The Edge Creek Light

  The Edge Creek Light

  H.P. Bayne

  Copyright © 2020 by Bayne Independent Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art licensed through Depositphotos

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Afterword

  About the Author

  1

  The lights from Kimotan Rapids burned a hazy orange in the rearview mirror as Gabe drove east of town, following the highway as it curved around a hill and drew nearer the rail line.

  His girlfriend, Liz, was a bundle of nerves beside him.

  “It’s really dark out,” she said.

  Gabe sat forward, craning his neck to peer up at the sky through the windshield of his beat-up four-door, a gift from his parents for his final year in high school.

  “I think it’s just really cloudy,” he said. He winked at Liz before realizing she wouldn’t catch the movement in the dark. “Better to see the Edge Creek Light.”

  “I don’t want to see it.”

  “Come on,” he chided. “It’s not so bad. I was out with the guys a few weekends ago, and it was fine. Woulda stayed longer, but Travis freaked out.”

  “I don’t blame him. Can’t we go to a movie instead?”

  A movie would defeat the purpose. The point, as far as he was concerned, was to park in the usual spot, slightly off the highway where the car would be concealed by the bushes. They’d get out, walk to the tracks and watch for the light. Liz, who spooked easily, would fly into his arms. He’d hold her and laugh it off. With her so close, the kiss would be inevitable. From there, it would be a short walk back to the privacy of the car.

  He and Liz had made out twice before. Both times, they’d been interrupted, first by his parents arriving home, the second time by one of her little sisters. He had yet to move past second base, and he was determined to get there tonight.

  A dark road might prove just the place, and the ghost could be the added nudge to drive her into his arms. The way he saw it, few aphrodisiacs were as powerful to a frightened female as a tough, protective male. This was his chance to show he could be that for Liz.

  Liz, who wasn’t looking any more eager to be here than she had when he’d first suggested it.

  “It’s not too late to catch the late show,” she said. “If we leave now, we can—”

  “Come on, you have to see this,” he said. “It’s unbelievable, seriously.” He lowered his voice, injected a note of pleading. “Don’t let me down, babe, okay?”

  It was a low blow, he knew. He turned his head enough to see hers angling toward him, her profile subtly lit in the glow from the dashboard screen.

  “I hate you,” she said. But a note of amusement belied the words, a chuckle not quite given voice.

  He reached over and found her hand in the dark. He gave it a squeeze, then risked a laugh she thankfully joined in. Her fingers tightened around his, thumb running over the backs of his fingers.

  The spot lay ahead, not so much a proper road as an approach. A heavy snow had fallen last month. Any other time of year, he would be able to drive right up to the tracks. Not now, though, with the amount of snow settled onto the path.

  He slowed, then navigated a left turn onto the approach. He eased forward enough to conceal his car between the trees bordering the thin gravel road. The spot was kept ploughed, allowing railway maintenance crews access to the tracks. Still a working line, freight trains passed by every few hours during the day and a couple of times at night.

  He left his car and his headlights on for the moment, allowing both him and Liz to scope the area. The rail line lay ahead, easily visible through the gap in the trees. A railway-crossing sign next to the track was visited often enough, judging by the graffiti marring it. No one was here now. No one but them.

  And maybe a dead man.

  Gabe peered over at Liz. “Ready?”

  The dimly lit whites of Liz’s eyes showed in the stereo’s glow. “No.”

  He laughed, going for a tone he hoped would come off as both chiding and comforting. “Come on.”

  After shutting off the car, he stepped into the cold night air. He zipped his coat up to his chin and pulled the fur-lined hood around his head as he walked toward the front of the car. A few seconds before the sound of a car door behind him told him Liz was following his lead. She appeared at his side a moment later, a small, gloved hand finding his still-bare fingers. He smiled as he squeezed back, using his free hand to remove his cellphone from his pocket. Liz had been right about the darkness. With the headlights off, it was blacker than pitch.

  He touched his phone’s home button and swiped up with his thumb, revealing the flashlight app. Tapping the feature, he nodded as a bright beam illuminated their immediate surroundings. Not nearly as bright as the headlights—but better than nothing. Beside him, Liz did the same, letting go of his hand to activate her own flashlight app. That done, two lights breaking up the dark, Gabe relocated Liz’s hand and tugged her gently forward.

  From there, the walk to the tracks was short. The highway was quiet with next to no traffic going past. Their footfalls on the cold-hardened snow came as a series of loud crunches. Ahead of them, somewhere the other side of the tracks, a short, sharp series of cracks sounded.

  “What’s that?” Liz asked.

  “The ice on Edge Creek. I know. It freaked me out the other night until I figured out what it was.”

  Her hand trembled in his as she gave another squeeze. “Are there animals out here?” she asked.

  “Nah,” he said. “Maybe a coyote or two. Nothing crazy.”

  “Coyotes?” she squeaked before nestling in, her body brushing up against his. A warm tingle ran through him at the feel of her so near, and he had to rein in his imagination as he pictured what might happen upon their return to the car.

  Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

  They closed the remaining distance to the track, placing themselves next to the line.

  “What now?” came Liz’s whisper.

  Good question. When he’d come here with his friends, the light had been visible almost immediately, a glow in the distance as they’d stared down the track. But the moon had been bright that night, and they hadn’t needed their flashlights. Tonight, nothing cut the darkness.

  “Maybe we need to shut off our lights,” he suggested.

  Liz’s reply was immediate and expected. “No! No way!”

  Gabe scrolled through his phone, searching for the group chat he’d had with his buddies the evening before they’d come out here together. The father of one of his friends worked on the railway, and he’d provided a schedule, giving the boys a means to pick a time to come when they wouldn’t risk running into a train. Definitely no trains expected now for at least four more hours. What was more, the highway curved away from the tracks ahead, making any glow on the rail line unexplainable by natural means.

  If there was a glow to see. Didn’t seem to be
happening tonight.

  “Come on,” he goaded. “Let’s try without our lights. Just for a second. We’ve driven all the way out here.”

  He went first, clicking off his app. A quiet groan from beside him and Liz moved even closer, until their bodies were separated only by layers of clothing and duck down. A moment later, she clicked off her own light.

  Darkness enveloped them, and the arm Gabe wrapped around Liz was almost as much to settle his own nerves as it was for Liz’s benefit. As his eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, he talked, if only to hear something besides the breeze rattling the bared branches of the trees and the ice cracking on the creek.

  “Do you know the legend of the Edge Creek Light?” he asked.

  “No.” Her voice was a whisper, as if she were afraid anything louder would attract the ghost to them.

  Gabe kept his voice low, going for drama while secretly entertaining the same sort of dread Liz had expressed. “The story goes, something like a hundred years ago, a train was coming through here around the turn of the century. A lot more passenger trains ran back then, and a station was near here when the town was still around. A fight broke out on board the train as they approached the station, two drunk men. They ended up at the back of one of the centre cars, and one shoved the other off. He was run over by the train and decapitated, in full view of everyone waiting for the train at Edge Creek station.”

  “Oh, that’s gross.”

  “Yeah, well, the man who pushed him jumped off and ran, knowing he’d likely face hanging for murder. A manhunt was conducted but no one ever found him. Some say the ghost of the man he killed found him first.”

  Liz gasped.

  “As for the light, it started soon after. No one knows exactly what it is. Some say it’s the man who was killed, looking for his head. Others say it’s the killer, afraid to cross over and face the possibility of eternity in hell. Either way, no one’s ever been able to explain it, and no one’s been able to get close enough to the light—or had the nerve—to find out what it is.”

  “Have you ever tried?” she whispered.

  He hadn’t. No way in hell. “Sure, a couple of times,” he said. “It’s weird, though. You walk toward it, but you never get any closer. Not unless it wants you to.”

  “We’re not doing that, though, right?”

  “There’s not even a light out,” he said. “Not much choice.”

  Liz was still on edge; he could feel it. But she wasn’t jump-into-his-arms terrified. He thought back to the drive out the other night with his buddies. One of them, he couldn’t remember which, had described a means of attracting the ghost if it didn’t show itself right away.

  He pulled out his phone and clicked the flashlight back on, using it to scan the ground for anything he might use. Snow covered almost everything, but he spotted a small rock lying off to the side of the track just ahead. Towing Liz by the hand, he approached the rock, then let Liz go to pick it up.

  He put his friend’s suggestion to work, stepping into the middle of the track and clicking off his light. He re-pocketed his phone and turned back to try to locate his girlfriend in the dark.

  “Come here,” he said to her shadowed form, holding out the hand he’d been using a moment ago to manipulate his phone.

  Once she’d returned to his side, he crouched, rock in hand. He slammed it against the rail line.

  “What are you doing?” Liz’s question was an urgent squeak.

  “Three knocks from inside the tracks,” he said. “That’s what you’re supposed to do if it’s not out.”

  “I don’t know about this.”

  “Relax.”

  Another bang. And, before his nerves got the better of him, a third.

  He stood, staring down the tracks, Liz’s gloved hand back in his fingers. Long seconds passed with no change.

  Then he saw it. Not a light, not yet. But a dim glow, the way it looked on a dark highway when a car was about to crest a hill.

  Liz pressed closer. “Is that it?”

  “Wait,” he said. “Wait.”

  The glow remained in the distance another few moments, unmoving, unchanging. Until, without warning, the light snapped on.

  Liz gasped. “Oh wow.”

  Gabe had seen trains coming up the track at night before, and this resembled a locomotive’s headlight. Only difference was, this light appeared more blue than pure white.

  “Maybe it’s a real train,” Liz said. “We should get off the tracks.”

  Gabe shook his head. “It’s a ways away.” Even so, he bent and placed his palm to the track, testing it. No vibration. “If it was a real train, you’d feel it,” he said. “There’s nothing.”

  “It looks like a train,” Liz said. “I thought you said the ghost is of a guy who got run over.”

  “It is.”

  “So why the train?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It just is.”

  “I don’t like this. Can we go?”

  “In a minute.”

  Gabe continued to watch the light. Same as the previous time he’d come here, it sat there, a solid, unmoving glow on the horizon. As if it was watching them too.

  “Some people say the light moves,” he said.

  “I don’t want it to move.”

  But Gabe did. He’d come here for this experience. Suddenly, the idea of getting Liz back into a warm car was secondary. If he could go back to school and tell his buddies—the buddies who’d run off in a panic within less than a minute of seeing the light—it had moved toward him, that would really show them.

  Throwing caution to the wind, he let loose a yell. “Hey! Hey, over here!”

  Liz smacked him on the arm. “What are you doing?”

  But he was beyond reason. “Hey, buddy! Come here! I’ve got your head! You hear me? I’ve got your head!”

  Liz pulled on his arm. “Not funny, you jerk! Let’s go! Now!”

  But Gabe couldn’t move. The light, moments ago a smallish point in the distance, shot forward. It tripled in size, the blues within it even more apparent as it hovered on the tracks ahead.

  And still it moved.

  Toward them.

  “Oh my God, Gabe, come on!”

  Gabe opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was frozen, held in place by the most ungodly terror he’d ever felt.

  The light surged closer, swelling. Points of blue writhed within white until it was all he saw, all he knew. A shadowy shape formed within it, thin at first, then wider as the distance closed. No question anymore what Gabe was seeing.

  The outline of a man.

  As if he wasn’t already guaranteed nightmares, a voice sounded—not from the hovering ball of light ahead, but directly in his ear. It wasn’t Liz; the voice he heard was decidedly male.

  “Gabriel … Gabriel ….”

  The use of his name broke the spell. Grasping Liz’s hand, Gabe turned and fled to the car. All thoughts of a make-out session fell away as he dove inside, fumbling with the keys as Liz climbed in next to him.

  At last, shaking fingers managed to slam the key into the ignition. The engine turned over, and Gabe backed out, kicking up snow as he accelerated hard in reverse, praying to God he didn’t slip off the road.

  He made it, backing sloppily onto the highway’s pavement before pushing the stick into drive. Then they were gone, his foot pressed to the accelerator as he sought to put mile upon mile between him and that thing.

  No matter how far he drove, full escape would be impossible. The terror was seared there now, inside his brain.

  The light, the shadow.

  And his name on the lips of a dead man.

  2

  Dez Braddock pulled a microwave from its box and set it on the small section of counter between fridge and stove. He leaned over and fumbled to plug the device into the wall. A beep heralded his success, and he next worked on figuring out how to set the clock.

  The muffled thud of a cardboard box being dropped onto the floo
r behind him was followed by a voice. “I think that’s the last of it. Thanks for the help.”

  Dez turned from his self-appointed task to meet the eye of his brother, Sullivan Gray. Sully had tugged his long hair into a knot and, despite the chilly weather outside, had shed his coat at some point between trips to the SUV. Even with a bare neck and lack of outerwear, his skin glistened with sweat.

  He might have been physically uncomfortable, but something in his eyes spoke of excitement or, at the very least, hope.

  Dez knew the reason, but tried again to dissuade Sully anyway. “You don’t have to stay here, you know. Honestly, it’s kind of a dump.”

  “You stayed here.”

  “Because Eva and I were having problems. Believe me, I like it a whole lot more being back at home. Like I’ve said a hundred times, you could stay there too. We’d love to have you.”

  “Thanks, D, but you guys need your own space, and so do I. Anyway, I’m looking forward to having my own place again—a real place. It’s been a while.”

  Dez shrugged. He could appreciate what Sully was saying. The guy had been more or less homeless for the better part of two years. Having a place with running water and electricity was huge for him, more than making up for the fact the bachelor suite was the approximate size of a postage stamp.

  As for Sully’s other point, the two of them were close, had been almost as soon as Sully came to live with the Braddocks as a foster child at age seven. They got along like brothers and fought like brothers too. A little space wasn’t always a bad thing, at least now that their biggest problems seemed to be behind them.

  The ringtone emerging from his coat pocket told him another problem might be coming at them. Dez rolled his eyes at Sully as he pulled out the phone and answered his boss’s call.