Deep Waters

some bank account numbers. Ever notice how people tend to let their bank statements pile up in a desk drawer?"
    "No." Charity hesitated, recalling the stack of statements she had filed in a desk drawer at home. "On second thought, maybe I have noticed. What of it? What good are the account numbers?"
    "I don't know yet." Elias paused at the intersection of two lanes of campers. "But with an operation this big, you know everything is going through a bank."
    "Hmm. You're right."
    More firecrackers popped in the darkness. The Voyagers' chants reached a feverish pitch. The rowdy males who had gathered to drink beer near the bluff path began calling loudly down to the people on the beach. The younger set jeered and shouted.
    "Things are getting exciting," Elias remarked as they moved out from behind the last row of vehicles.
    "It's almost midnight." Charity glanced around.
    "And surprise, surprise, not a spaceship in sight. Let's go find Newlin. I want to be with him when the time comes, just in case Arlene doesn't rush into his arms."
    "Right."
    They made their way along the bluff to where Newlin had parked his pick-up. The battered truck was located in the outermost section of the makeshift parking lot. Nearly everyone else who had driven out to watch the spectacle had parked much closer to the campground.
    The pickup was almost invisible in the fog. Charity went to the window on the driver's side and frowned when she saw that Newlin was not inside.
    "He must have gone to the fence to wait for Arlene to come back from the beach," Elias said.
    "Yes." The brief, sharp blast of an automobile horn made Charity jump. Someone cursed.
    She turned and saw that there was one other vehicle parked a short distance away. Another truck. The passenger door was open, but there was no light inside the cab. The sound of the town's one and only rock station spilled forth into the night.
    "Damn it," someone muttered from inside the truck. "I told you to be careful. You want someone to hear us?"
    "The guy in the pick-up just left." There was a muffled giggle from the interior of the vehicle. "Speaking of careful, I hope you remembered the rubber. Because if you didn't, I swear to God, Kevin, you can go fly a kite tonight."
    "Yeah, yeah. I've got it here, somewhere. Hang on."
    Charity turned quickly back to Elias and cleared her throat. "Let's see if we can find Newlin." She grabbed his arm and started to lead him back the way they had come.
    There was enough light reflecting off the fog to see Elias's amused expression, but he did not resist the forceful tug on his arm.
    Charity pulled him toward the group that had gathered at the rail.
    An eerie, startling hush descended on the group down on the beach. The flute and drum fell silent. The chants of the Voyagers ceased.
    "Midnight," Elias said softly.
    "Hey there, Charity. Winters." Yappy hailed them as they went past the tailgate refreshment stand. "We're gettin' ready to close up here. Want some hot coffee?"
    "No, thanks," Elias called. "We're looking for Newlin."
    "Saw him about an hour ago. Took some coffee over to his truck. Haven't seen him since."
    "Everyone's gone to the fence to see the grand finale," Bea said as she packed a stack of unused paper cups back into a box. "Check over there. Sure hope Arlene comes to her senses tonight. If she doesn't, I don't know what poor Newlin's going to do with himself."
    Charity turned toward the large crowd that was hovering over the fence, watching the scene on the beach. "Elias, I'm worried. I don't see Newlin anywhere."
    He wrapped his hand around hers. "We'll find him."
    That was going to be easier said than done, Charity thought. An air of confusion was building swiftly. Between the fog and the throng of excited, curious onlookers, things were becoming chaotic. Derisive shouts went up from the beer drinkers. The teenagers hooted as some of the Voyagers began to climb back up the beach path.
    Charity and Elias moved through the clustered townsfolk, searching for Newlin. There was no sign of him anywhere.
    "Hey," one of the beer drinkers yelled to the returning Voyagers, "Maybe the aliens meant Eastern Daylight Savings Time, not Pacific Daylight Savings Time."
    The dispirited cult members filed past without acknowledging the taunts.
    A high, shrill scream ripped through the darkness just as Charity was about to suggest that they start looking for Arlene among the returning Voyagers.
    The piercing shriek had the same impact on the crowd as a