Dark Beach - By Lauren Ash Page 0,54

blinds, closed the curtains, and then, striking a match, lit the stub of a candle in the lantern and carried it into the living room, setting it down on the white wicker table, just in case the lights went out.

The cold revolver, she eased from her handbag. Was it even loaded? Who knew? A glance down the barrel exposed only black. There was a small button on one side; Jenny slid it up and down. It revealed either a red dot or a green dot.

“Green means go I guess,” she said, leaving it on green. “Just try and get me now. We’re ready for you. It’s time for it to end.” The words hung eerily in the room.

Charlie whimpered, wrapped up in a little pile on the sofa.

“You’re sleepy now, huh? Good pain medicine?” The dog’s eyes closed under her soft caress. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need you to listen out down here for me, Charlie. I have to go upstairs.”

Taking the lantern with her, she headed up the stairs. Back in the hex room, she flipped through the journals, tossing them about, searching for more information.

Give me a name! Who is it? What happened to you? Where does this key go? “God almighty!” She huffed, tossing the last journal on the floor. “This woman—nothing.”

She paced the hex room, one eye on the beach. As she passed the bed again, she noticed one last journal poking out from under the bed—a red-covered one.

“How’d I miss that?”

Opening it, she read the squirrelly handwriting.

Thursday: I know he’s coming for me. It’s time for it to end.

Jenny stopped. “I just said that.”

I left him a message down at the beach. He likes to stand down there and watch us through the windows at night. I have a gun. I just don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough. I can’t believe I ever loved him.

Friday: I thought he would come last night. He didn’t. It’s 1 am. I can hear something outside … heavy steps.

“Oh … that’s it? You’ve got to give me more than that!”

The rest of the journal was blank. It got chucked across the room along with the others.

She wondered what time it was anyway. The lighthouse clock on the bedside wicker stand had stopped ticking. She took a spot on a window seat and peered out. The glow from the lantern prevented her from seeing completely, so she cupped her hands up against the glass.

First she could see the ocean, black and rolling off into the distance for all the ages. Then there was the beach, and then the dune. The grass swayed in a silent lullaby—and a dark figure was standing in its song.

Jenny slumped down low, still leaning against the window, although it made no difference: there was nothing to hide behind.

RING, RING. RING, RING.

There’s a phone in here? Jenny tried to ignore it.

RING, RING. RING, RING.

Crawling across the hardwood floor, she followed the sound to a long, thin closet in the corner. An old, pink plastic landline sat on the closet floor. “Hello.”

“Jenny?” The voice was thin and fragile.

“Yes.” Frantically, she pulled the phone out of the closet and stretched the line as far as she could toward the window. It fell short, reaching only to the end of the bed.

“This is Molly—Mrs. Coggington. I’m so glad Gerry didn’t have the phone disconnected after all. I searched and searched for the phone there the other day, and luckily I still had her old number in my little book that I keep near the phone with addresses and numbers in it,” Molly began.

“Molly, oh hi.”

“I had to call. I didn’t know if you knew. It is terrible news, I’m afraid.”

Jenny’s heart was pounding, Molly’s voice barely audible over its thumping.

“It’s Gerry,” said Molly.

“Yeah, I was just with her.”

“She’s dead.”

Jenny dropped the phone. It broke in two pieces and the frail voice faded.

“Oh God.”

Sidling over to the window, Jenny popped her head up. The figure was gone.

“Oh no.”

The gun pressed painfully against her hip as she crouched. She arched her back up a little, reached into her pocket, and pulled it out. Her anxious face reflected back at her in the windowpane. She inhaled, focused on her own black, glossy pupil. In an instant, the familiar razor-sharp teeth appeared, spiraling out from the center. The whale advanced slowly behind her and took her in its mouth.

“No, stop,” she cried.

Jenny felt the hot breath of the beast, the sharp teeth slicing down over her neck, choking her.