by Mark Boliek
Chapter 4
Brandy and I made our way back to Warhead Dale. The wind carved the air, cutting through my jacket and slicing my arms into a heap of goosebumps, from one end to another. I huddled my arms and jacket closer to my skin. My young companion rubbed her arms. As we came to the wooden stair over the rocks to the house, I retrieved my shoes from the sand and hiked up the stairs with Brandy in tow.
“Go on back into the house,” I urged the young lady. “James, my grandson, should be there. Please check the main room first. If he is not there, he will definitely be in the gift shop to the left outside the front of the house. There is a sign. I will be right behind you. I just need to check one thing first.”
Brandy had been mostly quiet the entire time we spent together to that moment. Of course, she was still distraught over the news of her adoption, but she seemed to enjoy the story I told so far. I am not sure she liked the level of detail, but those elements need to be told. I could easily tell her what happened to Kali in a mouth full of short sentences in a few paragraphs, but I think I would do her a disservice if she did not know the circumstances that led to Kali’s fate.
The pretty young lady with the ponytail and beautiful smile nodded at me, then glided along the boardwalk to Warhead Dale. As she opened the door and disappeared, I turned back toward the ocean.
I had seen this before, but only once. My heart punched my chest. It fluttered so fast that I clutched my chest as I lunged toward my knees. I had not thought I would ever experience this phenomenon again in my lifetime. The first time I saw it, I was told that I had helped cause it.
The ocean swells grew to almost six feet high and the water turned an ominous foamy white as the crest of the waves broke some fifty yards before the beach. The sky turned white; as white as a piece of paper tight against your eyes. I waited for two minutes, then the wall of clouds swallowed me.
As it had those many years ago, the rain started first. The thick drops thumped against the sleeve of my jacket and exploded. Wetness as cold as an icicle pricked my bare hands like a thousand tiny straight pins. If I had to guess, I’d say the downpour lasted thirty seconds.
I tilted my head upward during a slight pause after the shower turned off. The one flake fell, hitting my forehead right between my eyes. Then another fell and then more.
Snow was falling on the beach.
The flakes drifted as gently as down feathers. The last time I saw this, this peaceful snowfall had been the beauty before the beast rushed in. I scuttled down the wooden planks toward Warhead Dale as fast as my over eighty-year-old bones would take me. Then the sky unloaded.
Snow fell in what appeared to be pounds at a time. Then the wind started. The snow accumulated so quickly that it covered my feet in less than two minutes. I needed to get indoors fast. I cracked open the door and slipped inside, swatting the snow from my clothes before it could melt and soak me. I slammed the glass door behind me and turned to gaze through it at what nature’s gift to us that very fine winter's day. The snow, in flakes at least the size of silver dollars, only fell for a few minutes. Then the wind began to howl, whipping up the snow until I could see only white. A blizzard had come to our little piece of paradise.
I found my young companion, Brandy, in the great hall of Warhead Dale. Tucked neatly into my black leather chair under a plaid throw rug, she clasped a cup of hot chocolate, balancing it delicately so it would not spill. My grandson James had clearly made her drink; he loves to pile marshmallows on so high that it’s almost impossible not to drop those morsels on a nice shirt. He had also started a nice fire for us in the great hall's fireplace. I had told many wild tales to many kids in this very spot over the past four years, but today I remembered the day of old Northy Nick most of all.
I walked deeper into the magnificent antique room, inviting in every way imaginable. The heat melted the goose bumps riddling my arms and my chill literally vanished. The warm light of the fire drew me to hearth, while the smell of leather and Christmas tree pinewood vanquished any stressful thoughts gnawing at my soul.
Brandy glanced up from her cup of cocoa and said, “James asked me to tell you that he is making sure no one was trapped here, that all the staff can get home safely. He said there might be a few stragglers, but not a lot of people came today. He might be back later.”
“Well, he has a way with people. I am sure he will make sure everything is hunkered down and everything is tight as a drum,” I said with a slight smile. I knew we were secure in the old mansion by the sea.
I pushed another leather chair beside Brandy, then we sat and talked a little about her. The news she learned yesterday seemed the only cause of her current sadness. I hated that, considering she had mostly good things to say about her life and parents. I know trust is a fickle thing.
Then Brandy convinced me to keep telling Kali’s story. Of course, with her sincere smile, how could I have said no?
