Blackwater Lights Read Online Free PDF Page B

waited at the main desk, and a few minutes later the bathroom door opened and a thin, bearded man stepped out. He wore khaki pants and an oxford shirt.
    “Oh, sorry. Were you here long?” His accent wasn’t nearly as heavy as Ellen’s. He looked fortyish, and his dark beard was neatly trimmed. He wiped his eyeglasses on his shirt.
    Ray shook his head. “Nope. Just got here.”
    The librarian clasped his hands and smiled. “Can I help you find anything?”
    “Yeah. Couple of questions.” Good thing there was no one else around. “Historical stuff. About Blackwater.”
    The librarian held up his index finger. He pulled a glossy paperback from beneath the circulation desk. “
Blackwater: A History
. My PhD project. From before the Civil War to, oh, 1993 or so.”
    Ray took the book. The cover was a black-and-white photo of a two-story house, looking like the peeling clapboard structure was held together by glue. A man in overalls stood next to the house, his face washed out and almost featureless.
    The librarian held out his hand. “Denny Huffington.”
    Ray shook his hand. “Ray Simon.”
    Denny scratched his neck. “Is there a particular era you’re interested in? Civil War?”
    “No. More contemporary.”
    “Ah.” He looked dejected.
    “I really have two questions, I guess,” Ray said. “Mainly I want to find out the name of a camp I went to when I was a kid. Somewhere nearby.”
    “That shouldn’t be a problem. And the other?”
    “The other is … folklore, I guess. Strange stories. Weird stories.”
    Denny’s smile spread. “You mean Forteana?”
    Ray stared.
    “Forteana, from the writings of Charles Fort. Rains of blood and frogs, sea monsters, ghosts. Spontaneous human combustion. Sasquatch. Is that what you’re interested in?”
    “Well, yeah.”
    Denny laughed. “Now that’s synchronistic. I have a blog—
Odd West Virginia
—that you might have heard of.”
    Ray shook his head.
    “Of course not. Not many people have. But aside from history, I specialize in the strange and the obscure.”
    “Well, Denny, I guess you’re exactly the person I was looking for.”
    Denny bowed. “Glad to be of service. You’re the first person in weeks who hasn’t asked for large-print Nora Roberts or Dan Brown.” He paused. “Not that I have anything against either of them.”
    Ray waved his hands. “Don’t worry. I’m more of a Steinbeck guy. Mark Twain and Faulkner. Old standbys.”
    Denny mimed wiping sweat from his brow. “Good man. Glad to hear it. I sometimes feel like I’m running an orphanage for unread books. It’s nice when I get real questions. But the strange stuff … that’s something I could
really
go on about. I guess you’ve figured that out. Blackwater is actually a hot spot of unusual activity. The Discovery Channel was here about ten years ago—did you see that? The way the road is built on the path of a mythical snake? Is that why you’re here? In town, I mean?”
    “No. But the camp, that’s important to me. Just for personal reasons—my own history. I want to find out more about it. That’s what I’m most interested in.”
    “Well, let’s see what we can find.”
    An hour later, they had turned up nothing.
    “I’m sorry, Ray. You sure it wasn’t the Presbyterian church campground?”
    “No. This was a huge place. Big tents. And buildings. Almost like a barracks of some kind.”
    Denny shook his head. “Sounds military. But West Virginia has never had a military base. Closest thing would be the National Guard training grounds, but that’s about four hours from here.”
    “No, I’m sure it was here in Blackwater. Or nearby.”
    Denny looked at his watch. “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to close up now. But I’ll ask around. I’ll make some calls.” He handed Ray his card. “My blog address is on the back. And here’s my book.”
    “Do I have to sign it out?”
    Denny laughed. “No, of course not. It’s my gift to you. A signed copy,