The Last Night at Tremore Beach

by Mikel Santiago

  Nice to finally meet you, assholes.

  Tom muttered something I couldn’t make out as he made room for me, but I think it had to do with my appearance. Randy allowed a smile. “What happened to your bike, partner?” he asked.

  His voice was low and raspy, like someone had snipped a couple of his vocal cords and replaced them with sandpaper. Like the driver, his accent was unmistakably American. His breath smelled like cigarettes.

  “It skidded, and I fell,” I said, my shoulder throbbing in pain. “Goddamn thing almost killed me. I’ll come back for it later.”

  I noticed my voice was shaky from nerves, and my mouth had gone dry. I cleared my throat and tried to calm down. Tom and Randy smiled at each other.

  “Sure. Later . . .” Tom said.

  The joke lingered between them silently. I already knew what they were capable of.

  I tried to focus. The van tore along the road and soon we were at Bill’s Peak. What should I do? Jump at the driver? Gouge out his eyes and make him crash? I doubted it would work. Before I could pull it off, the fat guy would probably slit my throat with that knife (which I figured he was carrying under his Windbreaker). I scanned the inside of the van. It was too dark to see much. But I could see Tom and Randy’s hands. Tom sat calmly with his hands in his lap. Randy cracked his knuckles in a nervous tick. No weapons in sight, but they couldn’t be far away. Maybe if I got my hands on one of their guns. But how? I couldn’t let them get to Leo and Marie’s house. Judie and the kids were there. I had to think of something—and fast.

  That’s when I noticed Randy was staring at me. He had a small mouth full of small, pointy teeth.

  “Got a smoke?”

  “No, sorry,” I said, reaching for my shirt pocket where I had the packet of gum I’d bought at Andy’s. “Want some gum?”

  “Just wait until we get there, Randy,” the driver grumbled.

  “Shut up, Frank,” he said, and that’s how I learned the driver’s name.

  “You live here year-round?” he asked me.

  “Just for a couple months. I rent a house over the summer.”

  “Ha. Summer. You hear that, Tom? They call this summer in Europe.”

  Tom smirked and nodded that great big melon on his nearly nonexistent neck. The scumbags probably had already worked out what they were going to do. Maybe they’d even already decided to kill me.

  “You guys American?” I asked. I wondered if I should make small talk, but it seemed like the most natural thing to do.

  “Everyone except Manon,” Randy said, nodding at the woman. “She’s French. Le France . . .” he said, feigning a French accent. “We all used to work with Leo. At the hotel. He told you all about it, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, yeah. The hotel,” I said.

  “We were on vacation and thought we’d surprise him.”

  “Isn’t that nice?”

  “You here with your family on vacation?” Tom asked.

  I smiled and coughed to give me a moment to think.

  “Yeah. I’ve been coming here for years and know just about everyone in town. Actually, I’m having a big party at my place tonight. You all should come over. Tell Leo and Marie to come over, too.”

  “Oh, a party! Hear that, Manon?” he said, turning to the woman, who remained quietly looking ahead. “Maybe we can talk Leo and Marie into all of us going together. Do they live far from you?”

  I watched the woman’s face in the rearview mirror. She smiled coldly.

  “No . . . not too far. And there are loads of people coming,” I said. “You should come.”

  I thought it had been brilliant making up the story about the party and all the people I’d be expecting shortly. Maybe they’d call off their plan if they thought there would be too many people around. The lie emboldened me to keep lying. The fact Randy asked if I lived far from Leo and Marie made me realize they’d never been there. They didn’t know the lay of the land, and that played in my favor. Not to mention there wasn’t a single sign on the entire road.

  We were reaching Bill’s Peak when I cleared my throat and said, “When we get to the intersection, you can drop me off. I can walk from there.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t do that,” Frank said. “We’ll drive you right to your door.”

  “Right,” Randy added. “We wouldn’t feel right sending you out in this weather. Any friend of Leo and Marie’s is a friend of ours.”

  The three men laughed all at once. Manon, however, stayed silent in the front passenger seat. What was she thinking about?

  They didn’t look to be at all agitated. They were about to swoop on Leo and Marie like an eagle on its prey, and I guess they wanted to be sure about their surroundings. I thought maybe they’d already decided to come back for me after they’d taken care of Leo and Marie, to cover their tracks. Or perhaps they were going to kill me first.

  Just then, I had an idea. It was risky, but it seemed like my only shot: I’d direct them straight to Leo and Marie’s house instead. With any luck, Leo will remember what I told him about the van and come out shooting. I’ll be ready to duck on the floor of the van. Worst-case scenario, by the time they realize what’s going on, the element of surprise will be gone. Leo has a radio. We’ll just hole up in their house and wait for help to arrive.

  It was my only hope.

  The van’s headlights fell on the old tree at the foot of Bill’s Peak, and I gulped. It was now or never. This night was going to end up in only one of two ways: with or without a bullet to the head. Right then, I could only think about giving Jip, Beatrice, Judie, and my friends a fighting chance to escape these monsters. I’d die content knowing I saved their lives.

  “Take a right up here,” I said as the van reached the crossroads. My voice was dead steady. The lie was out.

  I noticed a silent tension among them.

  “We’ll drop you off at home, buddy,” Frank said again. “Sure it’s this way?”

  “Yes,” I said, trying to sound confident. “The Kogans’ house is to the left, down that road. I live in the bigger house down to the right.”

  After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Manon nodded at the driver, and he yanked the steering wheel to the right toward Leo and Marie’s house.

  Looked like they’d bought it. Now it was time to hold this poker face as long as I could.

  THE STORM had reached the coast. Even at their fastest setting, the van’s windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the pounding rain, as if we were inside a carwash. The scene was familiar to me by now. I’d been soaked by this rainstorm three times in my visions.

  The van slowly descended the hill toward the house; there were lights on inside. I prayed that Leo wouldn’t see the van pull up and come out to greet us. (Unless, of course, he came out firing.) Just then, I remembered the mailbox out in the yard and the name—albeit in small letters—that was printed on it: Kogan, not Harper.

  “You can turn around right here,” I said while we were still a few dozen yards from the house. “There’s too much sand up by the house, and you’re liable to get stuck with all this rain.”

  “You sure, man? You’re going to get soaked.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. It’s a quick sprint to the house. It’s just water, I won’t melt.”

  Frank did as I said. He slowed down and swung the van around so that the sliding door faced the path toward the house. When he stopped, I reached for the handle, slid the door open and hopped out onto the sand.

  “Thanks for everything!” I yelled over the blustering wind and rain. “You really saved my life!”

  Frank rolled down his window, and his eyes lit up as he looked at the house. Next to him, Manon had lit a cigarette and the flame illuminated her soulless doll eyes.

  “Nice house,” Randy said, leaning up between the front seats and leering.

  I didn’t like the look of that smile.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to hold his gaze. “Say hi to Leo and Marie for me. And tell them to bring you to
the party later. It’ll be fun.”

  Frank raised the window and turned the van back toward Bill’s Peak.

  I hurried to the house feeling like I couldn’t breathe. As I reached the door, I glanced back and saw the van’s taillights disappear around the bend. With my heart in my throat, I started pounding on the door with all my might.

  “Leo! Marie! Open the door!”

  The story was playing out yet again. A stormy night. Pounding on the front door. An unexpected visit in the night.

  EIGHT

  IT WAS LEO who finally came to the door. I didn’t even wait for his reaction. I pushed my way into the house, tracking mud and rainwater onto their rug.

  “Close it! Quick!” I said, wiping the water off my face.

  Leo stood there in his jeans and checkered shirt looking stunned.

  I scanned the room quickly, looking for the kids, Judie, and Marie. I’d expected to see them all sitting around the fireplace, playing Scrabble and drinking hot chocolate. But there was no one here.

  “Where are my kids, Leo?”

  My voice trembled. My whole body did. The panic I’d stifled in that van full of murderers finally came out. I wanted to cry, to scream, but first I needed to see my kids. To hug them and know they were all right.

  “Pete!” Leo yelled. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  Marie rushed in through the kitchen door, dressed in purple pajamas. I turned back to Leo. I spoke as fast as I could, my words running into one another.

  “The kids, Leo. Where are they? There’s no time. Are they here? We have to protect them.”

  “Relax, Pete. They’re with Judie, and they’re safe. What’s happened? Did you check yourself out of the hospital?”

  “Yeah. Yes . . . I . . . I saw the storm, and I thought this would be the night. And I was right. And then I stumbled across them at Andy’s. . . . Leo, the people from my dream, they’re here. The woman . . . the men . . . the van. They’re here! I tried to get here first to warn you but I crashed the bike . . . and I ran into them on the way here. I managed to fool them. I told them this was my house, and they brought me here instead. I thought you’d all be together. Where are Judie and the kids? They weren’t at the hostel. They told me over there that they were here with you.”

  Leo looked at Marie with an expression that could mean only one thing: Run back in the kitchen and call the hospital.

  “Pete, listen,” he said, trying to look calm. “You said someone drove you here in a van? I didn’t see any headlights outside.”

  “No, Leo, this isn’t a hallucination,” I said, all of a sudden unsure myself. Is it possible Leo hadn’t seen the headlights? But the girl at the gas station. She’d seen them. They were real. . . . “There are four killers outside, and when they realize I lied to them, they’re going to come back here and kill us all. Tell me, where are the kids, Leo!”

  Leo walked over to the window and looked outside. I joined him. Not a single light was visible outside, which was strange given how pitch black it was. We should at least be able to see the headlights of the van moving toward my house.

  “Pete, why don’t you have a seat,” Leo said. “Let’s talk a minute.”

  I backed away from him.

  “Goddammit, Leo, I’m telling you the truth!” I yelled. “Where are the kids?”

  Leo took on a blank expression.

  “They’re at your house, Pete,” Marie said from the kitchen door. “They’re with Judie. They went over to get some clothes to spend the night. They said they’d be right back.”

  It felt like someone had hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. I put my hands on my head and replayed her words in my mind. I stood there stunned.

  Home. They were at home. And I had sent the killers right to them. The van must be getting there right about now. The knife. That huge goddamn knife. Just as I had seen it in my visions. Right now, they were circling the house. About to go inside. Judie would have seen the headlights. Maybe she even went out to see who it was . . .

  I ran for the phone in the kitchen, but tripped on the rug and fell hard before reaching the door, banging my injured shoulder. I moaned like a wounded animal.

  “The phone,” I told Marie, looking up from the floor. “We have to warn them.”

  From where I lay, I could only see her comfortable pearl-gray house slippers, but I knew she and Leo were giving one another a look. Let’s calm him down first, then we’ll call the ambulance, he’d surely mouthed to her.

  “Marie. You have to believe me, please. They’re here. Everything’s going to happen tonight. Call my house, for God’s sake. Please believe me!”

  I leaned up on one elbow and saw her beautiful face filled with terror. And it wasn’t just the shock of seeing me lying there, soaked in rain and sand, begging for my children’s lives. It was something more. She was terrified at the possibility that I might be right.

  “Please, Marie . . .”

  She nodded, turned around and disappeared into the kitchen. I turned to Leo to ask him for his car keys, but he was already by the door, grabbing his brown leather bomber jacket.

  “I’m going to take a look, God help me.”

  That’s when it happened. The front door crashed open, the jackets and raincoats hanging by the entrance went flying. A cold wind gusted into the house like an angry dervish. For a second, we thought the hurricane force winds were to blame—that is, until Randy came through the door with a pistol.

  Until that very moment, even I had doubts about my story. But there he was, crossing the threshold, gun pointed at Leo’s head, while my friend backed up with his hands in the air. This was no hallucination.

  Everything was happening too fast. I thought he was going to kill him right there. That’s it. It’s over. I cringed and waited for the gun to fire. Then it’d be my turn. And then Marie. End of story. But just as Randy had Leo backed up to the couch, he pistol-whipped him across the face, and Leo fell back onto the couch in a heap.

  I was close to the kitchen door and started dragging myself backward toward it, until my back came to rest on the doorframe. Randy turned and pointed the gun at me.

  “Hold it, you smart-ass son of a bitch,” he said, in a gravelly whisper. His hair was wet and matted, and the superfluous sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose.

  I was frozen by the kitchen door when I heard the faintest sound, a door closing quietly in the other room. The kitchen was connected to the garage, whose side door led out toward the beach.

  Of course, said a voice in my head which was surprisingly too calm. This is when Marie runs down the beach toward your house. This is when she pounds at your door in the middle of the night. But you’re not there to open it, Peter. The sequence is different now. It’s changed.

  We were living a new version of the story. Would the outcome be different, too?

  Tom appeared in the doorway behind Randy, his hair and clothes also soaked. From where I was, he looked like a human tank, made of flesh and bone. He strode across the room toward me and without saying a word, kicked me right in the stomach. I doubled over in the fetal position; it felt like my intestines had exploded.

  “I hate the fucking rain,” he said, putting his foot on top of my head. “These are expensive goddamn shoes, and now they’re fucking ruined because of your sorry ass.”

  He pressed his foot against my head like a vise. I started throwing up as his weight came down on my skull with increasing force. I thought this was the end. My head was going to explode like a watermelon. But all of a sudden, the weight was gone.

  He’d lifted his foot.

  “Not just yet,” he said.

  I lay on the ground. Leo was passed out on the couch, blood dripping from his head. He might even be dead. Randy was talking on a cell phone.

  “All clear here, Manon,” he said. “Under control.”

  It wasn’t long before the van’s lights shone through the front window. It parked out front by the fence. There goes my plan,
I thought. I didn’t manage to keep the van at bay for long. At least . . . Judie and the kids are safe. There was still hope.

  The woman came through the door. She stood in the doorway surveying the scene. I was on the floor, rocking with my hands on my stomach, trying desperately to breathe. The fat guy had nearly killed me with a single kick. Leo moaned and started to move on the couch. He was alive, after all. Randy had taken off his raincoat and sat by the front door. He could handle us both easily. He’d even put his pistol on the couch while he sifted through his pockets.

  “Goddammit. I must have left them at the gas station. You got a cigarette on you, Tom?”

  But Tom couldn’t hear him. He was upstairs ransacking the house. You could hear furniture being tossed, glass breaking. He must have been looking for Marie.

  Manon looked at Randy.

  “Where’s the woman?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Randy said. “Tom’s looking for her. Maybe this little punk here tipped her off. Tell you one thing, though. The old guy never saw it coming.”

  Manon turned and came toward me. I cowered and waited for another kick, or worse. She squatted next to me, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled it back so I was looking her right in the face. Our eyes locked.

  “Nice try. Bet you thought you were pretty slick, huh, neighbor?”

  She held something in front of my face. It was a GPS. I was staring at a detailed map of Tremore Beach. A red dot was pinned to Leo and Marie’s house, to the right of Bill’s Peak.

  “You made all along,” I said. “What were you waiting for?”

  “You knew us in less than ten seconds. How?”

  I opened my mouth to respond and noticed vomit dripping down my chin. I smiled.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  She let go of my hair and let my head thud onto the floor. She stood up and called up to Tom.

  The fat guy came thundering down the stairs a few seconds later.

  “I looked everywhere. Nothing. I’ll check the garage.”

  “Fuck,” Manon hissed. She grabbed a device clipped to her belt and spoke into it. It wasn’t a cell phone, but some kind of walkie-talkie.