The Curse of Camp Cold Lake

22

She grabbed my arm.

I tried to tug away. My wet arm slid in her grasp.

But her grip tightened around my wrist. And she held on. Pulling me. Pulling me with her.

“Owww!”

She was strong. So strong for such a frail-looking girl.

Such a frail-looking ghost…

“Let go!” I shrieked.

I struggled, slapping the water. Kicking. Squirming and twisting.

“Della-I won’t come with you!”

I jerked my body around, spun hard-and broke free.

And dropped beneath the surface. Lifting both arms, I rose up, coughing and sputtering.

Where was she?

Where?

Was she right behind me? Ready to pull me with her, pull me out so far I couldn’t swim back?

I spun away. The water rocked and tilted.

The clouds overhead appeared to roar past.

“Sarah… Sarah…?” Was she calling to me?

Why couldn’t I see her now?

I turned again. My eyes stopped on the boat.

Yes. The boat.

Ignoring my racing heartbeats, my aching arms, I plunged forward.

The boat… got to reach the boat before she grabs me again.

Swimming furiously, kicking with my last bit of strength, I dove for the boat. Stretching my arms out… stretching…

And grabbed the side with both hands. Choking and gasping.

Grabbed the side of the boat and tried to pull myself in.

“Liz-help me.” The words escaped my throat in a hoarse whisper.

“Liz-help me in.”

The sun burst out from behind the clouds. I stared up into blinding golden light.

“Liz-please…”

Hands reached down for me. She bent to pull me into the motorboat.

Leaned forward. Pulling me up.

Blinking against the bright sunlight, I raised my eyes to her face.

No!

Not Liz’s face. Not Liz!

Della!

Della-pulling me into the boat. “What’s wrong, Sarah?” she whispered. Pulling me. Pulling me up to her. “Sarah, you’re okay. You’re perfectly okay.”