The miniature yellow submarine nestled in the crook of the Wisconsin River was supposed to bring more business. Instead, it became an icon, a facet of Conover, one that people pulled to the side of the highway to take pictures of on their way to someplace else. His wife, Gwen, told him fixing it would be pointless, but Tommy did anyway. One less thing around here that needs repairing, he thought, snapping the propeller back in place.

As he climbed back up the small hill, he noticed a blue Ford pickup turning off the highway. It paused at the sign welcoming guests to the Bellway Inn, then bounced up the gravel drive. Dust flew from beneath the tires, a product of the unusually dry August heat. The truck barely rolled to a stop before a man in his mid-forties jumped down from the extended cab. His hair already showed streaks of gray and a red flannel shirt covered his mounding gut.

“Can I help you, sir?” Tommy called.

“Got a room for my family?”

Tommy smiled and walked over. “Of course. I’m Tommy,” he said, offering his hand. He preferred Tom, but everyone up here had always known him as Tommy, so that’s what stuck. Even his wife had taken to calling him that.

“Nice to meet ya, Tommy. I’m Gary, and these are my boys, Michael and Phillip.” Gary gestured to the two emerging from the truck.

Tommy nodded at them. “Hi, guys.” The boys ignored him.

“Ya know,” Gary said, “you look mighty familiar.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure why. Wait, I got it. You’re Patrick’s boy.”

“Yeah, I am.” This piqued Tommy’s curiosity. “How did you know my father?”

“I used to work for him over in Lando. Lake Forest Boat Repair, I think. You look just like him. Spittin’ image. Same nose and everything.”

Tommy thought for a moment. “Oh yes, I do remember my father talking about you. What brings you here?”

“We live down in Fond du Lac now, but me and the boys came up here for a little getaway. Couldn’t be more surprised that this place is up and running again. Oh, and love the submarine. Don’t remember seeing that before.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said. He liked the submarine, too, even if Gwen refused to be within twenty feet of it.

The inn once had two wells: one that worked sometimes and one that never worked, and that’s why Tommy assumed half the cabins ran on the town’s water. It was an odd setup, one they couldn’t afford to fix for a while, but, due to corroding pipes, the defunct well ultimately had to be removed. During the removal, the workers found the submarine only a few feet away, enclosed in an ivory coffin. The submarine itself turned out to be a smaller version of a World War II model. They donated the coffin to the local church, and, against Gwen’s protests, Tommy repurposed the submarine, adding a few obviously missing parts and painting it yellow. The discovery shook Gwen, but Tommy chalked it up to a weird and expensive joke that never reached the intended recipient.

“Let me show you to the office,” Tommy told Gary.

“Excellent.”

The office, a log cabin built in the 1930s, sat at the end of the driveway. Three smaller cabins were tucked behind it, each with a narrow trail leading to its front door. On the property’s south side stood three more cabins and a small section of forest that connected to the woods surrounding the highway. The river formed the property’s northern boundary.

Gwen didn’t look up when they entered. “We got five calls from Mr. Greene’s family this afternoon,” she said.

Tommy ran a hand through his short, ash-brown hair. “Alright, I’ll give them a call tonight, but right now, we have guests.”

Gwen’s head snapped up. “Oh, hi,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Gary said. “Those long-lost relatives are pesky, ain’t they?”

A look of relief crossed Gwen’s features and she smiled. “Absolutely. Let’s get you a key.”

After sending Gary and his boys off to cabin number four—the only cabin with working air conditioning—Gwen slumped back down in her office chair.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said, “and one family doesn’t change anything.”

Tommy didn’t respond. He had no idea how to prove to her the inn would eventually bring in steady tourism, so he just kissed the top of her head and went out to begin his next project.

********************

Six hours and one lengthy conversation later, Tommy’s mood spiraled. For some reason, the family of the inn’s previous owner believed they still had a claim on the place, even after Mr. Greene sold it and passed away three weeks later. He also found he couldn’t keep up with all the necessary repairs. Every time he fixed something, something else would break, preventing him from finishing the endless list of tasks that developed immediately after purchasing the place back in March. The whole situation often made him feel much older than thirty-one.

However, despite his complaints and Gwen’s insistence on selling, he planned to hang on until the bitter end. Irrational? Maybe, but he felt tied to the Bellway. Since his childhood, he had wanted to make a permanent home in the Northwoods, and now that he had finally done so, he wasn’t willing to give it up. And after buying the inn, he felt as if a fishing hook had lodged itself in his brain. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but he couldn’t unstick himself from the property, even if he wanted to.

Tommy walked over to cabin four to check on Gary and his boys. He didn’t remember seeing them leave, but their truck was gone, and, just before turning around to head back to the office, he noticed a note on the door. In small, scribbled handwriting, it said: Does the toilet always howl when it’s flushed?

Tommy rubbed his temples. It never ended. He would have to come back later to check the problem. He knew maintenance crews at most places wouldn’t hesitate to enter with the occupants out, but even though he owned the place, Tommy felt uncomfortable invading someone’s privacy. When he returned to the office, he saw Gwen still sorting through the paperwork. Too many people had owned The Bellway over the years and none of them bothered to digitize the files.

“How did the repairs go today?” she asked.

He knew this wasn’t her real question. What she really wanted to know was if he’d stumbled across any other unsettling oddities. He chose to answer the unspoken question. “Everything’s normal, except the toilet in cabin four.”

“What’s wrong with the toilet?”

“It’s making funny noises.”

Gwen made a face. “What type of noises?”

“Apparently, it howls when flushed.”

“That’s kind of freaky.”

Tommy shrugged. “I’ll look at it when they get back. I’m sure it’s no big deal.”

“Weird things happen around here, Tommy,” Gwen said with a slight shudder. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending they don’t.”

Though she said “things,” Tommy knew the particular incident to which she was referring. The coffin had bothered her, but this one downright terrified her.

Shortly after buying The Bellway, Tommy and Gwen found all of cabin number five’s windows and doors boarded shut, with big nails holding the massive strips of wood in place. An hour passed before Tommy could open the door, and when he did, a chemically charged odor tumbled out. Aside from the smell, a sliver of light revealed nothing out of the ordinary, but after taking two steps into the cabin, Tommy noticed a small shape in one of the far corners with an outline so faint he couldn’t be sure he actually saw it. He flicked on his flashlight. In that moment, Gwen shrieked; Tommy only stared in shock. About a dozen hummingbird carcasses, all perfectly preserved, littered the floor.

Over the past several months, Tommy tried and failed to conjure up a logical explanation. Of all the recent things that happened here, this was the one that couldn’t be disclosed to anyone. Even people like Gary, who, according to Tommy’s father, thought life wasn’t complete without a beer and a good story, might find the dead birds too disturbing.

“We just need to give it a little more time,” Tommy said.

“I don’t want to give it more time. One of these days we’re going to find something much worse than we already have.”

Tommy closed his eyes, a headache simmering at the base of his skull. “I really don’t want to have this conversation again.”

“What are you waiting for? To find a human body or something? Then would you finally be willing to leave?”

 “We’re not going to find a body, okay? I just don’t want to lose this place.”

“You don’t want to lose this place? Tommy, we’ve owned it for less than a year. You act like it’s been in your family for generations.”

Tommy stared at her. The silence stretched much longer than it should have.

“You coming up for dinner?” he finally asked, motioning to the stairs leading to their apartment above the office.

After a pause, Gwen said, “Yeah, I’ll be up soon. I’m almost done with this box of files. I just can’t seem to find the files from eighty-three.”

“Huh. That’s funny.”

“Everything around here is funny.”

“Mrs. Greene probably has them. She seems like the type to hold onto things just to make our lives miserable.”

********************

Tommy was down in the office by six-thirty the next morning. Thanks to all the summers he spent fishing with his father, he loved watching the sunrise, and though Gwen wasn’t a morning person, she was never more than thirty minutes behind him.

Just as he sat down at the desk, the bells above the door jangled.

“Mornin’, Tommy,” Gary said, his large frame filling most of the office.

“Headed out to the lake?”

“Just got back, actually. Fish were bitin’ real nice this morning. Caught some bluegills and a muskie. Anyway—” he paused, pulling a small object from his pocket. “I came to give you this. Found it in our cabin.” Gary held out a small object.

“What is it?” A question Tommy was becoming all too familiar with.

“Don’t know. It was just sittin’ there on the closet shelf.”

“That’s odd.” Tommy took the object in his hand. He and Gwen thoroughly cleaned each of the cabins immediately after buying the inn and he didn’t remember ever seeing something like this.

Tommy took the object in his hand. It appeared to be a wooden carving with a loon’s head, its garnet eyes chipped and worn, but the body was something else. It curved and twisted, creating alternating patches of smooth and rough wood.

“Looks like someone never finished it,” Gary said. “Wonder why?”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t know.” He considered the number of recent, unsettling discoveries made at The Bellway, and a chilling sensation crawled up the back of his neck. The carving wasn’t big like the submarine or ominous like the dead birds, but Tommy decided to keep this latest discovery from Gwen. He didn’t need yet another strike against him.

“Oh, and the toilet seems fine now,” Gary said. “Thanks for fixin’ it.” Tommy wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t even enter the cabin yesterday. “I actually didn’t do anything,” he said at last. “The plumbing just…does that sometimes.”

“I hear ya,” Gary said with a nod. “This place is pretty old.” He paused for a moment. “It’s also got a lot of history. Makes life more interesting, I think, but it can also be a nightmare.”

Tommy couldn’t be sure, but thought Gary was referring to Summerwind, the house Gary lived in for part of his childhood. The supposedly haunted house once stood along the shore of West Bay Lake, but in the late eighties, lightning struck and it burned down. Nevertheless, it still drew ghost hunters and curious travelers. Tommy remembered his father saying that Gary refused to speak about Summerwind other than to verify he once lived there, clamming up whenever anyone pressed for more information. Tommy was about to ask him what he meant when footsteps echoing down the stairs made them turn.

“Hi, Gary,” Gwen said, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

Gary tipped an imaginary hat toward her. “So,” he said, “the boys were wonderin’ if they could go bear huntin’ today.”

“Bear hunting?” Tommy asked. He knew hunters often started young, but Michael and Phillip couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. The idea of them bear hunting struck him as absurd. Plus, hunting season didn’t start until next month.

“Not for real. Those boys got some crazy imagination. They want to run around in that little patch of woods ya got back there. I’d go with them, of course. Just thought I’d ask before we run around your property.”

Tommy and Gwen shared a look. “We haven’t exactly been through those woods, yet,” Tommy said.

Gary scratched his stubble-covered chin. “Well, it ain’t really a good idea to buy a property without seein’ the whole thing first.”

Ignoring Gwen’s didn’t-I-tell-you-the-same-thing look, Tommy said, “I’ll take a walk through there this morning. Then your boys can kill some bears.”

“Sounds great. We’re goin’ into Eagle for a bit, but we’ll be back by three,” Gary said and headed outside, the screen door clanging behind him.

“Tommy—” Gwen began, but he held up a hand.

“I know. I’m on it.”

“I’ll come with you. I don’t feel like doing more paperwork right now.”

Tommy’s lips twitched upward. “I’d love that.”

Taking her hand, they walked into the trees. Their small slice of the woods was composed mostly of pines, peppered here and there with slender birches. Sunlight slipped through the pine needles, reaching down to brush the grass. The dragonflies were already awake, darting around on glass wings. Despite months of neglect, ferns neatly lined the trail. As they walked, Tommy breathed in the morning air. Gwen, on the other hand, squinted against the harsh light—she preferred the sunset. Tommy almost laughed at her scrunched expression.

After a few minutes, the trail opened up to a clearing about twenty feet in diameter ringed with birches. Small bits of charred wood covered the ground, no doubt the remnants of past bonfires. Suddenly, Gwen pulled Tommy to a stop, her hand sliding from his and clamping onto his arm. “Tommy, what is that?”

Eight trees on the far side of the clearing had thick ropes tied around their trunks. Like the wood littering the ground, the ends of each knot were charred. A heavy cowbell hung next to each knot, and though they presently made no noise, they probably made quite a racket in the breeze.

“Why haven’t we ever heard these bells?” Gwen asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t have to look at Gwen to know that her fear was making the ugly transition into anger.

“First the birds, then that damn submarine, and now this? Tommy, how much longer are you going to pretend this place isn’t seriously messed up?”

“The inn is just old. People used to stay here all the time so there’s bound to be a few knickknacks laying around.”

“Knickknacks?” Gwen said. “Dead birds and these ropes are not knickknacks. We found a coffin, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not ready to give up.”

“That’s all you ever say,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “Why, Tommy? Why do you constantly refuse to leave?”

Tommy looked at the ground with a small shrug. “I can’t really tell you. It doesn’t even make sense to me.”

“Fine. I’m going back to the office. Don’t come back until you’ve taken all that—” she gestured wildly at the ropes, “—down.”

********************

After spending most of the day stalling and avoiding Gwen, Tommy finally set out that evening to remove the ropes with a pair of hedge clippers and a bucket. As he passed cabin four, he noticed Gary sitting on the porch.

“Where ya headed?” he asked, noticing Tommy’s tools.

 “I have to take care of something in the woods.” Tommy cringed when he realized how that sounded. “Sorry, I completely forgot about bear hunting.”

Gary didn’t bat an eye. “No problem. The boys fell asleep the moment we got back. Need any help?”

“Nah, but the company would be great.”

When they reached the clearing, Gary tilted his head. “Interesting…decorations.”

“Yeah.” As he considered the best way to proceed, it struck him that removing the ropes now seemed disrespectful to the inn itself. The sun speared through the pines, casting a rusty glow on the pale birches and sweeping across the bells. In less than an hour, the glow would fade to purple bruises as the sun disappeared. A loon called out to the evening sky from somewhere on the lake and Tommy’s nose caught a faint wisp of someone else’s bonfire. The inn had a history, and though still unfamiliar to him, it could be felt in the air, in the cracks of the log cabin walls, in everything.

Tommy sighed. He wished Gwen could see the clearing now. He knew she would feel what rooted him to this place.

“There’s just somethin’ about the Northwoods that grabs a hold of your soul, ya know?” Gary said, speaking Tommy’s thoughts.

Tommy nodded. He did know, which was why he fought so hard to stay. That, and the fact that whenever he considered selling The Bellway, his head physically hurt. The fishing hook lodged there threatened to rip through the center of his skull.

“Too bad so few people can feel it,” Gary continued.

Tommy nodded again. It saddened him the way people came and left these tiny northern towns so quickly. It was as if most of them had never been there at all.

“Well, I suppose I should get started,” Tommy said, positioning the hedge clippers in front of the first rope. After a few minutes of silence, Tommy spoke up again. “Hey, Gary?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you about Summerwind?” When Gary didn’t answer, Tommy turned and looked at him. Gary’s face darkened and he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. “Gary?”

Finally, he spoke. “No, Tommy. But let me just say this: Visitin’ a haunted place and ownin’ one are two very different things. Visitin’ is fun. Ownin’ is not.”

Tommy shook his head. He didn’t think he believed in ghosts, and Gwen certainly didn’t, but he knew he wouldn’t manage to convince her to stay any longer.

This might be the end, he thought, a jagged pain shooting through his temple like an arrow.