Beneath Lake Redemption

eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Beneath Lake Redemption

“DON’T get too low on gas. The motors will start to sputter. Do you believe a place can have a soul, Mr. McTighe?” From outboard motors to philosophy all in one breath. Syd cleared his throat before answering. “I suppose it’s not outside the realm of possibility.” The question was just sinister enough that Syd wondered if having his back turned to Mr. C was a good idea. He couldn’t exactly defend himself while he was leaning over the back of the houseboat, peering at the twin fifty-horsepower engines. One little shove was all it would take. “Watch you don’t foul the propellers while you’re beaching the boat. What about ghosts? Do you believe in ghosts?” Mr. C planted one rubber boot on the railing next to Syd’s hand. The morning’s soft rain dripped from the brim of his hat and pattered onto his yellow slicker. “Um… no,” Syd said, straightening. He backed away from the railing. “Careful now.” Mr. C grinned around the stem of his pipe. “The deck gets slippery when it’s wet. Wouldn’t want you to bruise that handsome face.” A shiver ran down Syd’s spine. He slicked back his dark, unruly hair. “Not to sound like an idiot, but it’s a boat. I imagine the deck gets wet pretty often.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Mr. C flashed a set of perfect, white teeth. “That was a joke, son. You know, you’re right. You’re a little uptight. Could be a vacation on the lake is just what you need.” “Tense. I said I was tense.” “Right.” Mr. C climbed the stairs to the wheelhouse and turned a key on the panel. The engines died. “So those are the motors. Now, you won’t break any speed records, mind you, but they’ll take you anywhere on the lake. That’s a thirty-eight mile stretch of water with nothing but unspoiled wilderness around it. No houses. No roads. Maybe another houseboat occasionally but not many. It isn’t the season. Bit too cold yet.” Syd had known that, which was why he’d chosen April. Less people on the lake meant a smaller chance of someone seeing him sneak down the Western Finger. “Anywhere on the lake,” he said. “Sounds great.” “Except the Western Finger. That’s off-limits.” Syd schooled his features into one of his favorite expressions: curious innocence. His job often called for it. “Oh? What’s the Western Finger?” They ducked beneath the overhang, out of the rain. Through the door at their backs was the cabin where Syd would sleep, cook his meals, and pretend to enjoy the view. Since the actual reason for his trip was on a need-to-know basis, and the last person who needed to know was Mr. C, Syd pasted a polite, interested smile on his face. “Is that the name of your secret fishing hole?” Mr. C touched a match to the end of his pipe and began to puff. “You’re not from around here, are you, son?”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Syd slapped his knee. “Aw, what gave it away?” “Well, your ignorance for one.” “I was making a joke,” Syd said. “Yep, I figured so. I wasn’t trying to be rude.” Pipe smoke ringed Mr. C’s head like a listing halo. With his weathered skin and graying beard, he looked every day his sixty-odd years. “Lake Redemption is plenty big enough for you, Mr. McTighe. She’s a long, skinny thing, that’s true, but there are more coves and inlets that you can shake a stick at. No need to go snooping around the Western Finger. It’s dangerous. You keep to the main lake, and you’ll be fine.” Mr. C was pretty sharp for an old guy. Syd toned down his ignorant city-slicker act. “Well, I’ve heard rumors, but I’m not looking for any trouble. The only thing I’m after this week is time to myself. Some peace and quiet. I was told I could find that here.” “You can.” Mr. C puffed on his pipe. “That and more, if you know where to look.” Syd answered with a crisp salute, two fingers to the bill of his cap. And may the old man be a prophet, because Syd was there for more than a few fun-filled days on a pale pink floating RV. “You all loaded up?” Mr. C fit his rain hat back over his graying black hair. “Just about.” The cameras, high-powered telephoto lenses, and listening devices were in a duffel in his trunk. He didn’t want Mr. C anywhere near it. “I can get the last bit myself.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  His phone came to life, blaring Jethro Tull. Cursing, Syd snapped it open. “Hello?” “Find that secret government installation yet?” “No… honey,” Syd replied, winking at Mr. C. “Not yet. I haven’t even left the dock.” “Well get cracking, McTighe!” Sam bellowed. As bosses went, Syd knew he could do worse. At least Sam indulged Syd’s crazy ideas, even if he didn’t always keep the faith. He often referred to Syd as his ‘crazy crusader’. Syd let it slide. Putting up with the man’s off-color humor was a small price to pay for writing for one of the best magazines in the country. He caught Mr. C’s eye. My wife, he mouthed, pointing to the phone. Mr. C nodded, dropped onto a bench, crossed one ugly rubber boot in front of the other, and settled in to listen. Syd rolled his eyes as he turned away. When he got around to writing this piece for the mag, he’d have to remember to include old Mr. C: Lake Redemption’s own Captain Ahab. He put the phone back to his ear. “I hear what you’re saying, babe, but I’m just not ready to forgive you. Have you seen the counselor yet about that internet porn addiction thing?” “I can quit anytime,” Sam said. “So I take it you’ve got company? Can’t talk right now?” “Something like that.” “All this covert crap is going to make me gray before my time.” From the other end of the line, Syd heard the scratch of pencil on paper. “Call me when you find something.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Sure, sweetheart. Was there anything else you wanted me to know?” “Last night I dreamed I owned a castle on the moon, complete with my own harem of green, three-breasted women.” The distinctive click of Sam’s Zippo preceded his phlegm-filled inhalation. “Does that count?” “Bye, baby.” Syd snapped the phone shut. “Sorry about that, Mr. C.” “Sounds like your woman’s giving you trouble.” Mr. C hoisted himself up, and Syd followed him back out into the drizzle. It was a short jump from the boat to the floating dock. Mr. C alighted with a ballerina’s grace. Syd almost landed on his ass. The steady smack of water on fiberglass followed them down the walkway, past three other boats, and onto the gravel parking lot. “Yeah, we’re having a few problems,” Syd said, sticking to his story. “You know, normal couple stuff.” Mr. C scratched at his beard. “Women are complicated.” Were they? Syd rarely gave them more than a passing thought. “I suppose,” he hedged. They stopped beside Syd’s car. But for the occasional fat drip that bounced off Syd’s windbreaker, the rain had stopped. “Could’ve sworn you were gay,” Mr. C said, his tone so even that Syd replayed the scene in his head twice, positive he’d misheard, before answering the question with one of his own. “What made you think that?” he asked, tacking on an amused laugh.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Mr. C puffed on his pipe like a locomotive. Then he pointed to the rainbow bumper sticker on the back of Syd’s Taurus. Did We Vote No On YOUR Marriage? Oops. “It’s my wife’s car.” “Ahhh.” Mr. C nodded. “Now I see your problem.” It was a tossup which was worse: playing the pathetic straight man who’d married a lesbian or blowing his cover to save his dignity. Sam was going to have a field day with this. “It’s a long story. I’d rather not talk about it.” “No doubt.” Syd retrieved the last bag from the car and hoisted it over his shoulder with a grunt. The seams were stretching between the handle and the bag, but then it hadn’t been designed to hold $2,000 worth of camera and spy equipment. Mr. C eyed the bag. “What you got in there? Rocks?” “Books.” Syd hoped that would satisfy the old man. “Take care of my car,” he said with a wink. “She’ll be safe here. Not a soul around for miles. Just me.” They backtracked to the boat together. Mr. C watched Syd stash the duffel in the main cabin, then pointed at the wheel house. Syd took a deep breath as he climbed the steps. He’d never driven a floating camper, but how hard could it be? Mr. C hopped back onto the dock and loosened the forward line. “All right. Just like I showed you. Start her up. Keep it in idle speed.” Syd obeyed. The twin motors roared to life.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “That’s good, Mr. McTighe. You’re a natural,” Mr. C called. Natural what? Syd prepared to shout back, then he saw it. The placid surface of the lake hiccupped, and a line of water, maybe two feet high, rushed toward them. Shock stole Syd’s chance to shout a warning. The wave hit, lifting the floating dock clear out of the water, exposing the pontoons beneath. The houseboat rocked like an amusement park ride, and Mr. C went flying. Had he not been vaulting through the air right toward the houseboat, Syd would’ve missed the expression on his face. Not fear. Resignation. He landed in an ungraceful sprawl on the platform above the motors, and the tossing boat tipped him helpfully toward the churning water between them. “Mr. C!” Syd was no hero. He had momentum on his side, or he never would have made it. He jumped the handful of stairs to the deck below, and the wave sent him crashing into the aft railing. Winded, he managed to catch a handful of yellow slicker. Mr. C jerked to a stop a foot above the spinning propellers. “Mr. C!” Syd yelled again. His shoulder was screaming in pain. The slicker threatened to slip from his fingers. Then with a mighty grunt, Mr. C swung his legs underneath himself and braced his feet against the ledge. The pull on Syd’s shoulder eased, but he didn’t let go. “You okay?” “Cut the engines,” was Mr. C’s answer.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Hero or not, Syd knew an order when heard one. He stumbled up the steps to the wheelhouse and twisted the key to off. “What the fuck was that?” Mr. C didn’t speak until the motors went quiet. “Rogue wave.” “On a fucking lake?” Mr. C scooted to the edge of the platform, climbed over the railing, and stood. He looked as shaken as Syd felt. “It’s a big lake.” He bent over slowly, like he was bowing, and rested his hands on his knees. “Changed your mind about that houseboat holiday, Mr. McTighe?” The lake calmed as quickly as it had come to life. Already the heavy bulk of the houseboat had settled back to its barely discernible pitching. “No,” Syd said, his voice wobbling. Still bent over his knees, Mr. C nodded. “Better get moving then. The day’s wasting.” Syd offered his arm, but Mr. C waved him off and stepped confidently back onto the dock. With shaking fingers, he untied the lines. Free of its moorings, the boat began to drift. Syd swallowed, suddenly feeling very alone. “Hey, Mr. C,” he called, fingers hovering over the ignition key. “I was wondering. Why did you ask me about ghosts?” “Keep to the main lake.” With that, the old man turned up the walkway toward shore, moving faster than he had all day. When he reached dry land, he turned. Syd waved. After a moment, Mr. C did too.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  LAKE REDEMPTION was a skinny thing. It resembled a fat river more than it did a lake, stretching nearly forty miles through central Pennsylvania. Built by the Army Corps of Engineers, every square inch of the place belonged to the United States government. Hunting, camping, and hiking were forbidden. That boats were permitted on the lake was a small capitulation, since they could only launch from Mr. C’s marina. What a racket. It was only April, technically offseason, but Syd had still paid nearly a grand for the privilege of putzing around Redemption for a week. Wait until Sam saw that on his expense report. He went top speed, a whopping fifteen mph, for half an hour, then swung into a small, kidney-shaped cove, and dropped anchor. Time to get set up. As he assembled the cameras and directional microphones, he played back a few of his interview tapes. The strange goings-on at Lake Redemption weren’t a recent phenomenon. Syd had found stories that dated back decades. None had ever been explained. Syd had his suspicions, though. The first tape ended, and Syd flipped it over. “So I went up on deck, you know, thinking I could hear it better. Whatever it was. And I could. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first, but it was voices. They sounded like they were coming right out of the lake, but that had to be one of those, what do you call them?” “Auditory illusions?” Syd’s voice suggested. “Right!”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Syd remembered this guy. Some rich New Yorker who’d amassed his fortune not entirely honestly. His kids had only been out of Manhattan once, and that had been for a daytrip to Long Island. Mr. NYC had turned his houseboat up the Western Finger his third day out, despite the edict to stay away. Rules like that didn’t apply to people like him. “Anyway, there were lights too.” “Can you describe those for me?” “I guess. They were weird. Kind of fuzzy like. Diffused. It’s like they were all around us. Up the trees, on the lake. Everywhere.” “So what did you do?” “Got the hell out of there! But we almost didn’t, which, I don’t mind saying, almost made me crap my Calvins.” On the tape, Syd’s voice became a strange twist of amused and fascinated. “What do you mean?” “Got the anchor caught on a branch or something. I don’t know. Every time I thought I’d freed it, it snagged again. And—” Heavy breathing and static came through in the ensuing pause. Then Mr. NYC barked a laugh. Even though he’d known it was coming, Syd jumped, fumbling the lens cap he was holding. “And, well, this is going to sound really stupid.” “Trust me,” interviewer Syd said. “I won’t laugh.” “There were people. In the water, there were people.” “Like scuba divers?” A frisson of excitement entered Syd’s voice.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “No, no. Not scuba divers. People, Mr. McTighe.” Syd switched off the tape, smiling. Panic did strange things to the head. Up until that week, he’d bet the scariest thing that Mr. NYC had ever experienced was the closing of Tavern on the Green. “They were scuba divers,” Syd said, picking up a brush to dust off one of his polarized filters. “Government scuba divers.” Navy Seals, maybe. Whoever they were, and whatever they were doing there, Syd was going to bust the story wide open. People in the lake. Syd rolled his eyes. “Pulitzer in the lake,” he mumbled, affixing one of the cameras to the tripod. There. That sounded much better.

ACCORDING to the map he’d bootlegged from the Corps of Engineer’s website, (Mr. C’s was hand-drawn and didn’t include any secret government bases), the entrance to the Western Finger was seventeen miles up the lake from the marina. More than one of the people he’d interviewed had called it eerie. “There are ruins or something,” Mr. NYC had said. “On both banks of the inlet. Real creepy looking.” Syd cut the engines a hundred yards out. Through his new binoculars, also purchased on Sam’s dime, he had a clear view of the ruins in question. Two points for Mr. NYC. Creepy fit the bill. The best word Syd could find to describe the structure—and words were his trade—was “wall.” He was looking at two ends of a wall, not crude, definitely manmade, and mostly underwater. Sections of chain link fence, choked with grape vine, lay toppled and rusting at the lake’s edge.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Now what? According to his watch, it was nearly four o’clock. Not much daylight left to explore. Only an idiot would go charging around an unmapped body of water in the dark. But he was also alone at the moment. Not a single witness as far as the eye could see. His moment of truth. Syd fired up the motors and steered the boat into the narrow inlet. “You can’t… always get… what you want,” he sang under his breath, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “But if you try sometimes….” He gave one more glance over his shoulder as he passed the ruined wall. The lake was still empty. Syd grinned. “You get what you neeeeed.” He whistled more Jagger tunes, pushing through the water at a sedate 5 mph, until the differences became too glaring to ignore. For one, the birds weren’t singing, and they should’ve been cawing their little heads off. It was mating season. And the color of the water was different. Clearer. Syd craned his neck looking for fish but saw nothing. The lake looked as empty and sterile as tap water. The trees got taller, stretching farther out over the water, but as the first mile passed, and then the next, Syd realized his mistake. The trees weren’t getting taller. The channel was narrowing. It didn’t worry him at first. But a quarter mile farther along, something bumped the bottom of the boat. Syd ducked his head through the window of the wheelhouse in time to see the stern brush a thick tree branch a few feet below the surface. It wasn’t drifting.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Fuck!” Nobody had mentioned standing timber in the water. The fish finder was mounted to the left of the control panel. Up until then, Syd had ignored it. Now he flipped it on. The bottom of the lake came to life as a two-dimensional graph, and Syd’s knees went weak. He was floating over a forest. There was no mistaking the images. Huge trees rose up from the floor of the channel, their bare branches reaching for the surface. Morbidly fascinated, Syd stared at the images, then checked them against his map. If he lost even ten more feet, the boat would get stuck in the thick bramble. “What. The. Fuck.” Turn back? No. Others had made it through. He would too. His determination took a hit when a small red light began to blink on the control panel. Depth-warning. Syd was just calculating the cost of the boat—and whether Sam would understand when the magazine had to pay for it— when the underwater trees disappeared and the channel opened up into a wide body of water. Syd wiped the perspiration from his brow. The map from the Corps of Engineers gave him the details he needed. This was the deepest portion of the Western Finger. Bowl-shaped and two miles across, it was approximately two hundred feet deep. The surrounding forest grew thick and dark, right to the water’s edge. This is where Syd would get the story of the decade. He motored a bit farther, then dropped the anchor. It struck bottom at 175 feet, and Syd grinned. “The eagle has landed.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Venturing in immediately had been the right decision, he decided, but with night falling, there’d be little productive reconnoitering. Already darkness obscured the edges of the lake and its forest. He might as well grab a bite to eat. The main cabin held the kitchen, dining, and living area. Syd inspected it with a critical eye and found it surprisingly well-appointed. It looked like a typical vacation home, with a soft, squishy couch, a plain wood table and chairs, and minimalist kitchen. A stack of board games and DVDs sat stacked beneath the television console. He rifled through his bags of unpacked groceries before settling on a can of Campbell’s soup. Three minutes in the microwave. Couldn’t beat it. He punched in the time, hit start, and that was when the thumping started. The first one came from the bow, a strong blow that set the boat rocking. The next two came in quick succession— thump thump—toward the stern. Something splashed, then the night went quiet. Struck by a primal fear, Syd backed into the corner of the kitchenette. The microwave hummed, turning his soup round and round. Out on the lake, a loon screamed. Syd’s heart raced. The next sound was different altogether, more of a rat-atat-tat, and came from right under his feet. Like knocking. “Shit,” Syd whispered. “Shit.” Rat-a-tat-tat. The microwave beeped. Food Is Ready! scrolled across the screen.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Thump! Syd cried out and flattened himself into the corner. The boat vibrated as something struck the hull again and again. “Please stop,” Syd whispered. “Please.” As if appreciating Syd’s civility, the banging ceased immediately. Total silence fell, broken only by Syd’s pounding heart and the gentle kiss of water against the side of the boat. The microwave beeped one more time, reminding him about his soup, and on its heels, a voice rang out. “Help! Oh, God. Is someone there? Is that a boat? Please help me!” Syd stood rooted in the corner of the kitchenette. “Please! I’m so tired. And cold. I don’t think I can swim anymore.” It’s a trick, he thought, amending a heartbeat later, but what if it isn’t? That was the possibility that got him moving. Picking up speed as he went, he crossed to the door and rushed out onto the deck. Full dark had come. The lake stretched away in all directions, endlessly black. Syd squinted at the water. “Hello? Is somebody there?” Ten seconds of silence followed. Long enough that cold dread balled in Syd’s stomach. Was he too late? “Hello?” he called again. “Here! Here! Oh, thank God.” Splashing came from the port side. Syd edged in that direction and leaned over the railing. He couldn’t see a damn thing. “Hold on,” he called, then ran up the steps to the wheelhouse. “No, please don’t go!”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Hold on,” Syd repeated. The control panel was a pale rainbow of colors: red and green for the motors, blue for the generator, yellow for gasoline levels. “Where the fuck are the lights?” Syd growled, scanning the rows of buttons and switches. “Where are you? Where did you go?” “I’m right here!” He found the button he wanted dead center, one row from the bottom. He punched it, and the boat lit up, casting a halo of light onto the lake. Syd hurried back down the stairs. The water was a black, rippling pool, but about twenty yards out, Syd saw movement. “This way,” he shouted. “Can you make it?” The swimmer didn’t answer, but the splashing grew louder, and a figure emerged from the gloom. “Thank you, thank you,” Syd heard him panting as he drew close. “Almost there,” Syd coaxed. “You can do it.” By the time the person—it was a man—touched the side of the boat, he’d given up responding to Syd’s calls of encouragement. Syd reached over and grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt. “I’m going to help you around to the ladder, okay?” “Don’t let go,” the man rasped. “I won’t.” It only took a few seconds, but once there the man couldn’t get a solid grasp on the handles. “I’m sorry. I’m so cold.” Syd frowned at the slurred words. They were closing in on summer, but the lake still held winter’s chill. How long


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  had the guy been in the water? “It’s okay. I’ll help.” He braced his feet on the rail, grabbed the man under the arms, and hoisted. He was lighter than Syd had expected. Together, they tumbled onto the deck. “Thank you,” the man whispered. He was about Syd’s height, dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and trousers. And young. Mid-twenties, no older. The boat’s running lights illuminated a pair of deep-set hazel eyes, etched with exhaustion. “Take it easy. You’re safe now.” Syd slung an arm around the man’s waist and dragged him into the main cabin. Water ran in a steady stream from his clothing, forming an impressive puddle. “Let’s get you out of these,” Syd said, going to work, but the man’s shivering made the normally easy task difficult. Finally the buttons gave, and his sodden shirt fell to the floor with a splat. Syd slung a towel around him. “What’s your name?” “David. David Cooper.” “I’m Syd.” He cleared his throat and pointed to the buttons on David’s pants. “Can you undo those?” David shook his head. His teeth had started to chatter. “Don’t think so. Sorry.” “It’s okay. No need to be sorry.” Syd worked them open and peeled the pants over David’s hips. “Almost there.” “So cold.” “I know. I’ve got a bunch of blankets. We’ll have you warm in a minute. Hang on.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Only, the more clothing that Syd peeled off the guy, the more he wanted to keep him standing there naked all night. David’s skin was pure white, almost translucent. Being hours in the cold water was responsible for some of that, but he was still quite pale. Syd usually went for bronze-skinned guys, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of David. About six feet tall, broad at the shoulders, slim at the hips, he was firm-bodied where it counted. This was a man who labored for a living. The muscle Syd was drooling over wasn’t the overdeveloped type that came with a gym membership and an obsessive-compulsive need to look like the Hulk. It was real. David was solid all over, with a wiry toughness that spoke of a physically active lifestyle. Syd pushed the pants down over David’s hips. “Can you take it from there?” Trembling, David stared miserably at the soggy trousers. “I’m sorry—” “It’s no big deal.” Truly, it wasn’t. Syd squatted in front of him, took hold of the stubborn material, and began to work it down David’s legs. The underwear came with the pants, but Syd didn’t hesitate, just pulled the whole mess to David’s ankles, then worked his feet free one at a time. He hadn’t planned to look, but there was no helping it. As Syd stood, his eyes skimmed over David’s cock. It didn’t look any worse for wear for being submerged in an icy lake for the past few hours. Even soft, it was plump and hung well past his sac. Nice. David’s eyes drifted closed. He swayed. Syd grabbed his arm before he fell, chastising himself for his thoughts. Lusting after a near-drowning victim: not so nice. He buried


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  the surge of lust, then was almost sorry he did. At least it’d taken his mind off the mysterious banging. He wrapped David in a thick towel, threw a blanket over that, and led him to the couch. “Stay here. I’ve got some soup in the microwave. That’ll help.” “No. Thank you.” “Some coffee?” David shook his head. “I don’t think I could.” “You should, but okay. We’ll give it a few minutes. I’ll grab you another blanket.” The bedroom was through one of the two doors at the rear of the cabin. Syd had given it a cursory glance that morning and did little more than that now. A queen-sized bed filled most of the space, made up with a fluffy, navy blue comforter. Syd pulled it free with one yank, scattering pillows everywhere, then carried it back to the main cabin and tucked it around David. “Better?” “Yes, thank you.” Syd offered soup again, David declined, and for a while after that they sat without speaking. Eventually, David’s shivering eased. A hint of color returned to his cheeks. As it dried, his hair became a pale gold, and the ends curled up, giving some body to the shaggy cut. Sighing, he removed an arm from his cocoon to push it off his forehead, baring one shoulder and part of his chest. A dusky nipple was just visible at the edge of the comforter. Syd stared, lust sparking in his stomach. How would David taste, he wondered, fresh from the lake?


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Banishing the thought, he forced his eyes back to David’s face. Not soon enough, though. Watching Syd closely, David shrugged the blanket a bit lower. An invitation? “Thank you again, Syd.” Damn. That quiet, husky voice was going to do him in. Syd squirmed. “You’re welcome.” He’d locked the door after he’d dragged David inside, but he didn’t hold much faith it would hold if something—if someone—really wanted in. And at some point during all the excitement, he’d turned on every lamp in the cabin. Syd hated when his subconscious reverted to its five-year-old state. “Hang on,” he said, then went around turning off more than half of them. He also drew the floral café curtains across the windows. Stupidly, it helped bank his fear. As an afterthought, he scooped up David’s wet clothing and went in search of the stacked washer/dryer Mr. C had told him about. He set the lot tumbling on high heat and returned to the couch. “So are you ready to talk?” he asked. “I think so.” “What happened?” David shrugged the blanket back over his shoulder. “My boat sank.” “Jesus. When?” “This afternoon.” A shudder went through him, and unthinking, Syd laid a hand on his shoulder. David rolled his head along the back of the couch until his cheek was resting against Syd’s knuckles. “It all happened so fast. I almost got trapped inside. I thought… I’ll just swim to shore. It couldn’t be more than a quarter of a mile. I’m not the strongest swimmer, but I do okay. The thing is—” he said,


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  swallowing heavily, “—I never made it. The faster I swam, the farther away I seemed to get. A couple of times I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I was facing the opposite direction, swimming away from land.” He tried to say more, but his voice failed. “I can’t explain it.” “That’s okay.” Perfectly okay, as long as he kept his mouth that close to Syd’s fingers. “There’s something really fucking weird going on here, and I’m going to figure out what it is.” Alarm crossed David’s face. He lifted his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We should leave.” Syd weighed the tone of David’s voice. He sensed a strong conviction but very little fear behind the words. “I have some things I need to do first.” David pressed his lips together. “All right.” Then, “You’re not scared?” Of what? Syd wanted to answer, but he got caught in David’s searching gaze. “Yeah. A bit.” He forced a smile. A little levity never hurt. “But there’s safety in numbers, right?” At some point, his gentle squeeze of reassurance had become a caress. David watched him, saying nothing. Embarrassed, Syd lifted his hand. His apology never made it past his lips. David let the blanket slip even more as he caught Syd’s fingers. “You don’t have to stop.” Syd was fast coming to realize that David’s words were often at odds with his body language. He’d clearly implied keep touching me, unless Syd had misinterpreted. But his eyes were wide, dilated, and the tremble in his hand wasn’t due to cold. David was unsure. Nervous about Syd, when


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  every other part of this crazy situation barely rated a spike in his heartbeat. Syd had ruminated too long. David blushed and released his hand. “Sorry.” Communicating with words wasn’t working, so Syd answered by curling his hand behind David’s neck. Dry on the ends, but damp at the scalp, the soft, yellow hair slid through his fingers like silk. He scratched his nails against the skin underneath, and David’s mouth fell open. He relaxed into Syd’s touch, letting the blanket fall open across his chest. His dark nipples were erect. Irresistible. Syd wet his lips. His eyes fell to David’s lap. “Well?” he asked hoarsely. He tugged at the edge of the blanket. “Let me see.” David’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. His eyelids drooped. The blanket slipped lower, pooling over his thighs. “Yeah?” Syd tangled more hair in his fist and gave it a playful tug. “Yeah.” Still, David hesitated. His eyes darted to the covered windows. “We’re on a boat in the middle of a lake,” Syd reminded him. “No one’s going to see.” David’s blush deepened. “Sorry. Old habits… you know?” Not really. Syd had shunned the closet since he’d tried to kiss Stevie McCallister on the playground in the third grade. That didn’t mean he was an unsympathetic jerk. “It’s just us. It’s okay.” The eerie knocking a distant memory, Syd


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  cupped David’s knee with his free hand. David gasped. His cock twitched under the blanket. Syd choked back a moan when David began to fold the material back. His shy hesitance played so well against his arousal that Syd’s mouth began to water. “It’s okay,” he muttered when David paused. “It’s okay.” All that remained was a tattered corner of material. Syd could see a patch of golden hair, one firm testicle, and a line of taut, pink skin that was the underside of David’s dick. He lifted his eyes. “May I?” “Yes.” Syd pinched the blanket between his fingers and pulled. It slid away. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” His own cock had thickened with David’s and was wedged at an uncomfortable angle in his jeans, but Syd wasn’t ready to take things to the next level yet. He unzipped and made a quick adjustment. David sucked in a breath. He reached and skimmed his fingers over Syd’s cloth-covered dick. “May I?” he parroted. “Most definitely. Just not yet,” Syd said, capturing David’s hand. “Me first.” David settled back against the cushion, hands fisted at his sides. He’d taken the order seriously. Good. Syd shifted off the couch and onto his knees between David’s legs, drinking him in. He was still pale, that wasn’t going to change, and to Syd it no longer mattered. Suddenly, he couldn’t imagine a lover who wasn’t blond and milkyskinned. And how could anyone look so fucking demure


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  while his cock was rock hard and pointing right at Syd’s mouth? Syd ran his hands over David’s thighs and up his stomach to his nipples. David shuddered, so Syd did it again, finishing with each thumb pressed against a stiff nub. He flicked them once, and David’s back lifted off the couch. His cock jumped, brushing Syd’s cheek. “Trying to tell me something?” Syd asked. He returned the favor, lingering, pressing his stubbled chin to David’s erection. “Please,” David begged. “And—” “And?” “May I watch?” The politeness thing was becoming a new kink. Syd examined the request thoroughly but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Sure,” he settled on. “Of course. You don’t normally watch?” “I don’t normally do this. And when I do,” David flashed a bitter smile, “it’s usually in the dark.” Enough said. Syd was no saint. He’d had his share of similar encounters. “Not tonight.” He took David’s hips and pulled until his ass was balanced right on the edge of the cushion. “Tonight you get to see.” David’s taste was close to what he’d expected, tangy with a hint of iron. Addicting. Syd started with his nipples, remembering how intense David’s reaction had been the first time Syd had touched them. David didn’t disappoint. He moaned at Syd’s experimental licks.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Laughing softly, Syd stretched over David’s stomach, trapping his cock between their bodies. David grasped his shoulders. “Syd.” “Just getting started,” Syd told him. He left a damp circle around the first nipple, then ran his tongue across David’s sternum to the other, tracing a similar path around the taut nub. David’s chest heaved; his knuckles turned white around the cushions. “Syd, please.” “So sensitive.” Syd cradled David’s left nipple between his lips and began to suck. “Ah! Ah!” David thrashed, his cock twitching and pulsing against Syd’s stomach. Syd suckled for a few minutes, then attacked the other side. Words like fuck and suck and harder and more replaced David’s proper please and thank-yous. He clamped a hand behind Syd’s head, arching into the wet heat of his mouth. Syd could have gone on forever, but David’s breathing began to hitch and his thighs tensed under Syd’s hands. Syd pulled off. “No!” David cried, lifting his hips. The tip of his cock dripped feely, sliding against Syd’s damp chest. Delighted, Syd nipped his hipbone. “Look at you,” he rasped. “So fucking hot. Could you come like that? You were going to, weren’t you?” “Y-yes.” “Do you make yourself come like that?” The thought whipped through Syd like an electric current. David on his bed somewhere, feet planted on the mattress, his untouched cock spurting semen onto his stomach while he twisted and pinched his nipples. “Fuck,” Syd wheezed. He made a grab


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  for his balls and gave them a vicious tug just in time. “Do you?” David gave a frustrated groan. “I used to.” Syd’s cock throbbed. He didn’t want to come yet, but… fuck, he needed something. He shifted, trapping one of David’s legs between his, and pressed his aching dick against the firm calf. “What else do you do?” The first confession burned through him, and he wanted more. Making David come harder than ever before suddenly became Syd’s new priority. “What makes you hot?” he asked, mouth against the tip of David’s cock. David yanked him back by the hair. Flushed, eyes dilated, he tilted his hips, brushing his length across Syd’s lips. “Enough talk,” he growled. “Suck me.” Syd moaned. His dick, already swollen, grew heavier. Not passive all the time then. Absolutely fucking perfect. He obeyed David’s order, sucking the wet head between his lips, lapping up the moisture there, before sinking down the length. David’s head crashed onto the back of the couch, and he went limp under Syd’s ministrations. Another treat. Syd took his time exploring, running his tongue up and down David’s shaft, returning again and again to tease and suck at the tip. David’s balls were already drawn high and tight. Syd wrapped them in his hand. One gentle squeeze brought another string of profanity spilling from David’s mouth. “Syd, please. Please.” He pumped his cock into Syd’s mouth, straining.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  It was the begging that did him in—that, and the reality that keeping David on the edge much longer was downright cruel. Syd pulled off long enough to bark an order. “Touch your nipples.” Then he wrapped a tight fist around David’s cock and went to work, sucking in earnest. David’s hands flew to his chest to twist and pull. As Syd had expected, the extra stimulation set him off immediately. He went stiff. His cock swelled, then erupted in Syd’s mouth. “God, fuck! Syd!” He babbled a few other things, nothing that Syd caught, while he pushed as deep as he could, twitching with each contraction. Syd nursed him through the final spasms, then laid his head on David’s thigh. Too turned on to wait, he jerked his own dick through his underwear. David gave a trembling sigh. He set a hand on Syd’s head. “Syd… I want—” Bang! Syd jumped, the surge of adrenaline so intense that pain speared through his head. The pounding came again, then again and again, striking the hull from bow to stern before it stopped. “What the hell?” Syd stood, his erection wilting. Frowning, David covered himself with the blanket. “We should leave.” “No way. No fucking way. I do not scare that easily.” Syd jerked his zipper up, then made a circuit around the cabin, flipping equipment on. He backtracked to rip open the curtains. David stood. Eyes wide, he watched Syd’s manic movements. “Close the curtains.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Can’t get a picture through curtains,” Syd fired back. “You’re not going to get a picture in the dark.” “Wrong.” Syd pointed at the fattest tripod and the large black box perched atop it. “Night-vision camera. I’ll see everything.” He stroked it lovingly. “Whatever the government’s hiding, I’m going to find it.” “Syd.” David eyed the equipment that Syd had lined up like ship canons. “There’s nothing out there.” “There’s something out there.” “Nothing that you can see with that,” David said, pointing to the night-vision camera. “Close the curtains. Please.” The mothering tone rankled, but before Syd let his temper get the best of him, he focused on David’s words. “You say there’s nothing out there. How do you know that?” David answered with a stoic expression and sad eyes. Some of Syd’s bluster left him. “You know something. What is it?” David deflected the question. “What made you come out here, Syd?” “What—?” But it was a fair question, wasn’t it? Considering the situation they’d found themselves in. Syd hesitated, feeling uncertain for the first time. His life was about chasing things that weren’t always what they seemed to be. So why was he clinging to a particular concept this time around? “Okay. Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll share if you do.” A wry smile spread across David’s face, but he nodded.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Storytelling was one-quarter plot and three-quarters delivery. Syd retrieved David’s clothes from the dryer while he gathered his thoughts. He started to hand over the warm bundle, then dumped it on the table instead. “You don’t want those yet, do you?” A flush spread across David’s chest. He dropped his eyes and shook his head. There was no mistaking how the blanket tented in front of him. Shy and needy. Syd licked his lips. Christ, that turned him on. He grabbed two beers from the fridge, cracked one open, and offered the other to David. “Thirsty?” “No, thanks. I’m fine.” David tilted his head at the couch. “Can we sit back down?” No need to ask twice. David’s one-man toga party was taking its toll. Syd’s cock had been hard since he’d stripped David naked, not counting the few minutes when they were… what? Being attacked? Syd swigged his beer. Yeah, that sounded about right. He took a seat next to David, messing his artfully arranged blanket. “So you want my story?” “Very much, please.” So formal and controlled, which was what the situation called for—but was also the antithesis of what Syd craved. The look of shock on David’s face was the last thing Syd saw before their mouths met. David sucked in a breath, and Syd pressed his advantage, sliding his tongue between David’s lips.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  This is what he should’ve done before, but David had distracted him with his cock, the clever bastard. Not this time. Syd loved to kiss, and from the way David was matching Syd’s passion, he felt the same. Every time David moaned into his mouth or wrapped their tongues together, tingling heat flared in Syd’s belly. He strained to get closer, climbing halfway into David’s lap, feasting on his lips and tongue until his lungs screamed for air. He yanked away, gasping, and David followed, pressing sucking kisses to Syd’s neck. Syd gave serious weight to the idea of canceling their tête-à-tête. “David,” he tried, then lost the thread as David bit his collarbone. “Christ. Never mind.” “I know.” Warm breath gusted over Syd’s throat as David pulled away. Two fingers pressed to his lips, breathless, he gazed at Syd. “We need to talk. It’s just that… you feel so damn good.” A thousand corny replies came to mind. None were appropriate. Syd flashed a crooked smile. “So do you.” So good that he was already becoming distracted again. He cleared his throat. “Okay, here goes. About a year ago, I ran into an old friend of mine from college, Matt. We spent a few hours catching up on things—that part was kind of painful—then he told me a story about something that happened to him and his family a few years before.” A breeze picked up, whistling through the windows. The boat rocked. “They wanted to do something different for vacation, not so mainstream, so they rented a boat on Redemption for a week. The first six days are like paradise, right? Then on the


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  last day, as they’re headed back to the marina, Matt’s wife catches sight of an inlet they haven’t seen before.” Syd took a gulp of his beer. “Catching on?” Looking haggard, David ran a hand through his hair. “Yes.” “They head down the Western Finger and end up here. That’s when things get weird. They hear voices, but as far as they can tell, there’s nobody else on this part of the lake, and there’s nobody on shore. They ignore it. Spend the afternoon sunbathing. Swimming. You know, the usual.” Syd paused, recalling the look on Matt’s face during the original retelling. “At dusk, they call the kids back to the boat, but as the girl is kicking her way over, she falls off her float and disappears.” Beer clutched in his fist, Syd shook a finger at David. “Matt was watching the instant it happened. He swears… he swears he saw someone come up from under the water and pull her under.” David closed his eyes. “There’s a happy ending, in case you’re wondering,” Syd continued. “Matt dove in and brought her back up. They got their asses back on the boat and took off running.” Another tidbit came to mind, one that made him laugh now that he knew the context. “He said old Mr. C charged them an extra day for tying up fifteen minutes late.” Eyes still closed, David murmured, “I’m sure he did.” “You know him?” “Yes.” “He’s a character, isn’t he?”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Yes.” “So that was the beginning. I started browsing the internet, found other people with similar stories. I even found a few people who didn’t come back from their Lake Redemption vacation.” Syd grabbed David’s hand. The excitement that drove him to work twenty-hour days and go without a social life reared up, strong as ever. “This whole lake belongs to the government. It was built by the Corps of Engineers. Don’t you get it? There’s a base back here or something. It’s so secret that there isn’t so much as a whisper of its existence.” Syd shot to his feet and paced. “Whatever it is, it involves water. A bunch of people have reported seeing people in the lake. Matt wasn’t the only one.” He stopped to catch his breath, and that was when David interrupted. “There’s no secret government base, Syd.” Again, David’s conviction stopped Syd in his tracks. “There must be.” “There’s not,” David said, adding, “I’m sorry,” when Syd spun away. He walked the line of cameras, like a captain inspecting his crew. Hands on his hips, he asked, “How do you know that? How can you be so sure? David, people have disappeared. They’re probably dead.” “Yes,” David whispered. “Someone has to find out why. I,” he said, pointing at his own chest, “am going to find out why.” He shouted the last, anger getting the better of him.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  David had let the blanket slip. Innocently, Syd was sure. But there was nothing innocent about the way he’d edged forward as Syd spoke, eyes alight. Fist pressed to his mouth, he shook his head. “I’ve never met anybody like you, Syd.” Dizzy with what he saw in David’s eyes, Syd turned back to his cameras. “I’m just like any other guy. A dime a dozen.” David rose. Clutching the blanket around his waist, he drifted quietly forward. “I don’t think so. You have a keen sense of what’s right. You aren’t afraid to fight for it. Those are qualities that many people claim to have but few actually possess.” “I’m here for completely selfish reasons,” Syd felt compelled to admit. “You have a good heart.” Not a statement of fact. A statement of faith. David believed in him. A hand settled on his shoulder. David’s. “Can we—?” “Yes.” As cliché as it was, Syd couldn’t help thinking that David fit against him perfectly. He made sure his arms got in on the action this time, locking around David’s back, trapping him in Syd’s arms. David’s earlier aggressiveness was nowhere to be found. He bent to Syd’s will, doing little more than opening himself to Syd’s ravishing tongue. Intoxicated by the surrender, Syd scraped his mouth along David’s cheek, latching on to the soft patch of skin below his ear.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Ending up horizontal was looking better by the moment, so when the world began to tilt, Syd didn’t complain, just hung on for the ride. Until his head slammed into the cabin wall. “Ow.” David echoed the sentiment. Syd rubbed the back of his head, dazed, his warm buzz of arousal fading. The boat was pitching violently from side to side. David braced them as best he could, but the boat tilted again, and only the handrail along the wall kept Syd from stumbling across the room. The curtains billowed open, giving him a more intimate view of the lake then he wanted. His heart flew into his throat. Much more roll and they’d capsize. “Stay here.” He made sure David had a solid handhold, then staggered to the door and threw it open. The lake raged around them, dipping and cresting in huge waves. The boat’s running lights threw spinning shadows across the walls of water. But just beyond, where their gleam was swallowed by the dark, the surface of the lake was a placid, reflective pool. “Impossible,” Syd yelled. “This is impossible!” They dipped into another trough, rolling dangerously. Clinging to the rail, Syd peered into the mountain of water rising in front of him. A child peered back. Her hair, plaited in two braids and tied with red ribbons, floated around her face. Arms outstretched, she grabbed for him with two tiny hands. Syd’s knees crashed to the deck, a scream trapped in his throat. The boat rose to the next crest, and the girl rolled away under the wave.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Like a guardian angel, David appeared behind him. “Stop!” he yelled. “Stop!” The surging water disappeared from beneath them, and the boat crashed onto the calm, flat surface of the lake. Inside the cabin, glasses flew from the cupboards and shattered against the counter. The running lights flickered and went out. Shaking, Syd tipped backward into David’s arms. “Okay, officially fucking terrified now,” he said hoarsely. David held him tight. “Me too.” In the room beyond, another glass fell and broke. Syd twisted in David’s arms, and through his dripping hair, caught sight of the destruction. One tripod still stood. The rest laid like fallen soldiers. “Come on,” David said. He hefted Syd to his feet. Despite everything, Syd smiled. David’s blanket was long gone. Over the side, more than likely. “Love the outfit.” David shrugged, playing along. “It wasn’t my color.” Together, they limped inside, and Syd closed and locked the door. Screw rational. It made him feel better. Still naked, David began picking his way over the shards of glass that littered the floor. Syd watched him. Stop! Stop! David had said. And it, whatever it was, had stopped Terror was an unproductive emotion, so Syd pushed it aside. He lifted his chin. Voice even, he asked, “You know what’s going on here, don’t you?” David paused by the table. The waves had thrown the salt and pepper shakers to the floor, but his clothes still


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  rested in a heap on top of the cheerful yellow straw mats. He placed his hand on the pants, and Syd held his breath. “I know most of it, yes,” David said, walking away without donning the trousers. “I mean, I know about Redemption.” “Redemption,” Syd said. His hands were shaking. “You know what this conversation needs? A beer. A beer would taste divine.” He stepped around the broken glass to the fridge, grabbed two bottles for good measure, and tiptoed back to the couch. The first went down easily. Too easily. Syd considered the second long and hard before setting it on the floor out of reach. David sat too, a fresh, dry blanket wrapped around his waist, and since any place was probably as safe as the next, that was where they stayed, hands joined, Syd craving and resisting his second beer while David traced Syd’s lifeline with his thumb. “So talk,” Syd said. “Tell me what you know about Lake Redemption.” “I know more about the town than the lake, to be honest.” In all of Syd’s research, he’d never come across a town named Redemption, and he said so. “That doesn’t surprise me.” David shrugged. A bit of Syd’s inborn curiosity surfaced above the shock. “Where is it?” “Right here.” David’s easy tone was at odds with his grimace. “You’re sitting on top of it. What’s left of it, at any rate.” Syd’s mouth was bone dry. He wanted the beer so badly he started to sweat. “I’m listening.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “It didn’t start out as anything very special. People didn’t have much back then.” “When?” “The thirties,” David clarified. “In fact, that’s probably generous. Many people had nothing. They’d lie, cheat, and steal so they could eat or feed their children.” Syd shifted closer. “I know some of the history. Dark times.” “That’s probably all the background you need, then. Redemption—” David pursed his lips. “It became what it was named for, in a way. A place for second chances. For people who’d made mistakes. Almost everyone there had a skeleton in the closet. Some were crooks and thieves and con men. Some were worse. But in Redemption, they were just people, living the kind of honest life the outside world wouldn’t allow. They got married. They had families. Nobody questioned their worth. In Redemption, they found forgiveness and acceptance.” “Sounds a bit too good to be true,” Syd said. “I don’t think it was perfect.” David’s hand crept onto Syd’s leg. “But it was the best they could do, and they were happy.” “So what happened?” David shrugged. “A lot of the details have been lost.” He swallowed. “I can tell you what people believe.” “Let’s start with the facts.” That was always the best way. “Okay.” David took a steadying breath. “The town was built in a deep valley west of the lake. It was technically


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  government land, but no one came and told the townspeople to leave. They stayed and they grew and they prospered. They named the town after the lake. Redemption.” “Their own little Shangri-la,” Syd muttered. “I suppose.” David scanned the line of curtained windows. “It all ended in 1939.” “What, the government kicked them out?” “No. It rained. It was the wettest summer on record, and it did more than rot the crops. The dam at the head of the valley, the one that held back the lake, began to fail.” Syd placed his hand over David’s, putting a halt to his tentative caresses. “It did fail. Those are the ruins at the head of the inlet.” David acknowledged this with a clipped nod. “Seepage was the first clue, then subsidence. The people in Redemption tried to stop it, but they couldn’t. They didn’t have the skills or the tools, and erosion was only part of the problem. Apparently, the engineering had been shoddy from the beginning. The abutment couldn’t handle the extra water pressure from the swollen lake. When cracks appeared in the concrete, they called on the Corps of Engineers.” “And they couldn’t fix it?” A flash of anger cut through David’s sadness. “They didn’t try. They ordered Redemption evacuated.” He stopped there, not that it mattered. It was no trouble to fill in the blanks. “They stayed,” Syd said. “They stayed, and eventually the dam collapsed.” David nodded. “The failure was explosive. It blew concrete a mile down the valley, and a wall of water spilled


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  into the canyon. By the time it hit the town, it was traveling at over a hundred mile per hour.” A low, mournful cry echoed over the lake. Another answered it. Syd’s chest ached. “Did anyone survive?” “No one. The dam was never rebuilt. The valley remained flooded and became known as the Western Finger of Lake Redemption.” More haunting wails filled the air, swelling into a toneless cacophony. Syd withdrew. He paced the room twice before facing David. “I don’t believe in ghosts.” Then, more firmly, “I don’t.” David folded his hands in his lap. “Okay.” The eerie wailing grew too loud to ignore. Syd resisted the childish desire to cover his ears. “What is that?” His heart tripped faster, and he looked to David, needing reassurance. “Loons? Are those loons?” David’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, Syd,” he said quietly. “Those are loons.” The blatant lie made Syd’s stomach cramp. He backed across the room until his heels hit the wall. “Who are you?” David watched him retreat. He swiped at his eyes, then stared at the damp trails left behind on his hands. “I’m David,” he said. “David Cooper.” Syd pressed a hand to his roiling stomach. “Are you trying to hurt me, David Cooper?” To this, David gave a watery laugh. “No, Syd. I’m trying to save you.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  For once in Syd’s life, the truth made him want to run. He dragged a hand across his mouth, struggling for composure. For bravery. For something. David rose, keeping a tenuous hold on the blanket. “Are you going to be all right?” There was no easy answer to that, so Syd ignored the question. “You know what?” David arched an eyebrow. “We should leave,” Syd said. The smile took its time breaking over David’s face, but when it did, Syd’s heart lifted, and what was so complicated a moment ago became one of the easiest things he’d ever done. He started across the cabin, and David met him halfway. “Syd—” Syd silenced him with a finger to his lips. Then he sank his hands into David’s hair and pulled him forward. He’d planned a chaste kiss of forgiveness. David claimed his mouth with something else altogether. He sealed their lips together, stroking at Syd’s tongue with his own. The lust they’d never banked or sated sprang to life. With a groan, Syd pushed him away. “Let’s get out of here.” “Okay. But—” “Later.” Syd turned, telling himself it wasn’t sadness he saw in David’s eyes. Two minutes ago, he’d been terrified to open the door. Now he couldn’t get outside fast enough. The unearthly cries had mostly stopped. Every few minutes, a moan rose over


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  the water. “Just those crazy loons,” Syd said, whistling as he hit the button to retract the anchor. The fib helped a little. Wary, he eyed the water as the windlass wound the nylon rope. When David joined him, fully dressed in his dry clothes, Syd scowled. David had the nerve to look taken aback. “I couldn’t go naked all night.” A debatable point, in Syd’s opinion, but he didn’t get a chance to say so. The windlass made a high-pitched grinding noise, then cut off. The rope angled out into the water, taut as a bowstring. “Did you snag it?” David asked. Syd squinted at the nearest depth mark on the rope. “Not unless I snagged something thirty feet below us.” He beat back the hysteria. Panicking was useless. Focus on what he could control, that was the key. What had Mr. C said about a fouled anchor line? Like someone had ripped the needle off a record, the inhuman whining quit. Syd blew out a breath. The windlass clicked. “No.” Syd gripped the rail. “No no no.” The rope creaked, stretched, then the windlass began to click steadily as the anchor was drawn back into the water. Syd punched at the button, but if anything, the anchor dropped faster. It hit at 175 feet, just as it had before. Syd stared at where the rope disappeared into the lake, then took David’s hand and led him back inside. Trying to bring it up again would be a waste of time. The bastards weren’t going to let him go.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew 

THE main cabin didn’t feel like the refuge it had been an hour ago. Syd walked straight through to the bedroom. “Coming?” he called over his shoulder. “Where?” Syd jerked his chin at the dark room behind him. “Bed.” David hesitated. “Still shy?” Syd asked. “Maybe.” David lifted one shoulder. “Maybe not. But aren’t you—?” “Stop.” Syd backtracked and took a handful of David’s shirt in his fist. “I’m a lot of things at the moment. Acknowledging some of those things makes no sense. But the rest….” He started back across the cabin, dragging David with him. “The rest sounds really fucking perfect at the moment.” He kicked the door shut behind them. David stumbled when they hit the end of the bed, and Syd steadied him. “Let’s focus on the rest, okay?” “All right. But—” Syd stripped David’s shirt over his head. “But?” he asked bending to lap at David’s nipples. “But… ah… never mind.” “I was hoping you’d say that.” He hadn’t noticed the oddness of David’s clothing before. Now, because he was looking for them, the differences were obvious. The trousers were high-waisted,


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  with a v-shaped back, and quite baggy. The three fly buttons were hidden behind a heavy placket. David watched Syd’s fingers play over the material, and his cock thickened visibly under the soft touches, straining the buttons of the trousers. “Syd.” The tone was familiar by now. A warning. Syd sank onto the edge of the bed. “Delayed gratification, David. Ever heard of it?” “I’ve lived it.” He batted Syd’s hand away and ripped the buttons open. “Now,” he said, taking Syd’s hand and pressing it against his dick, “touch me.” Groaning, Syd squeezed gently. The flesh under his hand was burning hot, and already a sizable spot of moisture had leaked through the cotton underwear. With one yank, he pulled David between his knees. A low moan passed David’s lips. His knees trembled. “Fuck, yes.” Yes. Syd mouthed the cloth covering David’s cock, then scraped his teeth over the damp head. David cried out. His hands flew to Syd’s shoulders. “Don’t.” “Why not?” While he waited for David’s answer, he slipped the pants down his legs. “God, you have a beautiful ass.” He fondled it for a moment, then hooked his thumbs in the waistband of David’s underwear and pulled them down over the firm globes. “You know that?” David huffed a laugh. Legs still trembling, he stepped out of the trousers, then stretched the underpants over his erection and shoved them off as well. “No.” “No?” Syd admired the shape of it some more while he nuzzled David’s cock. A drop of fluid appeared at the tip, and


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Syd licked it away. This time David’s legs gave out. Syd caught him. “Why didn’t you say you were ready to lie down?” he teased, twisting to lower David onto the mattress. He started to crawl up and over him, but David stopped him. “Wait.” “Why?” He tried to pin David’s arms above his head, but David squirmed loose. “Because I want you naked too.” “I’ll get there,” Syd purred. “Syd.” David went to work on Syd’s pants, tearing at the zipper. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the seduction. But can you please take your damn clothes off? I want to see you.” Who could argue with that? Syd rose to his knees and shed his T-shirt in one smooth movement. David gasped, and his fingers faltered on the front of Syd’s jeans. Trembling, they rose to stroke Syd’s stomach and chest. “You like?” Syd asked, voice rough. “I could do this for hours.” Eyes glazed, David stared at him. “I could touch you like this for hours.” When David’s fingers found his nipples, Syd’s breath rushed out of him. On second thought, they both really needed to be naked. He swung a leg over David’s torso, ignoring his growl of protest, and stripped out of his jeans and underwear. “Better?” he asked as he climbed back onto the bed.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  David’s attention shifted from Syd’s chest to his cock. He took it in both hands, stroking it slowly but not gently. Syd’s sac throbbed with pleasure at the rough treatment. David worked him harder. “What do you like?” “Play with my balls,” Syd gasped. David was on them before the words were out of Syd’s mouth, rolling the sac in his fingers and reaching back to stroke at the wrinkled skin behind. The muscles in Syd’s arms began to quiver. He lowered himself before he fell and searched for David’s lips. They kissed sloppily, David moaning into Syd’s mouth while Syd tried to fathom how David obliterated his control so easily. The plans for his clever seduction and drawn-out lovemaking disappeared. All he wanted, all he knew, was David’s body, David’s hands, David’s cock. Again Syd captured David’s wrists, crushing them in his fists while he rutted and humped, fucking David into the mattress, blind with the pleasure of having David’s cock dripping wet and sliding against his own. “Syd. Syd.” David tossed his head back and forth on the pillow. “Please wait.” “Can’t.” His balls were taut against his body, full and aching. “Gonna come on you. All the fuck over you,” Syd gasped, snapping his hips faster. “No.” One simple word, and it had been whispered at that, but Syd’s mind was wired with certain tenets, and obeying that particular word during sex was one of them. He yanked himself back from the edge. “What?”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  David moved restlessly beneath him. “Fuck me.” The request arrowed straight to Syd’s dick. He stole one more rough kiss. “Ask nicely.” “Syd,” David growled, “fuck me. Please.” Giddy, not truly understanding why, Syd laughed. He worked a hand between them and dipped a finger between David’s legs. At the first touch, David spread them wide. Syd nipped his earlobe. “Eager.” “You have no idea.” Syd tangled his hand in David’s golden hair and kissed him, then curled his fingers around David’s balls, enjoying their familiar weight. He teased at his perineum before exploring further. David bucked and hissed. “Oh! Yes. Please fuck me. Fuck me hard, Syd.” Jesus. Syd bit his tongue until he tasted blood, and his orgasm retreated. It didn’t go far, though. “Yeah, okay.” David turned an adoring gaze on him. “Thank you.” Syd rolled his eyes, and he lifted off of David’s hard, willing body. Like it was going to be a hardship. “Hang on.” He hesitated at the door. The superstitious side of him warned that this was the part where things went terribly wrong. The rational side piped up and agreed. It had, after all, been a seriously fucked up day. Unfortunately, what he needed to satisfy David’s wish was in a bag in the living room. David lifted onto his elbows. “It’s okay. We’re alone.” And he would know. Syd shivered. “Okay.” He opened the door.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  As David had promised, the room was empty. Beyond, the lake was quiet. Syd made his way to his pile of suitcases, erection leading the way, and pried open the largest. His toiletry bag was right on top, and inside that, also on top, his lube. “Don’t leave home without it,” Syd quipped as he grabbed the bottle. He returned to the bedroom. David lay sprawled on the bed, legs bent and wide open, thumbs flicking his nipples. “Hurry.” Syd grabbed his dick and squeezed. Hard. “Okay, this isn’t going to work.” He slapped David’s hands off his chest. “I can’t watch that. Roll over.” Smirking, David obeyed, lifting his ass into the air. “Better?” “Not really.” Syd looked to the ceiling while he fumbled the cap off the lube. He squirted a generous dollop onto his fingers, spread it over David’s hole, then sank a finger inside. David grunted and pushed back. “David,” Syd warned. “I don’t need that. And I don’t want gentle. Just fuck me.” How the guy managed to be so pushy with his face in the pillow and his ass in the air was a mystery. One Syd decided to save for another day. He coated his dick and pressed slowly inside. “Oh, fuck.” Slow, his brain screamed. Go slow. “Faster,” David demanded. Syd sucked in a breath. “You sure?” David answered by thrusting backward until Syd’s balls were nestled against his ass. “I’m sure.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Jesus.” Fine. He could do faster. If David wanted a hard fuck, then Syd was happy to oblige. He clamped his hands around David’s hips and began to pound into him. After a few seconds, David wiggled, shifted, and on Syd’s next thrust, he cried out. “There! There!” Beyond words, Syd didn’t answer. David’s ass was a tight vise around his cock, sucking the orgasm out of him faster than he wanted, but he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop listening to David’s guttural cries. The end came before he was ready, and he stuttered to a stop, determined to force it back. But David didn’t stop. He fucked back onto Syd’s cock again and again until Syd’s eyes rolled back in his head. “David. I can’t.” Syd began to rock forward, meeting David’s thrusts. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” “It’s okay.” David unclamped one of his hands from the sheets and reached for his cock, and Syd whimpered in relief. “That’s it,” he gasped. “Jerk yourself off.” But David dove past his cock and between his legs to where Syd was pumping into him. He took Syd in a loose grip, caressing him while he thrust. “So good,” he whispered hoarsely. He gasped, moaned, and his ass began to spasm around Syd’s cock. Knowing that David was coming, coming practically untouched just from feeling Syd’s cock plow into his ass, was more than Syd could take. He erupted, pulling out in time to spray a final shot of semen over David’s back. David groaned and tipped sideways. Syd followed him down, spooning behind. He waited until his heart wasn’t


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  threatening to thump out of his chest before he spoke. “You feel so real,” he whispered, smoothing David’s sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Eyes closed, David replied, “I am real.” “You know what I mean.” “I suppose.” He rolled to face Syd and slung an arm over his waist. It felt heavy and warm. How is this possible? Syd wanted to ask, but David would probably answer with How is it not possible? And then they’d be off talking in circles again. David was quite the existentialist. Syd tangled their legs together. “So what were you doing in Redemption? What was your skeleton?” David’s eyes popped open, wide with surprise. “Haven’t you figured it out?” Syd racked his brain, trying not to feel stupid. Helpfully, David took a hold of his shaft and squeezed. A rush of anger accompanied Syd’s epiphany. He laid his own hand over David’s so they were both cradling his cock. “This isn’t a crime.” “It used to be.” “So you, what, just gave it up?” “You know it doesn’t work like that.” Syd’s throat felt tight. “That place wasn’t your salvation. It was your prison.” David swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He pulled his pants over his hips and fastened the buttons. “It still is.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  The ache spread to Syd’s chest. It made speaking a challenge. “Where are you going?” David lifted his head, going still. He was listening. “It’s time to leave.”

NO

LESS than six witnesses had described the lights to Syd

that past year. Spheres, one had said. Another had called them star-like, with a bright core and glowing corona. Mr. NYC had looked Syd straight in the eye and said, “Testicles, Mr. McTighe. They looked like big, floating balls. And they weren’t pretty. They were menacing.” One glance was all Syd needed to decide who’d gotten it right. The show was just beginning when Syd joined David on deck. In the distance, but also deep beneath them, the lights flickered. “They’re coming,” David said. “And we’re still stuck,” Syd reminded him. Jaw set, David swept his eyes over the deck. “Do you have an axe?” “An a—?” Syd cut himself off mid-sentence. He grinned. “Why, yes. I believe I do.” The access hatch for the equipment room was behind the bow. Syd ignored the mysterious lights shimmied down the ladder into the cramped space. One coming up. He unclipped it from the bulkhead, weighed his hand, then hurried back up the ladder.

just and axe, it in


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “Not standard recreational boating equipment,” Syd admitted when he reached the stern. “But I remember seeing it this morning when Mr. C gave me a tour.” David graced it with a fond look. “There’s one on every boat in his marina.” For all the idiot sailors who didn’t listen to their captain. Mr. C believed in insurance; Syd had to admire that. He hefted the axe in his hands. “Time to slay the whale.” David’s obvious confusion made Syd laugh. “Look out.” He put one foot on the side of the boat beside the windlass. As if sensing what was about to happen, the anchor rope vibrated. “Been beat up and battered round,” Syd sang. “Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down.” He hefted the axe and struck. The tri-bonded nylon frayed but didn’t break. “You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found. Handle me with care.” Whistling, he swung the axe again. The wailing began, winding up like a police siren. Since they’d come out on deck, the number of lights approaching from beneath had quadrupled. A few looked no more than ten or fifteen feet deep. “Hurry,” David urged. “Get up to the wheelhouse,” Syd shouted. “Get the engines started.” “How—” “Just turn the key,” Syd growled, swinging the axe again. Another third of the rope split and separated. Syd sang at the top of his lungs. “I’ve been uptight and made a mess. But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess.” As he took the next swing, the motors rumbled to life. The anchor line snapped and disappeared into the water, and the boat crawled forward. “Go! Go! Go!” Syd shouted, and David obeyed.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Engines whining under the strain, they began to pick up speed. Syd dropped the axe and braced himself on the rail. A wake appeared behind the boat as their speed crept higher, distorting the ghostly glow beneath the surface. “The inlet should be due east,” Syd yelled. “I know where I’m going,” David called back. Of course he did. Sick with tension, Syd collapsed onto the bench seat and put his head in his hands. They picked up a bit more speed, enough for the breeze to feel chilly against his skin. A hand touched his knee. “You should be driving the boat,” Syd mumbled, lifting his head. It wasn’t David. A little girl was squatting on the deck at his feet. Her blue gingham dress was in shreds, and her loose hair had tangled around her neck like a noose. One foot was stuffed into a black shoe, the other was bare. Water dripped from the corners of her eyes. She opened her mouth and screeched at him. Syd went ice cold. “Just a loon,” he whispered, paralyzed. “Just a loon.” She screeched again, reached for him, but as her fingers scraped his face, David appeared. He lifted her up and threw her over the side. “Syd! Are you all right?” David knelt at his feet. “People in the lake,” Syd whispered. “There are people in the lake.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  Another hand appeared, fingernails jagged and broken to the quick. Inch by inch, a woman clawed her way into the boat. With a hiss, David pushed her back. Syd panned his gaze over the water. There were dozens of them. Men. Women. Children. All screaming. All drowning. He reached for David’s hand. “God help them.” “Save some of those prayers for yourself, Syd.” But in the end they weren’t needed. With his uncanny and, Syd supposed, supernatural sense of direction, David found the channel, and they left Redemption behind. “Are we still vulnerable here?” Syd stared up at the canopy of trees that lined the channel, just visible in the approaching dawn. “You’re vulnerable anywhere on the lake. The energy is carried in the water. But most of it is contained back there.” David jerked a thumb behind them. “Here. Take over.” Stepping up, Syd clasped the wheel at ten and two. David moved in behind and laid his head on Syd’s shoulder. “Don’t come back, Syd.” “Don’t worry, I wo—” David said nothing as Syd’s brain clicked into gear, thinking more than five minutes into the future for the first time in hours. His knuckles went white around the wheel. Choking on the words, he asked, “How far can you go?” “To the dam. It’s coming up now. No!” He stopped Syd from throttling back. “Don’t slow down.” “David,” Syd whispered. David folded him in a crushing embrace. He pressed his lips to Syd’s ear. “Here’s your second chance. Now go live.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  His warm weight disappeared. Syd swiped the tears from his eyes in time to see the boat pass between the remnants of the dam. David stood on the left bank, balanced on a piece of crumbling concrete. He waved. After a moment, Syd did too.

MORNING fog hung over the lake. The eastern sky was painted a soft purple. Syd pushed the boat as fast as it would go, but the trip passed in a blur. Slouched in the captain’s seat, one hand on the wheel, he stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. He’d thought the lake a quiet place before his trip down the Western Finger; it was anything but. As the sun rose, birds began to call to each other. Deer crashed though the underbrush along the shore, squirrels scampered up and down the trees, and fish jumped in the water. Here, the lake teemed with life. Could a place have a soul? Yes, it could. And that soul could be rife with anger and hatred just as easily as it could be filled with forgiveness and hope and love. He gained the marina in under ninety minutes and cut the engines in deep water a few hundred yards from the slips. Mr. C’s instructions for docking rattled around his head, a mishmash of facts and rules that he hadn’t a prayer of managing at the moment. Barely aware of his actions, he made his way forward and dropped the bow anchor. When it hit bottom, he used what remaining strength he had to return to the main cabin. There he wrapped up in the blanket David had used and curled into the couch.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  He had no idea how long he sat. Sometime later, a motor came to life in the distance. It grew louder, then cut off. The boat rocked, and Syd heard the clomp of heavy boots on the deck. He rolled his head toward the door. His eyes were heavy and wanted to close, but he forced them open. Mr. C stood in the doorway, backlit by the rising sun. Syd knew what he was looking at. The broken glass. The overturned tripods. The smashed cameras. And Syd himself, huddled in a blanket, looking like death. Mr. C didn’t speak, and eventually Syd lost the battle with his eyelids. He fell into the sort of dreams one has when they’re on the edge of sleep: the sort that could be true but often aren’t. Brittle with terror, his imagination could have kicked up the worst of the worst, but it didn’t. In this dream, David sat down beside him, took his hand, and kissed him. The houseboat coasted into its slip, gently bumping the pontoons, and still Syd couldn’t bring himself to move. David smiled and brushed pale fingers down his cheek. “Time to go.” “What?” Syd croaked. “Time to go.” “Don’t want to,” Syd whispered. He blinked, and suddenly it was Mr. C next to him, reaching to help him up. The blanket slipped away before Syd could snatch it back. “Come on, son. It’s over.” Syd nodded. With Mr. C’s help, he managed to cross the cabin without falling. By the time he’d maneuvered onto the dock, he was moving under his own power. Mr. C gestured for him to follow, and together they walked off the lake.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  When Syd would’ve stopped, Mr. C grunted and gestured again. A sandstone path led from the marina to a small cottage nestled in a copse of trees. A waist-high wall of stacked stones, moss-covered, but in good repair, stood between it and the water. “Good thinking,” Syd remarked, his voice still hoarse. “It comes in handy.” Simple as the house was, Syd took to it the second he walked through the door. It opened onto one large room that looked to be one-stop shopping for the basic necessities. There was a sofa and recliner, drop-leaf table, and galley kitchenette. Three doors lined the far wall. “Two bedrooms and a bath,” Mr. C mumbled. “Never did want much more. Maybe once or twice. For the most part, it suits.” He retrieved two tumblers from the cupboard over the sink. The bottle of scotch he grabbed from the seat of the recliner. “You look like you need it,” he said when Syd arched an eyebrow. “You’re right about that.” Mr. C pointed him to the small table while he splashed three fingers into each glass. “You young folk never listen,” he muttered as he took a generous sip. Syd swallowed his hysterical laughter. “No, we never do.” The scotch felt like fire running down his throat, but it cleared his head. Syd held the glass to his lips while his gaze wandered around the room. On the rough-hewn mantel sat a series of photographs in gilded silver frames, and while most other surfaces in the house laid under a thin layer of dust, these gleamed. Before he realized he was moving, Syd rose for a better look.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  There were different people in each one, but it was the shared background that interested Syd: a small, tidy town, complete with a bustling main street and line of shops. Welcome to Redemption, one sign said. We believe in second chances. “Don’t we all,” Syd said. The picture at the end stopped his heart. Lump in his throat, he pointed, and Mr. C walked over to peer at the photo. Cradling the scotch in his palm, he tapped his finger against the glass. “David Cooper. My grandfather. Lost in the flooding of Redemption.” He gulped a mouthful of liquor. “Lost that day with so many others. It was blind luck that my grandmother wasn’t in town that day. My mother had been quite sick, you see, and they were both in the next town over, seeing the doctor when the dam went.” David was smiling. A petite woman carrying an infant stood at his side. Syd took the picture and returned to his seat. Mr. C didn’t protest. He refilled both of their glasses and raised his. “Here’s to second chances.” “Mr. C,” Syd said, tracing David’s grainy features with the tip of his finger, “is short for Mr. Cooper.” “Yep. That’s me.” “You should leave, Mr. Cooper.” Verbalizing the idea somehow made it overwhelmingly urgent. “You’re not safe here, you know. They know you’re keeping people away. The lake knows.” “I’m as safe as I can be, Mr. McTighe.” “That’s no answer.”


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “No, I suppose it isn’t. But where would I go?” Mr. C spread his hands. “And with who? No, I’m where I need to be, and I can’t leave. I’m the gatekeeper and the key master. Just like my father was.” Syd laughed in spite of himself. He raised his glass and their tumblers clinked together. “May I stay?” Syd asked. Mr. C peered at Syd over the rim of his glass. “Now why would you want to do a thing like that, son?” The grin that spread over his face probably looked manic. Syd didn’t care. “You were right about everything, Mr. C, and I was thinking… I could help.” The plan coalesced as the words spilled from his mouth. “Yeah. I could anchor outside the channel. Stay there during the summer when the lake is busy. Keep people out.” He closed his eyes, picturing the ruined edges of the dam. “Yeah, I could do that.” Mr. C’s answer snapped him from his daze. “Why? Why would you do that?” “Because,” Syd replied, clutching the picture in his lap. “I want a second chance.”

HE

TRADED up. His new houseboat was sea-green, slightly

smaller, and had a bumper sticker that read: My other boat is gay too. Mr. C had snorted when he’d seen it. “Remember what I told you. Tie up perpendicular to the channel. Use both anchors. Set the first, reverse—” “Got it, Mr. C.” Syd clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m an expert now, right?” His joking earned him a severe frown.


eneath a e edemption  ibb rew  “I’ll be fine,” Syd assured him. He stepped onto the boat and loped up the steps to the wheelhouse. “Keep that radio on!” “Aye aye, Captain.” Muttering, Mr. C released the lines. Syd leaned over the side as the boat drifted out of the slip. He offered a crisp salute. “Take care, Mr. C.” Whatever amusement had been in his voice moments ago was absent. “Be careful.” “You too, Syd.” He took his time, puttering back and forth from one side of the lake to the other, exploring the shoreline, so that by the time he hit the Western Finger, it was close to dusk. Full of restless energy, he set about anchoring the boat. It took three tries, nearly an hour, but he got it right in the end. Mr. C would be proud. As night fell, he popped the cap off a beer, grabbed two dining chairs from the cabin, and settled himself on the stern deck to wait. The ruins of the Redemption dam rose on either side of him. Syd kept his eyes on the left bank. He wasn’t sure when sleep took him, but he woke to the quiet slap of bare feet on the deck. The chair beside him creaked, and someone took his hand. Syd smiled.

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The Dreamspinner Press 2010 Daily Dose package of thirty stories is available at http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

LIBBY DREW glimpsed her true calling when her first story, a Winnie-the-Pooh/Shakespeare crossover, won the grand prize in her elementary school’s fiction contest. Her parents explained that writers were quirky, poor, and often talked to themselves in supermarket checkout lines. They implored her to be practical, a request she took to heart for twenty years, earning two degrees, a white-collar job, and an ulcer before realizing that practical was absolutely no fun. Today she lives with her husband and four children in a very old, impractical house and writes stories about redemption, the paranormal, and love at first sight, all of which do exist. She happens to know from experience. Visit Libby’s blog at http://libby-drew.livejournal.com/ and her web site at http://www.libbydrew.com/.

Find more stories by LIBBY DREW at

DREAMSPINNER PRESS http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Beneath Lake Redemption ©Copyright Libby Drew, 2010 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Design by Catt Ford This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June 2010 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-482-4