Wilder's Ghost

By Diane Bradley

Mysterious lights are appearing on Rainy Lake. When Henry, Dylan, Arla, and Rika hear that ghosts are visiting the lake, they laugh it off. But as they kayak back over the route where Arla’s parents disappeared ten years before, they find themselves stranded on an island, haunted by a real ghost, who doesn’t want them to leave . . . ever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud
• Release date: May 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9780878398416

Book preview

Also by Diane Bradley:

Wilder’s Edge

Wilder’s Foe

Wilder’s Ghost

Diane Bradley

North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

Saint Cloud, Minnesota

Copyright © 2015 Diane Bradley-Kantor

Cover image: Jeff Kantor

Print ISBN 978-0-87839-786-0

eBook ISBN: 978-0-87839-841-6

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Edition: May 2015

Published by

North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

P.O. Box 451

St. Cloud, Minnesota 56302

www.northstarpress.com

To Rainy Lake

Table of Contents

1: Arla

2: In the Dark

3: Swell Bay Passage

4: Fishing

5: The Mermaid

6: Lost

7: Swim

8: The Cabin in the Woods

9: Hide and Seek

10: Bugs

11: Gone

12: Caught

13: The Price

14: The Submarine

15: The Boat

16: Into the Lake

17: The Helgason Boys

18: Back to the Woods

19: Rocco

20: Spotter

21: Under the Night Sky

22: Drowning

23: Escape

24: The Hunt

25: Attack!

26: Summer’s End

27: The LilyRay

1: Arla

My body floated, weightless. I couldn’t tell if we flew right-side up or up-side down. Sid Bolen, owner of Crazy Loon Air, dropped his DHC-2 Beaver prop plane blindly into the fog at Red Gut Bay. The seatbelt tugged me back into the seat. The sky, lake, and trees completely disappeared. Heavy mist swirled, causing white-out conditions. Beads of moisture dotted the windows. I clung to the looped strap by the back-seat window.

Arla, up front in the co-pilot’s seat, gave a brief glance back at the three of us, then adjusted the heavy headphones. Henry, are you okay?

Yep, my voice squeaked. I was sure she wasn’t convinced.

Water suddenly appeared in front of us. The old prop plane tottered on one pontoon then the other as it skipped across the waves tossing me into Rika and my cousin, Dylan.

Are we tap dancing or are we going to set this plane down? Arla asked. Her hands flexed around the steering yoke in front of her. She wanted to take over.

I wanted to vomit.

"Arla Girl, you know, I only kinda crashed this plane once. Right over there. Sid tugged the brim of the Vikings cap down and waved his hand east. There" was miles of untouched wilderness, filled with dark-green pine trees and deep lakes.

Almost ten years ago. One heck of a storm. The winds tossed me all over the place. I clipped the top of a tree. I couldn’t see a dang thing. He peered out over the hood of the plane and cut his speed. The Beaver settled and plowed through the water. Bounced over rocks and nearly scuttled her. I didn’t even know how I landed. Then I realized I only had one pontoon. I gunned her to get her airborne again. I barely got back home.

I waited for the punch line, having heard this story many times.

Only counts as half a crash, he said, leaning back to give me a wink. He cut the throttle, the engine quieted, and I felt the plane slowed. Arla pulled the headphones off and flung open her side door. She knew all about that storm. It was the same storm that sank her parents’ boat and took their lives. The plane’s pontoons cut through the water. We were here because Arla wanted to kayak over the same route her parents took so many years ago.

Sid cut the engine off and flipped his door open. Cool wet mist rolled in as he stepped out onto the pontoon. Let’s get these yaks unloaded. Daylight’s burning.

I didn’t see any daylight, only gray swirling fog.

Arla gracefully slid out her door, then pulled her seat forward, I stumbled out. My legs felt weak and shaky. My feet slipped on the pontoon. I had to latch onto one of the plane’s struts to keep from falling into the water. In the back seat, Dylan tried to pull Rika’s hand off his arm, her head of blond hair nestled into his shoulder.

Rika, my arm? He tugged at her fingers. She released her death grip, but still chewed on her bottom lip. You can open your eyes now.

Did we land? she opened her dark-brown eyes at Dylan.

We were in Ontario, Canada, in the northern arm of Rainy Lake, across the border from Minnesota.

I wanted to joke that we landed on water, not land, but she had a wicked right jab. She played helpless around Dylan, but I’d felt her punch before. It made my arm ache for days. Her brother was famous for his skill in the ring as a mixed martial arts fighter. She could hold her own.

Hurry up. Get those kayaks off, Sid announced. Water sloshed around the pontoons. Dylan eager to leave Rika, shook her off and helped drop the boats into the water. I started to load our packs. We had a deal with Sid.

I promised your uncle to get you started early enough so you would make it back to your cabin by nightfall. Just do that extra stop for me. Sid pulled our paddles from the cargo hold.

Sid schemed more than most characters on the lake. He ran folks into the upper lakes for fishing, camping or hunting. But this time he was doing a supply run to several resorts up north. He needed some help.

Last week, two months worth of rain had fallen, flooding roads, marshes, and lakes. Rainy Lake now stood three feet over maximum flood. It was a mess. Folks were cut off from roads, docks flooded, and they needed food. Sid offered to fly in supplies for a healthy price. But, the natural landmarks were all gone, flooded by the high water. He didn’t want to risk flying into small bays and tearing his pontoons on now submerged rocks. He had a soft spot for us, especially for Arla, and wouldn’t risk us. He had been good friends with Arla’s parents. Since he was going up this way, he offered to give us a lift, for a small favor.

Arla was determine to follow her parents’ last known route. They had started in Red Gut Bay. We wanted to go with her, but my Uncle Mike had to be convinced. Henry only has a few more weeks, then he has to head back home, Dylan began. My summer of hanging out with my cousin at our family cabin, Wilder’s Edge, would end soon. School started at the end of ­August.

It’s new territory for Henry and it’d be an easy paddle back. Plus, we’re helping Arla. She really wants to do this, Dylan said. She was looking for answers how her parents drowned so long ago.

Arla was Uncle Mike’s weak spot. At thirteen, she ran the local bait and tackle shop, the Last Stop, along with her grandmother, Gammy. He thought about it, then asked Sid. What supplies are you having them drop off and where?

Nothing illegal. Spotter Wickstrom’s been holed up since last fall, and with all the flooding, he’s stuck up there. I have food supplies for him, but most of all, I’d just like to see if he’s still kicking. He lives just beyond Bear Pass on the south side of Squall Bay. Then they can paddle straight back home.

We’re taking Rika. Her cousin’s letting us use two of his tandem kayaks from Rat Root River Outfitters, I said, then added a wistful whine. I’ve never been up that far. Rainy Lake was huge, sixty miles by forty miles of essentially untouched wilderness. So technically I hadn’t been to a lot of places on the lake, but I gave Uncle Mike my best pitiful look.

He almost broke out in a laugh. Okay, but you paddle straight back. That’s a good twelve-mile trip, and no fishing until you’re back on the Minnesota side. None of you have a Canadian license. I’ll clear you for the crossing. Sometimes it was handy to have an uncle who’s a border patrol officer.

I threw the last of the packs into the kayaks and Sid motioned for us to get in. Spotter may not have seen a soul since last fall. He can’t hear a moose running through the woods, and yet can talk your ear off. So make sure you shout. He can be a bit cranky depending on the day of the week. Make your excuses and be back home on time. Dylan, you got the map?

In my pack, he said and held the kayak, expecting Arla to sit up front, but Rika jumped in.

Okay if I ride with you? She sat down without waiting for an answer, acing Arla out of the position. She thrust her paddle in the water ready to take off.

My cousin looked just like me, dark hair and eyes, except he was twice my size. When he hit thirteen at the beginning of the summer he was already man-size. I was still waiting for that growth spurt. He gave Arla a pained glance and got into his kayak. He didn’t dislike Rika, exactly. He just wanted to be with Arla. I didn’t blame him.

Thanks, Sid, he said and pushed off from the pontoon.

Arla kneeled and held the kayak for me. Okay if you take the front, Henry? Her curtain of dark hair flowed down her back. She gave me a smile that lit up her amazing blue eyes, even in the fog.

Sure. It doesn’t matter to me. I returned her smile. Inside I was grinning. I didn’t care where I sat in the kayak as long as I was with her. I was silently thanking Rika for jumping in with Dylan. I liked Rika, but she really liked Dylan. We shoved off, and the cool mist swirled around us. I gave a wave to Sid, as the big plane roared to life, and quickly disappeared into the fog.

Cold seeped through my T-shirt. I tugged the thin kayaking lifejacket tighter for warmth. I couldn’t see Dylan’s bright orange kayak, but heard Rika’s continuous chatter. This was going to be a perfect day, even with the fog. Arla was with me. We didn’t need to talk. Our paddles dipped into the water in synch with each other. A cocoon of quiet cloaked us.

The Beaver’s engine had long faded when Arla paused with her paddling. I stopped along with her. The fog swirled around us. I could barely see in front of me. Water dripped from my paddle. Everything around us felt muffled and insulated. It was too quiet. We couldn’t hear Rika.

Dylan! Rika! I called out. The fog absorbed my words. I called out again, louder. From far away, I heard a muffled cry.

Over there, Arla said, pointing ahead to the right. Our paddles cut deep into the water, turning the kayak toward the noise. Water rippled around our kayak as our paddles pushed into the wall of gray.

Wet drops fell off my hair and down my face. Arla called out again. My paddle poised mid-air. Just ahead we heard water splash, and I felt Arla dip her paddle. We both rowed toward the sound.

There. I see something, I said, pointing straight ahead. A dark shape floated in front of us. It wasn’t the orange of Dylan’s kayak. But before I could say anything, a bright light flared from the vessel, blinding me.

A man’s voice rasped, Howdee-do. Head for land quick, before they get ya!

2: In the Dark

We looked back over the lake. Who? I asked into the swirling fog.

We drifted closer and saw a raft-like boat. The large, homemade vessel had boards of different lengths and colors. A large figure stood holding a long paddle.

Don’t worry, they can’t see me. I’m like a shadow. They don’t know I exist. Hurry. Follow me. I already sent your friends ahead. The man turned around and began to paddle.

Who? Arla raised her voice to ask.

Quiet, he hissed. They’ll hear you. You’ll be okay under my protection, but stay close. We both dipped our paddles and propelled the kayak closer.

Who are you? I asked.

The man you were supposed to delivery those supplies to from that crook, Sid Bolen. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, a white frizzy beard reached all the way