Clear Lake
The afternoon started like any other. A drive in the countryside in search of nice sandy beach where we could soak up some rays. First stop Clear Lake. Promising. Wide beach, nice pier, sunshine. But it was windy, too windy.
So we turned around and headed back to town, plans coalescing around a few likely spots, Thunder Lake maybe? Maybe down by the Paddle River? Then we saw it, the sign: Mystery Lake. Later we’d swear it wasn’t there the first time.
So we turned off and drove to the end of the asphalt. Who could resist the mystery of Mystery Lake?
Mystery Lake Community Hall
A lone community hall in the middle of rolling farmland? Where’s the lake? My mind reeled at the impossibility of it all. K. found a signal and did a quick search, scouring the internet for clues.
Her searches pinpointed Mystery Lake a few miles away, and so we took off down a dirt road watching the blue circle on the GPS advance towards the pinpoint… and pass it. We circled back.
There is no lake. It’s just a field. The Mystery deepened.
Google maps suggested a Mystery Lake Nature area. Perhaps we were just mistaken. Maybe our GPS got turned around. The wind howled and I could not shake the feeling that we were being watched. Two llamas eyed us suspiciously from the middle of a field of stubble.
Who lived here?
The road was empty. Suspiciously empty. We passed an old house, seemingly abandoned but in perfect repair, like it had become unmoored from linear time. What happened to the people who lived there? How did this tie into the mystery of Mystery Lake? A sense of unease settled over the car.
The GPS lied to us again. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. We were driving down the right range road, we double checked. But instead of the lake we found an abandoned stable. The wind moaned.
We retreated to Mayerthorpe, stopping at a diner for coffee and to regroup. We downed coffee, distracted by how vacant the town was, trying to connect all that we had seen with the known laws of space and time. Suddenly the diner started to fill up with old timers, clustering at their tables, eyeing us and whispering amongst themselves. What did they know? We ate our grilled cheese sandwiches warily.
What was the waitress trying to tell me?
The waitress brought us the bill and two cryptic fortune cookies. In a diner. We left in a hurry, trying to put Mystery Lake behind us.
K. wheeled out of the parking, pointed the car west and just drove. Over highway 43 and out of town. Once we had calmed down we realized we were by the Paddle River dam. We should turn in, salvage the afternoon, we were just working ourselves up over nothing right?
The Paddle River dam. What was it built to contain?
We settled in down by the reservoir, out of the wind. Enjoying the sunshine.
As we sat, tossing stones, trying to shake the feeling of dread that had been building all afternoon, I heard a roar. Low at first, like perhaps just the wind moving through the distant trees, but it grew louder. And louder. And LOUDER. The sky grew dark and we knew. We had seen the signs and discounted them, not seeing the prophecy of the fortune cookie laid before us.
A danger greater than we could fathom.
The temperature dropped precipitously as we scrambled back to the car. In a panic K. realized she misplaced the keys, dread rolling across her face as she tore apart her belongings, madness creeping into her eyes. Thank god she found them, we peeled out, rocketing down the road as a wall of darkness descended on the reservoir.
The tank was on empty. The emergency light was on. Impossible. We had plenty of gas. We had only been driving for an hour! Something didn’t want us to leave. That was clear.
We roared off the road at Segundo, skidding to a stop at the gas station. K. leapt from the car, frantically scrambling with the pump. We could do this. We could stay ahead of it. We were back on the highway, on our way home, taking the long route back but we would be fine…
How did we end up on the Cherhill road? I don’t remember us turning. That bridge… I’ve seen that bridge before…Oh god…
Necessary Unnecessaries 