Fiction
Return To Shandy Bay Part 5
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Darkness, along with humid, sticky air drifting inland, found the three of us arriving at the overlook to Shandy Bay once again. When the fixer told us we need to return to where it all started, we all assumed a daytime visit was what he meant.
Unfortunately for us, and we didn’t discover that until a short nine PM call with our mysterious benefactor, we were supposed to find it, whatever it was, in the dark.
“So, what are we supposed to be looking for again?”
“No clue Roberto. All the Fixer said was we’d know it when we saw it.”
“Fantastic. Stumbling around in the dark, and we don’t even know what we’re looking for. I vote we stay together this time. Henry, you have your pistol?”
“Yeah, Princess, I got it. what do you suppose he meant by it’s as easy as one, two, three?”
“No clue. Well boys, I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night. We may as well start looking for these elusive one, two, threes the Fixer mentioned.”
Using the beams of our flashlights to guide us along the cliff’s edge, we began searching. None of us looking for anything in particular, and all of us searching for something, something that looked as if it didn’t belong. We rounded the edge of the cliff on the east side and stopped a few yards shy of the edge staring through the blackness and listening to the sounds of incoming waves crashing against the rocks.
“No closer to that ledge, folks. No telling how loose the stones are. The last thing we need right now is one of us taking a header into the ocean. Even if the fall doesn’t kill us, I think the undertow would make short work of us.”
“Got it Sunny. So did either of you see anything?”
“Nothing except grass and rock.”
“Same here, Henry.”
“Damn, okay, then we backtrack and take the west side.”
Our trek to the west side of the cliff met with the same outcome. Perspiration dampened our clothing until it clung to us, marauding hoards of mosquitoes nipped at our flesh, flying insects attacked the beams of our flashlights. We stopped at a place just away from the cliff’s edge and once again stared out into the blackened sky, again listening to the incoming waves.
“Henry, this shit is getting ridiculous. We’ve been out here for hours and nothing.”
“I know Sunny. I know. We’re missing something.”
“No shit Sherlock.”
“He said one, two, three.”
“We know what he said, Roberto.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean it was easy. Maybe he meant we were supposed to find the numbers, the actual numbers.”
“Look, son, we’ve covered both sides of this damned bay. Did you see anything with numbers on it?”
“No, but maybe he put them there, and he didn’t want anybody to see them during the day. From what I can tell, nobody comes here anymore, whether it’s day or night, but I don’t think he intended to take a chance.”
“Henry, Roberto may have something. Maybe that’s why The Fixer said we had to come back here tonight.”
“I’m still not getting it.”
“Henry, remember those glow sticks you gave Dante and Alicia for their birthdays?”
“Yeah, they couldn’t wait till nightfall because…”
“So now the lightbulb comes on, doesn’t it old man?”
“Bite me, Johnson. So what are we supposed to do run around in the dark until we trip and break our necks?”
“We stay together and take it slow. If this doesn’t work, then I don’t know Henry. I’d say we’re pretty much screwed.”
“Fine. But if I fall and break a hip, you’re answering to your mother.”
“Just turn off your damned flashlight and start looking, old man.”
Simultaneously we flicked off our flashlights, plunging the area into shadow. The night skies were hardly a shade or two brighter than the cloak of darkness around us, made so by ambient moonlight partially masked by slow-moving protective clouds.
We slowly made our way across the overlook where the car was, then cautiously crept along the cliff heading east, taking extra caution not to stray to close to the precipice.
No less than a hundred yards from the overlook, we found what we were looking for. A square wooden post about three feet long lay in the grass. We were almost sure we’d overlooked it on our first pass. On it, gleaming fluorescence beamed back at us.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Number one.”
“And look Henry. There’s two.”
Looking like an intersection warning sign, the second numerical seemed to float suspended in the air.
“That’s damned close to the edge folks. Okay, I’m going to get on my belly and see what it is. You guys hold onto my legs in case the whole damn thing goes out from under me.”
Our second discovery came a few minutes later.
“What the hell?”
“What is it, Henry?”
“Right on the edge of the cliff. It’s some kind of metallic square hole. I just looked over the edge. I found three. It’s a long rectangular box of some kind. As near as I can tell, it’s been bolted into the side of the cliff.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me. Bolted into the cliff.”
“What the hell?”
“No clue, princess.”
“Henry, you said there’s a square metallic hole in the ground?”
“Yeah, Roberto, that’s what I said.”
“Okay, just for giggles, I’m going to pass the post we found up to you on your right side. Take it and see if it’ll fit into the hole.”
“Well, are you going to pass it up?”
“I just did.”
“Your other right old man.”
“Oh, okay, damn. It fits snug as a bug in a rug.”
“Damn James. Nobody talks like that anymore.”
“Johnson? Are you going to talk shit to me when my ass is hanging off this cliff’s edge?”
“Oh, stop being such a drama queen, old man.”
“Now what?”
“Push it like it’s a lever or something.”
“Nope. Won’t budge. What if…”
A sharp clicking immediately sounded, and then an even louder clanging noise rang out. For several seconds, silence returned, and we heard nothing save an errant bird whistling, and the ever-present sounds of waves crashing into the shore.
“Henry? What the hell just happened?
“Hang on, I’m coming back. Everybody turn on your flashlights.”
All three of us stood at the cliff’s edge and shined our flashlights in the same direction.
“Is that what I think it is, you guys?”
“Yeah, Roberto, it’s exactly what you think it is.”
“Let’s go back to my car. I’ve got a length of tow rope. Which of you is the heaviest?”
“What?”
“Which of you weighs the most? We’ll tie your waist, then tie it around that lever. If that ladder can handle your weight, the rest of us should be able to get down pretty easily.”
“That’s something you never ask a lady, young man.”
“Ah, shit. Give it a rest, Johnson. Okay, I’ll go.”
Read On — Return To Shandy Bay Part 6
Let’s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.