Ghost Coast

Prologue

I owe my life to three ghosts.

It’s only now, ten years later, I feel ready to put to paper what happened in 1988. It was not an ordinary beach getaway by any means.

―Reece Narrows

December 1998

Chapter 1

Getaway

Aunt Mandy looked back at me as she pulled her tank of a car, a green Torino station wagon with wood grain paneling, onto the interstate. She hadn’t changed much in two years. Her hair, a mess of blond curls, spilled out from under a well worn Orioles cap and down past her shoulders. Always tan and ready to launch her warm, cheesy smile in any direction, she was my favorite relative. She reminded me of the actress Kate Capshaw, who’d starred in the Indy movies and married Steven Spielberg. Lucky guy. Not that I was attracted to my aunt. Nothing like that. I just appreciated how comfortable she was in her own skin.

Thirteen, huh? She cranked up the Aerosmith song on the radio, Angel off their Permanent Vacation album. Sorry we missed your party.

Yep, finally a teen. Two weeks and counting. Not that she’d missed much. Blowing out a single candle on a dry cupcake with its icing threatening to slide off in a hospital cafeteria didn’t qualify as much of a celebration.

I’m sure I have your card still back at the house. Waiting on Laney to sign it.

Is she home from college yet? I asked, hoping the answer was a resounding no. Laney wasn’t a bad person, but she was a handful, my aunt’s widely used label. Laney had driven many conversations between my mom and her sister-in-law for the past few years. I’d overheard enough of their phone chats to know that Laney was awfully busy finding herself to bother with pesky things like compassion and respecting her elders. It always cracked me up to hear Aunt Mandy on the other end of the line refer to herself as such.

She’s done with school, but took a three-week detour, a little road trip with her friends down to Florida. Not sure why when we live so close to a perfectly good beach ourselves. She turned down the next song, Never Surrender, an overplayed ballad by Corey Hart that I was ashamed to admit I knew all the lyrics to.

Thanks for putting me up this summer. I hated being babysat.

My pleasure. You need this getaway. Little salt air will do you good. She didn’t add anything more. She tried to hide the tension in her face by sliding on her sunglasses.

I resented the getaway I was on, not that I’d ever let her know that. My aunt was doing her duty, helping out a relative who was in a tough spot.

Ahead stretched lines of cars preparing to cross the Bay Bridge. Rather impressive for a Wednesday morning. Guess everyone wanted to get a jump on the Friday beach traffic. Ocean City was a prime destination for those looking to play in the surf.

She offered, We’ll get lunch in Salisbury, your pick.

I nodded and listened to the rest of the song, wishing the false swell of confidence the Canadian rocker stirred within me could be transplanted to my mother wasting away in her hospital bed.

****

We rolled up into the gravel drive next to my aunt’s bayside trailer to find Laney waiting. She leaned against the wooden deck that led out to a short dock shared with the neighbors on either side.

Laney’s hair was brown, but she’d seen fit to slap a purple streak down the back of it. She wore denim shorts and a red tank top that exposed her pale midriff. She squinted at us as her mom put the station wagon in park. She chomped incessantly on what had to be a huge wad of gum. About time you got here. Been waiting around for almost an hour.

Aunt Mandy stepped out of her car carrying the fast food trash from our lunch. I didn’t expect you until the weekend. Last thing you told me was you were taking a detour to Virginia Beach.

Laney rolled her eyes. Yeah, well, that didn’t pan out. Mark had to get back today. His dad needed him to work.

I exited the station wagon, cringing when my door creaked as I shoved it shut.

Laney glared at me. Oh, yeah. Forgot we have a full house this summer. She looked at their home. Well, full super-cramped, beat-up trailer. I’m not giving up my room.

Aunt Mandy fished her keys out of her front pocket and unlocked the screen door. No one’s asking you to. She gave her daughter a lingering look. Where is your house key anyway?

Lost it. Some gator in the Everglades is probably chewing away at it right now. She shrugged, grabbed her bright blue suitcase, and slid through the entryway.

I retrieved my two suitcases and backpack loaded down with books from the back, slamming the hatch to make sure it would secure itself like my aunt had warned me about earlier.

I walked up to the trailer and made a show of taking in a deep breath through my nose. Ah, feeling better already.

She smacked me playfully in the back of the head. Easy, chief. The role of sarcastic teen with a chip on her shoulder has already been filled.

****

I took the couch in the small living room. Laney complained that my sleeping arrangement on the lumpy yellow furniture, whose heyday had to be circa the late seventies when paisley reigned supreme, would interfere with her late night television viewing. Her mom displayed infinite patience in how she handled this outburst. I grabbed one of my books, Lucifer’s Hammer by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle, and escaped to the dock.

I went right up to the end of the wooden dock and sat down, letting my legs dangle over the edge. Recalling how I’d gotten a nasty splinter from this very same dock the last time we’d stayed here, I situated my shorts appropriately.

Two rectangular crab traps were stacked to my left, each of the chain-link mesh traps secured to the dock by long ropes. I wondered why my aunt didn’t have them stored away in the small shed. Just sitting out didn’t seem wise. While bayside breezes weren’t as gusty as those along the ocean, it wouldn’t take much to dislodge one or both.

I opened my book and tried to focus on the disaster of a comet hitting the Earth. Nothing like an earth-shattering cataclysm to take my mind off the catastrophes happening in my own little world.

The screen door rattled open and closed. I kept my attention on my book. Please don’t let it be Laney.

The footsteps scuffed briefly on the gravel before thumping on the deck steps. I wouldn’t look over my shoulder. If it was my cousin, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of paying a lick of attention to her comings and goings.

The small dock vibrated slightly with each intruding step. I tried to listen to anything else but the approaching footsteps―the water lapping against the dock pilings, a bird squawking as it flew by.

Something slimy hit the back of my neck and bounced off. I spun around to see a chicken neck wobble to a stop on the dock, dangerously close to the edge. I wiped the chicken juices from my neck and glared at the poultry-tossing perpetrator.

My cousin stood five feet back, carrying a bucket in one hand. With her other, she reached within and plucked out another chicken neck. She wagged it at me. Mom wants you and me to bond by baiting the crab traps. She nodded to the steel cages.

I didn’t respond.

She studied my face. Probably assessing if she can get away with pelting me again.

Laney darted forward and took to one knee. She held the chicken piece upright and close to my own neck. She frowned. Guess it needs to be asked. Seeing how you’ve got the same scrawny necks as these former chickens, you even have the stomach to touch one of these slimy things?

I snatched it from her hand and stood. I unhooked the central compartment of the crab trap and dropped the neck in. Remembering my crabbing from a previous visit where Laney had been much younger and nicer, I held out my hand. Two more please.

She thrust the bucket my way, forcing me to remove what I’d requested. I dropped the additional necks in the trap, secured the clasp, and heaved the trap into the water.

I sat back down as I watched it sink.

Laney dropped the bucket next to the other trap and flopped onto the dock. She dangled her legs off the side instead of off the end. You’re not going to get any pity from me.

I kept my head turned so she couldn’t see my nostrils flare.

Her voice softened. People exit from your life all the time.

I knew she was talking about herself. Her dad had left when she’d been four or five. They do.

Stage four lung cancer. Sucks that she didn’t even smoke.

I squinted at her, knowing I’d stooped to her level, that I was playing the exact game she wanted. Yeah, that’s the part that sucks. That’s the cruel irony.

She scoffed and rocked back and forth. Nerd. Still got such a big vocabulary.

Laney didn’t say anything for a while. This was a different Laney than the one who’d been my coolest cousin growing up. All the other week-long stays at her trailer had been real treats. She’d been up to just about anything, including rowing me deep into the marsh despite being forbidden to do so back when she was fifteen and I had barely been ten. She wouldn’t be bringing me honeysuckle to slurp up its sweet nectar either. She didn’t want me here.

Finally she sighed and spewed more foulness. She eyed my hair. "Sticking with the Children of the Corn shock-white hair, are you? She playfully smushed down one of my front cowlicks. Afraid the mad-scientist look isn’t going to cut it with the girls, shrimp."

Ah, two slams in one. Getting a dig in about my shortness as well as my unruly head of hair. I batted her hand away.

Laney stood up and kicked the bucket toward me. She acted disappointed when it didn’t tip over and spill its contents. Got plans this summer. Don’t get in my way. She walked off. And when you bring in a bunch of crabs for our dinner, make sure Mom knows I pitched in.

I watched her walk past the trailer and down the road. No refuge with or from her.

Something told me this wasn’t going to be much of a getaway after all.

Chapter 2

Claws All Around

It wasn’t the smartest thing to do on a dock measuring five feet wide at the most, but I did it just the same. I dropped onto my back and fell asleep.

What finally woke me up wasn’t falling into the bay, but a strange clacking sound, like I’d been surrounded by tiny musicians wielding castanets.

I sprang to my knees and held a hand out to brace myself. All around me were what looked like a hundred blue crabs. They stood with their large claws sticking up, opening and closing them in unison while exposing the bright blue coloring on their appendages.

What the heck?

They were only four or five thick on either side and behind me, but the rest of the dock that led to the deck and my aunt’s trailer was covered with them. A gauntlet of shellfish.

I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my book. The bucket sat at my feet, still filled with chicken necks. Why hadn’t the crabs gone for it?

The army of crabs continued clacking their claws. Would they attack? I’d never heard of them appearing in such numbers before. A silly thought entered my head. Were they upset at me for setting a crab trap?

I glanced behind me to the bay. I could dive in and swim to another dock. But how to explain taking a dip in my clothes to my aunt?

I looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing this strange behavior. Two trailers down, a girl stood on another dock. She waved.

I waved back and shrugged. I pointed at my dilemma.

She rocked back and forth with her hands on her hips, awarding me with a pleasant laugh.

No help there.

The crabs suddenly spun around and waved their paddle fins at me. At least that was an improvement. Not as menacing.

The crabs took up about ten feet of dock. If I ran, I could take huge bounds. Maybe I’d only have to touch down on the dock three times or so. I didn’t like the idea of squashing any of the crabs. They hadn’t done anything to me.

I better positioned myself to run, sliding my right foot forward a few inches. The crabs closest to it shuffled away.

All of them spun around and held up their claws again. I didn’t know what to make of that. Did they object to me moving?

The girl watching me clapped her hands together, apparently tickled at the course of events.

I yelled at her, Fat lot of good you are!

Her eyes widened, and then she buried her face in her hands, clearly upset at my harsh comment.

Angry that she hadn’t come to my aid, I boldly took a step forward. Not a large one; I still brought it down at the edge of the crab-free zone. The crustaceans nearby shrank away from my sneaker.

I drew up my other leg and held it above a clump of crabs. As I brought it down slowly, they parted.

The crabs behind me clacked their claws together at my actions. The ones between me and the trailer were silent. I braved another step. Again, they moved out of the way. Because so many of the crabs backpedaled, several on each side fell off the dock and into the water, their splashes adding to the chorus of claws clacking at my back.

I moved faster, crossing half the distance to my freedom in just seconds. When I looked back, the crabs behind me had surged forward, filling in the space I’d just occupied. Still, none of them climbed up onto the bucket to pillage the chicken necks despite being pressed in right up against the bait.

Were they herding me for a reason? That didn’t make any sense. If they intended to swarm, they would’ve been better off forcing me into the water, their natural element.

Any funny stuff, and I start kicking shells, I said to no crab in particular.

The clacking suddenly stopped.

I looked for the girl who I’d upset. She was no longer on her dock.

Off to my right, someone said with an undercurrent of irritation, That’s mean.

The girl from the dock stepped into view from behind the corner of my aunt’s trailer. She stood there, glaring at me.

Her fiery red hair was straight and long, disappearing behind her shoulders. Freckles dappled her nose and cheeks. Her green eyes looked at me with disdain. Along with faded denim shorts, she wore a black Boston shirt depicting three flying saucers spewing blue flames from underneath. She had to be close to my age. Maybe fourteen.

I wouldn’t actually do it, I said.

She grinned. You shouldn’t. They like you. Crabs are a good judge of character.

Oh, so they do this a lot?

No, just for certain people. Ones that have an affinity for―

Laney’s voice intruded. What the heck did you do?

My cousin came charging up the drive, her attention on the throng of crabs surrounding me.

The redhead snickered, waved to me, and slipped around the corner before Laney came within eyeshot.

Laney charged up onto the dock and grabbed a broom from the open shed. She stomped on the deck, I guess thinking she could dislodge the crabs.

Look, they aren’t doing anything wrong, I said.

She swatted the broom downwards, sending six or seven crabs into the air. Four landed in the water while the others flopped into Aunt Mandy’s raised vegetable garden. They skittered through the plants and hopped into the bay.

My cousin prepared for another onslaught.

I held up my hands. Wait!

She paused. I don’t want any weirdness this summer! The broom dropped, and a dozen more crabs were brutally relocated.

I ran toward her without looking down. From her shocked expression, it was clear they were again parting for me.

What the . . . ? she said.

Please stop. Let me deal with them.

What? You going to politely ask them to leave? She held her broom in check.

I smiled. Worth a shot. I bent down and spoke softly, This has been fun and all, but it’s time for you guys to skedaddle. I pointed at my cousin. Better to do it yourself than leave it up to her, okay?

The crabs stood perfectly still, no claws clacking.

Abruptly, they scrambled along the dock and spilled into the bay at its end. The last crab to flee stopped at the edge and looked back at me. It clacked its claws twice rather formally and then plopped into the water.

Laney dropped her broom.

I said, That was insane.

She held up a hand to stop me. Nope, we’re not going to talk about it. Laney marched to the end of the dock. She looked in the bucket and then kicked it over.

Not a single chicken neck fell out; they were all gone.

She cursed and said, Looks like your little admiration society got away with our bait. Smart little buggers.

The crabs must’ve carried off all the necks when I’d been distracted by the girl. That was the only thing that made sense. Had their clacking and moving out of my way all been a ploy to get at the bait? That didn’t make any sense. They were just dumb animals, simpletons.

Laney briefly studied the water before grabbing the rope and pulling to shore the crab trap I’d submerged earlier. Six crabs crawled around in the trap as she dropped it on the dock.

She walked past me. At the trailer door, she leaned out and said, Use the empty bucket to bring them in. And you tell my mom you dumped the necks overboard on accident. Don’t even think of blabbing how it really went down, understood?

I nodded slowly. She disappeared inside. I set forth to liberate the crabs and stow them in the bucket, my appetite for seafood greatly diminished.

Chapter 3

Spooky Vibe

I didn’t eat any of the crabs at dinner. Laney made fun of this as she ate my share of our catch. I decimated two ears of corn and a serious helping of mashed potatoes. My aunt didn’t fret too much about me avoiding seafood. I assured her my appetite would come back in a day or two, blaming the strong smell of the chicken necks for my disinterest in the shellfish.

Laney commandeered the living room and TV, putting in a video cassette of The Lost Boys and claiming the couch for herself as well as her large bucket of popcorn. While I liked the movie a great deal, I didn’t want to endure my cousin’s company. Instead, I asked and was granted permission to take a bike ride.

I unearthed the red banana-seat bike from the shed, getting its high-rise handlebars snagged in the two hammocks stored next to it. I eventually got it free from the tangle of netting. It had a pretty tall sissy bar, which I didn’t care for, but the alternative was a ten-speed with what looked like rotten tires wedged deeper in the shed.

I weakly squeezed the horn, producing a wheezing honk. I walked it down the drive. Once on the road, I inspected the tires. The front one could use some inflation, while the back was completely flat. I retrieved a bike pump from the shed and aired them up.

As I dropped off the pump back at the shed, my aunt walked out onto the deck, her attention on the the sun sitting low over the bay. She smiled and kept her gaze on the rich streaks of purple and orange that defined a picturesque sunset.

It’s okay to unwind and be a kid here, Reece.

I stayed quiet. She didn’t sound like she was finished.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and looked down at the wooden planks. Look at me, trying to tell you how to handle things.

It’s okay, I said.

I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be like this. You need someone strong to help you. Her voice cracked. She choked out her next words. Here is where you need to take the next step.

It was weird seeing my aunt so vulnerable. One of her strengths had always been how she’d dealt with hardships by laughing them off.

It’s really okay. She’s fighting. None of us are giving up.

Aunt Mandy wiped her eyes. They were slightly red and puffy. I wasn’t talking about your mom. The step you need to take can only happen here.

I gave her a