Beaches

Part 1

The gulls circled overhead, screeching a warning to one another that he was there. In the distance Jacob could hear the waves rushing the beach. The ground fell away in a long slope that wore on his tired legs. There were cars parked along the road, but he had learned the trick of not looking inside them; even the corpses left in the open weren't all picked clean yet, anyone that had been unfortunate enough to die in a car would be worse still.

At the bottom of the hill the road curved left. If he followed it he would end up at Macy's Parlour, next to The Old Western Hotel. Macy's had served the best pizza he'd ever tasted, in summer season there was apt to be a queue right around the block. He wondered if people had died waiting, but didn't turn the corner to find out.

He crossed the road and turned right. There was a rough stone wall and when he looked over it he could see dark water moving quickly over jagged rocks. He kept walking, running his hand over the stones. How long had it been since he'd last visited Furness? Two years? Maybe three? It seemed like a life time ago, but nothing had really changed. There was no dirt, no degradation, the place was a time capsule.

The road led to a carpark where there were plenty more cars for him to ignore. Nothing he wanted to see in any of them. Not even in his darkest hour had he been tempted to open one of those coffins and root around. On the other side of the carpark there was an old public building. One corner had been given over to toilets, the other to coin operated showers. Nestled between them was a shop selling beach toys and hot coffee. Not open, of course.

The sun was high by the time he crested the hill and the path turned to sand. He stopped and looked down and wondered if it had been worth it. He'd been travelling for six months to reach this point and it still wasn't the end. The hardest part was ahead of him, but for now, he could enjoy the gentle breeze against his chapped skin. He could pretend, for a while longer, that this was what it had all been for.

The tide was a long way out. There were wind-breakers and faded cooler bags blowing across the sand. No bodies; they had probably been washed out to sea by now, or picked clean by the same gulls that had been circling. Either way, the problem wasn't his, and he was grateful.

Thick rocks lay half buried in the sand. If anyone had still been there to take care of the beach, they would have swept them clean to make a safe path down to the sand. Now they were as much a hazard as a help and after almost losing his balance half a dozen times, Jacob decided it was safer to walk at the side, where at least he expected the ground to be soft and uneven.

The beach was just as he remembered it; the sound of the waves, the smell of the salt, the feeling of sand being blown against his face. For a moment it was possible to stare at the waves and believe that nothing had changed, that the world was as it had always been. He found it easy to lose himself in the sight and, when he next came to awareness, he realised that his boots had sunk, and the sun was beginning to set.