Isle Of Salt

Chapter Six

Catia

Having woken up to an empty house, Catia had driven into town in hopes for some human connections. She'd left the rusty vehicle in a shopping parking lot before venturing out along the streets of the town centre. It was past midday by the time she found herself walking along the path that circled the bay, where shops and restaurants opened their doors almost onto the sand, a mere footpath separating the two. The afternoon sun brought warmth which counteracted the crisp breeze that came off the sea. The air still held a touch of humidity as it did yesterday, Catia knew it was moving quite rapidly into winter and the cold had always been her friend.

Movement inside one of the buildings caught Catia's eye. Shifting her gaze, she saw a narrow set of steps that led to a rounded balcony that overlooked the water. While there were lights on, there didn't seem to be many inside, unlike the other shops. Having nothing better to do, she climbed the few steps and peered in through the glass. A man stood with his back to her behind a centrally placed bar. It was circular, allowing people to gather around all sides. The booths that lined either side of the walls were covered in a deep red velvet and the room was lit by the chandeliers that scattered across the ceiling. They looked as if they were once deer antlers. Stepping back, she peered up at the building's fascia to see the name of the bar. It read; The Caroline. Shivers ran down her spine as she read the words. Bringing her head back to look at the glass, she didn't just see herself. Standing next to her was a girl, her cheeks drained of colour and her eyes lifeless. Her throat had been slashed, something had cut deep into it, draining her body of blood. Turning sharply to her right, Catia expected to see the source of the image but saw only empty space. Frowning, she glanced back at the glass but could see only her own reflection. Deciding that she was too sober to be seeing things, she pushed open the door and entered.

"We're not open.' The words came from the man behind the counter, his voice was clear but he had the posture of a distracted man.

Glancing back up at the strange decorative chandeliers, she hoped they weren't as real as the animal heads she noticed mounted on the walls.

'The lights, are they really antlers?' She returned her attention to the man who had stood to face her. As soon as he saw Catia, his eyes widened and body stiffened and while a beard masked his lower face, she could still see his mouth hanging slightly agape. Regaining his composure, he stumbled for his words.

'No, no. They-they're carved from wood.' She watched the man place a glass down on the bench before fumbling around in his pockets, he pulled out a packet and a small lighter.

'Want one?' He mumbled around the cigarette that now hung from his lips. She shook her head,

'They'll kill you those things.'

'That's what I'm hoping for.' He said, igniting the smoke and dropping the lighter back in his pocket, not taking his eyes off Catia for a second.

'So, what's the local drink of choice around here?' She made her way up to the bar as he shook his head.

'I said we're closed.'

'Could you not help a newcomer out?' She asked. The man sucked on his cigarette, caution present on his face, why? She thought.

'Tequila, most folks 'round here ain't got no taste.' Reaching below the bar, he presented her with a bottle of clear liquid. Sighing, Catia had bad a bad history with tequila. She watched the man pour two shots while holding his smoke in his mouth. The lines that creased his forehead and his slight tired eyes showed a life lived. Catia got the impression of a man of a good heart but bad deeds. He looked middle easter but spoke perfect English.