THE LAKE THAT REMEMBERS

Summary

Daniel has always had strange dreams.

Not nightmares. Memories.

Since childhood, he has dreamed of places he has never visited and witnessed events he could never have known about. At first, he believed they were meaningless fragments of his imagination.

Until he discovers that they actually happened.

And every one of them is connected to his father.

After years of silence, Daniel begins dreaming of a remote lake, a group of smiling strangers, children with blank faces, and a mysterious machine that mixes human blood before returning it to their bodies.

At the center of it all is a number:

39.

Daniel soon discovers that his father was once connected to a secretive organization known only as Project 39—a project involving children, memory, and experiments that were never meant to be remembered.

But the deeper Daniel goes into his father’s past, the more disturbing the dreams become.

Because the people inside them seem to know who he is.

And some of them seem to have been waiting for him.

Daniel begins to realize that his dreams may not be showing him his father’s memories.

They may be showing him something his father desperately tried to make him forget.

And somewhere beneath the surface of the lake, a memory is still waiting to be recovered.

Because some memories don’t disappear.

They wait.

Chapter One

The Lake

The lake had no waves.

Daniel noticed that before he noticed anything else.

The thought seemed strangely important, though he couldn’t explain why. The trees surrounding the water were moving. Their branches whispered against one another, and the tall grass along the shore bent beneath a steady breeze. Somewhere behind him, people were laughing.

Yet the lake remained perfectly still.

Not calm.

Still.

Its surface stretched beneath the afternoon light like a sheet of black glass.

Daniel stood barefoot on a wooden dock, staring into the water.

He could not remember how he had gotten there.

He looked down at his feet. They were wet, though the dock beneath him was dry. Small pieces of green weed clung between his toes.

Then he heard a voice behind him.

“You’re late.”

Daniel turned.

His father stood at the end of the dock.

For several seconds, Daniel couldn’t move.

His father was young.

Not simply younger than Daniel remembered him, but impossibly young. His hair was dark. His face was thinner. The lines around his eyes were gone, and there was something different about the way he carried himself—something lighter, almost careless.

Daniel had seen photographs of his father at this age.

But he had never seen him like this.

Not in person.

Not alive.

“Dad?”

His father smiled.

“You finally came.”

Daniel looked past him.

A small wooden cabin stood among the trees a few yards from the shore. Smoke rose from its chimney. A red canoe rested upside down beside the porch.

There were people everywhere.

His mother sat near a fire with several other adults. She looked younger too, perhaps only a few years older than Daniel was now. Around her were men and women he didn’t recognize, along with a group of children running along the beach.

Someone was playing music.

Someone else was cooking.

Everyone seemed happy.

But there was something wrong with the scene.

Daniel couldn’t tell what it was.

Then he realized.

Nobody was looking at him.

They were all looking toward the lake.

“Where are we?” Daniel asked.

His father didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped off the dock.

The water rose around his ankles.

Then his knees.

Daniel stared.

“Dad?”

His father continued walking.

The water reached his waist.

“Dad!”

This time his father stopped.

He turned around.

The smile was gone.

For the first time, Daniel saw fear in his father’s face.

“Don’t let them take you,” he said.

“What?”

His father looked toward the people on the beach.

“Don’t let them make you like them.”

Daniel followed his gaze.

Everyone was still smiling.

His mother.

The children.

The strangers.

Even the people standing in the doorway of the cabin.

They were all smiling at him now.

Daniel felt something cold move through his chest.

His father lowered his voice.

“Don’t drink the blood.”

The wind stopped.

Every sound disappeared.

Daniel turned back toward the lake.

His father was gone.

The water was empty.

“Dad?”

No answer.

Daniel looked toward the beach.

It was empty too.

The fire was gone.

The people were gone.

The children were gone.

Only the cabin remained.

Its front door stood open.

From somewhere inside came a low mechanical hum.

Daniel didn’t want to go inside.

But his feet moved anyway.

He crossed the beach.

The cabin smelled of damp wood, smoke, and something metallic.

Iron.

Blood.

The humming grew louder.

Daniel entered the cabin.

There was no furniture inside.

No kitchen.

No fireplace.

Only a narrow staircase leading downward.

He stared at it.

He knew he should leave.

Instead, he began walking down.

One step.

Two.

Three.

The staircase seemed much longer than it had from above.

At the bottom was a white door.

It looked completely out of place.

Daniel reached for the handle.

Before he could touch it, the door opened.

Bright white light spilled into the stairwell.

Daniel shielded his eyes.

Then he stepped through.

He was standing inside a hospital.

A real one.

Or something that looked like one.

White walls.

Fluorescent lights.

Stainless-steel tables.

Rows of chairs.

There were dozens of people in the room.

Most of them were young men.

Some looked barely older than teenagers. Others were middle-aged, with thick beards and tired faces.

They were sitting in long rows.

Every person was connected to a machine.

Clear tubes ran from their arms into a complicated system of glass chambers and metal pumps.

Dark red blood moved slowly through the tubes.

Two separate lines entered each machine.

Inside a transparent chamber, the blood mixed.

Then another tube carried it away.

Back into the body.

Daniel’s stomach tightened.

“What is this?”

No one answered.

The people were smiling.

Every single one of them.

Not laughing.

Not talking.

Just smiling.

Their expressions were almost identical.

Daniel looked at the nearest man.

The man’s eyes met his.

There was no recognition in them.

No curiosity.

No fear.

Nothing.

Just a blank, obedient smile.

Daniel stepped backward.

A hand touched his shoulder.

He turned.

His father was standing behind him.

Older now.

Not as old as Daniel remembered, but older than the man on the dock.

“It’s almost finished,” his father said.

“What is?”

“The separation.”

Daniel stared at the machines.

“What are you doing to these people?”

His father looked toward the rows of chairs.

“We’re not doing anything to them.”

“Then why are they here?”

His father didn’t answer.

A small boy was sitting against the far wall.

Daniel recognized him immediately.

“Eli?”

The boy looked up.

Daniel felt a rush of relief.

It was his friend’s son.

“What are you doing here?”

Eli stood.

He walked toward him.

One step.

Then another.

Daniel smiled nervously.

“Eli, where are your parents?”

The boy didn’t answer.

He stopped a few feet away.

Something flickered across his face.

Daniel blinked.

For an instant, Eli’s eyes seemed to disappear.

Then his mouth.

Then his nose.

The features returned.

Daniel stared.

“What—”

It happened again.

His face flickered like a damaged video.

Skin became pixels.

Pixels became empty white space.

Within seconds, the boy’s entire face was gone.

There was nothing there.

No eyes.

No nose.

No mouth.

Only smooth, pale skin.

Daniel stumbled backward.

“No.”

The boy tilted his head.

Then he spoke.

His voice was still Eli’s.

“You remember my name.”

Daniel couldn’t breathe.

“What happened to your face?”

The boy smiled.

Somehow, Daniel could hear the smile even though there was no mouth.

“You still remember my name.”

Daniel turned toward his father.

“Dad.”

His father stood perfectly still.

“Dad, what did you do to him?”

His father looked at the boy.

Then at Daniel.

Tears were running down his cheeks.

But he was smiling.

“I didn’t do anything.”

Behind him, the machines continued humming.

The sound grew louder.

A door opened at the far end of the room.

A man walked through.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a thick dark beard.

Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t smiling.

He looked directly at Daniel.

His expression was severe.

Almost angry.

But Daniel saw something beneath it.

Fear.

The man approached slowly.

“Listen to me,” he said.

His voice was low.

“Who are you?” Daniel asked.

The man glanced at Daniel’s father.

Then back at Daniel.

“You don’t belong here.”

“Where is this?”

The man ignored the question.

“Do you know what happens when you forget your own name?”

Daniel shook his head.

The man stepped closer.

“They can put anything inside you.”

Daniel felt his pulse racing.

“What are you talking about?”

The man looked at the blood moving through the machines.

“Memory.”

The word barely left his mouth.

Then every light in the hospital went out.

Darkness swallowed the room.

Someone screamed.

Then silence.

Daniel couldn’t see his hands.

He heard water dripping somewhere nearby.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Then a whisper beside his ear.

“Wake up.”

Daniel opened his eyes.

He was sitting upright in his own bed.

Morning light poured through the curtains.

For several seconds he couldn’t remember where he was.

His bedroom.

His apartment.

Reality.

He looked around.

Books on the desk.

Phone charging beside the bed.

Clothes hanging from the chair.

Everything was exactly where it should be.

Daniel pressed both hands against his face.

It was only a dream.

A nightmare.

Nothing more.

He laughed once.

The sound came out weak.

“Jesus.”

He lowered his hands.

Something was dripping.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Daniel slowly turned his head.

A small puddle of water had formed beside his bed.

He stared at it.

His window was closed.

The ceiling was dry.

There was no obvious source.

Daniel pushed the blankets away and stood.

His feet were wet.

Both of them.

He looked down.

A thin strand of dark green lakeweed was stuck to the bottom of his right heel.

His breathing stopped.

Then his phone buzzed.

Daniel flinched.

A notification appeared on the screen.

Unknown Number

He stared at it.

There was only one message.

You weren’t supposed to remember.