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Five figures trudged along the hiking path that wriggled through the woods at the southern end of Lake Conklin. It was a narrow path, overgrown at parts, as it often was in the off-season. However, during the beginning of summer, the park staff would usually tidy it up a bit for the campers, so it seemed strange to witness it in such a messy state.
“Looks like Dirty Harry’s been hitting the bottle too hard,” Brandon joked, nearly snagging his sleeve on a branch. The lake's groundskeeper had acquired the unflattering nickname years ago due to spying on teens hooking up in the woods.
Reaching the closest campsites at Lake Conklin took twenty minutes, but the really good ones, where adults were less likely to break up the party, took twice as long. Every so often someone would try to ride their bike on the path to make the trip quicker, but thanks to the rough terrain, it always led to either a sore ass or a popped tire—and sometimes both.
Keith was at the front of the group, of course. He liked to think of himself as the leader. He hadn’t made captain of the football team—Eddie Thompson’s dad was friends with the coach; he hadn’t actually earned the position—but he knew his teammates still looked to him for guidance.
“You’re not breaking a sweat, are you, Brandon?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No way.” Brandon, the backpack on his shoulders heavy with flashlights and beer, turned to check on the two girls trailing after them. “How about it, ladies, you falling behind?” He asked with a smirk.
“It’s not a contest, you know,” Jennifer replied, nearly tripping over a tree root that jutted out onto the path.
“Says the girl in third place,” Brandon shot back.
Jennifer shook her head. She’d almost come dressed in her cheerleader uniform, but Betsy talked her out of it by giving one of her famous lectures. The lectures rarely worked on her, however this one had been about how ticks latched onto exposed skin and sucked on your blood, so it was particularly effective. She settled for a pair of jeans and her yellow San Palmo High sweatshirt. It was warm for the daytime, but when the sun went down the temperature would drop quickly, and she couldn’t count on Brandon and Keith’s fire-making skills to keep her warm.
In second-to-last place was Betsy, and she was in Hell. Forests were a dirty place, full of animals peeing and crapping and spreading germs. She’d nearly backed out of going to the lake, but went mainly to protect Jennifer from Brandon and Keith. She trusted Brandon mostly, Keith less so, however put any two boys together and her belief in their good sides plummeted dramatically. Observing their behavior on the football field, a group of rowdy idiots slapping each other on the back, she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Jennifer alone with them.
Finally there was Roxy, who hadn’t said a word the entire walk, and was already pretty drunk from the mini bottles she’d lifted from her uncle’s store. Roxy’s uncle was a nice guy, and she got along with him. He also ran one of two liquor stores in the San Palmo area, and would let her watch the store while he went in the back to take a piss—which was all the opportunity she needed.
As they walked single-file, the trees widened enough that they could see a brutish, decaying building jutting up from the canopy in the distance. It was the old factory, its half-broken windows illuminated by the orange rays of dying sunlight. Nobody knew what they used to make in the factory, but everyone had heard the stories about kids disappearing there over the years, others about people seeing strange lights coming from inside.
“You wanna check it out?” Keith asked playfully, coming to a stop. “I bet we can find some cool shit inside.”
“Hell yeah,” Brandon replied, not wanting to look scared.
“I’m not going near that place,” Jennifer said, crossing her arms. “You losers can go if you want.”
“Maybe we will,” Brandon shot back.
“Great. Have fun.”
“Enjoy the tetanus,” Betsy added.
“They’d actually be a lot easier to be around if they had lockjaw,” Roxy said, and the other two girls laughed.
“Whatever, you three are just pussies.” Keith slapped Brandon on the arm. The two boys smirked and continued on toward the old campsite.
The girls rolled their eyes at each other, then followed. They planned on partying that night, and they weren’t about to let something like a couple of idiots ruin their fun.
Not long after they passed the factory, they reached the part of the forest people called The Hollow. It was always colder there than the rest of the woods. Nothing but mushrooms grew there anymore, feeding on the roots of dead trees decaying beneath their feet. The mushrooms were alien, sick-looking things, and Betsy nearly threw up when she spotted a particularly nasty fungus swarming with fat flies. The thought of one of them landing on her after all the things it had touched was enough to send her into a panic. She glanced at Jennifer and noticed her friend was shivering. Her blue lips moved like she was whispering an incantation, but Betsy knew that was only her imagination.
Funny, Jennifer thought, how none of the high schoolers liked The Hollow, yet everyone eventually went there. The dead patch of forest was like a rite of passage in San Palmo; admitting you’d never visited it only insured that you would, and soon.
Keith was the first to pick up the sound of the lake, its waters lapping softly at the shore. A minute later, Brandon spotted a glint of reflected sun through the dead branches. The group emerged to the sight of the lake bathed in golden hour sunlight. It was breathtaking at this time of day, like a sheet of orange glass laid smoothly over a deep void, and they took in the sight of it. Keith stared at the center of the lake. The waters there were stillest of all, hinting at a sense of depth that unsettled him.
“How deep does this thing go, anyway?” he asked, trying to sound disinterested.
“Why, you planning on swimming?” Brandon asked.
“Skinny dipping maybe. What do you say, ladies?”
“I say nice try.” Jennifer glanced at Betsy, who smiled at her. Betsy tried to dream up an image of Brandon and Keith in the buff, but she couldn’t do so without seeing the two of them covered in black leeches.
“They say it’s only like fifty or sixty feet down,” Brandon said, “but my cousin knows a couple of guys who went diving on the East end, looking for this cave that’s supposed to be down there. When one guy didn’t come back up, a second one went down to look for him. Only he didn’t come back, either. They found his guide line a few days later, and get this- when they checked it, it was marked at like three hundred feet.
They were all quiet. Then Roxy said: “That’s bullshit.”
“There are way too many stories in this town,” Betsy agreed. “It’s always something that happened to a friend of a friend.”
“It was my cousin’s friend,” Brandon argued.
“Same thing.”
“Well, the skinny dipping offer still stands,” Keith joked.
“It’s still a pass,” she replied, but the two of them were smiling a lot easier at each other now.
Finally, they reached the campsite they were looking for and were surprised to find Stu, Christine, and Eric already waiting for them. The campsite was a favorite among teenagers. It had the most privacy out of all the sites, the fire pit was in perfect condition, and it even had a picnic table—not to mention an outhouse nearby if one was desperate enough.
“This place looks like it’s straight out of a horror flick,” Eric said as the two groups met in the center, becoming one.
“Perfect place to party,” Christine replied. Stu watched her with concern. He knew he needed to tell her about the move, but now, surrounded by their friends at the edge of the lake, didn’t feel like the right time. His secret had become like a stone in his gut, weighing him down.
“I haven’t been out here in a long time,” Brandon said.
“We’re gonna have a blast,” Keith said, slapping Brandon’s back. His goal was always to be the life of the party, and tonight he intended to go out with a bang. “Alright, guys,” he commanded, surveying the area, “let’s split up and gather some wood for the fire. Brandon, you’re with me. Roxy, Christine, you two head that way. Eric and Stu, you stay here and set up the bar.” Betsy was about to complain that she hadn’t been given a job, until she realized she didn’t want to do any of them.
“Bossy much?” Roxy muttered, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Christine’s hand and led her into the darkening woods. Keith watched from a distance, satisfied with his ability to take control. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but he knew one thing for sure: tonight would be a night they’d never forget.
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