Forsaken

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jason and Sam took a streetcar to the waterfront, wading through a crowd of tourists and standing pressed together in the cramped confines of the historic tram. A placard inside the lemon-colored car explained that it had been built in 1946, painted in the yellow and gray pattern of Baltimore transit cars. Jason wrapped his hand around the nearest strap dangling from the ceiling, leaning his weight against his uninjured side to spare his shoulder any more pain. The ibuprofen he'd swallowed earlier had done the trick, but he wasn't taking any more chances. Sam stood in front of him, close enough for the curve of her buttocks to rest against his groin, close enough to smell the fragrance of sunshine and shampoo in her hair, less than an inch away from his nose.

They'd walked about five blocks from the pub to the nearest depot, leaving behind the relatively quiet streets for the more heavily trafficked tourist district. Two blocks to their east were storefronts featuring haute couture Jason had never seen anyone buy, much less wear; two blocks to their west was Chinatown, with its brightly colored souvenir shops, shotgun bakeries and noodle houses. A dozen blocks or so to the north was the BaysideBridge, which spanned the channel leading out from the bay into the icy waters of the Pacific Ocean. On a clear day, you could see the bridge, a ghostlike shadow on the horizon, from Jason's apartment. On that same clear day, if you looked a dozen or so blocks in the opposite direction, you might have caught a glimpse of their ultimate destination along the south shore.

"You were talking about this place yesterday," Sam said once they'd stepped off the streetcar. They stood together on the boardwalk beneath the broad, arching sign painted with fading candy-cane-striped letters: Holiday Island. Her hair fluttered about her face in the breeze, stronger now than even a block or two inland, with nothing between them and the neighboring ocean but the open air and clear blue sky. "I thought you might like to go."

The beachfront rows were lined with amusement park rides and cheap, cheesy games like Skee-Ball and ringtoss booths, water gun contests and darts, all with colorful stuffed animals dangling from overhead hooks, an assortment of prizes never worth the small fortune invested to win one. It smelled like hot grease and sauerkraut, hot dogs and caramel corn, a pleasant mixture of aromas intermingled with the bitter, cold scent of the sea. Beyond the park, beyond the faded wooden planks of the boardwalk, the beach lay like a gray blanket of sand and the water was a deeper shade of slate that slapped against it in foamy waves. Seagulls and pelicans stayed close to the shore, circling overhead, clustering together in imposing gangs along the walkways, waiting for food. Sea lions kept well beyond reach but within ready view of the beach, gathering on rocky outcroppings along the shallows offshore.

Sam slipped her hand against his and her fingers were warm. He let her lead him down the boardwalk at an unhurried pace. "Bear used to take me here all the time when I was a little girl," she remarked, using her free hand to shield her eyes from the dazzling glare of the sun. "I'd spend all day riding the bumper cars or the carousel."

The skyline looked different to him and it took him a long moment to realize why. There was the Waterfront Eye, the gigantic Ferris wheel. Near that was the Iron Tower, and undulating in and among these was a network of wooden and steel-framed roller coasters and other rides with whimsical named like the Mermaid, Astrotram, the Wonder Wheel and Spook-A-Rama.

"The Thunderbolt is gone," he said, surprised.

Sam nodded. "They tore it down a few years ago."

For a moment, holding her hand, walking along and chatting with her, it had felt to Jason like nothing had changed. But as she spoke, that illusion, however pleasant, shattered. In his mind, only a week earlier, they'd strolled along this very same path, and to their right, they'd been able to see the rising pinnacle of the Thunderbolt roller coaster, a wooden behemoth that had been a Holiday Island landmark for more than fifty years.