The Haunting of Shandy Bay Part III
My name is Sunny Alexander. And I’m Henry James and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Conclusion
What are the odds of two writers who work for the same magazine meeting up in a sleepy little berg completely by chance, then discovering something strange going on?
Seems likes it happens to us more times than not.
On the drive back to the motel we both came to the conclusion if Shandy bay — not the town, the actual bay — was indeed haunted it needed to be our initial focus when we started poking around.
After booking another room we placed a call to Manny and had him run the plates of the dude we saw at the diner.
The guy’s name was Gerald Bosley, a two bit punk who’d served time for running drugs on the streets of San Antonio. He’d been paroled for the last three months and so far had managed to keep his nose clean.
That didn’t mean he was keeping his nose clean now.
We also asked him about the name Enrique the dude mentioned. Manny told us he’d do a little research and get back to us.
We decided to take a look at the bay itself and loaded up some snooping essentials.
You know, necessary items like tissues, bottled water, binoculars, notepads, pens and pencils, gun, ammo and of course, Twinkies.
“Henry James, you are not eating those damned Twinkies in my car.”
“Fine, let’s take mine.”
“I would rather ride shotgun on a garbage truck.”
“Oh for the love of God Alexander. Okay, I won’t eat the damned Twinkies in your car. But we’re going to be out there for awhile and I guarantee we’re going to get hungry.”
“I have granola bars thank you very much.”
“To each their own.”
We traveled the short distance to Shandy Bay and tooled around until we discovered a paved road which took us in the direction of the inlet. In the daylight the Quaternary formation of the bay, molded by at least a million years of nature, seemed docile and peaceful.
Probably a cool place to hang out and soak up some rays.
Probably not a cool place if it was the last place you were seen alive.
We parked at a fenced overlook and took in the greenish blue water as it frothed and slid across a wide expanse of tawny beach.
On the west side of the bay, a large rock cropping jutted into the water. Each of us took a turn inspecting the broad wall of stone, spying several caves at the base, worn into the facade of the outcrop by years of assault from the constantly churning sea water.
“Man, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be caught in one of those during high tide.”
“Henry, did you notice the boardwalk?”
“What boardwalk?”
“Just above the water line. Running from the far side of the beach to the largest cave.”
“Give me the binoculars.”
“Okay Sunny what the hell is that for?”
“I guess we’ll need to find out. Start looking for a way down to the beach.”
“Dammit come back here. This body of mine ain’t built for rock climbing.”
“Come on Grandpa. We’re burning daylight.”
“Oh Christ, now you think you’re John Wayne? Could this day get any better?”
“Quit bitching and help me find a way down.”
We discovered a steep trail cut through the beach front. After a bit of slipping and sliding through shifting pockets of sand mixed with grass roots trying to trip us up made it to the beach.
Along the back of the beach a sweeping arc of deciduous trees provided ample shade. Between each tree sat picnic tables, all looking as if they hadn’t had a fresh coat of sealer or paint in years.
We inspected the trash cans poised beside the tables. Nothing was in them except for collections of water from the last rain.
Everything about this beach was perfect. Hard packed sand constantly cooled by steady tides of water, shade if you tired of swimming or sunning yourself.
The only thing it lacked was people.
It didn’t appear as if anyone had frequented this bay in a long time. As we plowed through the sand in the direction of the boardwalk there were no signs anyone had been on this beach.
No footprints, no washed out sand castles, no trash in the barrels, nothing to indicate this bay had been frequented by another human being.
Both of us were thinking the boardwalk would be in the same condition as the picnic tables, boards rotted out, impassible due to lack of maintenance, but what we discovered made the whole thing even more strange.
“Henry look at those boards about midway.”
“Yeah, that’s fresh wood.”
“Why would somebody go to the trouble of maintaining this boardwalk and let everything else go to hell in a hand basket?”
“That, Miss Alexander is what we’re about to find out. Come on.”
It was a short trip to the cave entrance. What we discovered seemed strange but not earth shattering. In fact it left us with more questions than answers. A U shaped platform had been built of wood running along the cave wall nearest us, disappearing into the darkness at the back then reappearing against the far wall.
“A boat slip maybe?”
“That’s what I was thinking Sunny. But what the hell are those two pylons sticking out of the water back there for?”
“Don’t know. Maybe to tie off so the current doesn’t take the boat back out?”
“Maybe. I want to take a closer look.”
“Be my guest. I’ll wait right here.”
“Really. Afraid of falling in?”
“No, I can probably swim better than you. I just don’t do well in closed in dark places that’s all.”
“Well I’ll be damned. The great Sunny Alexander is claustrophobic? Ain’t that a kick in the head.”
“Just go take a look then let’s get out of here.”
After giving the pylons a closer inspection and performing a quick search of the back of the cave I walked back to where Sunny was waiting.
“Nothing to write home about Sunny. Let’s go have a seat on one of those picnic tables and talk for a spell.”
“Tell you what Henry. Let me go back to the car and get us some water.”
“Bring the Twinkies.”
I found a table which looked more sturdy than the rest, groaned as I lifted my legs over the bench then propped my elbows on the table. When Sunny returned she sat the bottles on the table and tossed me a pair of Twinkies packages. We both sat with our own thoughts for a couple of minutes, at times each of us taking a moment to stare at the cave opening.
“You want one?”
“One of your Twinkies? Good Lord no.”
“Suit yourself. So ask yourself a question Sunny. If somebody wanted people to stay clear of this beach what’s the best way to do it?”
“They’d have to make everybody think it’s not safe.”
“Right. Unsafe like people disappearing, strange sights and sounds. Remember what the dude at the diner said?”
“Damn, what was it? That they’d take care of anybody sticking their nose into things like they took care of the other four.”
“Right and whatever’s happening is going down at midnight.”
“Whatever it is Henry, we need to be here when it does.”
“Yeah, let’s get back to the motel. I want to get a little shuteye. Got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
READ ON THE HAUNTING OF SHANDY BAY PART IV
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