Thirteen Days By Sunset Beach

by Ramsey Campbell

  Their voices were muffled by the fleshy obstacle that filled the entrance to the alcove. Ray was appalled by not knowing how close they were—not knowing whether Doug was on his way to find him. His terror clarified his thoughts, and he realised he might have a weapon. He thrust his phone at the advancing face, shining the flashlight beam into the eyes. He didn't know he meant to speak until words spilled out of his mouth. "Let us live and we'll let you live."

  The eyes shrivelled into the head, and the towering body dragged itself back into the passage. Ray thought it had given him the chance to flee until he saw it was only making space for an arm to reach into the alcove. The writhing fingers groped for him and closed around his wrist. They felt as they looked: like cold dead grubs. As Ray jerked free with a convulsion that involved his entire body he almost dropped the phone that the enormous hand was searching for. The eyes were venturing forth again like snails emerging from their shells, and this time they didn't wither so much when he aimed the beam at them. As Ray bruised his shoulders against the unyielding wall he remembered he had Natalie's phone too, but how much difference could that make? He had a last despairing idea, and fumbled for her mobile as the mass that had crammed itself into the alcove slithered forward to let the hand at him. The fingers hadn't quite found him when he heard Doug calling him again. His son sounded closer—distressingly close.

  "Stay there," Ray yelled, struggling to wield the second phone with his left hand. He couldn't simply use his own mobile when he would need to switch off the light first, leaving him with Skiá in the dark. As he managed to retreat a very few more inches, if even that far, the arm emerged further from the wad of flesh, and the fingers squirmed in search of him. He was so desperate to avoid them that he nearly touched the wrong icon on the mobile—the one that would activate the phone—which, in the midst of his breathless panic, made him yearn to be speaking to Sandra. Then he succeeded in activating the camera, and held it towards the face that was bulging at him in such haste that he nearly lost hold of the phone, he set off the flash.

  The eyes wizened and the face recoiled, sinking into the mass of flesh. The colossal body flinched into the passage, not by any means as far as Ray would have liked. All the same, this looked as if it was his only chance. As he lurched out of the alcove he saw the eyes beginning to stir in their sockets. The hands had jerked up to cover them, but the width of the body meant they weren't even nearly within reach. Ray thrust the camera at them again and used the flash. As the eyes dwindled, the arm closer to the steps swung towards him, and the soft cold almost fluid fingers brushed his cheek. But the body had withdrawn further, and there was space for Ray to sidle past, scraping his shoulders on the wall. He dashed around the bend and saw Doug almost at the bottom of the steps. "I said I was coming," Ray gasped. "I'm here. Go up."

  "What was all the noise? What did you photograph?"

  "I'll show you both when we're out of here. Don't leave your sister like that. I told you, go up."

  He switched off the camera and shoved it in his pocket as Doug started upwards. Ray was mutely urging his son to climb faster in the hope of keeping pace with him when Doug swung around with one hand on the wall. "What did I just hear?"

  "Nothing," Ray protested, but perhaps the truth was in his eyes. "Just water, like you said."

  Doug hesitated before resuming his climb, and Ray felt as if this let the darkness or its contents grow more solid behind them. In one sense he was glad if their footfalls were blotting out any further sounds that might tempt Doug to investigate, but he kept having to glance back to reassure himself that they weren't being followed. Nothing was visible except the dark, and the only noise he could hear was the lapping of ripples in the cave, even if it put him in mind of a huge puffy tongue licking bloated lips.

  As the flashlight beams found Natalie she began gingerly to climb. Despite the relative silence behind him, Ray had to resist exhorting her to put on speed, though it wasn't her fault that he was slowing down. Each step upwards seemed to rob him of more energy, until he felt as if he were being dragged back by the darkness—by its insubstantial weight that was gathering on him. He could have thought he was being drained of strength by the hunger of the dark, which would never let him reach the light again.

  At last Natalie and Doug emerged into the subterranean corridor full of cells, and Ray toiled after them. Making their variously hampered way along it took rather more time than he cared for, despite the silence at his back. There was still the upper flight of steps to conquer, and before he reached the top Ray's entire body was shaking with his pulse, which seemed to be stealing his breath. He had to lean against the wall in the top corridor for some minutes while he regained a modicum of strength, and he felt barely capable of helping Doug support Natalie down the steps from the monastery. Just the same, as the blackened trees rose up in front of them like a reminder of the buried darkness, Ray grew more than eager to be away from the place and what it harboured. "I'll drive," he said.

  "May I have my phone now?" Natalie said, having sunk with a wince onto the back seat of the jeep.

  "You were going to show us what you found," Doug reminded his father, taking the seat beside him.

  "It's on there," Ray said and handed Natalie her mobile. "Look for yourselves."

  She opened the album and examined the most recent image while Ray started the car. Having looked at the previous photograph, she passed Doug the phone. "There's nothing," she said.

  She was gazing at Ray in the mirror, searching for his reaction. As Doug peered at the mobile Ray glanced at the screen. The most recent photographs showed a blurred image of the cave off the lowest passage—no more than a dark vague emptiness. "You were right," he said as he sent the jeep along the track towards the unblackened trees. "There was nothing at all."

  The Last Day: 2 September

  "You may go first, William," Julian said. The boy stepped forward with enough drama for a school play and handed Evadne the bouquet tied up with a ribbon. "Thank you for having us."

  "He picked those for you himself."

  "He wanted to give you his own present," Natalie said. "And Jonquil donated the ribbon."

  "I haven't worn any for years," Jonquil wanted everyone to know. 'It was hiding in my case from a long time ago."

  "Well, you are kind," Evadne told her and William. "I shall put them somewhere."

  Ray had a passing notion that she meant or ought to mean the graveyard. Might she place them on the graves of visitors who had never left the island? Just now all that mattered was that Sandra and the teenagers were about to leave if. When Evadne laid the flowers on the counter in her office Julian cleared his throat as a preamble to planting a fifty-euro note beside them. "For your hospitality. From the family," he said.

  Ray wondered if this sounded like ensuring she didn't think he personally valued her that much. "From all of us," Doug said.

  "You are kind again." It wasn't clear exactly who she was addressing, nor when she said "You will come back."

  "You've got to be asking that?" Pris said. "We've had an eventful stay."

  "I've liked my time here," Sandra said.

  "If we made you welcome, tell your friends."

  This seemed to silence most of her listeners, leaving Tim to promise "I'll tell mine."

  As Jonquil nodded, darkening her sunglasses with the shadow of her hat brim, Evadne said "And come back for your memories."

  "You've all given me a few I wouldn't mind revisiting," Sandra said.

  Ray was troubled by a sense that she'd misunderstood Evadne somehow. As he thought of asking what Evadne meant, Julian said "I believe our transport is here."

  A man and woman at least as old as Ray were the only passengers so far. While the driver piled luggage in the belly of the bus Sam ushered the newcomers on board. Did she seem oddly relieved by the sight of them or to be sending them home? Ray took Sandra's hand to help her up the steps onto the coach, only to feel as though she was lending him some of her vigour.
When she squeezed his hand he wished she would put whatever thoughts she was having into words, but he suspected that mightn't be advisable while the family could hear.

  William waved goodbye if not a mime of hoping to return. As the coach left the Sunny View behind, Ray glanced at the streetlamp where he'd so often noticed the spider. He couldn't see it or its web, and he wondered if they were among the aspects of Vasilema that were seldom visible by day. Would they have shown up in a photograph? Surely they ought to, since they'd cast a shadow—and then he remembered that the figures under the lamp had cast one, which didn't reassure him at all.

  Soon the bus arrived at Sunset Beach. As it collected passengers Ray recognised accommodations where people had failed to show up for a tour they'd booked. Like Sandra and the teenagers, and despite the overcast sky, most of the young folk wore sunglasses and outsize hats. Quite a few were visibly reluctant to leave the shade of trees or awnings, and some left it as late as possible to sprint to the coach as though fleeing a storm. While Ray didn't look too hard for bites, he noticed several. "That's the last," Sam eventually told the driver and picked up her microphone. "Have we all had a good stay? Looking forward to next years?"

  The chorus of agreement was mostly a mumble. "I'll tell you when we're coming to the ferry," she announced. "Looks as if some of us would like a snooze."

  Ray saw she didn't mean just Doug and Julian, though both of them were dozing in their seatbelts. As Sam laid down the microphone Sandra leaned across the aisle to murmur to Natalie and Pris. "I'm sorry I was a pain last night. I've changed my mind."

  Natalie glanced around to see that Tim and Jonquil had set about distracting William from the conversation. "So long as you're happy in yourself."

  "I should have believed the photographs you brought back." Sandra looked ashamed and then more so. "How's your ankle now?" she said.

  "I told you, better than it was. Honestly, don't worry, and certainly don't blame yourself."

  "I do for making Doug and Julian have to go on patrol again, though."

  "They were just being men," Pris said. "Nat and I offered to keep watch but they were having none of it."

  "You could have, couldn't you," Sandra said and gazed at Ray. "Especially since there wasn't anyone to keep a lookout for."

  "We've agreed to that now," Ray said.

  They had, but only so as to reassure the family. Last night Sandra had pretended she believed the uninhabited photographs had been taken just to disprove his fancies and her own. He'd already told her how he'd ventured into the depths beneath the monastery, but had stopped short of describing what he'd found. He'd heard the movements of something that still lived down there, far from any light: that was enough for her to know. He didn't want to associate it with her, however remotely. Whenever he'd wakened in the night, and too often while he was asleep, he'd seen the dwarfed although swollen arms poking out of the immense bloated body, reaching to drag him towards the pallid practically eyeless face, the fanged voracious mouth.

  As the coach passed the shrine that marked the start of the path to the beach and the cave, he saw the image of St Titus brandishing his rotten splintered lance, the cocoon bulging out of the spear. It seemed to sum up the secret of Vasilema—the ineffectual dead saint nurturing the occupant of the cell under the monastery that bore the saint's name, the saviour only managing to prolong Skiá's unnatural life by figuring in rituals that epitomised resignation. Before the coach left the path behind, Ray had the horrid thought that the pallid body concealed somewhere in the darkness beneath the landscape was all too reminiscent of a cocoon. Suppose it was ripe to burst open, releasing a multitude of thirsty progeny? He managed to shudder the notion away, hoping Sandra wouldn't ask why he'd grimaced at the window. The truth about Skiá was dreadful enough, though perhaps not so awful that he couldn't bear it for her sake.

  He did his best to concentrate on her needs until he was distracted by a throaty rattle from the microphone Sam had picked up. "We're nearly at the ferry," she said. "Make sure you all have your tickets to show."

  As the coach drove down to the harbour Ray saw masts rise and fall as if they were making a bid to tug the clouds lower. Among them the ferry was less agitated, almost still. The coach driver released the doors, but even when he opened the luggage compartment some of the passengers seemed by no means eager to leave the bus. Once they'd retrieved their luggage they made a dash for the ferry, where they took refuge in the enclosed saloon, having barely waited for the crew to check their tickets. As he and Natalie competed at limping to the gangplank, Ray observed that Sandra and the teenagers weren't in quite such of a hurry to reach the saloon as the contingent from Sunset Beach had been. It was enough to let him murmur words under his breath.

  The family had hardly found seats in the saloon when William said "Are we coming back next year?"

  "Don't you want to see more of the world?" Ray hoped aloud.

  "I wouldn't mind coming here again," Tim said.

  "Nor me," said Jonquil.

  As Julian looked ready to object Sandra said "You can't say what you'll want a year from now, can you? You shouldn't, either."

  Having seen what she intended, Ray joined in. "There's so much more to your lives."

  "What are you going to be doing before then?" Sandra asked them.

  "Some friends and me, we've started a band," Tim said. "And I've got my art project for school."

  "Mine's all the history of our town, my project," Jonquil said. "And I'm being Ariel in the play."

  Ray thought they were starting to recollect their lives off the island. He was certain there was more to them—surely enough to divert them from yearning to return to Vasilema. He and Sandra would be striving to ensure they didn't, though without admitting why. As the ferry edged away from the wharf he gazed out at the town, and then he leaned close to the window. Dozens of watchers had gathered beyond the harbour, peering out of the streets that were shaded by overgrown awnings. While the faces were too distant for Ray to be able to make out their features, he was sure that if they were closer he would recognise several of the watchers. Even at that distance he fancied that he sensed their thirst, which all of them were suffering on behalf of the denizen of the dark. When he glanced at Sandra he glimpsed longing in her eyes, but the instant she noticed that he was looking at her she smiled and clasped his hand.

  The ferry swung away from the harbour, and the faces withdrew into the streets on the hill as though retreating into a lair. For a while he listened to the chugging of the engines, until he began to feel as soporific as Doug and Julian continued to be. The ferry had been at sea for most of half an hour when Sandra said "What did we do with all those days?"

  She sounded wistful but also not far from confused. "Oh, mum," Doug said.

  "So long as they gave you some benefit," Julian said.

  "You said they did you good," Natalie reminded her, and Pris contributed "We could see they did."

  They all must think her age was catching up with her, but Ray knew how wrong they were. He'd seen Tim and Jonquil agree with her question, and they might have supported it if Doug and the others hadn't responded first. So this was how Vasilema enticed back its visitors: not to relive their memories but in search of them, if they even realised. Crossing water erased the memories—that was one of the hints the family had been given on the island. At once he hoped it could do more, and took out his phone to activate the camera while he trotted down the aisle to face his family. "Is there enough light for that?" Pris said.

  "Well soon find out." However hard he squinted at the miniature screen, Ray wasn't sure. He took one photograph and used the flash to take another, which made several of the other passengers grimace despite their sunglasses. "You're right," he said, having examined the images. "I'll try for a better one later."

  He was able to believe it would indeed be better. While Sandra and the teenagers weren't in focus, he was certain that their outlines were significantly sharper than the last time he'd tr
ied to photograph them. "Some people aren't helping," Julian said. "Do you seriously still need to keep those on, Jonquil?"

  Jonquil snatched her hat off, further tousling her hair, and dropped her sunglasses into it. "Maybe not just now."

  "Well then," Sandra said, "I don't think I do either."

  She removed her hat and glasses as Tim did. "Welcome back to the light," Natalie said to them all.

  Ray heard more than she'd meant, but wondered if this was a little premature. "I'm just going up for a last look," he said.

  Nobody followed him up the stairs to the open deck, and so he couldn't judge whether Sandra and the teenagers were still wary of sunlight. As he emerged onto the deck, where a very few people were seated at the rail, the clouds unveiled the sun. It felt like sailing free of the shadow of Vasilema, but he knew that its influence lingered within Sandra and Jonquil and Tim. The clouds seemed to shrink back towards Vasilema, and he realised that he was seeing the entire length of the island for the first time in his life. He thought the elongated mound looked like a colossal grave, but it was more than that too. He watched it sink beneath the horizon as if it were retreating into hiding. As it vanished, drawing the clouds with it, he repeated the words he'd breathed before stepping off the island, and wondered how much he was inviting for himself as well. "Let us come back," he murmured like a prayer.