly, but that might disturb the children. What he mostly wanted to do was get back in the vehicle. He had a sudden urge to turn around and go home, to get away from this place and the wind that was rattling his nerves, running its breath over his neck and making him so jumpy. 

The trees seemed bigger than he remembered. But it had been twenty years. Bushes were growing in the once clear ditches, reaching towards the road as if nature were claiming back its land from the people who had built their cabins around the lake below.

The cabins were alongside a lake known as Long Lake. Zac could not recall its original name, but he knew the name change had everything to do with him and his family, his brother! 

Oh God, my brother! Why did I agree to meet Jason here? Why? I swore never to come back ever again! But Jason doesn’t really understand. He was too young, and he wasn’t here. And Sarah, well, she doesn’t know! The past is in the past. Or is it? But I had to come, before the place gets sold, to say sorry, to say goodbye, to…

Zac was startled by a sudden rustling sound and movement to his left as a squirrel ran across the road. 

What a wimp! Get a grip!

He looked to the right.

If Sarah would hurry up, we might get there before we lose the light!

The sky was changing colour, from sunny blue to cloudy grey. From where he stood, he had a glimpse of the lake, with some mist wafting just above it, like a question mark hovering in mid-air. 

Is that a person? Surely nobody would be swimming in the lake late in the afternoon at the end of October.

Zac felt mesmerized by the lake and the mysterious mist that beckoned him. He started to walk along the road to get a better view. The leaves crunched underfoot as Zac increased both his strides and his pace. The lake was calling him, and he turned as if to walk down the next driveway leading to the lake.

“Zac!” Sarah’s voice was loud and demanding. “What the heck, Zac?” There was also another voice, that of his youngest child, three-year old Olivia. 

Zac looked back to see Sarah lifting Olivia out of the vehicle. He was surprised to see how far he had walked. He felt foolish now and hurried back quickly. 

Sarah looked exasperated as she cuddled Olivia, before handing her to Zac. As he buckled the sleepy girl into her car seat, he glanced to the back row where the boys were stirring, but not yet awake. 

Sarah was silent now. Zac could tell she was annoyed at him for walking so far away from the van, leaving the children alone, asleep in the unlocked vehicle, while she was in the bushes. 

As they started to drive again, Zac continued to look for the turn. In the dimming light it was hard to see the various driveways which branched from the road like spindly fingers, leading down a couple of hundred feet to the cabins below, mostly summer holiday homes. Property numbers were few and far between. They were not needed in these parts where nobody was just passing through, where mail was now delivered to group boxes, and where everybody knew their way.

Nevertheless, Zac was looking for 3283, his cousin’s cabin, previously owned by their grandfather. His cousin, Jason, who would be bringing his trailer, had suggested the week away together, before he sold the place. But late last night, he had called to say that his family would not be there until the end of the week. 

Zac had thought about delaying their trip too. But after all the preparations, that did not make sense. It would be hard to explain his trepidation to his wife. Now, he found himself questioning his decision to bring his family without the distraction of cousins, a distraction that he himself needed to help allay his fears.

That lake, so deep! The children! My brother! The deserted landscape! Am I insane to bring my family here, to this very lake?

Sarah reached out and turned on the heater, breaking the silence by saying, “Cold! I hope there’s some heat in the cabin.”

Zac reminded her about the electricity that ran off a generator, the wood burning fireplace, and the abundance of bedding and warm clothes.

“And we can always cuddle up to keep warm,” he said, pleased to see that his comment was met with a smile. When Sarah’s hand reached over to rest on his leg, he knew he was forgiven. 

The road was just starting to become narrower, when Zac saw the rusty numbers on a tree, 3283. Tires crunching on the gravel, he started down the driveway. Two hundred feet further on, the trees gave way to a grassy clearing upon which was the cabin, a woodshed, an outhouse, and lots of space for parking.

The view of the lake in the twilight was breathtaking. Zac retrieved the hidden key and got the generator running while Sarah unpacked the essentials with help from the boys, eleven-year-old James, and nine-year old Thomas.

That night, they had a campfire over which they roasted hot dogs. They were not very quiet, but they did not need to be. They played some charades outside and then moved their game inside. 

At one point in the late evening, when the boys were still awake watching a DVD on the laptop in the loft, and little Olivia was asleep on the futon in the office, Zac went outside to bring in more firewood. Except he did not! 

Sarah went looking for Zac. Not in the woodshed, not in the van, not in the outhouse, not at the fire pit! Perplexed, she turned her attention to the dock that led out over the water. She could just make out a shape at the end of the dock, one hundred feet away.

Is that Zac?

She wanted to go down there and see. But she did not dare. The dock was dark. And the gate was locked, just the way it should be when there were children on the property. Zac had been insistent about that. 

Retreating inside, Sarah could hear the boys laughing upstairs in the loft. It was nice they were getting along, creating brotherly memories. She checked on Olivia, sleeping soundly. Sarah curled up on the couch with blankets and a book, waiting for Zac to come in.

It must have been two hours later when Zac entered the cabin. Sarah sat up, startled, as he opened the sliding doors from the patio into the living room. By this time, she had pulled the couch out into the double bed that she and Zac would share. Zac silently got under the covers. Up against her, his body was cold. Sarah reached out to embrace him with her warmth. But silently, he turned away and drifted off into a restless sleep where he was muttering incessantly and nonsensically, interrupting Sarah’s sleep. 

In the morning, Sarah asked Zac about the night before, about the dock and his disturbed sleep. But, to her annoyance, he changed the topic quickly.

The first few days at the cabin were beautiful. Late October was amazing with morning mists on the lake and the sounds of birds calling. The children loved every moment, playing outside through the day, and enjoying campfires in the evening. It was a joy for their parents to see them so happy, no bickering, and no complaining about lack of Wi-Fi either. 

Zac was at his best during the daylight hours when he also enjoyed outdoor activities with his family. But as the shadows grew longer, he grew quieter, staring out at the lake with a strange fascination on his face. Then, after nightfall, he disappeared to the dock, crawling into bed in the early hours, freezing cold. On the third night, Sarah even thought his hair seemed wet, as if he had been swimming. 

Sarah’s annoyance at her husband soon turned to concern. He just was not himself, withdrawing from her, and staring out at the lake increasingly as twilight approached.

On the fourth night, after making sure the children were asleep, Sarah decided to go out on the dock. She punched in the code at the gate and, using a small flashlight, made her way towards the end of the dock. From a distance it seemed like Zac was talking to someone, quietly yet animated and gesturing with his hands.

Sarah cautiously approached the end of the dock, where Zac was sitting in a chair alone, leaning over the edge, talking in a hushed voice to the water. Sarah, thinking she saw movement below, gasped, causing Zac to turn around, “Sarah!” he exclaimed. 

Sarah moved closer to Zac and the edge of the dock, trying to see who or what was down there. What she saw frightened her to the core. The face looking up at her was her husband’s! She looked from Zac to the image below. 

Is it a reflection? Impossible at that angle!

She tried to keep her balance, but the world started spinning. Stumbling, she futilely reached for the back of a chair, before tumbling into the frigid water. Everything went black.

The next thing Sarah knew, she was lying on the couch, wrapped up in warm blankets. Zac was sitting on the edge, just visible in the light from the dying fire. 

“Zac, what happened?” Sarah called out.

Looking at his wife tenderly, Zac said, “You were saved. I was saved. Just rest now,” and he lay down next to her, hugging her tightly. He felt immense love. But sleep evaded him; he could not escape his thoughts.

He had been so afraid arriving here at the lake, where his twin had drowned at the age of eight, at the place where he had almost lost his life too, at the place where he had believed he would lose his life. But despite his fear, he had gone to find Tyler, to apologize, to tell him how much he loved him. He had tempted fate with a midnight swim, testing the water to see if it would take him. Out there on the dock, all the memories had come tumbling back to him, all the details of the accident, all the legends of this lake, all the reasons why he had stayed away, and all the reasons why he had been compelled to return, for his brother, for love, despite his fears. 

Had he found his brother? He had not been sure those first few nights. He had felt Tyler’s presence. He thought he had seen him in the water, sensed him reaching out to him there at the edge of the dock. And then, tonight, Sarah had come. She had seen something, he was sure. She had fallen in, and Zac had jumped in after her, knowing she could not swim. But she had pulled him under as he tried to help her; it was more than he could handle in that cold dark abyss. He himself was sinking, flailing, panicking. Until, out of nowhere, he felt another pair of hands helping him lift. Then he was bolstered up and out of the water by a force from below.

Sarah was already up on the dock, spluttering. He had carried her into the house, helped her change and covered her up, wondering how much she had seen, how much was real, how much was in his mind. Sarah had fallen into a fitful sleep, and Zac had sat silently staring at her, until that brief awakening.

For decades he had carried the burden of this grief, this loss, this guilt. But now he knew his past was that of mistakes made in innocence. A boy who took the boat with his twin. A boy who lost the oars. A boy who capsized the boat. A boy who wore the only life jacket on board. A boy who could not save his brother. For so long he had believed that someday the murky waters of this lake would engulf him too. Coming back was tempting fate. He had been brought here at the age of eighteen when his grandfather was ailing. As a terrified teenager, he had refused to even venture near the dock. He had sworn back then never to return. But the love for his brother had brought him back this October. Fear had gripped him for so long, and guilt. Such a heavy guilt. But, as he finally drifted to sleep, he sensed some relief. 

“Hey, honey,” Zac opened his eyes to see daylight, and Sarah looking at him with concern. In her hands was an old scrapbook that she had found that morning. Inside the scrapbook, were various newspaper clippings about the tragedy from thirty years ago, when The Lake of the Lost had claimed another victim, Tyler Porter.

“I never knew,” she whispered. 

“I couldn’t talk about it,” he said.

“Well, we can start when you’re ready,” she reassured him. And then added, “You know what, I was thinking, let’s …”

“Go home,” he said finishing her sentence for her. He wondered how much she remembered. And if she had seen Tyler too, not the eight-year-old boy lost in the lake, but the ghostly man who, except for his ethereal appearance, was the splitting image of Zac.

After breakfast, they packed up the van and left a note for Jason. The children were happy to head home before Halloween.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Zac glanced back at the lake, partially hidden from view by the trees. Just before he lost sight of the water, his peripheral vision picked up movement.

Is that a hand waving?

In a silent goodbye, he tipped his hat to the lake and, remembering the CD in the stereo, reached for the power button. At the same time, Sarah reached for the volume button, declaring, “Sorry, kids, we are cranking these tunes!” She looked lovingly across at Zac and placed her hand on his leg.