Fossil Lake: An Anthology of the Aberrant by Ramsey Campbell, Peter Rawlik, Mary Pletsch, Jerrod Balzer, John Goodrich, Scott Colbert, John Claude Smith, Ken Goldman, Doug Blakeslee Page B
the house and hope he could spot her.
Finally, Rob spied her, spread-eagled upon the lakebed on the far side of the sunbaked expanse. He hopped out of the car and ran to her side, then recoiled in horror as he saw her burnt and blistered skin. She must have lain there beneath the burning sun all morning. He had never known someone to be so badly burnt this quickly.
Cautiously, he checked for pulse or breath, but there was none; Cammie was dead.
He sighed. It was a crying shame, she’d been a real nice Sheila, for a Pom. The weird thing was that the blistering reminded him of a geezer he’d once seen who’d been badly burnt in a fire. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said she had died in a blaze. Bizarre!
Behind him, to the north, a distant mushroom cloud stood sentinel on the horizon, another test underway. Before him, Cammie was as dead as the lake on which she lay.
THE DANK
Doug Blakeslee
You know there’s trouble when a gnome hands you a mysterious package.
“What’s up with the mystery gift?” I asked. “My birthday isn’t until January.”
“It’s a delivery,” said Bernie.
He wasn’t really a gnome, at least not that he would admit to. A bit over four feet tall, with a mop of messy white hair and long sideburns … the only things missing were a long nose and jaunty cap to go with his wizened features.
“I don’t recall anything on the schedule,” I said, wracking my brain to see if I had missed any last minute changes.
That was our business, here at Rogue Transport and Logistics. Part of it, anyway. The job board showed everyone else out on various calls, leaving me – Theo March, changeling and man in charge – the only one available.
Crap .
“It’s a personal favor for a few friends,” Bernie added. A small bag hit the desk, clinking and clacking. “They paid in rimestone. Enough to cover expenses and twice the usual markup.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “What’s the job and what’s the catch?”
“You wound me, Theo. Why would there be any issues with a simple drop-off?” His face held a neutral, innocent expression perfectly.
I held my hand up to stop him. “Where does it need to go? And what sort of trouble can I expect?”
“Just an easy drive to the lava caves near Bend,” he assured me. “Some spelunking to an underground lake, drop the package into the water, and leave. Simple.”
“What’s in the package?”
“A leather pouch.”
“Containing?”
“Restorative juju.” He grinned at me. “Open it up, dump it out, and let it disperse. Piece of cake.”
I sighed. “Uh-huh. That’s a long haul to Eastern Oregon.”
“Motel’s reserved in your name.” Bernie slid a sheet of paper across my desk. “All the details are here, including the shortest route through the cave. Even taking your time, you’ll be in and out in a couple of hours.”
A hand drawn map showed way-points marked in a clear cursive script. “I hate caving,” I said.
“Tough.”
Had I mentioned I was the boss around here? Yeah, right.
Bernie went on, gesturing towards the garage. “I’ve packed you a kit to take along. It’s in the van. Everything you’ll need.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of planning for a simple, piece-of-cake job.”
That got a chuckle. “Theo, my lad, you’re the reckless, irresponsible son that I never had. Writing everything out is the best solution to keep your ass out of the fire.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Don’t stray from the path and don’t kill anyone,” he said, and tossed me the keys. “Seriously, no shooting or stabbing.”
* * *
“Easy drive, my ass.” I climbed out of the van several hours later, stirring up a cloud of dust that hung in the still air. My ass indeed, and it ached as much as the rest of me.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Being a changeling with an affinity for fire and earth doesn’t make me immune to nature’s laws. Back home in Portland might have been cool
Finally, Rob spied her, spread-eagled upon the lakebed on the far side of the sunbaked expanse. He hopped out of the car and ran to her side, then recoiled in horror as he saw her burnt and blistered skin. She must have lain there beneath the burning sun all morning. He had never known someone to be so badly burnt this quickly.
Cautiously, he checked for pulse or breath, but there was none; Cammie was dead.
He sighed. It was a crying shame, she’d been a real nice Sheila, for a Pom. The weird thing was that the blistering reminded him of a geezer he’d once seen who’d been badly burnt in a fire. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said she had died in a blaze. Bizarre!
Behind him, to the north, a distant mushroom cloud stood sentinel on the horizon, another test underway. Before him, Cammie was as dead as the lake on which she lay.
THE DANK
Doug Blakeslee
You know there’s trouble when a gnome hands you a mysterious package.
“What’s up with the mystery gift?” I asked. “My birthday isn’t until January.”
“It’s a delivery,” said Bernie.
He wasn’t really a gnome, at least not that he would admit to. A bit over four feet tall, with a mop of messy white hair and long sideburns … the only things missing were a long nose and jaunty cap to go with his wizened features.
“I don’t recall anything on the schedule,” I said, wracking my brain to see if I had missed any last minute changes.
That was our business, here at Rogue Transport and Logistics. Part of it, anyway. The job board showed everyone else out on various calls, leaving me – Theo March, changeling and man in charge – the only one available.
Crap .
“It’s a personal favor for a few friends,” Bernie added. A small bag hit the desk, clinking and clacking. “They paid in rimestone. Enough to cover expenses and twice the usual markup.”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “What’s the job and what’s the catch?”
“You wound me, Theo. Why would there be any issues with a simple drop-off?” His face held a neutral, innocent expression perfectly.
I held my hand up to stop him. “Where does it need to go? And what sort of trouble can I expect?”
“Just an easy drive to the lava caves near Bend,” he assured me. “Some spelunking to an underground lake, drop the package into the water, and leave. Simple.”
“What’s in the package?”
“A leather pouch.”
“Containing?”
“Restorative juju.” He grinned at me. “Open it up, dump it out, and let it disperse. Piece of cake.”
I sighed. “Uh-huh. That’s a long haul to Eastern Oregon.”
“Motel’s reserved in your name.” Bernie slid a sheet of paper across my desk. “All the details are here, including the shortest route through the cave. Even taking your time, you’ll be in and out in a couple of hours.”
A hand drawn map showed way-points marked in a clear cursive script. “I hate caving,” I said.
“Tough.”
Had I mentioned I was the boss around here? Yeah, right.
Bernie went on, gesturing towards the garage. “I’ve packed you a kit to take along. It’s in the van. Everything you’ll need.”
“You’ve gone to a lot of planning for a simple, piece-of-cake job.”
That got a chuckle. “Theo, my lad, you’re the reckless, irresponsible son that I never had. Writing everything out is the best solution to keep your ass out of the fire.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“Don’t stray from the path and don’t kill anyone,” he said, and tossed me the keys. “Seriously, no shooting or stabbing.”
* * *
“Easy drive, my ass.” I climbed out of the van several hours later, stirring up a cloud of dust that hung in the still air. My ass indeed, and it ached as much as the rest of me.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. Being a changeling with an affinity for fire and earth doesn’t make me immune to nature’s laws. Back home in Portland might have been cool
Similar Books
Private Oz
James Patterson
Make Me Stay
Ella Jade
Severance
Chris Bucholz
Fifty Two Weeks of Murder
Owen Nichols
Behaving Badly
Isabel Wolff
Bridge of Mist and Fog
nikki broadwell
Lacy Williams
Roping the Wrangler
The Christmas Killer
Jim Gallows
The Queen
Suzanna Lynn
