The Shore (Leisure Fiction)

by Robert Dunbar

  Softly, the girl began to weep. "I love Ramsey."

  "Yes." Kit dropped her voice to a gentle murmur. "Of course you do. He's your brother. But he's sick. You know he's sick. He hurts people. We have to get help for him. You understand? Before he hurts you."

  "You won't let Perry hit me?"

  "It's Ramsey...you know he'll do something bad to you when he comes back. And to me too. You don't want that to happen, do you? Look at me. I'm your friend, Stella. The only reason I'm here is to help you. You don't want Ramsey to hurt me, do you? Well, then you have to get up now. Do you hurt anywhere? Can you walk? Did he give you something? Make you take something?" Shock waves coruscated through her body. It was hopeless. God only knew what the girl had been through, and she might well be drugged. Despairingly, Kit strained against the ropes that scored her wrists. Slow movement across the room caught her attention.

  The girl wobbled to her feet with a strange fluidity. She seemed faintly puzzled as she watched her own arms and legs, and each slow gesture--the trailing of a fingertip to her face, the listening tilt of her head--melted into a profound lassitude that suffused her. "...don't know what..." As she tottered into the light, her shoulders slumped.

  "No, don't collapse! Stay on your feet. Look at me! Here! Come around behind me." A trickle of hope began to course through her. "Get me out of this. Quick!"

  The girl's manner still seemed dreamlike, but she stumbled closer. "I know this place."

  "Hurry!"

  "He hurt you, didn't he?" She staggered. "Your head's bleeding. All red in your hair. Pretty. Where's Perry?"

  "Thank you." She swallowed. "You're pretty too." Fighting panic, she forced something like a smile onto her face. Perhaps the girl had been driven as mad as her brothers, or perhaps she was in some kind of shock. When she spoke again, it was as though to a small child. "The ropes. You have to..."

  "Do you have boyfriends?"

  "What? Sure. Why not?" She repressed a hysterical laugh. "Dozens. And a pretty girl like you--you must have a lot of boyfriends too. Now, please..."

  "No!" The girl's face twisted. "They never let me. Daddy says..."

  "Please, just listen, untie me before he comes back. I'll get you away from here. I'll take care of you. I promise." She felt her tenuous control slipping: already tears pooled, blurring the room. "Stella?" Footsteps sounded behind her. "What...?" She felt tugging, sharp pressure. "No! No, stop it! That's not the way!"

  "I can't." The voice sounded sorrowful, and long tresses brushed Kit's cheek.

  "Then find something to cut it with. Hurry! Look over there on that table."

  The girl seemed to move a bit more steadily on her feet.

  "Do you see anything?" Again, the whole room shook, the door actually bulging on its hinges, while water squirted in at the gaps. "We've got to get out of here. Did you find...?"

  "This?"

  "Yes, try it! Hurry!"

  From the shadows, Stella wobbled forward, holding up a rusted screwdriver. A tiny bead of lamplight gleamed on the tip, and the girl stared at it in wonder, as if she'd never seen anything like it before.

  "Is it sharp at all? Stella?"

  The girl's features dissolved in dimness, only the glitter of her gaze still bright.

  They crouched on the floor, the boy poised like an animal.

  "What do you think, kid?" Easing the barrel of his gun over the edge of the desk, Steve peered at the window grate. "He's your brother."

  The first of the bullets had plowed into the outer walls with a sound like hail, and now particles of glass iced the floor.

  In the heavy silence, the boy seemed to concentrate. "He went away," he whispered at last.

  "What makes you so sure?"

  "I...just think so."

  "Yeah?" Steve watched him. "What else do you think?"

  The boy's lips pressed tight.

  "Never mind. Don't have another seizure. You said you knew where he took Kit."

  "There's a place."

  "No bullshit now."

  Perry shook his head. "I mean it--I'll take you there, if..."

  "If what?"

  "If you promise to kill him," he said. "If you promise."

  "Easy to tell you're brothers." Steve swallowed hard. "Why do you hate each other so much?"

  "...didn't used to. When I was little, he...tried to help me, take care of me."

  "But you're afraid of him now?"

  Perry drew back.

  "Just so we understand each other, kid--and so you don't try anything--there's something else you ought to know. He has the girl too. He's got Stella Marie."

  "No! No, you're lying!"

  "Shut up! Let go of my arm. Stop that, I said. I'm telling you, he's got her. Stop that or I'm gonna deck you, so help me. That's better. I found that apartment of yours. Finally. Place looked like it'd been torn apart by baboons."

  The boy trembled violently.

  "There's no time for that now. Snap out of it. If you really know where they might be, you'd better talk fast. There's no telling how much time they've got or if they're even alive still. Because you know as well as I do, sooner or later, your brother is gonna do what he does best."

  "No, across--use the point. Slash back and forth. That's it. Oww! No, don't stop! Is it cutting?"

  The door banged open, and a wave of freezing air flooded the room. The screwdriver fell to the floor, but any sound it might have made faded into the rumble of the surf.

  "Ah! Sorry I took so long, ladies." He stomped and splashed into the room, bolting the door behind him. "Stella, dear, stop whatever it is you're doing there at once, and come away from that woman. There's a good girl." The parka dripped copiously as he dumped a duffel bag on the floor. "I experienced quite a difficult time getting back. The waves have commenced coming up over the boards again. We shall have to leave now, Stell." He patted the girl gently on the shoulder, and she whimpered faintly. "I'm afraid I couldn't get to our Perry. But--never fear--we'll find him later." His expression went vacant, as though he'd withdrawn to consider his own words. "See? I've brought some things from your apartment."

  As the girl shuffled toward the bag, Ramsey turned to Kit. Carefully, he removed his glasses.

  She glimpsed something dark snaked around his hand. "No."

  "Don't worry." He unraveled the extension cord. "You know I'd never harm you."

  He moved fast, like a big animal. He jumped up, his knees on either side of her, and the chair teetered, groaning. His stomach crushed her, suffocated her, and the rough fabric of his jeans scraped her face. He shifted down. She could barely moan. She'd expected his hands to burn damply on her flesh, but they felt dry as corn husks. With a surprisingly gentle efficiency, he wrapped the cord about her throat.

  "No, no, don't move, dear. That's it now. Almost done."

  She writhed, twisting against his bulk, as he jerked the cord tight.

  The room splintered into clattering fragments. A damp hiss emerged from her mouth, and he smiled tenderly.

  "That's it." Saliva stringed his lips as they parted. "Just another moment."

  A mumbling shriek shook the room. He jumped up, and Kit gasped brokenly, throat bulging against the cord, as the room throbbed like blood. The cry went on, shatteringly, as though it would never end, a scream of horror and outrage and suffering.

  "No, no, Stell, no." Prone on the floor now, he cradled her. "It's all right. I won't let anyone hurt you. Stop. I promise. Oh no, Stell, no, baby, no." He rocked the girl in his arms, while shrieks rattled through her contorted mouth. Her whole clenched body reddened, muscles twitching, as she screamed until at last all the breath poured out of her. It wouldn't stop; the convulsion shook her. The cords of her face and neck swelled, while her fingernails ripped splinters from the soft wooden floor. "Perry used to get like this too." Piteously, he looked up at Kit. "When he was just little." The girl's feet pounded the boards.

  Kit jerked her head desperately from side to side, scraping her head against the b
ack of the chair until the cord slackened. She sucked a burning gulp of air and savored the agony of it. Slowly, her vision cleared.

  He crouched with the girl in his arms, and tears streaked his face, mingling with beads of sweat. "Can you help her?" With his open hand, he wiped froth from the girl's mouth. "If I untie you, can you...?" His face went white with terror. "What was that? Did you hear it?" His chest heaved. "Who said that? Stop that! Don't! Stop it, I said!"

  She attempted to tell him she heard nothing, but her vocal cords wouldn't work.

  "No, Perry, not like this!" Ramsey shouted. Behind him, a shuttered window exploded. Shards of glass scattered against the far wall, and a bullet gouged wood from above the door.

  "Chandler! Let her go, Chandler!" The voice boomed on the wind. "Let her go now, or you'll never get out of there."

  When he dropped his sister, the girl rolled once, then put her hands out and lifted her face from the floor, shaking her head numbly.

  "I won't let him," Ramsey yelled. Yanking Kit's revolver from his belt, he rushed to the window. "Not now." He fired twice, fragmenting what remained of the glass.

  The explosions obliterated Kit's hearing, and a blueblack cloud singed her lungs.

  "He can't hurt us now." He peered between the slats.

  The shout seemed to come from a different direction. "I've got the boy, Chandler."

  Ramsey jerked around. Beyond the walls, the ocean howled.

  "If you want him, I'll trade." The cry sounded nearer. "You hear me, Chandler? Isn't that what you wanted?"

  "Lying. Trying to trick me." He mumbled rapidly to himself. "He wants her." And his fingers scraped the side of his face, as though trying to scratch away the sweat. "He wants her for himself." In his hand, the revolver trembled. "Don't worry, Stell. I'm here." He crouched beside her again. "Ramsey's here. I won't let him touch you." Staying low, he scrambled to the far corner of the room, pausing only to push her down again. "No, Stell--stay there." He shoved the ancient card table, sent it collapsing against the wall. "Wait." Frantically, he clawed at the floor.

  Kit stared.

  Beneath his fingers, a section of flooring pulled up with a squeal of rust. The trap crashed open, and a burst of freezing air filled the shack with a thick, fetid stench of waste and rot and dead things churned from the depths. Grabbing Stella by the hand, he yanked her upright. "It's not very deep." He dragged Stella to it as she struggled feebly, glassy panic in her eyes. "Truly. See, dear? It goes down under the pier."

  Softly, the sea rumbled below.

  "Ramsey?" Another voice probed, thin, urgent. "Ramsey, it's me, Perry. Don't hurt her. Ramsey, please, don't hurt her. You can do anything you want to me. Okay? Stella, can you hear...?" Wind swept the voice away.

  "We'll be all right." Ramsey jumped down, splashing to his knees. "Just stay with me, Stell." He sank to his waist, still tugging at her. "There's just a few steps here. Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you." A wave slapped him, sloshing up into the room, drenching the floor. "Always. I will."

  Though the girl pulled back, he steadied himself against the edge of the trap, holding her with one hand and drawing her down. "It's so cold. Hurry." His teeth chattering, he pulled harder until something in her face stopped him.

  As though in a trance, she stared down at the water. Her long hair hung motionlessly around her face, and as the wind howled up into the room, her cheeks twisted as though her face were melting. Slowly, she swung one leg forward. Moving like a sleepwalker, she descended into the lapping waves.

  "You have to bend down here. Then just keep..."

  The thunder of the sea claimed them.

  Kit sat alone in the shack. She was alive--that thought alone seemed to rattle in her skull. She was alive. A plume of water rose at the lip of the opening. "Steve." She choked out his name and then screamed with all her strength. "Steve!" It felt like an explosion of blood in her throat.

  The rusted latch rattled, and the door burst at the hinges before falling inward. Steve waved the gun, water rushing in around his ankles.

  "Get me the fuck out of here," she gasped. "I'm freezing to death." She barely recognized her own grating whisper. "Damn you. What took you so long?"

  He stepped warily inside. "Where...?" Following her gaze, he rushed to the trapdoor. A thin ripple stretched after him to trickle over the lip of the opening, seawater joining seawater.

  "Now. Please." She shook against the ropes. "It hurts."

  He flicked his knife open. "I didn't really believe I'd find you." The ropes came away, and as she slipped forward he caught her. Somehow her arms went around him, and he pressed her face to his chest. "I didn't believe."

  "They drowned themselves," she whispered and felt his body stiffen. She lifted her head.

  From the doorway, Perry stared fixedly at the trapdoor. Beyond him, gray chaos raged.

  "The boy didn't run away," Steve said in a wondering voice.

  "...know where they went." Spinning, Perry fled.

  "Wait! Wait a minute!" He rushed to the doorway, then whirled back to her.

  "Go," she told him. "I'm all right now. Go on. Stop him. Save him."

  "No! Come on!" Shaking with urgency, he grabbed at her. "I'm not leaving you here."

  "Steve, I can't walk. I..."

  "Get up!" He yanked her to her feet and wrapped one arm about her waist. "Put your arm over my shoulder."

  She stumbled feebly. "My legs don't work."

  "That's it." He dragged her through the door. "You're okay."

  A wet mist billowed with each lash of wind. When she saw how close the giant waves heaved, she screamed in terror. The world stunned her, blinded her. Gray light filtered from everywhere, from nowhere, and everything glowed, the water more brightly than the sky. No beach remained, and just this one tilting section of boardwalk still stood. A flat, foaming surface rushed beneath the pilings.

  He pulled her along. Through the mist, she tried to make out the rest of the boardwalk: rocks and splintered pilings poked from the water. A trail of seaweed and pulverized shell sediment covered the sodden boards they slipped across, and the wind staggered them. "My God," she moaned. Huge waves curled, flinging plumes of foam with each collision. "My God!" A breaker heaved across the dangling rail ahead of her.

  He held on to her. "Must have gone this way." He dragged her toward the ramp. "Do you see him anywhere?"

  "No! That's the ocean!" Leaning on his shoulder, she tensed as he pulled her down the ramp. "We can't go that way!"

  XXIX

  The sky churned. Clapping in the wind like a gull, one yellow pennant still trailed from a high cable. Beyond the remnants of the boardwalk, the amusement park sank in a murky tide, and ruined metal structures protruded from the mud like dinosaur bones.

  As they splashed into the lot, she leaned heavily against him. "What is this?" A twisted loop of metal blocked the path.

  "Used to be a Ferris wheel I think." He pulled her along. "They can't be far."

  Something zinged past them; then an explosion echoed faintly. "Get down!" He shouted into the wind, but she heard only a garbled flurry of words. "Stay there!" he barked, shoving her behind a tilting barricade.

  She sprawled in the muck. "You jerk!" She spit brackish water and sand.

  "Shut up and stay down!"

  "Don't tell me what to...!" Her anger dissipated into the general haze along with her clouding breath. "Do you see them?" Her wrists still flamed where the blood pounded back.

  Crouching beside her, he peered over a sheet metal partition, the other end of which ribboned out of the earth to wave in the wind. "Keep your head down, I said." Beyond the barricade, one of the cars on a broken ride spun continuously in the wind. "What? I can't hear you."

  "I used to love the tilt-a-whirl."

  "Shut up. You're hysterical. And keep still."

  "I know I'm hysterical. And stop telling me to shut up." A shiver began in her stomach, and what little strength she'd been able to muster seemed to drain fr
om her limbs. She let her gaze roam over the ruins of the arcade. Behind them, a fragment of a carousel sloped into a deep pool: galloping animals frozen in panicked flight, drowning. A wooden horse reared, patches of gilt paint still shining, exposing corroded teeth in a silent scream.

  Another shot echoed. It sounded faint, harmless.

  "Steve?" She had to shout above the wind. "Can you tell where it's coming from?" She peered over the edge.

  "He's back there," he yelled, pointing to the edge of the sunken field. Between a pair of concrete outbuildings, a delicate line of white smoke hung briefly in the air. "Keep your head down."

  "Can you see the boy?"

  Clutching the gun, Ramsey hazarded a peek around the corner. He couldn't risk wasting more bullets, but if he could just hold them there long enough for him to find Perry...

  Movement! He saw the man leap behind the carousel, and something flashed, bright as an acetylene torch. The bullet spat against the wall by his ear, and particles of concrete lashed his cheek. He cowered. "I don't know who you are, I must admit," Ramsey called out. "But I know what you are, what you've become." He pulled the trigger, and his own gun jerked in his hand, roaring, the stench of sulfur blazing into his lungs. "You hunt the boy," his voice murmured, becoming part of the wind. "Would you even exist without him? Without the hunt? Ask yourself. And what wasteland do you go to now? Look around you. Does not this--at long last--resemble a final destination?" He turned away, staying low. Pressing his bulk against the wall, he slid around the corner. "They're right out there," he told her. "We shall have to flee."

  One hand on a drainpipe, the girl hid her face in her arms.

  "Do not be afraid, my Stell."

  She trembled, seawater dribbling from the nightgown that clung to her legs.

  "My poor Stell. You might get sick now. You could even die. After all this, I might yet lose you."

  She let her arms drop. Her lips had gone blue, and nothing of sanity remained in her expression, as though terror had reduced her to something barely human.