Echo of a Siren

Echo of a Siren

Published by Sonya C. Dodd at Smashwords

Copyright Sonya C. Dodd 2013

Other titles available by Sonya C. Dodd:

Siren Call

Affirmation of the Sirens (sequel to Echo of a Siren)

A Whisper in the Wind

Harbour of Dreams (a sequel to A Whisper in the Wind)

Brass Buttons

The Root of all Evil

Dear Mother

With Hindsight

Chapter 1

When Jake had asked Greg to go fishing with him that night, Greg knew he should’ve said: ‘no’. It was simple; if he’d just said: ‘no’, none of this would’ve happened and Jake might still be alive today.

Although, of course then he’d never have met her; he couldn’t imagine his life if he hadn’t met her, didn’t even want to consider this as an option, in spite of everything that had happened.

It was stupid going out; not just because he’d watched Jake drink pint after pint whilst they’d played pool at The Anchor; but the buzz of conversation around the room had been focused on the forecast storm, which was expected overnight.

Only the most experienced of the fishermen were talking about going out for a couple of hours, more out of habit and a sense of bravado, than any desperate need to catch something. Most were abandoning the idea just for the one night, saying it wasn’t worth the trouble or risk.

The pub was pretty lively, probably because so many of them were giving themselves the night off; it had a bit of a Saturday night atmosphere: the beer was flowing, conversation was lewd and animated, and there was a constant stream of traffic, between the bar and the smokers’ shelter in the beer garden. Not a garden really; it sounds much grander than the reality. It was more of a yard: empty crates piled up in one corner next to the plastic industrial-sized bins, each a different colour denoting what would pass as being suitable content matter.

There were a couple of token plastic planters with a bravely battling array of shabby primulas trying to remain in bloom despite being used repeatedly as an ashtray by several of the smokers.

The shelter was a wooden, ramshackle construction, built hurriedly by the landlord to appease his regulars when the smoking ban had come into force. Of course, he’d never bothered updating it: there was a miscellany of plastic and wooden outdoor chairs beneath the corrugated roof; but, as long as no one complained about the basic facilities and they never had as yet, he didn’t see any point in wasting money on expensive modern features.

Greg wasn’t a smoker although Jake was. He found it frustrating having their evenings punctuated by the regular visits outside. Unable to understand Jake’s nicotine craving needed to supplement his intake of alcohol, Greg knew it was only the fact they’d been best mates since high school which gave him the patience to tolerate his friend’s high maintenance pattern of behaviour for what should have been a simple night out down the pub.

Fair enough, Jake was pretty cut up about splitting up with his long-term girlfriend, Janine. He’d gone through the melancholy stage and then, with quite a bit of assistance from the beer, into the anger phase with his long-suffering girlfriend now being given every derisory title he could think of for a woman. Greg could understand his friend’s hurt; they’d been together for three years and everyone had eventually assumed they’d go the distance. His ego had been smashed to pieces when she’d dumped him and cleared off with another bloke, but he knew Jake was putting on the hatred for appearances only; there’s no way he could have got over her so quickly. He would stand back and wait for him to get it all out of his system and then be there to pick up the pieces once the separation really hit him.

That’s the thing about being friends for such a long time, Greg could read his friend like a book, and that was one thing he could always say about Jake, he was predictable. Janine had said the same thing; at twenty two, she said she was too young to settle down into a predictable rut of a life. She wanted something more, some excitement, and was convinced she wouldn’t see any of that with Jake.

Life might not be exciting with Jake, but Greg believed she would struggle to find a more reliable, honest and down to earth kind of bloke. He thought she was an idiot to dump his mate like she did; she was hardly Kate Moss, for Christ’s sake. Anyway, it was good to have his friend back; and Greg was looking forward to them getting back into some of their old habits: the nightly pint or two, and the occasional trip up to the city for a night on the town, clubbing and then falling asleep on the train home.

Greg watched the pool match going on with only vague interest as he finished his pint. Jake was once again outside, but it was his round next and Greg was damned if he was going to get the drinks in yet again. He was only a supervisor in the local supermarket, but Jake seemed to think he must be rolling in it just because he had a regular monthly wage coming in and still lived with his mum and dad.

Those who were putting out to sea began to wander towards the door, shouts of ‘good luck’ or ‘fool’, following them. Glancing at his watch, Greg noted it was a little after nine; the way Jake was going he was unlikely to keep going ‘til last orders. Finally he reappeared, grinning from ear to ear as he swaggered through the room towards their table.

What you looking so pleased with yourself for? Greg asked Jake as he dropped heavily into his chair.

Still grinning, Jake tapped the side of his nose: Reckon I’m in with Clair, he replied smugly.

Leaning forward, his arms resting on the table between them, Greg looked at him in amazement. I thought you were cut up about Janine! Soon got over her then.

Jake laughed. That was before I knew Clair had the hots for me; you’ve got to admit, mate; she’s gorgeous. I’d be crazy to say ‘no’ to her.

Shaking his head, Greg looked round the room to see whether he could spot Clair. He’d known she’d fancied Jake for ages but had kept it to himself, not wanting to cause any strife between Jake and Janine. His mate was great company but when it came to girls, he thought with his trousers. It had shocked everyone he and Janine had lasted as long as they did; before she came along he’d shagged his way through most of the local female population. No one had expected their relationship to exist after the first couple of months so the fact she’d kept him interested as long as she did had to say something for them. Greg hoped Jake wasn’t about to try and make up for lost time; he was obviously on the rebound.

You getting another round in, or what? Greg asked, pointing to his empty glass.

No, we’re off; come on, he replied, shoving his wallet and fags into his jacket pocket and pushing back his chair as he stood up.

Where we going? Greg frowned, wondering what he had planned. As long as it didn’t involve any blind date for him; he was sick of Jake thinking he needed to give him a helping hand when it came to finding a girlfriend. Just because they had very different attitudes towards girls; Jake couldn’t work out how he could survive without sex at least five times a week.

He’d had a couple of girlfriends; but Greg didn’t want anything casual. Call him weird, and Jake frequently did; but he knew what he was looking for in a girl and he was still searching, although a little less desperately than Jake. He would be patient.

Jake didn’t reply until they were outside standing on the pavement. The noise from the pub was only slightly lessened by the closing of the door. Shivering with the sudden change in temperature after the relative warmth of the crowded pub, Greg dug his hands deep into his jeans pockets. The wind had already turned round to a north westerly and the cool air was exaggerated by the chilly gusts.

Across the road boats were creating a Mexican wave effect, moored in the harbour as the waves rocked them. Jake glanced both ways before he stepped into the road expecting Greg as usual to follow. Come on, he called over his shoulder, jogging to clear the road as an old Fiesta came round the corner suddenly.

After the car had passed, Greg hurried across the road himself. You’re not planning to go out in this, are you? I know you’re crazy but I thought you had a bit of sense between your lugs.

What’s the matter, mate? Not man enough?

Look, Greg sighed, coming to a standstill in front of his friend. What’s the point? Why can’t we just go back inside The Anchor? I’ll get the next round in if you want.

Jake shook his head and took his packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, extracted a fag and lit it, all the time watching Greg. What’s your problem, Gregory?

Greg winced, Jake only ever called him by his full name when he was trying to wind him up.

Remember, Janine thinks I’m too boring for her; wants a bit of excitement. I’ll show her how bloody exciting I can be, when she hears about the two of us going out in the biggest storm for a couple of decades. She’ll be gagging for me to take her back when word gets out that we were out there with the best of ‘em.

You are joking, Greg cried. You’ll risk our fucking necks just to prove you’re a hard man to Janine? She’s shagging someone else; why should she give a shit what you’re doin’? He laughed incredulously as the first drops of rain began to fall.

Fine! Jake exclaimed, fishing in his pockets, searching for his keys. You stay here and I’ll go out on my soddin’ own.

Greg watched him walking off towards the waiting boats. Jake often took his dad’s boat out; his dad was getting on a bit and didn’t get out much these days. It was only a small vessel, but it was sufficient for getting out into the open sea and Jake had told Greg with great detail, of his exploits with girlfriends aboard the old relic.

God, Jake could be a real idiot, sometimes, Greg thought to himself. Why on earth he thought Janine would give a monkey’s whether he went out to sea in a bloody storm or not, was beyond him. What was he supposed to do now? Jake was in one of his moods where he’d decided what he was going to do and nothing would sway him from his path. If Greg didn’t go with him, then it would look gutless if something happened to Jake; if he went with him, he’d be considered as great an idiot as Jake. He couldn’t win.

Reluctantly he followed after Jake’s retreating figure into the shadows, away from the security of the street lamps, along the harbour front.

When Greg reached the boat, Jake had already untied the mooring ropes and had the engine started. He glanced across at Greg, wavering hesitantly by the boat. You coming or not? He yelled over the noise from the engine and the wind.

Greg swore under his breath and, as the boat began to edge forward, he jumped aboard and fell forward, hitting his shin against part of the deck as he landed unceremoniously next to Jake.

The lights blinked into life as they pulled out into the sea, showing the regular patter of the rain, which was gradually becoming harder now. The sound of the ancient motor drowned out any other sound, except the beating rain on the fibreglass shell of the vessel.

Picking himself up, and holding onto the edge of the boat as he came to stand next to Jake, Greg looked out into the darkness. He’d been out a few times with Jake and his dad over the years, but he wasn’t a sea farer, and at this moment felt embarrassed he had no sea legs. You’re a bloody idiot, Greg shouted, but his words were swept away by the wind and Jake just grinned at him, vaguely aware he’d said something.

Their boat leapt heavily into each wave, as Greg turned slowly green and Jake pushed down on the throttle. Against the horizon, a flash of lightning lit up the black sky, as a giant wave came hurtling towards them.

She sat on the rocks at the headland, enjoying the spectacle of the storm building in a crescendo. The power was invigorating: a kaleidoscope of patterns and shades lit up the sky; the rumbling of thunder sounded menacing against the backdrop of crashing waves. What pathetic mortals had brought their tiny excuses for boats out on a night like this? They didn’t even warrant her interest, yet alone her sympathy. The spray from the sea swept over her; but she didn’t even flinch as the icy water soaked her skin. Her journey had been long; despite the lack of warmth in the reception she was receiving, it was somehow comforting to be back in English waters. After all, it was where she had begun her journey, and wherever eternity might take her, this would always be where she would return to; she couldn’t help herself. It was like a homing instinct.

She wrinkled her nose with disgust; they were out there, the smell was unmistakable. Despite the saltiness in the air and the driving rain, nothing could disguise the stench; they revolted her.

Standing up and stretching her arms up towards the sky Rachel sighed and smiled; she was ready to feed and these foolish idiots, going out in such atrocious conditions, made it simple for her. A storm was always a good excuse for over-indulgence; the bodies, once they washed ashore, were deemed to have drowned, no suspicions whatsoever.

Stepping off the edge of the rocks, Rachel disappeared beneath the choppy surface; the murky water was no obstacle. She knew where they were and she would wait for them to fall literally into her arms.

What’s wrong with her? Greg asked desperately, trying to control the panic he could feel making his whole body shake. The last wave had threatened to capsize them, but somehow they’d re-emerged, still in one piece.

Jake thumped the wheel as though this might, miraculously, help the engine to leap back into life. Repeatedly, he’d tried to restart the motor, but it was no doubt flooded. Greg was whinging in his ear; amazing how a crisis at sea, in the middle of a storm, could suddenly make you feel very sober, he thought.

Talk to me, Jake. Greg pulled his sleeve with a jerk; frustrated at being ignored.

For Christ’s sake, Jake exploded in anger at himself, as well as at Greg, Isn’t it bloody obvious? We’re not going anywhere in this pile of junk. He ran his hand over his face, blinking away the drops of rain lingering on his lashes.

Where’s your flare, mate? Greg prompted, hanging tightly onto the doorframe of the small cabin, his knuckles white, although he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers.

Jake shot him a look, which told Greg all he needed to know. We’re out here, in this, without a flare and I s’pose the radio’s never been fixed either. You’ve got a bloody death wish, you have. Greg turned and looked at the sea behind him, not trusting himself not to knock his friend’s block off for being such a selfish sod.

Neither of them were braced for the next wave; it seemed to pick the boat up, as if it weighed no more than a feather, and dumped it back on the nearest descending wave which flipped it onto its side like a pancake.

Greg was aware of a sudden, sharp pain to his temple, and then the shock of the icy water’s embrace. He felt himself falling and was surprised by his lack of panic; feebly he kicked his feet trying to propel himself instinctively towards the surface.

Meanwhile, Jake, having cursed pointlessly as he’d been thrown around the inside of the cabin like a ragdoll until he had, finally, been spat out into the freezing sea, fought determinedly to break the surface of the water.

Greg was relieved to see his friend at a distance, but seemingly safe. Wishing to conserve his energy, he struck out gently but resolutely towards him, knowing if they were going to die, they might as