Dark Waters

“Mom,” Brian heard Coco say, just as her mother slammed down the radio for what had to be the twelfth time. “Mom, we have to get off the boat. The boys are launching the lifeboats—the Cassandra is sinking. Can we bring the radio? In case it starts working?”

Ms. Zintner stared at her daughter, a little wild-eyed. Brian realized, with a creeping, not-so-nice feeling in his stomach, that he and the girls had been in more tight, scary corners than the grown-ups had in the last couple of months. Maybe they were more used to it. Maybe they knew best. Since Brian felt like he hardly knew anything at all, it wasn’t a comforting thought.

The life rafts hissed as they were inflated, and Brian saw Coco’s mom take a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. You’re right, hon. Let’s get off this boat. I’ll pack up the radio.”

The deck was tilting more steeply now. Like the freaking Titanic, thought Brian. As fast as they could, he and Phil were loading the decoy boat with coils of rope and an anchor, to make it splash as though it held people.

“We’ll need supplies for the real lifeboat,” said Brian.

Phil shook his head. “A lot of supplies were down in the hold,” he said.

They grabbed what they could. Some emergency blankets. A pair of emergency whistles. The first aid kit. It didn’t seem like much. But we won’t be on the island long, Brian consoled himself. Someone would see them; there were boats all over Lake Champlain. They just had to get there safely. He and Phil dragged the decoy to the lake-facing side of the sinking Cassandra, ready to slide it into the water.

Ollie was pulling on her dad’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “Dad—Dad, please. You have to get up. Try. We can’t stay on the boat . . .”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Adler. He was looking even more greenish now, Brian thought worriedly. He stumbled to his feet. His hand was swollen, and black stuff still leaked out of the punctures from under the bandage. His eyes were half closed.

Coco’s mom ran to help. Between her and Ollie, they got him in the boat. Brian yelled, “Phil! Now!”

Phil gave him a sickly grin, and the two of them launched the decoy lifeboat. It landed with a splash. For a second it looked like it wouldn’t move at all, just hang out beside the boat and not do them any good. But Phil had a long pol

e—maybe from the sails—and he pushed the decoy life raft out from the boat’s shadow, just far enough for the wind to pick it up.

Silence. Stillness on the water. It’s not going to work, Brian thought with sinking heart. The snake wasn’t going to take the bait. Maybe it was a smart lake monster who would just wait for them to launch their real life raft and then lunge for it.

And then there was a sudden boiling froth of water under the decoy raft, and the whole thing went flying into the air. A snapping mouth attached to a glittering silver body came flying up after it.

Phil was staring at it, eyes enormous. Brian had to yell, “Phil!”

Phil came running. Together he and Brian and Ollie shoved the real lifeboat into the lake. It wasn’t hard. The stern of the sinking Cassandra was more or less on a level with the lake by then. Phil jumped in after.

They pushed away. Brian and Ollie, who had done the most canoeing, each grabbed a paddle and started rowing them toward the shore. Coco’s mom was white as a sheet. She hadn’t said anything when she saw the creature, just hustled them faster into the boat. She was holding on to Ollie’s dad. Phil and Coco were staring behind them, looking for signs of disturbance in the water.

“Take it easy, Owl,” said Brian to Ollie. “Try not to splash. Maybe it’s like a shark. Sharks come to splashing.”

Ollie swallowed hard and nodded, her knuckles white on the paddle. The island got closer and closer. Brian had a vague impression of gloomy pine trees running down to a pebbly beach. The trees were clustered so close that you couldn’t make anything out of what lay behind them. A wind riffled the trees and water. The island looked like a locked room. Brian couldn’t see any signs that humans ever came there. No jetty. No boat dock. No beach, no picnic table, no path.

He swallowed hard.

Phil yelped and pointed. Brian whipped around just in time to see a silver gleam in the water. At the same moment, Ollie’s watch beeped. From where he was, Brian could just read the word on the display.

fast.

He and Ollie started paddling just as fast as they could, strokes evenly matched as they raced toward land. Brian wasn’t sure they’d make it. They were close; the shadows of pine trees, stretching long, were just falling on them. But the snake was fast, and going faster every second. Its silver body caught the light, where its frilled head just crested the water.

Then the lifeboat bumped onto rocks. Brian and Ollie both jumped out at the same second and grabbed the gunwales of the lifeboat to pull it up the bank. “Phil! Coco!” snapped Brian. “Come on! Get out! Pull!”

They all jumped out, except for Ollie’s dad, and the five of them pulled together. Five feet. Four . . .

A dripping silver head, a mouth crowded with teeth, rearing up out of the water. The head was bulging and barnacled, the eyes huge and filmy and blank. The mouth opened wide. “PULL!” screamed Ollie, and they heaved the boat up the beach, just as the teeth slammed shut with the sound of a metal door, only a few inches from the back of Ollie’s jacket. The teeth caught the edge of the inflatable life raft and shredded it.

But they kept hauling anyway, panting, scrambling, cold sweat in their eyes, until the boat was as far as it could possibly go up the stony slope. There was a grinding, slithering sound behind, and Brian turned.

The lake monster had disappeared. It was like it had never been there at all. Lake Champlain sparkled, untroubled, beneath the last of that day’s sun.

“Oh my God,” said Coco’s mom.

“Come on,” said Ollie, her face set hard with determination. “We need to make a fire, signal a boat . . .”