10.1
08/29/2009
The man was in his mid-thirties, and he wore a black, unbuttoned, long-sleeved cargo shirt and dark brown khaki shorts. The humid, salty air stung his nose as walked along a cold and dark coastline.
In the distance ahead and inland, he could see the ground rise to a few thin trails of smoke rising, seemingly straight out of the ground.
But he knew what really was there.
To his right, the water in the ocean was so dark that it almost looked black, and its waves surged with a soft serenity. He walked on the firm part of the sandy beach, just out of cold saltwater's reach.
A light mist began to fall.
Home sweet home. I see it's the same as ever, he thought, smiling in spite of himself.
Never a sunny day. And I know exactly what I'll find when I enter the city: the same misery. It's been eight years, but the same people will be here. The same wooden houses, and the same dreary, routine lives.
His handsome face hardened and he frowned, chewing on the inside of his cheek. I wonder how Gabby and Lucy are doing.
He'd done everything he could to keep them out of his mind, but his efforts were useless. He was worried that the image of their faces might dissuade him from his purpose, but he knew what he had to do. After all, they were his motivation in the first place.
This is for their sake, he reminded himself. They deserve a better future.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, he trudged on through the sand. A breeze came off the water and blew his damp, dirty blond hair over his eyes. His loose, unbuttoned shirt flapped in the wind, leaving his bare chest beneath exposed to the cold air.
A rush of water flowed over his flip flops and gently cooled his skin.
The tide's rising.
He adjusted his course, now walking a little farther from the water's edge, his silver hoop earrings illuminated by a faint, atmospheric light.
Through a veil of mist, a many-layered barbed wire fence came into view.
Wow, he thought, they haven't even upgraded the fence.
At long last, he reached the fence, and the "gate", which was simply an opening in the wire, stood before him.
A single person, who he assumed to be the gatekeeper, was lying on the sand in the entrance.
Walking up to them, he peered down at their face, but they showed no signs of stirring.
They're asleep? He was exasperated at the sight. What a mess. I guess I'll just walk in.
Everything he'd seen so far had only strengthened his resolve; yes, he had made the correct decision.
When he stepped past the guard and into the realm of Ilwaco, he found that, indeed, the sleeping man was watching the entrance alone.
With a sigh, he continued onward, but a low shout cried out from behind him.
"H-hey! Who are you?"
The guard, a young man, probably no older than 25, had apparently come to his senses and was aiming a gun at the back of the intruder's skull.
"I'm just a man coming home to his family," the stranger replied, raising both hands over his head and looking back over his shoulder at the young guard.
"As you can see, I'm completely unarmed and mean no harm."
The guard blinked. He lifted his head from its position behind his readied weapon as he scrutinized the strange man, who gladly took his chance to continue the conversation.
"Ah, by the way, I've been wondering something. Is that cafe still here? The one on this side of town, maybe a half mile inland from here?"
Lowering his gun in surprise, the guard replied, "Yeah, it's still there. …Is it a favorite of yours?"
The stranger turned around with a full smile and exclaimed, "Nice! I've always loved that place. My parents first took me when I was a little kid, and it's been special to me ever since. I was hoping I'd get to see it again."
As usual, the guard's day on duty had been long and uneventful. Curiosity came easily at a time like this.
"How long have you been gone?" he asked earnestly.
"Eight years," the man replied. "I've been travelling all around. In fact, I've visited all nine cities."
"For real?!" the guard exclaimed, his face lighting up. It wasn't often that he got to interact with someone he didn't know. "I had no idea you could even do that! Isn't security insane in some places? I mean, even here it's tough to get in."
The intruder smiled knowingly. I don't know about "tough."
"Certainly," he confirmed. "I've had difficulty getting into some, but all it really takes is convincing them that you're a trustworthy person. Once they understand that, any city will let you in."
"For real?! I've always wanted to visit another city, and you make it sound like I could actually do it!"
This guy's quite lively, the stranger thought. I don't think I've ever seen someone look so happy inside this fence. Good for him.
"Of course you can," he replied confidently. "All it takes is a strong will, and you can do anything."
The guard grinned and exclaimed, "Awesome! Thanks, dude!" He then added, "I would say that I could show you around, but Ilwaco's probably the same as you remember it."
The man chuckled. "Yeah, I figured it would be. Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll be okay."
Raising his hand in a salute of farewell, the guard said, "Thanks for coming! You've really inspired me! I hope you have a good life!"
The man waved before turning and continuing inland.
Nice. I'm in.
He walked up the final few yards of beach and stepped onto the long grass that flanked the sandy slope.
An endless graveyard appeared before him.
Rows upon rows of graves stretched out into the distance, and every weathered tombstone looked exactly the same–a simple cracked slate of rock jutting up through the dunegrass.
He stood silently, mist and fog swirling about him as he took in the sight.
I'd forgotten this place.
The graves were laid out for hundreds of yards, and, with the descending fog pouring out into the garden of grass and stone, he couldn't see anything beyond the edges of the vast yard.
The long, brown-green blades slithered as a strong gust flew off the ocean, bringing with it a cool, salty spray.
There's a strange beauty to it, he thought, although it's not a place to spend much time in.
He glanced over his shoulder at the guard he'd just met, who was now sitting on the edge of the grass with his feet in the sand, looking out on the open sea.
I wonder how he keeps his sanity.
The man walked slowly through the stone markers, reading each name as he went.
Jonathan Stone
Charlotte Roe
Anabel Dorian
Melanie Clover
Julien Klader
Losing himself in the process, he suddenly found that he'd reached the final headstone.
Raising his head, he saw a wall of short, steep hills, almost like cliffs, facing him. He proceeded carefully as he navigated the brush and bushwacked his way upward.
When he broke over the crest of the hill, he was met with the yellow rays from a dull streetlight, shining through the haze. A few more steps forward and he could vaguely make out wooden shacks in the distance.
Finally, he'd made it.
The terrain rolled gently in hills of mist, and he passed a few of the small, weathered buildings before finally spotting distant signs of life.
As he approached, he was able to make out a few houses with dimly lit windows, but there was one slightly larger building that shined brighter than all the others.
Here I am. Journey's End.
He came to the small cafe's entrance. "Journey's End," it was called. A fitting name, because the main road in the city came to an abrupt end at the building's doorstep.
He buttoned up his shirt.
A fitting name, he thought, because I'm here to see out the end of this age.
The three wooden steps creaked, and the heavy wooden door creaked even louder as he slowly pulled it open.
Please, pardon my intrusion.