Sharp stones molded into the mud beneath the water, ready to take victim anyone who stepped in. I pushed the tip of my branch down into the lake until it was swallowed whole. Junior, to the left of me, continued to poke at the dead animal—a skunk—lying helpless by the lake's edge.

"You'd better stop messing with that thing," I mumbled.

Junior threw the stick to the side and frowned. "But I feel bad for it."

"It's in a better place now, probably," I said, shrugging.

Junior sighed. "I guess you're right. I think I'm ready to go now. Are you ready?"

I checked my watch, then looked back at Junior. "Yeah, come on. I'm pretty sure mom's almost done cooking. Let's start heading back."

I pressed my hand to the small of Junior's back, leading him away from the rotting carcass. A few minutes down the trail and we approached the tree holding our bikes. Junior grabbed his bike as I grabbed mine and we kept walking, eventually leaving the woods, and stepping onto the paved roads. I already missed being under the trees rather than under the source of the heat.

Compared to the scorching sun roasting the streets, the shade from the trees did wonders for our skin. Had it not been for Junior's begging to take him on a hike through the woods, I wouldn't have left the house today in the first place.

"I hope she made enough food for seconds," Junior said, grinning. I laughed and shook my head, pedaling my bike beside him.

An orange and blue haze drowned the night sky with faded stars. The moon was beginning to make its way out, but it was hard to tell just by looking at it. Summer nights were the best times to enjoy the luxury of being outside. For one, I could stay out late because it wouldn't get dark until later. Secondly, the cool air at night was better than the hot afternoon weather.

But it'd only last for so long. July and August would be over before we knew it, then it'd be time for the kids in town to return to school. I'd be just another seventeen-year-old student unprepared to start his senior year of high school. Meanwhile, Junior was already excited to tackle the hardships of fourth grade. If only I had half the energy he woke up with everyday.

"I was just about to call you and tell you to bring Junior home." My mother stood on the front lawn checking the mail. Her eyes zeroed in on us nearing the driveway. "Did you two have fun?"

"Yeah. I saw a dead skunk though. It was sad." Junior shrugged. She raised an eyebrow at me but I waved her off. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Are you still hanging out with Patty today?" she asked.

"Yeah, we're going to Mr. Jefferson's diner," I said.

"Okay, make sure you get back before it gets dark. I'm going to put your food away for now. Don't make me come looking for you though." She narrowed her eyes and smiled playfully.

Though she was teasing, I knew she was far from joking. Ever since I added "running away" to my history of concerning behavior, she's made it her mission to make sure that never happens again. So, I was stuck as a prisoner in my own home. And if I wasn't a prisoner here, I was sheltered by her constant phone-calls and text messages.

"Okay! I'll text you when I get there!"

"Don't forget!" Her voice grew faint as I pedaled off down the street, the loud squeaking of my bike taking its place.

The familiar sound of the chains circling against each other brought a smile to my face. It was the kind of noise that said my bike was desperately in need of a gear change or something relatively new. It'd officially gotten old and rusted. My mother offered to buy me a new bike but I loved this bike too much. It held a lot of memories. Memories I wasn't ready to get rid of yet.

I tightened my grip on the bike handles so as to not let my sweat get the better of me.

My skin was far too moist, and the wind howling against my skin did nothing in regards to that. The familiar streets of the North end came into view along with the redhead I knew all too well. Surprisingly, her father hadn't kept her away from me. If we ever got into trouble again though, I had no doubt he would this time.

Patty sat crouched over the edge of the concrete outside the diner. Her eyes stretched the distance to where I was. When her eyes found mine, she smiled and waved her hands in the air.

"Mr. Jefferson! He's here!" she announced. I curved my bike, dragging the edge of the tires against the pavement. That immediately brought it to a stop.

"Was he waiting long?" I asked.

Patty shook her head and smiled. "Not at all. He just closed up shop."

I sighed in relief. "Okay, good."

"Come on, let's get inside." Patty grabbed my arm, guiding me into the diner.

Mr. Jefferson stood behind the counter, wiping what stains were left, before tossing the old rag to the side. "Right on time." He smiled when he saw us.

"I brought my notes like you asked." I laid my notebook on the counter and sat on a stool. He nodded and exited from behind the counter, sitting in the stool beside mine. Patty plopped down on my either side, her attention divided between us.

"Well, let's see it, boy," he said.

I opened the notebook, all the recent activities I'd added to my notes on display. It was a tactic he swore would help me to keep track of the gift—something he'd done when he had it. As long as I continued to map out the events from when I received the gift to now. It'd been making things clearer, for the most part. I could at least try to make sense of the why factor.

"Hmm"—he pulled at the scruff on his chin, squinting at the page—"has anything else strange happened with any of your recent visions? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Lately, they've been getting more aggressive, even when it's a death that shouldn't be," I said and pointed to one of the events on the timeline.

"This one—Paige Watson—was the most aggressive of them all. It happened last week when I was walking along the pier. It was almost as if she was . . . there. Like her hands reached out and touched me." I caressed the sides of my arms, thinking back to the vicious grab I received.

The way those sharp nails dug into my flesh, fighting off whoever her attacker was, I would've thought they'd left an imprint. Mr. Jefferson's jaw tightened. His gaze met mine and he sat there, speechless. Finally, his eyes dropped back down to the page. I noticed the slight shift in the pacing in his words as he thought of his next sentence.

"Tyler, when was the last time you saw the dead people in your dreams?" he asked.

"Dead people?" I frowned.

He silenced, before bellowing out a laugh under his breath. "That's right . . . I've never addressed them as dead people around you."

"Are you talking about the hands I used to see in my nightmares? Is that what they are?" I'd never thought of those people as dead. It shouldn't have surprised me though.

"They're spirits . . . spirits of dead people. At least that's what I've assumed they are for the past decade. Of who? I don't know that either. My guess is, whoever gives these abilities to us is to answer for that."

My mind drifted back to the first time I was shown a face in that nightmare. There was a woman who smiled in my direction and touched my face. I could never forget her. She frightened and mesmerized me all at once.

"Do you know anything else?" I asked.

"Not much. You're far more informed than I was at your age."

I glanced at my notes, then back at him. "But you've lived here for so long. . ."

"I told you when you first came to me, your gift is slightly different from when I had it," he said, his voice gruff as he chuckled. I wanted to find amusement in this with him but I had too many questions. Patty must've sensed this because her eyes drifted to me.

I slouched my shoulders, leaning forward on the counter. It amazed me how Mr. Jefferson's lived here since he was a little boy but hadn't figured out anything even accurately close to the origin of our abilities. Was there any hope for me then? I might as well quit.

"Tyler, you're thinking far too deep into it." Mr. Jefferson's voice broke me from my thoughts. He shook his head in disapproval and tapped his fingers against the book.

"Times have changed since I was a young boy like yourself. You have far more insight than I've ever had. And you've seen more than me that you can understand. I had no one to help me, so understanding was a long process. But not for you. You can do so much more.

"I promised you I'd help you, and while I intend to keep that promise, I can only offer so much help. I'm old and turning to dust faster than either of you know it. And as you know. . . I can't do much without the gift anymore. Besides, you have her here to help."

My conscience was guilt-ridden when he finished. That's right. The gift was no longer a part of him. I mean, I wouldn't have expected it to be. Not after a major near-death experience. Had he not shown me the articles, I wouldn't have believed him. In 1990, a Hostess truck crashed into Mr. Jefferson's car. He woke up in the hospital and the gift was gone. That was the end of it. So, maybe, just maybe, death spoke more volume with the gift than we realized.

"You're right." I sighed. "I need patience."

"I just—" The sound of sirens blaring past the diner caused me to stop. All heads turned towards the window, following the few cop cars speeding down the road.

"Whoa, those are a lot of patrol cars for this time of day. Isn't it?" Patty pressed her head to the window, watching the cars turn the corner. For that many patrol cars to be in groups like that late on a summer afternoon screamed bad news.

"Mr. Jefferson, do you know what's in that direction?" I asked.

"Huh, that's odd." He frowned. "There's an abandoned piece of property down that street. All the way at the end near an opening beside the lake. A lake house or something."

"Yet the cops are speeding in that direction. . ." Again, that meant nothing good.

"Exactly." Mr. Jefferson nodded. Patty and I snuck a glance at each other. She gestured to my phone and I immediately understood what she meant.

"Excuse me. I need to make a phone call," I said, excusing myself from the booth. It wasn't like me to chase after crime. Under these circumstances, however, I wanted to know whenever something big happened in Lake Bellinor. And there was only one person I knew for sure who'd have the answers as to what's going on.