The Light

  I nodded. I thought the same thing.

  "But something more is going on here, Marsh. Something wrong. It can't just be about a kid who ran down my brother in a big-ass boat. That's way too easy."

  "I know," I said softly.

  Sydney took a breath. There was something on her mind and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what it was.

  "What if we've been looking at this through the wrong end of the telescope?" she said. "We've been fixated on finding Cooper, obviously, but he isn't the only victim here. Reilly's dead. George O. is dead. Vrtiak is out of his mind

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  and Mikey Russo isn't far behind. What's the one thing they all have in common?"

  "Gravedigger."

  "No," Sydney said gravely. "You."

  "Me? I didn't try to hurt any of those people!"

  "No, but Gravedigger did. And you created Gravedigger."

  I stood up and paced nervously. "No, no way. I didn't conjure a monster that could do those things. He's a cartoon. A drawing."

  "But he came out of your head and that's the image everybody is seeing. There's no such person, except in your imagination."

  "So you think I somehow created an avenging spirit who is going around scaring people to death? It's all my fault?"

  "It's not your fault. You're in as much danger as anybody else. But whatever force is at work here, you're the center of it."

  I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I couldn't.

  Sydney added, "I don't think finding Cooper is going to end this. He may just be another piece in the puzzle. You're a good friend, Marsh. The best. But you're going to have to start worrying about yourself."

  I searched for a comeback . . . something that would prove her theory wrong. I came up empty. Sydney stood up and gave me a hug. It was the kindest gesture she ever made toward me.

  "I'm going to try to sleep," she said. "You want to share the couch again?"

  "No. Go to bed. I'll be fine."

  "I don't think you'll be fine. What if--"

  "Nothing's going to happen."

  "You don't know that," she said.

  "Yeah, I think I do." I couldn't explain why, but I felt as if a line had been crossed. Knowing the truth about Cooper's

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  accident had somehow defused things. At least for the time being.

  I added, "Believe me, if anything strange starts, I'll scream."

  She squeezed me tighter and said, "Whatever happens tomorrow, and beyond, I want to help you. I'm in this too." With that she left me and went upstairs to bed.

  I didn't want to be anywhere near the lake, so I went inside and lay down on the living room couch with my eyes wide open. No chance I was going to sleep, not after everything Sydney had said.

  Ever since I had gotten to the lake, I had been focused on finding Cooper. Of course that was important, but it was also a good excuse for me to avoid dealing with the other disturbing problem. I was being haunted. There was no other way to say it. Something was coming after me. Was it a spirit? A demon? The boogeyman? Whatever it was, it had the power to make people see things that weren't really there. There was no Gravedigger. He was just another illusion. But many people saw it. George O. Sydney. Even Sheriff Vrtiak and Reilly. They weren't faced by an image that was special to them--they saw Gravedigger, my creation. Sydney was right. This was about me. For reasons I couldn't begin to understand, I was being hunted by a powerful spirit. Everybody else just so happened to be in the way.

  Including Cooper.

  I felt a breeze. An impossible breeze. I'd felt it many times before. It moved over my face and through the room. I wasn't scared. There was nothing sinister about it. I heard something fall with a sharp slap that made me sit up with a start. At the far end of the couch was a table with a lamp and a few framed pictures. One of the pictures had fallen over. Only one. The breeze had been selective. I crawled to

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  the end of the couch and reached for it. The other pictures were family shots of the Foleys when the kids were little. There was one each of Cooper and Sydney, and one with all four. I lifted up the one that had fallen . . . and my throat clutched.

  That was the moment. That's when I knew.

  It was a familiar picture. I didn't know why I hadn't noticed it before. It was the photo that my mother had given to Cooper for his birthday . . . the photo of the ancient African man and the baby. Eternity. Seeing it made me realize I had been kidding myself. I wanted there to be a happy ending and so I created a scenario where that was possible . . . even though logic had been screaming at me to face the truth. I couldn't begin to understand why everything had been happening, but I could no longer deny the fact that there were spirits at work. They surrounded us. They surrounded me. They could appear at my house, in a long-abandoned gym ... or in a locked boathouse. Basically, anywhere.

  Whether it was one spirit or many, I was a target. The mystery of why they were after me had yet to be solved, but there was one thing I felt certain of: Not all of them were bad. There was one spirit who was looking out for me, and there was only one possible way that could be.

  A moment before I couldn't wait until morning. Now I didn't want the night to end because when it did, my fears would become reality and everyone else would learn what I then knew for certain.

  Cooper Foley was dead.

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  Chapter 22

  The search began at daybreak, as promised.

  For several hours before, police from around the area gathered at the Thistledown firehouse. I was there along with the Foleys to offer any help they might need. It wasn't a small operation. I expected there to be a couple of locals with walking sticks and maybe a bloodhound or two to start tromping through the woods. Instead rescue units came in from everywhere. From Boston, Hartford, and Providence. I didn't know what half the uniforms stood for. It was all very organized. The plan was to turn one team loose near Emerald Cove, which was where Cayden Reilly said he hit Cooper's boat, and fan out from there. The other half of the team would search the opposite bank in case Cooper drifted that way. The woods were thick on both sides of the lake. They expected it to be slow going.

  The Foleys looked better than they had the night before.

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  Seeing the efficient operation gave them hope that Cooper would be found quickly. The fact that they were calling it a "rescue" operation and not a "recovery" operation buoyed their spirits. Rescue meant saving somebody. Recovery meant finding a body. Mrs. Foley busied herself making coffee and offering encouragement. Mr. Foley studied

  topographical maps of the area, searching for any hidden place where Cooper might have holed up.

  Sydney sat by herself in a far corner with her arms folded. She didn't have the same enthusiasm for the search as her parents did. Every so often her father walked over to her and gave her a hug and a quick "It's going to be okay." Sydney would smile for him, but her heart wasn't in it. She was dreading what she thought was the inevitable.

  For me, the experience was strangely calming. I knew they would find Cooper. It was only a matter of time. After Cooper's picture had been blown over the night before, nothing else strange had happened the rest of the night. For nearly a week I had been a raw nerve. Even when nothing spooky was going on, I always felt like it might ... at any moment and with no warning. There had been a kind of electric charge in the air. Not anymore. I no longer expected to round a corner and come face-to-face with Gravedigger . . . or any other illusion. I wondered how long that would last.

  There was no luck finding Cooper that morning. The Foleys stayed optimistic, but I could tell they were getting nervous. Around noontime the operation took an ominous turn. While searchers continued to move through the woods, rescue boats took to the water. The scuba divers had arrived from Woods Hole. Four divers splashed down to search the lake bottom for my best friend. Nobody wished them luck.

  The first thing they found was an engine ... an 85 horsepower Mercury outboard. The same kind of
engine that was on the Galileo. We heard the news of the discovery through

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  a radio the rescue workers had set up in the firehouse. Up until that moment the place had been alive with activity. Many people were on phones coordinating rescue workers and equipment. A news crew arrived from Hartford. People buzzed in and out. When we heard the words over the speaker, "We've recovered an engine," the room fell silent.

  The radio voice crackled, "Looks fairly new. Eighty-five Merc. Hasn't been down there long."

  Captain Hoffkins looked to Mr. Foley. Mr. Foley nodded. It was probably the engine from the Galileo. From that moment on, the room was like a library. People continued to work, but they spoke in whispers. The Foleys stopped their busy work and sat together for support. All three of them. I didn't join them. I didn't want to intrude.

  A half hour later we heard the radio voice over the speaker again. The rescue guy was all business. "They've brought up some debris," he said matter-of-factly. "Looks like pieces of a wooden seat. Blue. A splintered piece of rail and . . ." The voice trailed off. Nobody spoke. Everyone looked at the radio as if willing the guy to speak. Or not.

  "Uh," he continued. I sensed the tension in his voice. "We, uh, we've got an iPod."

  I heard Mrs. Foley whimper ever so slightly. Sydney gripped her arm.

  I had to sit down. It wouldn't be much longer.

  Work stopped. Every so often a phone rang, but nobody answered it. Even the news crews put down their cameras.

  The sound of the radio mike being keyed a few times came through the speakers. Each time there was a crackle, I saw Mrs. Foley flinch as if needles were stinging her. She stared straight ahead vacantly. Sydney looked to me and gave me a small smile. It was going to be rough for her. For her family. For all of us.

  "Uh," the voice crackled. "We, uh . . ." The guy was

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  searching for the right words. Even through the small speaker I sensed his emotion. "We've recovered a body."

  That announcement brought the mystery to a close, along with the life of my best friend, Cooper Foley.

  The next few days passed by in a blur.

  The Foleys went right to the local hospital. They had the horrible task of identifying Cooper. I went back to the lake house to wait for them. Alone. Only a day before I had been terrified of being alone. Not anymore. I was numb. And angry. I almost would have welcomed an appearance by Gravedigger because I wanted answers. Now that the mystery was solved and we knew the horrible truth, so many questions still remained. Was it just an accident? Or did the entity that was Gravedigger have a hand in it? That was a disturbing road to go down, not only because of the impossible nature of the illusions, but the fact that if it were true, Cooper's death had something to do with me.

  I had no doubt that Cooper's spirit was trying to protect me. The haunting began on the night of the accident. It could have been at the exact moment, for all I knew. But why did I need protection? Why was this spirit, or whatever it was, trying to hurt me? Because I smashed a glass ball full of disappearing blood? One mystery was solved, leaving me with another that I couldn't even begin to try and understand.

  A big part of me hoped it was over, but that meant I would have to live with the horror of what happened for the rest of my life without ever knowing why. I didn't want it to end like that. Learning that spirits really existed and could terrorize people isn't something you take lightly. I wanted answers, but as I sat alone in the Foleys' lake house, I feared I'd never get them.

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  The Foleys got back late that afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Foley looked shaken. Especially Mrs. Foley. She leaned on Sydney, who helped her inside the house and into her bedroom to lie down. She didn't see me when she came in, and I didn't say anything. What was there to say? Mr. Foley sat down with me in the living room. He looked horrible.

  He gave me a quick hug and said, "If not for you, we might never have found him."

  "I'm sorry" was all I could get out while trying hard to choke back tears.

  "I am too," he said. "For you, Marsh. I know this is hard for you. You're like our third kid. I'm glad you're here."

  I nodded.

  Mr. Foley took a deep breath to try and control his emotions and said, "For what it's worth, they determined that Cooper didn't drown. There was no water in his lungs. It meant he died quickly. Probably before he even went in the water. His body was . . ."

  He couldn't finish the sentence and I didn't want him to. If Coop had died from injuries he got from being run down by that monster boat, his body must have been in rough shape. I couldn't imagine how tough it must have been for the Foleys to see their son like that.

  Mr. Foley continued, "They say he probably didn't even know what hit him. That's something, right?"

  I remembered the grisly illusion that Gravedigger had shown me on the movie screen. If that was how the accident had happened, I believed Cooper died instantly.

  "Yeah, that's something," I said softly.

  "Dad?" Sydney said as she walked into the room. "She wants you to go in."

  Mr. Foley wiped his eyes and patted me on the knee as he got to his feet. "Right!" he bellowed, trying to sound like his usual, jovial self. It wasn't convincing. He went to

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  Sydney and kissed the top of her head. "We'll take this one day at a time. I love you, sweetheart."

  "I love you too, Dad." Sydney hugged her father and he disappeared into the bedroom to comfort his wife.

  Sydney looked at me, shrugged, and said, "Well, this sucks."

  A classic Cooper understatement. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

  "How are you doing?" I asked.

  Sydney took Mr. Foley's place next to me on the couch. She seemed to be struggling between her usual cool act . . . and breaking down.

  "I don't know," she replied. "I'm dazed. I think it'll take a while for this to feel real."

  That pretty much said it all. None of this felt real.

  "What are we going to do, Marsh?" she asked. "I mean, about the things we saw."

  "I don't know. I want everything to come out, you know? I want people to know that something caused this and it wasn't just an obnoxious kid. But who would believe us?"

  "It's not just about Coop," she said. "Two other people are dead and one guy is nuts. Three guys if you count Mikey and Cayden. And Gravedigger is still out there. Doesn't that scare you?"

  "I guess" was my answer.

  "You guess?" she replied. "He could show up again. Anytime. Anywhere. If you're not scared, then you're as crazy as the sheriff."

  "Or maybe it's over," I said. "Nothing strange has happened since the lake. Now that we've found Cooper, it might be done."

  "What might be done?" Sydney cried. "There was no purpose to any of this."

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  She sat back and started to cry. Sydney Foley looked so incredibly vulnerable, it made me want to lean over and hold her to try and make her feel better, not that it would have helped.

  "My brother's dead and I need to know why," she said through her tears. "If not for me, he never would have been here in the first place."

  "Cooper never did anything he didn't want to," I said. "You know that better than anybody. You didn't put him out on the lake that night, or turn out his running lights, or put Cayden Reilly behind the wheel of that boat."

  "But if he hadn't sold those tickets for me, he'd still be alive."

  "Or something else might have happened to him."

  She gave me a confused look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means if anybody's responsible for Cooper's death, it's me. You said it yourself. Gravedigger is my creation. If he caused Cayden to run down Cooper ..." I couldn't finish the thought. The idea that I was somehow responsible for the death of my best friend was too hard to even imagine, but it was something I had to accept.

  Sydney said, "I don't believe for a second that you did anything to hurt Cooper."

  I fought to stay calm.
Losing it wouldn't have helped anybody. "I've been terrorized for a week by an image that was pulled out of my head. It wasn't random. It wants something from me. It wants me to take a journey."

  "The Morpheus Road," Sydney said.

  "Yeah. It called me the source and said the journey would begin once the poleax was returned."

  "Do you know what any of that means?" she asked.

  "No, and I have the sick feeling I never will. Part of me doesn't want to know. I want this to be done. I want my life

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  back. But I'm not sure which is worse . . . being targeted by a supernatural being or never knowing why my best friend was killed."

  I took a deep breath and added, "I don't have answers to any of this. I don't even know the right questions to ask."

  Sydney rubbed her forehead. It didn't matter that her eyes were red and swollen, she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. "Do you hate me, Marsh?"

  "What? Why would I hate you?"

  "I haven't exactly been civil to you for, oh, your whole life."

  I shrugged. "We're two different people."

  "Maybe, but you're not the same person you were."

  I thought about what that could mean and said, "I know you meant that as a compliment, but I'm not so sure it's a good thing. I kind of liked who I was."

  Sydney leaned over, held my chin with her hand, pulled me closer, and kissed me. A real kiss. It was such a surprise that I didn't have time to enjoy it. It was over before I even registered what had happened. She pulled away from me and, while still holding my chin, she said, "As long as you're around, we'll never lose Cooper entirely. So don't go

  anywhere, okay?"

  "Okay" was all I could croak out.

  I glanced to the picture on the table. The one Mom had given Cooper. Eternity. Mom had told him that as long as we leave things behind, we never truly die. Cooper may have been gone, but he'd never die.