West Coast Homecoming

Sam turned right, off the pavement and onto a dirt road. The car began to bump along with the potholes, grass grew in the road, and branches scratched the windows. Sam wondered if access would be restricted now, trying to remember that last time they were there. But, as the trees thinned, Sam knew that not everything had changed.

The road faded into the sand and the foliage thinned as the Pacific Ocean gradually overwhelmed Sam’s view.

They opened the windows and turned off the engine, letting the smell of the beach and ocean fill the car. Sam inhaled deeply.

Grabbing a lighter, they stepped out of the car and walked around to learn on the hood. Sunset was still an hour away, and the summer twilight was still, the waves small. The beach was a forgotten crescent with rocky outcroppings on either side, surrounded by coastal forests that the winds never let grow above a certain height.

Sam took a joint out of their pocket and lit it. They had been trying to smoke less of everything, but this week, resolve was running low. As they took a long drag, looking out at the ocean, a sense of calm washed over them. The ocean always put things into perspective for Sam – its vastness and mystery made them feel small and insignificant, which made their problems seem small and insignificant. They took in the scene and smoked.

As the joint extinguished between their shoe and the sand, Sam braced themselves. They hadn’t been back here in years, and they had no idea what to expect. They knew their stepmom was getting old, and there weren’t many family members left. So here they were.

They walked to the driver’s side door. Sam sat back behind the wheel. They looked over at the receipt with the information written on it. A series of numbers – codes for the gate and the house, and a phone number. Sam started the engine and slowly turned the car around to head back to the main road.

Sam reached for the radio, hoping another station had started up in the last ten years when suddenly, something in the rearview mirror made Sam jump. It was big and right where they had just left, but the mirror shook along with the rest of the car, making the figure hard to discern. Sam’s adrenalin raced.

They stopped the car and looked into the mirror. Nothing was there. Sam turned to look out the side window when a searing pain slashed across their face. Sam recoiled, their hands jumping to their face, their fingers turning warm with blood. They looked out the window, frantic, but only saw trees. They looked around the car – still nothing. Sam tried to steady their breathing, their hands covered in blood, still scanning continuously outside of the car.

They opened the glovebox grabbing for a pile of takeout napkins. As they tried to clean up the blood, the distant waves were the only sound they could hear. As Sam calmed down, they saw their attacker. A broken tree branch was tinged red on the end, just inside the car window.

Jesus, Sam thought, as they let out a sigh of relief. Their heartbeat and breathing slowed, and they grabbed another napkin. They collected themselves, still looking around. With their left hand still putting pressure on the cut, their right hand closed the window, turned on the engine, and took control of the wheel. The car bumped back to the paved road, and every few moments, Sam checked the mirrors. They were sure they had seen something.

The last light was fading by the time Sam arrived at the gate to the property. Maybe it was the dusk, maybe it was a lack of maintenance, but Sam was sure that this gate used to make a much grander statement. They pulled up to the intercom and entered the code. As the gate opened, they pulled forward and realized it wasn’t just the gate that had been neglected. The forests of pine and cedar on either side canopied over the road, blacking out the final light of the day, and blackberry bushes grew callously beneath the trees. Sam tunnelled through slowly, as the road inclined gently.

At the top of the hill, the road opened and the darkness remained, except for a few brightened windows. The house was a large, three-storey coastal home with four balconies, sadly in a state consistent with the rest of the grounds. The back of the house faced west, with large windows that overlooked the backyard. Beyond that, some woods grew before the dock house, the dock, and the Pacific Ocean. It had been in the family for generations, along with a cannery, once referred to by Auntie Erma as “Casta Collings,” but Sam thought it was more like a colonial tumour that included a laundry list of burned ex-business partners.

Sam turned off the car and stepped out. The temperature had dropped, but the night was warm, and from somewhere, the smell of campfire. They walked up the steps as a mess of emotions: excited, nervous, hesitant, eager, nostalgic and, somewhere, still angry. They glanced at the code for the door and punched it in the lock. Blue light glowed around the keypad. Sam took the handle and opened the door.

“Hello?” They called out. “Delores?” They didn’t hear an answer, and they didn’t hear anything else either. No music, no television, no sound of movement at all. “Delores? It’s Sam.”

Still nothing. As they moved through the foyer, to the left was the family room, and to the right, the formal dining room. Ahead, a set of stairs leading to the second floor. Above that, the third floor with smaller rooms. Lights were on in most of the main floor rooms and the staircase

Sam moved left into the family room. The lights were on, with a few candles lit. Two tumblers with almost fully melted ice were on the coffee table.

“Delores?” Sam called again, remembering that their stepmom didn’t drink. Sam’s mind started to wander. They started to move quickie through the rest of the rooms. Nothing in the study beyond the living room, and nothing in the kitchen, dining room, or washrooms.

“Delores!” Sam made their way up the stairs. “Hello?”

The second floor was mostly dark. All of the guest rooms were empty, and many rooms were still closed with linen covering the furniture.

As Sam moved toward the master, they noticed that the door was ajar, and a dim light pooled into the hallway.

“Delores?” Sam pushed the door open and looked in the room. A pale green and white striped wallpaper encompassed the mid-century teak bedroom set. A wicker chair with a green geometric print sat by the French doors to the patio. The light was coming from a kerosene lamp that was sitting on a bedside table. Under it, a small black notebook lay open.

Sam walked to the table. They grabbed the book, and something underneath fell to the floor. Pink and white papers spread around Sam’s feet. Money, Sam registered. Old money. Upon closer inspection, they were thousand-dollar bills from before the government transitioned to plastic currency. Sam didn’t know what was going on. Their attention turned to the back to the book, which read, is a hasty scribble:

“Sam, take this 20,000 and run. Be safe. Run. - D.”

Sam had to read it another time to take it in.

“Delores?!” They called out again.

And then Sam heard a sound directly overhead. Sam jumped backward and looked at the ceiling. Their heart started racing again. Footsteps started above, heading toward the staircase. Sam froze, listening.

And then their mind kicked back into gear. Sam jumped forward and locked the door to the suite. Had Delores done the same to write this note? Sam grabbed the money, the notebook, and shoved them into their pocket. They looked around the room as the footsteps faded toward the stairs.

Sam dashed toward the balcony doors and tried to open them, but they didn’t budge. Sam looked at the locks and saw that the doors had been nailed shut. Delores was prone to sleepwalking.

Sam panicked. They went into the washroom and locked the door. They reached for the light, which didn’t turn on. It was too dark to see anything.

They unlocked the door and ran for the lamp on the bedside table. A creek from the stairs made Sam jump, almost dropping the lamp. They move quickly back into the washroom and put the lamp under the mirror. It was too high on this side of the house to jump, but they could jump from the window onto the balcony, get down to the yard, and back to the car. Sam checked their pockets and felt a moment of relief at the touch of their keys. They moved to the French windows, unlocked them, and pushed them open.

As they hoisted themselves up on the sill, they heard a banging from the bedroom behind them. They could also hear their heartbeat in their ears. They tucked one leg underneath themselves and pushed as hard as they could off the sill. They flew through the air toward the railing, just as a loud bang and rushing footsteps came from the other side of the wall. Sam’s arms hit the railing, followed by their face, but they held on. The banging started at the washroom door.

Sam pulled up, their feet finding the floor beneath them, and they swung themselves over the railing, onto the deck. The noise didn’t stop, and neither did Sam. They were up on their feet and flew down the stairs in two steps. Glass crashed somewhere. Sam hit the ground, their palms stopping a fall. They recentered their momentum and kept running around the house.

Around another corner and the car came into view. They ran faster than they ever had before, stopping full force into the driver’s side door. Sam reached for the keys.

They were gone.

Sam felt all their pockets. Nothing.

No.

They glanced down the drive. Was there someone else waiting down the road? The person from the beach? What was more dangerous?

The dock. It was the quickest way to get help, even if they had to row. But how to get there? Certainly not the way they came.

Sam decided to go full circle around the house. They tried to be quiet and quick, but when they saw a beam of light burst from the front door, they gave up on quiet.

Their legs and lungs burned.

They knew the way well enough in the dark. Around the stump and through the archway, into the backyard. It was brighter than it had been a few minutes ago. Into the trees and down the trail. They didn’t have time to look back. Around the house and down the stairs, Sam could see the dock and a small skiff that thankfully, had a motor.

Sam jumped into the boat and started revving the engine. Looking up the dock, nothing was coming. But looking up at the house, Sam saw it. The fire. It had engulfed the master suite. Another tug and the engine started, Sam revved the engine, and the boat flew away from the dock. Looking back, a figure appeared silhouetted on the stairs, and the house on the hill, burning like nothing Sam had seen before in. It was sensational, tragic, and for a moment, Sam couldn’t look away. There was a beauty that consumed them, and as the sublime washed over them, Sam let the engine slow, watching the house burn. After a minute, they turned away and sped through the water toward whatever was coming next.