Thirteen Days By Sunset Beach

by Ramsey Campbell

  "Looks as if it's religious," Pris said.

  "Maybe they aren't supposed to look at sinners," Doug said, "which could mean anyone at Sunset Beach."

  Ray thought this might be so, since they left their eyes uncovered when the bus reached the next village, where a good many people were to be seen. After that the road wound between fields not too far from the sea and past the occasional lonely bus shelter, until Doug craned forward and then poked the bellpush on the neatest metal pole. "We're here," he said.

  He might have been telling the driver, who seemed in no hurry to brake. As Doug led the procession up the aisle the bus slowed, halting with an exhausted gasp some yards past a rudimentary stone shelter. The doors stayed shut as the driver turned to him. "Where you want?"

  "We're off to the beach."

  The man's eyebrows, outposts of his shaggy black moustache, seemed to darken his eyes. "Sunset it better."

  "You're saying we should see it there?" Pris said.

  The driver's eyebrows hunched lower. "Where you came from."

  "We'll be back there for the sunset," Doug said.

  The driver might have been shrugging as he released the doors, which parted with a sigh that could almost have denoted resignation. All the women in black made the sign again while the party left the bus. "Well, we're nothing if not blessed," Sandra said as Ray took her hand to help her down.

  The doors thumped shut and the bus rumbled away, disgorging an oily grey cloud. Julian planted his hands on his hips and watched the bus vanish around a bend before he said "You're sure this is the right place, Douglas."

  "A bit late to ask if it's not, don't you think?" As Natalie met this with her incredulous face—Ray remembered how often they'd performed such a routine when they were Tim's and Jonquil's age—Doug added "It's the only stop with a shrine by it, and I found it on the map."

  The roadside shrine might have been marking or guarding the start of the path that led across a grassy field. It was the kind of memorial Ray and Sandra had often seen in Greece, a small glass-fronted wooden hutch standing on four stilts. Whoever it commemorated, their curled-up photograph had fallen on its face beside the extinguished stub of a candle in a tin holder. A grim-lipped icon of St Titus stood above the photograph, flourishing a lance. "What's he doing?" William said.

  "It's a way of remembering where someone died, Will."

  Natalie gave Doug a censorious look. "It's showing respect, William."

  "Yes, but what's the man doing? Why is he waving his spear?"

  This brought Sandra and the teenagers out of the bus shelter. Was the icon lenticular? Certainly the shaft of the lance appeared to be somehow unstable. Doug stooped close and then straightened up not much less than hastily. "Something's alive in there, Will."

  The lance was split, Ray saw. A white mass bulged out of it like stuffing from a damaged toy. The mass was a cocoon from which dozens of tiny pale spiders were swarming. Natalie clutched William's shoulders to move him aside and leaned her hands on the frame of the window, only to recoil with a cry. Spiders were streaming through a crack beneath the pane and down the left front leg of the shrine. "Stay well away, William," she urged. "They could be anywhere."

  "It's just life, Will." Pris said to reassure him. "It grows anywhere it can.

  Tim crouched lower at the shrine than his father had and nudged Jonquil. "Being a saint didn't do him much good."

  "That's no excuse for not behaving properly," Julian said.

  "Nobody isn't that I can see," Doug said and turned to the overgrown path.

  A hot breeze came to meet them all. It raided through the parched brown calf-high grass beside the narrow path like a flight of creatures lying low, and Ray saw Natalie pretend not to notice. A few solitary trees shrilling with cicadas punctuated the track. William struggled through the grass to overtake Doug and ran to the first tree, but as he looked for the insects the incessant sound dodged to the next one. "You won't see them, William," Sandra called, "unless they want you to."

  When he dashed to the second tree it tell silent while the noise recommenced at the first one. The game seemed to frustrate him as much as it amused him, and he clenched his fists as he sprinted to the third tree. "Don't go too far ahead, William," Natalie shouted.

  Though her voice was dwarfed by the huge blue sky, it appeared to halt the boy. Ray thought he'd found a cicada on the tree until they reached it. While William was gazing at the scaly trunk, there was no insect, just an image someone had carved. "It's him again," William said.

  It was indeed St Titus, so crudely outlined that only the upthrust lance made him unmistakable. Ray glanced back at Sandra, but she and the teenagers were lingering under the last tree. How could he have been so thoughtless that he'd gone ahead? "Are you all right?" Pris called.

  "They're just keeping me company," Sandra said and advanced along the path.

  Everyone apart from William waited for the stragglers. As he reached the next tree, displacing the screech of cicadas, the boy shouted "He's here as well."

  Ray let Sandra and the teenagers go ahead, since they seemed eager to reach the tree. "He's poking something," William announced.

  "William," Natalie said in case his observation called for a rebuke.

  Once Ray was close enough he saw another carving. This one was cruder still and possibly unfinished, since the opponent the figure had pierced with his lance was too shapeless to identify. Had there been carvings on the trees nearest the road? William was already dashing to the next one, silencing its stridulation. "I've found him," he cried.

  "Don't go any further, William," his father called. "You're nearly at the cliff."

  In fact the edge was several hundred yards beyond the tree, on which another image had been hacked out of the wood. The foe skewered by the lance looked as unsure of its own shape as a cloud, and the saint wasn't much clearer. William hopped from foot to impatient foot while he waited for someone to head for the cliff, and followed Doug so closely that he might have been tempted to slip past him. Doug caught hold of his hand as they left the path, and leaned over the edge of the cliff. "Here's your beach, mum," he called, "and your cave."

  Ray took a step along the path and glanced back. "No need to wait for us," Sandra said more sharply than he thought was called for. "We're coming."

  Doug waved to her and the teenagers under the tree. "Plenty of shade down there."

  "I thought we were here for the sun," Julian said and strode towards the slope down to the beach. "Come along, William."

  Ray found Natalie waiting for him at the end of the path. "Don't think too badly of Julian, will you?" she murmured while nobody else could hear. "He needs a holiday if any of us do. They've cut back at the company and he's doing two people's jobs. Tell mum when you're alone, could you?"

  In that moment he was close to telling Natalie a great deal. Then she hurried to catch up with her husband and son, and Ray watched Sandra and her young companions advance along the path. He felt he'd overlooked something, but try as he might he couldn't bring it to mind. Was this yet another unhappy symptom of age? He gave up when Sandra reached him, and took her hand to usher her to the beach. As long as they were on the wide gentle slope he was able to imagine he could keep her safe.

  ***

  "I think he's finished, William," Jonquil said. "What are you going to call him?"

  The boy was scooping up sand with his hands to replenish the face of the supine figure he and Jonquil had built in the shadow of the cliff, a shadow that had merged with the beach since the sky had clouded over. Whenever William succeeded in shaping the features the hot breeze erased them, which no longer amused him as much as it had. "I thought he was going to be the man in the box," he said.

  "We call that a shrine," Sandra said before Julian could. "And he's called St Titus."

  "If that's who he is, William," Jonquil said, "we ought to find his spear."

  The boy surveyed the beach, which offered only sand and pebbles polished by the waves.
"What's he got to fight, then?" he was eager to hear.

  "I don't think that's necessary," his father said and gazed at Jonquil. "No good comes of bringing badness."

  William made a last attempt to consolidate the rudimentary upturned face but gave up once the eyeholes he'd poked began to crumble. "Thank you for helping me make him, Jonquil," he said.

  "I wanted to show you. My daddy used to make them with me."

  As William's father conveyed how quiet he was remaining, Sandra said "I don't know what's the matter with my brain today. It must be too much sun."

  She added a weak smile as though she'd made a joke she didn't fully understand. "Why," Ray had to ask, "what's wrong?"

  "We should have bought somebody some beach toys when we were in the supermarket. I'd like to while I have the chance."

  "I'm certain you've plenty of time left," Julian said.

  Ray felt as if the response he and Sandra were withholding had stolen his breath. He was searching for words to say before the silence tarried too long when William said "Can I go for a swim now?"

  "Please may you?" Once he'd heard the required phrase Julian said "I expect your lunch will have gone down by now. Swim out to your mother."

  "I'll come with you, William," Jonquil said at once.

  "Are you coming too, grandad? We'll teach you how to swim."

  "I don't think even you can do that for me, William. Maybe I'll brave the water in a while."

  The boy dashed into the shallow waves as though to demonstrate how it was done and threw himself flat as soon as the sea grew deeper. As Jonquil set about racing him to their mother, Julian said "If you'll excuse me I'll join them."

  "Do you mind if I go out too, Ray?"

  "How could I mind?" Ray said and clasped Sandra's hand, barely refraining from squeezing too hard. "You enjoy everything you can."

  As Julian strode into the water she limped after him. Ray was watching her venture deeper when she stumbled, falling full length. He lurched helplessly to his feet and was about to yell to somebody to go to her—Tim was closest, and had left his awkwardness behind the moment he'd immersed himself—when she regained her old grace and surged forward through the water. He could have thought she'd grown almost as fluid as the waves. He mustn't panic just because he couldn't follow, not when she had the family around her, but he was dismayed to think she was out of his reach.

  He did his best to relish the pleasure she was taking in the swim, but found he couldn't bear to watch her growing more remote. There wasn't much to distract him on the beach. Apart from clothes and backpacks abandoned on towels he was alone except for the figure made of sand. Most of both the holes it had for eyes had gone, and the nose had collapsed, while the mouth dwindled as he watched. As it vanished from the left side of the face he heard William call "Please may I go in the cave?"

  "Just give me a few minutes," Julian said, "and I'll see if it's safe for you."

  Ray saw how he could be some use to everyone. "I'll go and look," he shouted.

  "Will you be all right by yourself, dad?" Doug called.

  "I'm not past it quite yet. I'll be fine," Ray told anyone who was concerned, and sat forward with a groan he hoped nobody heard. At least the arthritic twinge that made him flinch distracted him from taking his son's words as an omen. Once he'd fastened the straps of his sandals he had to kneel in order to struggle to his feet and plod along the beach.

  The pale sand gave way to ribbed slabs of rock a few hundred yards from the cave. At first Ray was able to stride across the grey rock, but then waves rose to meet him. He had to take so much care on the increasingly slippery surface that he felt barely competent to walk. He wished he'd worn his trainers, which would have lent him more confidence. He inched across the rock to plant a hand against the stony cliff, and hoped none of the swimmers noticed his difficulties. The support of the cliff let him feel not quite so vulnerable, capable of moving less like a geriatric. When he reached the cave he leaned on a projecting rock beside the mouth and peered in.

  While the mouth was wide and high enough for a ferry to enter, the clear water was so shallow that he could see the stony floor. From this side of the entrance it looked possible for even Ray to clamber along the rocks above the water to a bend in the cave. He'd undertaken to look out for William, and perhaps he'd meant to give Julian a break. He let go of the handhold and grabbed the next one, and stepped into the cave.

  A stony chill closed around him at once, and so did the sound of water. A hollow echo multiplied the lapping of ripples, which sent up light to drift over the ridges of the walls and roof. The seaweed that bordered the rocks underfoot was borrowing restlessness from the waves. The slimy growths gave him yet another reason to take his time, along with the need to keep waiting for his vision to catch up with the dimness so that he could search for footholds on the uneven narrow ridge. He had only started to make headway around the bend when the ridge sloped downwards, vanishing underwater a few yards ahead.

  Ray was clutching at the wall with both hands by the time he reached the last unsubmerged inches of the ridge. Water slopped over his sandals to drench his ankles, and he couldn't see how far the ridge extended underwater, let alone whether it offered him any footing. Even if he didn't feel safe, he needed to go further to see what lay around the bend. At least he had his swimming trunks on—trunks for walking in the sea, in his case. He took a breath that roused a faint echo, and then he crouched on all fours to grip the ridge with his shivery fingers and let himself down into the water.

  While the waves had chilled his feet, he wasn't prepared for how cold an immersion would be. An icy ache raced up his legs and seemed to clench around his stomach. Wasn't this enough to warn William against? But the boy and the rest of them could well be used to the temperature of the sea by now, which meant just Ray was weak. The toes of his sandals scrabbled at the submerged wall, and he couldn't judge how deep the water might be. He bruised his fingers on the ridge as he lowered himself, not fast but excessively fast. When the water clamped his hips he felt his penis shrivel, and his gasp echoed through the cave. He twisted around in a flurry of water to see if he'd alarmed anyone, only to find that the bend had already blocked his view out of the cave. All the dim light came from reflections on the nervous waves. The loss of his family—even of the sight of them—disconcerted him so much that he didn't immediately grasp that his feet had found the cave floor.

  It felt no more secure to walk on than the ridge had. Ray kept one hand on the ridge as he ventured forward until the arm was submerged up to the wrist, forcing him to stoop sideways, and then he groped for handholds higher up the wall. The ripples he was making surrounded him with echoes that seemed to render distance audible—the remoteness of the beach. Just enough light reached around the bend to let him make out some of the way ahead.

  Beyond the bend the cave grew several times as wide and extended further than he could be sure of. Traces of light almost too feeble for the name fluttered under the roof, and some faint illumination must be reaching the far end of the cavern, if that was the end. Certainly Ray thought he saw movement there, an extensive whitish glimpse that immediately withdrew into the dark. A high-pitched giggle distracted him, a sound that seemed more senile than he wanted ever to be, but of course it was one of the watery echoes that were lending the cave a kind of life. As his vision started to cope with the dark he became aware of a pale shape in the water to his left, against the wall he was following. It was a tangle of vegetation, which meant he needn't have recoiled, sending dim ripples into the cave. While the clump of pallid weeds did resemble the top half of a scrawny figure with its hands raised, it was stirring only with the movement of the water. As it bobbed up and down it put him in mind of somebody eager to catch a ball, and he wondered how it would look to William.

  He had a feeling that Natalie and Julian mightn't like the similarity. Perhaps even William wouldn't if it or his parents made him nervous. His grandfather was meant to be seeing the place was safe,
and Ray supposed this ought to include establishing exactly what the object was. Sliding his hand along the rough wall, he shuffled inch by inch through the dark water.

  He was advancing into blackness. Such illumination as there was—more like a memory of light than any aid to seeing—fell short of this stretch of the wall. He could have used the flashlight on his mobile, but however waterproof the phone was claimed to be, he didn't want to test that more than was essential. He groped along the wall and edged his feet over slippery submerged rock. Seaweed fingered his shivering legs, and once a pebbly protrusion sprouted limbs beneath his hand before scuttling down the wall to plop into the water. The object he was trying to discern kept nodding what would have been its head as though to encourage his approach. He'd inched within a few yards of it, and was starting to marvel at how nearly human its shape remained even at this distance, when it spoke his name.

  Ray stumbled backwards, and his feet skidded from under him. His fall would break some of his bones, if he didn't drown from panicking in the dark. He sprawled on his back in the water, which surged into his eyes and filled his nostrils, denying him any breath. He threw out a hand under the water, stubbing his fingers on the jagged wall. He managed to grab the rock despite the throbbing of his fingers and hauled himself to his feet. As he struggled to stand on his tremulous legs while he spat and spluttered and fought for breath, ripples and their giggling echoes swarmed away from him. His ears were so waterlogged that at first he wasn't sure he heard the voice repeat his name.

  He was even more uncertain where it was in the echoing dark. As he poked at his ears and tried to shake them clear of water it said "Can you hear me? Are you in difficulties?"

  By now he couldn't mistake Julian. He turned in the water as fast as he dared and saw a succession of ripples precede the swimmer into the larger cavern. "I'm quite all right," he felt bound to declare.

  "I thought it would be best to see for myself," Julian said, presumably not about Ray, and jerked his head up. "What's that behind you?"