Free The Drowned Forest by Kristopher Reisz Page A

the cool air and let the spring floods fertilize their fields with rich black silt. They carved images of eagle-beaked bird men and a monster called the underwater panther into clay. They believed animals able to move between the land, water, and sky—salamanders, turtles, ducks—and maybe catfish too?—acted as messengers of the gods, moving between our world and the spirit worlds above and below us.
    The Mississippians lived and worshiped here for five hundred years, then disappeared. Nobody knows why. They vanished before Columbus came, leaving their warriors decaying within great burial mounds, surrounded by crumbling symbols of strength and wealth.
    Hernando de Soto came through Muscle Shoals, exploring the New World. He forded the shoals heading into Tennessee and never came back down again. The Indians thought he was an immortal sun god. After he died of fever, his men were afraid of what the Indians might do if they discovered he’d just been a man. They weighted his body down with stones and tipped it over the side of a boat, letting the river swallow one more secret.
    English and Irish settlers came and built a port on top of the Mississippians’ great burial mounds, grown lush with wildflowers by then. During the Civil War, soldiers came. They’re still here, too. From the highway, people have seen their ghosts marching, deaf and blind to the roaring cars.
    It’s all still here, Holly. People built the dam, tried to tame the river, let the lake cover up the Indian mounds, but it’s all still down there. I can feel them all underneath us—curses of the Nephilim, the underwater panther, Hernando de Soto’s bones clanking around in rusted-out armor, fevers disguised as frogs—one layer of mysteries on top of another on top of another. And you’ve sunk down, down to the lightless bottom and can’t escape.
    Thinking about it makes my stomach tighten; it makes breathing hard. But I won’t be afraid, Holly. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casteth out fear.

Nine
    Tyler scans the shoreline through his Aviators. Sitting on the deck, I try to pray for protection and guidance, but it’s hopeless. I close my eyes, but all I feel is the river’s long centuries, stretching back to the start of the world.
    The bluff comes into view, a fist of striated limestone. I haven’t been here since you died, Holly. Suddenly, I can’t feel the lake anymore, only the hot, hard sadness swelling in my throat.
    It was the height of summer. You were out of school, and Tyler just got his license. We went mud-riding across his cousin’s land, bouncing up and down hills, spraying dirt. He let me drive some, and I fishtailed the truck just to feel the delicious whip-crack momentum bounce us against the doors.
    We should have stayed out there, or just gone home. I’m sorry, Holly. But it felt like the start of everything. It was so much fun to go fast and be loud, we didn’t want to stop. Tyler suggested we drive out to the bluff.
    The water below us was pea-green and restless. We’d swing and jump, dangling in the air for a moment before gravity grabbed us by our stomachs and yanked us down. Flung hard to the water, the sting and cold-shock of it, making every nerve yowl at once, reminding us how alive we were.
    Remember how excited you were about the Halogen concert? Since Tyler could drive now, you could go to shows in Huntsville, Birmingham, anywhere. Stretched out on the stone ledge, soaking in the sun, I decided to ask my parents if I could go to the concert with you.
    While we talked, Tyler walked to the truck, then came back. “Hey, I got you something,” he muttered, nervously pressing the ring box into your hands. When you opened it, your grin grew huge. “Oh, it’s gorgeous!” you said, slipping the ring onto your finger. “Thank you, thank you!”
    Tyler was grinning too. “Well, I didn’t want you forgetting about me since we aren’t seeing each other in class every day.”
    “Awww … I will