Lighthouses

by Trost, Cameron

  To their left, foamy waves crashed against the beach. To their right, the esplanade was quiet. Only a few drunken voices reached them from the terrace of the Beachfront Hotel.

  Once they had reached the end of the beach, they climbed over black boulders until they found a surfers’ track leading up through the tangle of twisted trees. The walk up the headland was challenging, but once they reached the top, they were rewarded with a spectacular view of the ocean, the beach, and the township.

  There was nobody else around. The only movement was that of the light above them.

  Kevin nodded toward the red-painted wooden door, which was covered by a portico. They jogged over to it and found that it was padlocked.

  ‘Do you reckon you can pick it, dad?’

  ‘I can try. Keep watch for me.’

  Kevin took a pair of latex gloves, a small torch, and a pouch from his backpack. He put the gloves on, switched the torch on, and selected a pick from the pouch.

  No sooner had he shone the torch on the padlock than he turned to Neil in surprise.

  ‘That’s a bit sloppy.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The padlock hasn’t been clicked into place. It just looks like it’s locked.’

  He twisted the padlock and lifted it off before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Neil stayed outside to keep guard.

  A staircase spiralled up into the lighthouse, but it was the other direction that Kevin was interested in. He needed to work out where, if anywhere, there could be a hidden entrance. There was a door to his right, presumably leading to a storage area. That seemed to be the best bet.

  He tried the doorknob. It turned freely and the mechanism clicked.

  Kevin pushed the door open and flashed his torch around the small room. He was about to step inside when a distinctive sound interrupted him. It was exactly like the hooting of an owl, but it wasn’t, of course. It was the call produced by the whistle Neil used to communicate with his father at night. They had been using it for years, ever since Kevin bought it at an antique shop when Neil was just a toddler.

  He dashed outside, keeping the torch pointed at the ground, and closed the door. He placed the padlock back on the door but didn’t lock it.

  ‘What is it, son?’ he whispered.

  ‘I think I can see headlights through the trees.’

  Kevin looked down past the old keeper’s house. A faint glow was fading in and out of view, brushing the tops of the distorted trees.

  ‘Let’s take cover,’ Kevin said.

  They darted into the trees and crouched.

  Before long, the motor of an approaching van could be heard. It was groaning as it struggled up the steep road. The two men kept low as the vehicle slowed and rattled past them. It came to a halt between the lighthouse and the barrier that ran along the cliff edge. On the other side, there was a sheer drop of almost one hundred metres onto ragged volcanic rock and churning water. A young man and woman jumped out of the van and walked over to the barrier. The man climbed onto it, using a coin-operated telescope to help him up. He then pulled the woman up and put his arm around her.

  ‘Well, that’s put an end to tonight’s foray,’ Neil said.

  ‘It has indeed. They’ll be settling in for the night. Let’s head back.’

  They crept further into the trees and found the path leading back to the beach.

  Back in their cabin, Neil asked his father what he had seen in the lighthouse.

  ‘I didn’t have enough time to get a good look, but while we were walking, I thought about everything I noticed in the store room. It seems to be set up as a living quarters and looks as though it gets fairly regular use. There’s a bed against the southern wall, a small desk on a carpet in the middle of the room, a large wooden chest against the western wall, a bench covered with charts against the northern wall, a full-length mirror and a painting of the lighthouse on the eastern wall. There’s also a small drinks cabinet under the painting.

  ‘That’s impressive, dad. But it doesn’t mean much, does it?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘No indication of an entrance to an underground passage?’

  Kevin smiled. ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘It isn’t worth trying again tomorrow night, in that case. The map is probably a load of crap.’

  Kevin shook his head. ‘Don’t give up so easily, Neil. I know a fellow who found a secret opening once, right in the middle of Launceston of all places. It was in a grand old manor. The entrance was hidden behind a longcase clock. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to get through and into a secret room.’

  ‘What did he find?’

  ‘Nothing at all. The room was empty. At least, that was his story. The point is that hidden doorways and secret compartments aren’t as rare as you might think. I’m not giving up on this map just yet.’

  ‘Any ideas where the passage might be?’

  ‘I have a theory or two. We can try them out tomorrow night. Let’s sleep on it for now.’

  #

  They woke up early the following morning and strolled along the esplanade, looking for a decent café, but the only one they noticed was closed. They then ventured into the backstreets, hoping to discover a hidden gem, but after walking the length of several quiet streets, they gave up.

  ‘Let’s sit down a minute,’ Kevin suggested, pointing to where a jacaranda in bloom stood in the churchyard.

  The ground the jacaranda shaded was covered in purple, trumpet-shaped flowers, and a wooden bench stood by its trunk. Separating the churchyard from the street was a low white picket fence with a rusty iron gate. There was a noticeboard beside the gate and its changeable letters read, FOR SALE.

  The men crossed the road and took shelter under the tree. They sat on the bench and drank some water from their aluminium flasks.

  After quenching his thirst and wiping his brow, Kevin turned his attention to the church. It was small and white, and the paintwork was peeling off the wood in places. Its stained glass windows were grimy and there were cobwebs on the bell frame that stood near the entrance. All around the church, the grass was long and thick.

  ‘I’d say the church has been on the market for a while,’ Kevin mused.

  ‘I guess some developer will buy it eventually and build holiday units here.’

  ‘Probably. I wonder where the flock goes for its Sunday sermon.’

  Neil shrugged. ‘There must be another church nearby.’

  Kevin stood and strolled over to the abandoned building. He walked up the steps and kneeled at the door so that he could try to peek through the letter slot. A moment later, he returned to the shade of the tree.

  ‘You thinking of buying it?’ Neil teased. ‘Isn’t treasure hunting satisfying your spiritual needs?’

  ‘Just curious,’ Kevin said. ‘There’s nothing left inside except for a whopping big cross. The joint’s empty. No pews. No organ. Nothing at all.’

  ‘No hidden treasure?’ Neil joked.

  ‘Hidden, maybe.’

  Kevin turned his attention back to the lighthouse. It didn’t seem so mysterious under the hot summer sun, but he knew it would be after dark.

  ‘I could do with a dip,’ Neil said.

  ‘Let’s get going, then.’

  They left the churchyard and headed back toward the beach. A police car passed them on the way. The driver’s window was down and the officer had a bored expression on his long face. He gave the strangers a disinterested nod.

  At the beach, they saw a few surfers riding the big waves caused by a low-pressure system out at sea. They took their shoes off and walked down to the water.

  ‘It’s going to be a big storm tonight,’ Neil pointed out, smiling.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Kevin replied.

  #

  In the evening, they went to the Beachfront Hotel and sat on the terrace, facing the lighthouse. Flashes of lightning could be seen out at sea.

  There were only five other patrons at the pub.
Two weary surfers were sitting at the bar, laughing with the barman, who kept glancing out at the terrace. There was also a burly man with tattoos covering his arms leaning against the bar. He seemed to be listening to the others. Seated at a table close to the toilets was an elderly couple. The waitress was taking their order. Once she had jotted it down, she went over to Kevin and Neil.

  ‘Hi, gents. Having dinner tonight?’ She was an attractive young woman with long black hair and olive skin. Her eyes were sky blue, in contrast with the stormy firmament.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Neil answered with a smile.

  She leaned toward them as she placed menus on the table. The men couldn’t resist admiring her cleavage.

  Once she had gone, they looked at each other. Neil had a wide grin on his face, but his father’s expression was more serious. He was frowning and biting his bottom lip.

  ‘Are you right, dad?’

  ‘Did you see her pendant?’

  Neil chuckled. ‘That’s not what I was looking at.’

  ‘I know. She has a spectacular rack, for sure. But her pendant.’

  ‘Some kind of mirror.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s strange, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know. It might have a deep meaning.’

  ‘A deep meaning,’ Kevin repeated. ‘Just what I was thinking.’

  ‘You think it’s a sign? You haven’t gone all superstitious on me, have you?’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just that it reminded me of the mirror in the store room,’ Kevin explained quietly.

  ‘You think that’s the entrance?’

  ‘It may very well be. Mirrors represented doorways to other planes of existence in ancient times.’

  ‘You’re going all mystical and superstitious. Watch out, dad. We’re going to need clear heads tonight.’

  Kevin nodded.

  When she came back, they found themselves looking at the pendant again. It caught the reflection of a flash of lightning on its surface.

  ‘Ahem.’

  They looked up to find her frowning at them.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Do you have calamari?’ Neil asked.

  She shot him a look of pure disgust. ‘I’m afraid we don’t serve calamari here. We have prawns and oysters though.’

  ‘Prawns will do, won’t they, Neil?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Prawns with mayo.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘The snapper for me,’ Neil said.

  ‘Make that two,’ Kevin added.

  They watched her walk away, admiring the way her hips swayed like seaweed in a gentle current.

  The storm was drawing closer by the minute, and the bolts of lightning were becoming brighter and more defined. They hurried to finish their dinner while the waitress cleared the terrace and closed the shutters.

  ‘It’s going to be a nasty one,’ she mused. ‘You’re staying at the holiday park?’

  ‘Yes. I hope we can make it back in time,’ Kevin replied as he paid the bill.

  ‘If you hurry along now, you should be fine.’

  A brilliant flash of lightning ripped through the air just beyond the breakers and the accompanying crash of thunder sounded three seconds later.

  ‘Let’s make a dash for it,’ Neil said.

  ‘Take care!’ she called as they left.

  But they didn’t run back to their cabin. Neil had parked the van in an alley behind the pub.

  The wind picked up all of a sudden as they drove along the esplanade. To their left, the slender palms lining the beach lurched maniacally. Neil struggled to keep the van steady as mighty gusts of wind buffeted it.

  A small truck was heading into town along the esplanade. The driver dipped his headlights as he sped past. Seconds later, a car came out of nowhere and overtook them before disappearing into the darkness again.

  ‘Everybody’s in a panic to take shelter,’ Neil observed. ‘One thing’s for sure. There won’t be any horny backpackers getting in our way up there tonight.’

  The wind grew in intensity as they reached the headland. The twisted sheoaks thrashed about as the van crawled up the road to the lighthouse. At the top, the force of the gale was so great it felt as though they would be blown into the raging sea.

  As predicted, the backpackers were no longer there. Neil and Kevin were alone.

  Lightning flashed overhead, making a mockery of the lighthouse’s beam for a split second. The accompanying crack of thunder rattled the van.

  ‘Bloody hell! Pull up by the door. Close as you can get. No need to sneak around on a night like this,’ Kevin said, pulling a pair of latex gloves on.

  He had to use all his strength to get the van door open against the wind. Once he had squeezed out, it slammed shut behind him. Keeping his head down and covering his face with his hands, he staggered over to the door. He checked the padlock and was relieved to find that it was as he had left it the previous night.

  He turned back to the van and realised it was all he could see out there. It looked as though the portico and the van were the only two objects in existence, held in place by invisible anchors in a dark and turbulent world.

  Neil fought to leave the van. Lightning struck, dangerously close, as he stumbled over to where his father waited by the door.

  For an instant, Kevin’s heart froze. The flash had framed his son like a photograph. It reminded him of a snapshot of Neil as a toddler, small and vulnerable as he learned to walk.

  ‘Let’s get inside!’ Neil gasped.

  Kevin closed and bolted the door behind them before switching his torch on. He shone it toward the stairs spiralling up to the lantern room. Then, he swung it around to the door that lead to the store room.

  Neil switched his electric lamp on and followed his father inside.

  They stood without uttering a word for a minute, while the wind made the lighthouse howl, and thunder resonated. They studied the room. It was just as Kevin had described.

  ‘The mirror.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘It has to be,’ Kevin said, stepping toward it. ‘A doorway to another world.’

  He touched the frame, pressing it here and there, feeling for a secreted latch or button. Neil watched him patiently, hoping it would work.

  ‘Don’t just stand there, Neil. I might be wrong. Ferret around.’

  Neil inspected the room. He looked under the carpet in case there was a trapdoor concealed. No such luck. He opened the wooden chest and furrowed through the tangle of spare parts and rusted trinkets inside. Nothing. He moved on to the drinks cabinet and decided they could do with nip to calm their nerves.

  ‘There’s only one bottle here, but it’s a full bottle of The Kraken. Good rum. Want a drop, dad?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Kevin replied without turning his attention away from the mirror frame.

  Neil opened the cabinet and took the bottle of spiced rum. On its label was a giant octopus with probing tentacles. He took a swig and then handed it to Kevin.

  ‘That hits the spot,’ Neil said.

  ‘I wish I could hit the spot,’ Kevin mused.

  ‘Have you tried sliding it?’

  ‘Sliding it?’

  ‘Yeah. Try just sliding the whole thing.’

  ‘It can’t slide, Neil. There’s not enough room on either side.’

  ‘No. Upward. Try sliding it up.’

  Kevin held the mirror by the frame and pushed upward.

  He heard a loud click.

  ‘What was that?’ Neil asked. ‘I’m right!’

  Kevin grinned and pushed again. The mirror glided up to expose a doorway.

  ‘Good one, Neil!’

  ‘This is incredible! So, it has to be true. Captain Redmond’s treasure is real.’

  Kevin flashed his torch into the opening. A rope ladder with metal rungs was attached to the wall. He followed the ladder down with his torch and found that there was a rock shelf several metres below, but he couldn’t see where it led.
r />   ‘You want the honours, Neil?’

  Neil took another swig of rum before handing the bottle to his father. He stepped through the doorway and climbed onto the ladder.

  ‘Watch out for the ghost of Captain Redmond down there,’ Kevin joked.

  Once he had reached the bottom, Neil stepped out of view. His lamplight quickly faded away.

  ‘What can you see?’ Kevin called.

  There was no reply.

  ‘Neil?’ His voice echoed down the narrow shaft. He took a swig of rum while he waited for his son’s reply, but only the howling of the wind reached his ears.

  It must have been after a minute or two that he noticed the lamplight growing stronger again.

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  Neil reappeared. He had a mysterious grin on his rum-soaked lips.

  ‘What’s down there?’ Kevin asked.

  ‘Well, I’ll put it this way. They weren’t wrong when they called this place Hollow Head. There’s a passage about four or five metres long that looks like it was chiselled out. That must have given the poor bastards a blister or two. After that, the passage opens into a kind of fissure that leads downward. It appears to have been levelled out and widened in parts. I couldn’t see how far down it goes, but it smells of salt water in there, and something else too, a kind of oily smell.’

  ‘We’d better take a look then, hadn’t we?’

  Kevin stepped through the opening and climbed down the ladder. An almighty crash of thunder sounded as he reached the bottom.

  They followed the passage and continued down along the fissure. The distinct smell of salt water grew stronger as they descended.

  They could no longer hear the storm that raged outside or feel even the slightest breeze, but there was a subtle noise, muffled and rhythmic.

  ‘Stop a minute,’ Kevin said.

  Neil, just in front of him, came to a halt.

  They listened.

  The sound came from below, still some distance away. It was pulsing.

  ‘Water,’ Kevin ventured. ‘It’s water lapping against rocks.’