Beneath Still Waters Read online

  SOMETHING IS DOWN THERE . . .

  He felt something around his feet, just barely touching

  his toes.

  He tried to look down in the water.

  The small, feathery touches around his legs had turned

  to something hard now, holding on to his legs, almost hold-

  ing him like—

  He brought his right hand down to feel what he was

  caught in, to push it away, to free himself.

  What the hell?

  It felt all sort of doughy, and soft, like, like—

  Flesh. Gone puffy. Rotten.

  “Oh, God,” he said. And he screamed . . .

  “A CONSUMMATE WRITER OF HORROR.”

  —Science Fiction Chronicle

  Titles by Matthew J. Costello

  missing monday

  unidentified

  poltergeist: the legacy maelstrom

  see how she runs

  seaquest dsv: fire below

  homecoming

  darkborn

  child’s play 3

  wurm

  child’s play 2

  midsummer

  beneath still waters

  BENEATH

  STILL

  WATERS

  MATTHE W J. COSTELLO

  b

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  BENEATH STILL WATERS

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 1989 by Matthew J. Costello.

  Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form with -

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  ISBN: 1-4295-6357-5

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  P R O L O G U E

  GOULDENS FALLS, NEW YORK—1936

  It was morning.

  Cool, damp, with thin, wispy clouds ready to be burned

  off by breakfast.

  Billy sat up quickly. He heard someone calling to him, a

  hushed voice from below his window, and for a moment he

  wondered whether the voice was part of a dream.

  But he went to his window and saw Jackie Weeks stand-

  ing below his window, looking right up at him, his wide-

  open eyes telling him to get a move on. Jackie was excited,

  but Billy just had that same uncomfortable feeling that he

  carried around all week, a feeling, he finally admitted, that

  was fear.

  He waved at Jackie to let him know that he was on his

  way down, and then he jumped into yesterday’s clothes,

  scattered on the floor of his room.

  He pulled them on quickly, feeling their clammy coolness

  against his warm skin, and for a moment he wished he could

  just jump back into his bed and pull his covers over his head,

  shutting out the light, the morning, and Jackie Weeks.

  But no, there was no way to do that.

  2

  m a t t h e w j . c o s t e l l o

  After all, they had talked about this day, planned it for

  weeks, swearing each other to total secrecy. Swearing!

  Jackie had demanded.

  Cross your heart and hope to—

  Jackie called again, and Billy pulled on his worn sneak-

  ers, leaving the laces undone until he got outside. Then he

  moved as quietly as he could, just like the burglar from the

  Bulldog Drummond movie, stepping on his toes, wincing as

  the floorboards creaked out in alarm, hoping that his little

  sister wouldn’t come stumbling out to pee or for a drink of

  water and blow the whistle on him.

  Then he reached the front door and turned the doorknob

  slowly, silently, barely breathing, before pulling back on it,

  moving outside to where his best friend stood.

  He saw Jackie roll his eyes in disgust before speaking to

  him.

  “C’mon, Billy Boy, we’re late already.”

  He nodded.

  “My alarm clock didn’t go off. It’s old—”

  “Yeah, well, we better get moving. The sun will be up in

  half an hour.”

  He crouched and tied his laces, pulling them real tight,

  until both his black sneakers were snug from his ankles to

  his toes. So they’d never come off no matter what—

  “I’ve been thinking. You know, it’s all fenced off, with

  signs and stuff. We could be in big trouble if we’re caught

  in there.”

  Jackie rolled his eyes again. “Oh, brother. You’re not

  punking out on me, are you? All your big talk of seeing the

  town one last time, seeing all the empty houses and stuff?”

  “I’m just wondering.” He stood up and looked at Jackie, a

  good five inches taller, seemingly years older. He never un-

  derstood what Jackie saw in him. Here was Jackie, the best

  athlete in Gouldens Falls Elementary School, liked by all

  the kids, hanging around with someone who was the booby

  prize every time a team’s captain lost out on the critical

  b e n e a t h s t i l l w a t e r s

  3

  once-twice-three-shoot finger play that determined who got

  first pick.

  “But you’re smart,” Jackie had told him one summer’s

  day when they had gone fishing. “Real smart.” And for some

  crazy reason this was important to Jackie.

  “Well, are you ready, Billy Boy?”

  Billy nodded.

  Jackie turned, and Bi
lly watched him dart into the woods

  that surrounded his house, heard his black Keds landing

  with an assured plop on the ground. Then he ran, not really

  able to keep up with him.

  Jackie was the fastest kid in Gouldens Falls Elementary

  School. Nobody could catch him. They’d even put a plaque

  up, right in the school gym.

  But that was all history now.

  ’Cause in a few hours the small redbrick school build-

  ing will be at the bottom of the largest man-made lake in

  the whole state. Yeah, as if it were something to be proud

  of. As if he’d ever want to brag that his hometown was

  filled with fish and duckweed.

  (And, for a moment, he remembered a bit of his dream

  from that night. He was in his bedroom, just walking around,

  when the water came in, a trickle at first, then slowly rising.

  He tried to get out, but the door just wouldn’t open, and the

  water just . . . kept rising.)

  “C’mon, Billy. Run, for Pete’s sake!”

  “No stamina,” the coach had said. That was his prob-

  lem. Just couldn’t keep going, not the way Jackie could.

  “I’m . . . coming,” Billy gasped.

  And Billy ran, head down, watching for branches and

  vines that might trip him up, barely noticing the dark

  woods growing lighter. Then he heard Jackie scream out.

  “There it is!” And he stumbled beside his friend, and just

  ahead he could see the chain-link fence, topped with shiny

  strands of brand-new barbed wire. And behind it, the aban-

  doned town of Gouldens Falls.

  4

  m a t t h e w j . c o s t e l l o

  “Kinda spooky, isn’t it?” Jackie said. Billy moved closer

  to him and they looked down at the town. “It’s like a ghost

  town now.”

  Then he walked toward the fence.

  And Billy followed Jackie. He came to the fence beside

  him and clawed the wire mesh, resting his face against the

  fence. And it was more than spooky. There was something

  bad about seeing a town so still.

  “Look,” Jackie said, laughing. “There’s our church. I

  won’t mind having that under fifty feet of water.”

  Billy nodded, even as he looked up and down the famil-

  iar streets that now seemed so strange, fenced in like some

  kind of—

  “And Donnelly’s Hardware Shop. My dad says his new

  place in Ellerton will carry a lot more stuff, lots more,

  maybe even hunting rifles and fishing gear.”

  “Yeah.” But he wasn’t really listening. Instead he looked

  at the streets, searching for some sign of life, knowing that

  there really couldn’t be anything there.

  ’Cause they’re all gone.

  The old people and the kids. Donnelly and that nice wait-

  ress at Woolworth’s who always gave free refills of Coke.

  All the cats and all the dogs.

  And then he looked south, at the reason Gouldens Falls

  was surrounded by a ten-foot-high barbed-wire fence. He

  looked at the dam.

  It wasn’t big as far as dams went. No. He had checked out

  pictures of the Hoover Dam in the encyclopedia. Now, that

  was big. This one, the one they were calling the Kenicut

  Dam, was just small potatoes.

  Still, seeing the massive wall at the south end of town,

  running all the way from one ridge to the other, sealing off

  the town, made him feel like he was seeing something im-

  portant. Important and scary.

  “They’re all set up,” Billy said quietly, looking at the

  roadway on top of the dam.

  b e n e a t h s t i l l w a t e r s

  5

  “Yeah. There’s the special grandstand for the governor

  and the old-fart mayor, and a lot of other jerks.”

  “What time is it?” Billy asked. He wanted the trip over

  with, done, so he could get back home. Then he could join

  Jackie in bragging about their big adventure.

  Jackie dug out a big pocket watch, its scratched gold

  cover catching the early-morning light. It was one of Jackie’s

  treasures, he knew, from his grandfather. He knew Jackie just

  loved to be asked what time it was.

  “Six a.m., Billy Boy. Time to pay our last respects.”

  And before he could say anything, to tell Jackie that he

  really didn’t want to climb the fence, that all he wanted to

  do was get the hell out of there, Jackie started climbing. He

  felt trapped. By his friendship, by their plan, and by the

  fence.

  And, no sweat, Jackie moved up the fence easily, clutch-

  ing at the wire strands and digging his Keds into the mesh.

  He watched his friend climb, knowing that he’d have to go

  through with it next.

  Then Jackie was at the top, gingerly stepping over the

  shiny strands of barbed wire, shifting his body around,

  crouching like he was going to take a dump or something.

  And Billy kept his eyes on the twisted spokes of wire

  between Jackie’s legs. He chewed his lips. “No problem,

  champ. This is just like Tim Tyler making his way over the

  snake pit.”

  That’s another place that’s going to disappear. The Glen-

  wood was his movie theater, his favorite place in the whole town. He had seen King Kong there, and Frankenstein, and a ton of others, slumped down in his seat, feet up on the seat

  in front (until the usherette had come by and shined her

  flashlight in his face). There’d always be the greatest pop-

  corn fights when some boring Western was on. He’d laugh

  so hard, it hurt.

  The big old theater, his theater, would be under water in

  just a few hours. Did they leave the screen? he wondered.

  6

  m a t t h e w j . c o s t e l l o

  Or the popcorn machine, half full with dried-out popcorn,

  soon to turn into a yellowish, soggy muck?

  “Geronimo!” Jackie yelled with a scream that made

  Billy’s hair stand on end. He saw Jackie leap off the fence,

  land, and roll into some bushes.

  “You’re next, sport.”

  Now there was this big new fence between them. Jackie’s

  eyes were on him, burning. He could just turn and run

  away. So what if he lost his friend? So what if Jackie told

  the whole school he was a punk?

  I’m not Tim Tyler. I don’t need to cross rivers with alli-

  gators or quicksand pits.

  But instead he reached up to the cold wire, grabbed it,

  and then started climbing, He moved slowly, making doubly

  sure of every foothold before climbing higher. He watched

  his hands grab the wire, saw the goose bumps on his arms.

  “C’mon, Billy.”

  Then he saw the top, the strands of barbed wire ready to

  cut at him. It had been so easy for Jackie.

  “Okay, Billy Boy. Nice and slow here. You don’t want to

  lose the family jewels.” Jackie laughed, but all Billy could

  think of was slipping, sliding down right onto the barbed

  wire.

  He could jump off now. He could just leap off the fence,

  back where he came from, and run away. It would be all

  over. But he went up, feeling Jackie’s eyes on him, wonder-
<
br />   ing whether Jackie might be worried about him too. Then

  he reached for the top strand of barbed wire, clamping his

  hand around a bare section, and pulled himself up.

  “Way to go! Take it easy now.”

  He heard himself breathing funny, like air whistling un-

  der a door in wintertime. There was no rhythm to it; he just

  sucked it in.

  He straddled the wire and looked down at Jackie, know-

  ing that the hard part was coming. He started to move one

  foot over the barbed wire.

  b e n e a t h s t i l l w a t e r s

  7

  “Nice and slow. Almost there. Almost—” Jackie’s voice

  helped give him confidence.

  Then he felt his balance go, and his body was just some

  heavy weight about to tumble down. His hands slid an inch,

  right over one of the barbs, and he screamed out.

  But it stopped his fall, and he pulled his body into an

  awkward balance. He thought he might cry.

  “Shit, you cut your hand.”

  Billy looked down. The blood coating the wire looked

  slimy and dark, not like when he scraped his knee. At least

  the wire wasn’t rusty. At least I won’t get tetanus or what-

  ever it is you get from rusty nails.

  “Bring your other leg over, Billy. You got to go over the

  barbed wire.”

  He nodded but didn’t move. To move meant another

  chance to fall, maybe even more blood. It was better to just

  freeze. . . .

  “You gotta move, Billy! Get your leg up!”

  Then he let himself obey Jackie’s voice, letting it take

  charge so he wouldn’t have to think about the wire.

  “That’s it. Now bring it over. Easy. Easy. Okay, you’re

  about there.”

  Amazingly his feet were on the other side of the fence.

  “Now jump!” Jackie yelled.

  No.

  “Jump, Leeper, before I come up there and pull you

  down.”

  He would do it too. Jackie would really climb up and

  drag him down.

  It was enough to get him to jump off.

  “Aaaah!” He flew off awkwardly, his arms and legs reach-

  ing out in all directions. His shoulder hit the ground first,

  banging hard into the dirt. He thought for sure he’d broken

  some important bones.

  “I thought you were stuck up there, chum. Sorry I had to

  get tough on you. How’s the hand?”

  8

  m a t t h e w j . c o s t e l l o

  He looked down at his hand, and the round hole in the

  center of his palm, surrounded by a small pool of blood.

  “It’s okay.” He looked up at Jackie. “It’s nothing.”