Page 40 of Catching Camila

“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“I don’t know what it means.” He dug his finger into the soft brown sand, drawing the image he had seen. Slowly he traced the shape burned into his brain like an after image of a flashbulb in the darkness— the tall cylinder topped with an oval. John shook his head. What was it?

“The water tower?” Camila said, examining his drawing. She lifted her eyes to his. “You had a vision of the water tower?”

John pointed to his drawing. “This is the water tower?”

Camila nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It looks like it. It’s the right shape anyway. It’s the one they just built on Guidings Road over by the landfill. Is this what you saw?”

“Some of it, yeah.” John ran a hand over his forehead. Most of his vision was a blur, like images viewed out a car window at eighty miles an hour.

Camila stood, brushing her sandy hands on her cut-off shorts. “Well, let’s go.”

He squinted up at her. “Go? To the water tower?”

She nodded, holding a hand out to help him. He accepted and she pulled him to his feet.

For a moment they stood, feet planted on the sand, a warm summer breeze teasing back the strands of her dark hair. Her hand was in his. He savored the supple curve of her palm, the delicate brush of her fingers on his. She released him and turned away. He stood, wishing he could go back to touching her again.

When they got to the main road and set out toward the water tower, the sun was just brushing the tops of the trees. Camila looked up at the sinking sun and frowned.

“When does your mom expect you home?” John asked, kicking at a hunk of gravel buried in the long grass on the road’s shoulder.

Camila shrugged, frowning. “She’ll probably be zonked out until morning. Besides, I’m an adult. I don’t have to answer to my mother.”

John dug his hands in his shorts' pockets. He was about to respond when a semi-truck clattered by, spewing a cloud of exhaust in their direction. When the rumble faded, he turned to Camila. “You don’t have to do this. I can go alone.”

Camila shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Not with a psycho killer on the loose.”

John raised an eyebrow, smiling. “You’re going to protect me?”

“What? You don’t think I can?” She swiveled and lifted her fists, a playful smile dancing across her face. “You think you’re so tough because you’re six-four?”

John nodded. “Six-five,” he corrected her. “Yeah, I’m pretty tough.”

Camila stuck out her bottom lip and waved him forward. “Give me your best shot.”

John held up two palms like boxer's mitts. “You’re the one who’s going to defend us, remember?” Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. He pointed to his outstretched palm. “Go ahead. Put one right here.”

Camila looked from John’s face to his hand. “Really? Really hit you?”

“Really.” He lowered his hand to make it easier.

She considered this for a minute, reached back and punched his palm.

The smack was loud, a good solid punch, but John hardly felt it. He pulled back his hand, shook it tenderly, and mouthed ow.

Camila smiled and dropped her fists to her hips. “Told you I could defend us. Bring on the psycho killers.”

John nodded, but suddenly felt cold. His eyes flitted to the dark shadows between each pine. Where was the beast now? Did he smell him?

By the time they got to the water tower, the sun had disappeared behind the tree line and the sky was a beautiful orange and purple blend. As they approached, his heart spurred up. It was the tower from his vision. But why?

They shuffled to a stop beneath it and John looked up, hoping something would jog his memory. It rose about ten stories with a cylindrical concrete base. Up above, the curve of the oval water basin bowed out above them. The side read Auburn Township in big green letters. John waited, shifted, waited some more. A mosquito landed and needled into this arm. He swatted at it and looked up. What was he doing here?

“Well,” Camila said, studying his face, “anything?”

He looked around the shrubs that bordered the field. The grass waved in the twilight. A truck thudded by on the road beside them.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Maybe it's another building nearby.” She squinted into the dark, off into the distance.

Suddenly a figure strode out of the shadows: a man maybe a couple years older than John. He was tall and muscular, though a little pudgy around the middle and he was eating… Was that a cake right out of the box? John jumped in front of Camila, his hands in fists.

The stranger raised a cake-filled hand in greeting.

“Jesus, Jopari,” the stranger said, “where have you been? You look like crap.”

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