But then something clicks. Maybe it wasn’t as much a misunderstanding about the lake. I offered to buy her a drink… fuck. She probably thought I was hitting on her. In that context, the way she backed away from me is even worse. I didn’t like the idea of hurting her feelings, but I really can’t stand her thinking I’m the kind of professor that fantasizes and flirts with pretty students… even though I do fantasize about her.
“Fuck!” I yell, pulling a pillow over my face.
“No, thank you!” a male voice calls out. I stop trying to smother the life out of myself and sit up. Apparently, ‘rustic’ is code for zero soundproofing. I make a note to whisper my obscenities in the future, and head for the shower. If I can’t sleep, I might as well get an early start at the lake.
I load my sonar gear into one of the resort row boats, grumping about doing this the old-fashioned way, since powerboats aren’t allowed on Mountain Ridge Lake. No one ever said geology was a sexy career, but at least I’m going to get a workout.
I had planned to start by diving and taking samples, but after seeing the body of water up close, it’s probably a good thing I held off. It’s not a huge. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But getting imagery of the lake bed should give me a better idea of where to start once I’m in the water.
“What’s that?” I’m so lost in my own thoughts, my mind wandering between the lake and Corinne, that the disembodied voice scares the absolute shit out of me. It’s just after dawn and I haven’t seen another soul out here, so understandably, the eerie little voice makes me jump out of my skin.
I spin around to see a blond boy, maybe twelve years old? I dunno. I can’t tell with kids. He stares at me with a straight face. I stare right back.
“What. Is. That?” He repeats, pointing at the yellow Sub-Bottom profiler. “Is it a remote control boat? Can I try it?”
“No, it’s a twenty-thousand-dollar piece of sonar equipment,” I say hesitantly, spinning to survey the lake for a guardian. “Do you have parents?” What the fuck is this kid doing out here?
“Cool. Can you show me how it works?”
“I’m sorry. Is there an adult in charge of you? I’m not sure you should be out here unsupervised.”
“I’m eleven,” he says, his voice sprinkled with disdain. “But my dad’s over there fishing.”
I lean out, eyes scouring the area he’s pointing to. There’s a little bend in the shore and behind a patch of cattails, I spot a guy sitting in a lawn chair with a fishing pole in his hand. I don’t point out that he also has a hat over his face and appears to be drunk and/or sleeping.
“Uh… sure. I can show you real quick. What’s your name?”
“Adam.”
“Okay, Adam.” I pick up the Sub-Bottom profiler, turning it over. “See this? It emits a pulse of energy—”
“Like echolocation,” Adam interrupts. My eye twitches. But at least he has the general idea.
“Something like that. I tow it behind a boat, and it takes continuous readings of the lake bed. This one is special because it actually takes readings through the layers of mud to show the bedrock underneath.”
“Cool,” Adam breathes, eyes wide. “Are you looking for something? I don’t think you’re gonna find treasure in this lake.” He gives me a skeptical look and pats my arm like he feels sorry for me.
“No,” I laugh. “I don’t think I will either. I’m a geologist.”
“You’re looking for rocks?”
“I’m looking for secrets in the rocks. That’s kind of like treasure.”
Adam doesn’t look convinced.
“Here.” I flip on the waterproof laptop and finish setting up the profiler. Handing him the tow cable, I give him instructions. “Walk along there. Let it skim the bottom.” Adam follows orders, and when the readings start popping up on the laptop, I call him back. “See. You can see there,” I point at the screen, “is where the muddy layer ends and you hit bedrock.”
“Awesome.” Adam stares at the screen, leaning in until his nose almost touches the grainy image.
“Adam!” a male voice calls out.
My mouthy assistant straightens up and puts his fists on his hips with a sigh. “I gotta go.” Without another word, he turns and stomps along the bank toward his father.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter.
I have about half of the lake mapped by ten. Needing a break, some shade, and something cold to drink, I row back toward the dock. I’m only halfway there when I spot them. At least a dozen kids are marching toward the dock with my buddy Adam in the lead. They reach the bank before I do and stand there watching me approach.
Please God, don’t let this be Children of the Corn situation. I offer a silent prayer, but the ominous crowd doesn’t disperse. They watch as I tie off the rowboat, gather my equipment, and disembark. The whole group moves like a school of fish, shifting to mirror my movements, whispering and following a much bolder Adam.