Chapter 5: Blood Beach
Christopher Dawson
She’s here again, at Blood Beach—What a name, but a deserving one. I remember when it was dubbed that eerie name. That was a long time ago, back when I was a youth, when the world was mine to conquer. Ignorance led me back in those days. Back when I enjoyed my life—When existence had meaning because I had something to fight for, love. Another word that has lost all meaning to me. So why do I keep searching for her?
Mary-Allison Flagstone. Why is she insistent on entering that damned place—The Cave of Nightmares. A bit on the nose, but it’s more of a description than a title. I know the first victim it swallowed. Since then, that number has risen significantly.
People have been devoured whole by the darkness inside that cave. Their lifeless bodies dragged out by the sea—Disappearing from the life of anyone who loved them. Either led by a need to survive, to find shelter, or curiosity traps them inside too long. Or, I’ve led them inside—Only for me to emerge, alone.
I hop down from the rocks shading me. ‘Was I waiting on her?’ It took me a while, but I’ve learned to listen to my instincts, it’s like I don’t have to think at all. You have to have faith in yourself. Trust your mind and body.
Without realizing it, this is where I ended up today. Walking freshens me, and I never know where I’ll end up. After this long, I won’t start questioning my intuition now.
Scaling down the cliff is the easy part, doing so without being noticed is a different story. The mystery of how you pop up is all gone when someone screams and points at you, calling you mad, insane, calling the fire department—It’s happened before. But, I’ve gotten better at it. Ripping clothing is another concern.
Place a foot here, swing around to this edge, sneak through a crevice, and fall. Falling is the best part. Will I land like a hero, or break a bone or two? When was the last time I broke anything? Keeping to myself was the best lesson to learn from my inner voice. People lead to trouble. People break people. So, why did I just climb down thirty feet to save this girl?
Everybody starts blending together when you’ve been around them for so long. Evolution stopped some time ago, we are in the age of devolving. A tapestry of existence, the momentum of the human race blindsided by the same technology they thought would save them.
If they only knew, knew the world I know—It’s haunted by cursed creatures such as myself. And nothing they do matters. No one is special. They’re all just energy desperately trying to find a connection.
Mary-Allison Flagstone. I can’t remember the last time I fed. A few decades at least, but that hunger has returned recently, only growing stronger—And people like Mary-Allison Flagstone do not help curb that starvation. She reminds me of it.
Inside me, there is a predator constantly hunting without regulation. Instincts bring out the primal animal we all grew from. When I’m this hungry, I can’t stop. It’s a force beyond me. Feeding becomes as natural as breathing. If I thought too much about it, what I am, the history of how I came to be, well, I wouldn’t be able to save anyone. Memories for me aren’t golden, they are black, nightmares—Guilt.
“Mary-Allison…”
She keeps moving forward like she can’t hear me. Does she have headphones concealed by her wind-blown hair? Yesterday we were in the exact same situation, except this time she’s wearing a bathing suit.
Her undergarments didn’t bother me. Just as much flesh shows today, maybe more. Mary-Allison takes another step, but she’s slow like she’s trying to resist the urge—What is alluring about certain death to a mortal?
“Mary.”
I reach out. Her skin, pale, soft when I squeeze as delicately as I can. Yet still, she doesn’t turn to face me. She stumbles like she’s unable to move anymore.
“Ms. Flagstone?”
Mary-Allison falls back, I catch her, and we both fall to the sand. All of her, on all of me. My senses heighten even more. I am drawn to her, her scent, her pheromones—I’m dizzy.
“Christopher?”
Finally her eyes open. Hazel? No, honey mixed with the shine of amber. Matching her eyes, curls drape over me, snakes that I welcome. Would it be too forward to rub a thumb beneath her eyes, clearing the wetness from them?
“We gotta stop meeting this way.”
‘Her smile…’
“One day I’m going to save you.”
Her eyes squint like she’s struggling to stay awake.
“Are you hurt?”
Mary-Allison cuddles within my body, natural to her… and me— ‘But why?’ Why does this not feel like it normally does when I hold someone? Usually, there is no spark, and right now I see sparks in her eyes, feel them in mine. What do I care about any of this—Why do I want to forget the one person I swore to love and protect as long as I have energy in my body? In the end, I failed her—But I know how to bring her back.
“Are you hurt, Christopher?”
‘Am I hurt?’ Only when my heart beats. The cave has no answers to my questions. Mary-Allison Flagstone. Mary-Allison, Mary, Allison. Allison. That’s who I swore to never let die, Allison. I can bring her back. And this girl in my arms might be the key.
“They call it the Cave of Nightmares for a reason, Mary.”
Honey-amber eyes dart away from me to the sea behind us.
“Christopher, I… I don’t know how to explain it. The cave—Cave of Nightmares? That’s gotta be a joke, right? It’s so, so… on the nose, you know?”
My head is swimming like I’m high. ‘What is happening to me?’
“Yeah, it is, but that’s what it’s called. Can you please promise me you won’t enter it? I won’t always be around…”
‘Her smile steals me.’
Mary-Allison presses her elbow into my thigh, steadying herself enough to break from my comfort. Standing, she offers a hand to me.
“I can take care of myself, Christopher.”
“I have no doubt you can.”
Her head lowers,
“But thank you, thanks for caring.”
Mary stretches, yawns then scrambles to her backpack like she forgot something important.
“So…I was kinda hoping I’d run into you today, Christopher.”
‘Why?’
“Oh?”
Mary-Allison unzips her pack. A black sheet flies out, she waves it until it straightens out, flowing out onto the sand. Making tracks, closer to her, she pulls out fruit and sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil. They smell like they are from Tommy’s, but they can’t compete with Mary-Allison’s tempting aroma.
“Hungry?”
‘Her smile.’
“Always."