Alice Connelly stood by Blue Lake. Well, it wasn't exactly blue. Years ago, some romantic saw the clear sky reflect off the water and named it Blue Sky Lake. Somewhere along the way "Sky" got dropped; no one knew why. Between the moment the name changed and Alice's presence, the U. S. government fought wars against the Fascists and the Reds, bought the land, built a base, did mysterious things on it, tore down the buildings, sold the land and left. A private developer bought the land, built some cabins, posted ads touting the area as a secluded getaway, and then went back to his expensive mansion to watch the money roll in; he didn't make much.
"What a dump," she thought. "This place sucks. Solitude sucks. Unfaithful boyfriends and backstabbing best friends suck. Why did I come here? Oh right, the unfaithful boyfriend and backstabbing best friend thing." Alice's face twisted slightly, the wound was still raw; catching them in bed wasn't the bad part. Well actually it was pretty bad, but the lack of remorse was the killer.
Jane looked especially defiant, the corner of her mouth twitched upward ("Was that a smirk?"). Jane, who she'd known since junior high; BFF Jane ("Ex-BFF Jane"); secretly jealous, smile to her face, whisper behind her back, secret underminer Jane. Roy the Weasel, didn't even have the guts to look at her. She screamed and yelled, they gave excuses. Roy's excuses ranged from, "I needed space," to "I thought this was an open relationship." Jane's excuse was a distinctly unapologetic, "It just happened."
There was nothing left to do except move out of the apartment. The question was where else to go? Alice needed a place to stay, at least for the summer. Her mother was out; Mary Agnes Connelly, strictly Catholic, very traditional, no sex outside marriage. She had enough problems with her lapsed daughter.
She crossed off her sister: Sarah's house was full of kids and a fat husband, "and she's just as bad as Mom." The few friends who weren't stolen or spoiled by Jane were either back home, on vacation, or had boyfriends in small apartments: "I'd be one girl too many. On second thought, forget seeing anybody. I'll just find a dark corner and crawl into it."
She found Blue Lake by accident, browsing through websites. A serendipitous click brought her to the aforementioned developer's ad: "Need solitude? Want privacy? At Blue Lake you'll find both. Cheap cabins, well furnished, to rent." Alice didn't think twice: another click, a direct deposit, and she had her corner. The cabins were in upstate New York.
She didn't tell anyone where she was going. It took a day and a half to reach Blue Lake. The clerk at the main cabin was an old man right out of Norman Rockwell. He was a nervous old fellow, a very quaint guy. "We don't get many people 'round these parts, especially a girl as 'purdy' as you," he said. Alice was actually flattered; he didn't strike her as a dirty old man, and she liked the way he said 'pretty'. Most people thought Alice was pretty hot; she thought so too, not as a matter of ego but as a matter of fact. "Didn't stop Roy from fucking Jane. How could he? She's a twig and her boobs are smaller," she thought.
Other than a case of the cutes from the old clerk, Alice was exhausted. She had just come off a marathon drive and wanted a cabin, shower, and bed. She signed in, grabbed the keys, said a quiet thank you, and went to the car. As she drove away she looked in the rear-view mirror; the old man was shouting something. She thought she heard the word "lake" but was too focused on finding the cabin to care.
Alice got lost. It took an extra hour's worth of driving and backtracking through the labyrinthine trails before she found her cabin. What she found inside didn't surprise her, "Figures, after the day I had." She spent another two hours cleaning the disaster area that was the cabin's interior. An extra hour unpacking followed by an extraordinarily cold shower (which the noisy, vibrating pipes grudgingly gave up after much coaxing....and begging). Alice's near total exhaustion overcame her strong temptation to pack her bags, check out, and head into town to find a hotel. She collapsed into bed and slept for twelve hours.
Alice spent the next week cleaning, sulking, and brooding until the cabin gained some semblance of order. She made occasional trips to the local town for food and supplies. She kept to herself. A few of the townies ( usually men, sometimes women) tried to engage her in conversation. She was polite but rebuffed them all the same. Alice's pain was her new friend. She wallowed in misery and self pity for a week before she decided "Misery and self pity sucks." It was time to leave the cabin and explore. "There's a lake nearby. I think I'll go look for it," she thought.
The lake was easy to find. The townies had mentioned the rumors surrounding the lake. The army base; the secret experiments; the occasional disappearance. "X-Files conspiracy crap," she sniffed. Her college-educated brain placed townie superstition on the same list as her mother's Catholicism.
