Whisper of the Sea

Chapter 6

Brian sat on the weather-beaten wooden skid of the lifeguard shack staring out over the water with his cell phone sitting beside him; its alarm set for ninety minutes from then. The cacophony of the waves and strong wind blowing in his face felt like he was driving with the windows down, but without the same force of the wind. He likened it to what a sensory deprivation chamber must feel like. He doubted he could've heard anything but the world around him right then. It was a welcomed distraction since he'd left Mary's and gave him a chance to think.

There was only one time that he could remember where he was as confused, and it had cost thousands of dollars to convince him it'd just been his imagination.

Like today? He groaned at the thought. In his effort to not talk about it, he managed to piss Mary off and he doubted anything would repair whatever damage he'd done. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't understand why talking to Fred had had such an effect on him. Maybe it was because no one was there for him when he'd been forced to deal with his issues as a kid. Would he be more understanding or kinder had he had a Mary watching over him? Maybe. Or he could've been a drunk like Fred Baxter. Either way, he didn't see much in the way of good things coming from it.

Better to learn to deal. That he could live with, and turned his attention back to the water breaking on the beach.

There was something awe-inspiring about the waves. Not only were their crests foam white as they turned forward before crashing, but the light from the full moon illuminated them from behind, giving them a transparent quality. Shapes of varying sizes blocked the light as sand or fish were pulled into the wave in the few feet before it struck the beach.

Several times, he thought he saw fins or even people reaching out of the water looking for help, only to disappear as quickly as they appeared. It was unnerving, but Brian reasoned that had someone needed his help they would've called out. It was the logical thing to do, and something he liked to think he would've done. If I can after this afternoon. The memory of the shadows sent a brief chill through him, but it quickly faded.

Rubbing his eyes, Brian tried to fight the strange fogginess that had come over him. It was like he was drunk, but not to the point where he couldn't think to move. He just couldn't focus his eyes on anything without seeing shapes of people and fish.

He took a couple of deep breaths and slowly released them. It was something he'd read about and adopted at the urging of his psychiatrist a couple of years earlier. It was supposed to center and relax him, or something like that. He'd never tried it before, so he didn't know if it would work or not.

What the hell. Not like I'll start seeing things again, right? He chuckled, but it didn't carry any humor. All he felt was dread, and he didn't know why or for what.

The sound of the waves slowly faded as he found himself in a closet, waiting for Jack to find him. It was dark and the only source of light came from the window across from where he hid.

The moldy smell of deteriorating moth balls clung to him like a second skin. It felt like the moisture that enveloped him when walking through fog, but the smell was different. It lacked the cleanliness of the water-soaked air, yet it had a comforting effect on him. It reminded him of his grandmother's closet when he was allowed to use her plastic hair rollers as building blocks. He'd always kept the closet door open when playing so he'd remember to put them back.

He hadn't realized he's smiled until he heard a footstep outside the closet door. He covered his mouth as if his smile could be seen or heard through the door. This was his first time in the old Conklin place since the old couple died the previous year.