Well, I was having that feeling again. There was no music, but I could see myself sitting up in my bed, my black hair in messy strands across my face, staring down at my phone and I, and everyone else in the world, knew that something heavy had just been handed to me. Like I was given a superhero power to save the world.
That, of course, was ridiculous, as the only power I could ever have would be an overactive imagination. But the feeling still remained.
I slowly got out of my bed, enveloped in future mystery and drama, and let myself indulge in the moment.
When the indulgence hit an all-time high, I went to my computer and quickly put in a new blog post. I knew that Ada would have a hissy fit over my impromptu post, but I didn’t care. I wanted to tell the world that the blog posts weren’t for nothing. Something big was going to happen. I didn’t flat out say what it was, lest I jinx it or get Dex in trouble, but I definitely alluded to the fact that I would be revisiting the lighthouse again with a proper ghost-hunting team. I didn’t mention that the team was just Dex and me, but I did say it would possibly be aired on a prominent website.
Then I brushed it aside, got dressed and went to work.
I could only see blackness at first. My eyes fluttered upwards; my lashes were wet and thick as they tried to focus. Slowly, light appeared in patches, a damp glow that moved and swirled in all four corners of my sight.
My other senses kicked in lazily. I was wet and cold, and could barely feel my limbs, floating, bobbing up and down with rolling swells of water. A light shone in the distant black and grew bigger with each wave. I felt as if I was gradually being sucked toward a tunnel of brightness.
Was this death? I thought. My thoughts themselves were distant, as if someone else were thinking them for me, someone I had no attachment to or concern for. If it was death, it didn’t seem to matter. Any gravity associated with that concept was lost.
The light continued to get bigger until I found feeling in my body. Pressure was pushing from underneath. My skin was raked. I was lying down on a hard, wet surface. A beach. The waves lapped behind me. I looked down at glistening rocks mere inches from my face. A tiny white crab, luminous against the void, scuttled on top of my arms and headed up a slope. My eyes followed it up and I recognized the source of the light. It was not death or the afterlife. It was coming from the top of the lighthouse.
This lighthouse seemed familiar to me. I felt like I had been there before, as if it had some kind of purpose in my life. But I couldn’t recall how that was possible. I had come from the ocean, from distant lands. This place could not have existed in my life.
I got up slowly. My legs shook with each wave that hit and my feet slipped on top of the smooth, wet rocks. Someone appeared in front of me and blocked the light, causing it to splay outwards into the night. I realized someone had been standing there the whole time, but I just hadn’t allowed myself to see them. The person raised an arm and pointed in my direction. I knew somehow this person wasn’t pointing at me. I turned around and looked back at the ocean.
There was nothing there but inky blackness. Then a weak beam of moving light. There was another lighthouse, perched on a tall rocky mound just offshore. It illuminated the dark waters below, where familiar shapes danced. I strained my eyes. They looked like human bodies floating up and down with the waves. There were at least a dozen of them.
Then the lighthouse shut off. The darkness was sharp, ominous, suffocating.
When it came back on, I was back in the water, the dark shapes floating around me. Something bumped my back.
I quickly splashed around to find myself face to face with a bloated, puny visage. His eyes were missing, his skin was leaking dark liquid from each pore, and slimy kelp oozed from his haphazard jaw. He sank underneath the water and I felt a bony hand clutch both my legs. I screamed just in time to be pulled underwater, the ocean seeping into my open mouth and filling up my lungs. The light on the surface rippled as I was pulled further and further into the depths until darkness filled my eyes once more.
It was Saturday morning, nine fifty a.m. I sat outside on our front steps with a huge, scalding hot travel mug of coffee in my hand. Though I didn’t turn around, I knew my mother and father were standing at the kitchen window watching me, watching for Dex, and making sure that their eldest daughter wasn’t going to be picked up by a murderous filmmaker.
To be honest, I wasn’t feeling as 100% positive about this whole thing like I had been the day before. I guess my horrific dream put a damper on things.
The creepiest thing was that I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely drenched in sweat. I was so wet that I couldn’t be sure that I hadn’t just been drowned in the ocean. It was just as sticky and salty, and just as out of place.
And of course, I was naturally as nervous as ever. It didn’t help having breakfast with my parents and hearing their opinions on the matter. My dad was overprotective of me, as most dads should be. My mother was more concerned that I would be made a fool of. Both of their worries were not out of place. I was thinking the same things myself. But I think deep down inside, they knew I was levelheaded and could defend myself if I needed to. Either way, I knew I could defend myself and that’s all that mattered.
Uncle Albert also wasn’t as accepting of our plans as I had thought he would be. He said several ghost hunters had harassed him over the last few days, all wanting access to his lighthouse. ‘Tis the season, I guess. I hadn’t explicitly said the whereabouts of his lighthouse in my blog entries, but I guess there are only a few privately owned lighthouses on the Oregon Coast. Luckily he gave in, but only if I could someday give him royalties. Of course I couldn’t promise him anything, but I figured one day, if this project was a success, you never knew what could happen (I was leading him on a bit).
Suspiciously, Ada was absent through all of this. I didn’t want to wake her up before I left but I had thought for sure she would have pried herself out of bed to watch the start of it all. You know, just to make sure I wasn’t actually heading off to the Pacific with Beelzebub himself.
I checked the time on my phone. Five minutes to ten. I pulled my leather jacket in closer around me. The weather had stayed cold and dreary for the entire week; our Indian summer was now just a memory.
That said, today was not particularly bad. The wind that had rocked the city recently had become subdued overnight. There was weak sunlight coming from the east that couldn’t quite penetrate the thick mist that sat stoically on the streets and covered the treetops. I loved fog and we had a lot of it at my house, being so close to the Columbia River and all. But it wasn’t helping to lift my spirits.
And its dampness was seeping into my bones despite my attire of leather moto jacket, flared black jeans, grey cowl neck sweater and black Chucks. Yes, I know he specifically said not to wear black, but he obviously didn’t know how anti-white my wardrobe is. This isn’t even a matter of being goth (which I so am not); it’s for practical reasons. White with me won’t last longer than a day—no, an hour—without getting some sort of stain on it. That said, I had brought a light tee and a hip-length yellow pea coat just in case I was ordered to change.
I let out a deep breath and slowly took another one in through my nose, one of my “relaxing” techniques. I have to admit, if you’re having a total freak-out it doesn’t do squat, but the placebo effect was always worth pursuing.
I looked behind me at my parents. They both waved carefully. My mom made the “phone” symbol with her hand. She had told me earlier she would be texting me every hour until we got to Al’s to make sure I was all right and if I didn’t respond to her texts, she would be calling. I felt like I was about to go on a very bad date.
The sound of an engine interrupted my thoughts. A black Toyota Highlander rolled out of the fog and came to a slow halt in front of the house. It had to be him.
I got up and I shot my parents a look for them to stay put, lest they had any ideas of coming out to meet him.
My parents didn’t even make eye contact; they were too busy watching the car. It just sat at the end of the driveway, steam rising from the exhaust, humming along in the quiet morning. If it was Dex in there, he wasn’t getting out.
Well, time to bite the silver bullet, I thought. I waved at my parents, making sure they saw me. They both nodded, arms crossed. It’s funny how different my parents were, but at times like this they were exact clones of each other.
I placed my coffee on the step, picked up my small duffel bag and walked down the driveway with false confidence, noting the dampness of the leaves as I treaded over them and felt the cold seep in through the canvas walls of my shoes.
I reached the passenger door of the vehicle and peered inside. The windows had a slight tint to them, making it hard to see anything in the grey morning light.
The door unlocked automatically with a loudness that startled me. I cautiously reached for the handle and pulled it open.
There was no one inside. The car was warm and running; the keys in the ignition. But no one was sitting in the driver’s seat.
What the hell? I stuck my head further in to look at the back seat.
“Hey.”
I jumped a mile, nearly hitting my head on the roof. I (carefully) pulled my head out of the car to see Dex right behind me.
In the daylight he seemed taller. His build was still on the thin side, but I could definitely see nice strength in his arms as they poked out of his grey short-sleeved work shirt and hinted at the markings of a tattoo of some sort.
There was a craggy shadow of day-old stubble on his cheeks but his chin scruff was tightly groomed, as was the faint trace of his moustache. He had a nice, broad nose flanked by high cheekbones. The slightest hint of dark circles was smudged at the corners of his eyes, which only seemed to increase their intensity. Oh, those eyes. They were even more poignant when emphasized by his low brows and the permanent frown line between them. He looked like he wasn’t looking at me, but rather through me.
He stood there with a rather impatient stance, as if he had been waiting a long time.
I had my hand to my chest, trying to calm my heart, and wondered how long I had just been staring at him.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to squeak out. “I didn’t see you there.”
Dex nodded. He pulled a pocket watch out of his cargo pants pocket and quickly glanced at it. He spoke to me without smiling.
“We better get going.”
He was waiting for me to get in the car. Slightly unnerved, I got in and he shut the door after me. It would have been gentlemanly in any other circumstance but at the moment it felt weird and uncalled for. As he walked around to the driver’s side, I looked through the tinted windows at the house. My parents were now outside and standing on the steps.
As Dex got in and drove off, I followed them with my eyes and suddenly felt very alone and afraid. They waved until I was out of sight. I had a sudden urge to jump out of the car. I wondered at what speed that would become a stupid idea.
As I let that thought occupy my mind, I hoped Dex would say something. He didn’t, though. The silence in the car was deafening. It felt like the most awkward first date ever.