Chapter 6 : The Reservoir
834 Words
The first thing Maya noticed was the silence.
Not complete silence.
The world never became completely silent.
There was always wind.
Always distant traffic.
Always something.
But the silence surrounding Ashmere Reservoir felt different.
Wrong.
As though certain sounds had been removed.
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Maya stood beside Eleanor's car and stared across the water.
Grey skies reflected from a perfectly still surface.
The reservoir stretched across the landscape like a sheet of polished metal.
Cold.
Motionless.
Lifeless.
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A shiver crawled down her spine.
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It looked too much like Blackwater.
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Not physically.
Emotionally.
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The same oppressive feeling lingered in the air.
The same sensation of standing somewhere that didn't want people around.
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Beside her, Eleanor closed the car door.
"You okay?"
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"No."
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The honesty surprised them both.
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Eleanor followed her gaze toward the water.
"You've seen this before."
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It wasn't a question.
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Maya nodded.
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"Not this place."
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"But something like it."
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Much worse.
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Ashmere Reservoir had been abandoned for nearly fifteen years.
A newer facility several miles away had replaced it.
Since then nature had slowly reclaimed the area.
Trees crowded the old access roads.
Weeds pushed through cracked concrete.
Chain-link fencing rusted beneath the weather.
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Normally the place would have been deserted.
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Normally.
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Instead police vehicles lined the entrance road.
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Detective Aaron Reeves waited near the gate.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.
Dark circles beneath his eyes.
The unmistakable appearance of a man surviving entirely on caffeine and stubbornness.
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He looked exactly how Maya felt.
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"Dr. Voss."
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"Eleanor."
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Aaron nodded.
Then his attention shifted toward Maya.
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For several seconds he simply studied her.
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The woman who survived Blackwater.
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The woman who shouldn't know anything useful.
Yet somehow always seemed connected to the impossible.
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"Maya."
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"Aaron."
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The greeting felt awkward.
Neither trusted the other yet.
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That would change soon.
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"What exactly happened here?" Maya asked.
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Aaron sighed.
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"Depends who you ask."
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"Ask you."
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He glanced toward the reservoir.
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"Three missing persons in nine days."
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Maya felt her stomach tighten.
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Aaron continued.
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"All disappeared within a mile of this place."
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"Coincidence?"
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"I thought so."
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The detective looked genuinely uncomfortable.
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"Then we found this."
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He handed her a photograph.
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Maya immediately wished he hadn't.
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The image showed concrete.
Weathered.
Cracked.
Old.
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And carved into every available surface-
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The spiral eye.
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Hundreds of them.
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Large.
Small.
Fresh.
Ancient.
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The symbol covered walls.
Railings.
Maintenance buildings.
Even sections of the dam itself.
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Someone had spent years drawing them.
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Maybe decades.
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"Oh God."
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Aaron nodded.
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"That's more or less what I said."
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The maintenance tunnel sat beneath the western side of the reservoir.
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The air grew colder as they descended.
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Their footsteps echoed through darkness.
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Concrete walls glistened with moisture.
Old pipes stretched overhead.
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The place smelled of damp stone and stagnant water.
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Maya hated it immediately.
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The deeper they went, the stronger the feeling became.
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Watching.
Waiting.
Listening.
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Blackwater.
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The memory surfaced uninvited.
The temple.
The pit.
The eye.
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Her pulse quickened.
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Not here.
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Please not here.
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Aaron stopped suddenly.
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His torch illuminated a wall ahead.
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Nobody spoke.
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Nobody needed to.
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The entire wall was covered in drawings.
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Thousands of them.
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The spiral eye.
Over and over.
Layered atop one another.
Years of carvings.
Years of obsession.
Years of worship.
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And written among them were words.
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Hundreds of words.
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Sentences.
Names.
Fragments.
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Maya stepped closer.
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Her blood turned to ice.
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Most of the writing looked random.
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Except one.
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One sentence repeated again and again.
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THE WATER IS DREAMING
THE WATER IS DREAMING
THE WATER IS DREAMING
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Thousands of times.
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Covering the walls.
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Covering the ceiling.
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Covering the floor.
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As though whoever wrote it had eventually run out of space.
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"Oh my God..."
Eleanor whispered.
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Then Maya noticed something else.
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A name.
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Freshly scratched into the concrete.
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Not years old.
Not weathered.
Recent.
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Very recent.
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Amelia Carter.
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The missing girl.
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A cold knot formed in Maya's stomach.
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Because beneath Amelia's name sat three more.
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The other missing people.
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All listed together.
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Like a record.
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Or a collection.
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And at the bottom of the list was empty space.
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Waiting.
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For more names.
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The lights flickered.
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Once.
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Twice.
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Then died completely.
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Darkness swallowed the tunnel.
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Someone gasped.
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Somewhere ahead came the sound of dripping water.
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Then another sound.
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Footsteps.
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Bare feet.
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Walking slowly through the darkness.
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Toward them.
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