Magic by the Sea
The Wreckage

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Chapter Four

The Wreckage

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It was now three days after the big storm and Grandpa Jo woke Ryan up early. With a toolbox in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, Jo led his grandson from door to door down the neighbourhood to do some repairs. Trent met up with them early and the three set to cleaning up. Many houses had cracked roof tiles, fallen branches, broken windows and fences or clothes lines that had been ripped down. Trent and Ryan were currently fixing Mr. Bentley’s picket fence whilst Jo and Mrs Bentley attempted to catch her loose chickens.

‘We just haven’t had the time to fix their pens. That storm did a number on us!’ Mrs. Bentley said as she snatched up one of her snowy white hens. The chook gave a loud angry squawk.

‘Oh hush now Suzy,’ she said. The hen calmed as she gently stroked its feathers.

Trent grinned. ‘You name all your chickens?’ he asked, holding the paling in place so Ryan could nail it properly.

The older woman beamed. ‘But of course!’ Once the fence was complete the boys headed over to the chicken coop and helped Jo mend the wooden door to the main hutch.

‘You know, we should get some chooks ourselves. I always had chooks on our farm when I was boy. Having some pets would be good for that Tyler of ours,’ Grandpa Jo said, cleaning some mud off his forehead with a dirty hanky. The hanky was so dirty that all he ended up doing was smearing dirt across his forehead. Trent snorted and Ryan grinned. One of the roosters had become quite bold and was sticking his beak into the toolbox for a look around.

‘That would be awesome if we could get mum to agree,’ Ryan replied, shooing the rooster away. Mrs. Bentley had been so thrilled with their work that she handed both Trent and Ryan a large homemade pie each for them to take home for dinner.

‘Will your dad be happy?’ Ryan asked, nudging Trent.

Trent smirked. ‘Are you kidding? If my dad doesn’t have to cook it, he’ll be happy, even if the pie is filled with sawdust.’ The boys laughed. It felt good to be back outside working. The stiffness of Ryan’s late-night swim was finally wearing off. His mind occasionally drifted back to several nights before and a memory of a strange silver haired figure beckoning to him. It all seemed insane. His fingers often drifted to the shell necklace he had hidden beneath his shirt. If it wasn’t for the necklace, he might have just thrown it off as some weird post-traumatic stress hallucination.

‘Your house is next lad. We’ll drop the pies off there and keep going down the neighbourhood,’ Grandpa Jo told Trent. Trent’s house was as old as Ryan’s. It was made of stone and heavy dark wood. Trent unlocked the front door and let them all in. He set the pies down on the counter. His father wasn’t home. He was probably out in the tiny van doing the deliveries.

‘Anything need fixing around here?’ Ryan asked. Trent nodded.

‘Yeah, some of the roof shingles came loose in the storm. It leaked right into the kitchen. Fell flat on my ass in the morning because I didn’t see the water,’ Trent grumbled. Ryan grinned. It didn’t take long to fix the roof. Grandpa Jo wasn’t as spry as he used to be and trusted the boys on the roof. He moved off into the next street where all the little shops lay quiet and battered.

’You know, there is one more house we have to do on this block, Ryan groaned. Trent made a face as he passed up a few more nails.

‘Can’t we just pretend we forgot?’ Trent whined.

‘You know that wouldn’t be right or fair,’ Ryan sighed, hammering the nail into place.

‘You’re too damn noble,’ Trent grumbled. The house they were talking about was out on its own. It belonged to Debra. Debra was technically Ryan’s neighbour, but the house was set far back from the rest of the houses as though it were ashamed of itself. So, what was the problem? The problem was that sweet, lovely pre-school teacher Debra had a sister. Mean, cruel and barely functional Dania. Dania did very little in the house other than yell and scream. Ryan climbed down the ladder and began to pack up the tools.

‘Let’s get this over with.’ The boys set off again but with little enthusiasm. In all honesty, Ryan quietly wished his grandfather was with them. Dania was spiteful, that was for sure but for some reason she was more spiteful towards Ryan than any other human being on the island. Ryan didn’t know why. Some of the younger children used to play pranks on ‘Dania the Witch’ but Ryan had never been one of them. They shuffled up to the cottage to replace Debra and Trent’s father by the van.

‘Dad?’ Trent called. His father looked up, a frown on his stern looking face.

‘Ah boys! You’re just in time. We need to move this fridge and I can’t lift the darn thing on my own.’ There was movement in the house, the curtains ruffled, and silence filled the air. All the animals were hiding.

Smart animals.

The door flung open.

‘Get off my property!’ Dania screeched, pointing bony thin fingers at Ryan.

‘Dania please, go back inside. They are just helping me move the fridge into the house,’ Debra soothed. Dania was so thin, a blanket wrapped around her bony shoulders. She was in a nightgown, slippers on her small feet. Her hair was long, almost to her knees and tied in a messy braid. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild.

‘There is no way he is coming into my house!’ Dania sneered at her sister, guarding the doorway with raised arms, sunken eyes spearing. She looked like an emaciated vulture.

‘Be reasonable Dania, he’s only helping me move the fridge,’ Debra sighed.

‘Get someone else! Anyone else! Just not him!’ the woman screeched, her nearly black eyes sharpening their focus on Ryan.

‘Pardon Ma’am, but the sooner we move this fridge, the sooner I can be out of your way,’ Ryan said as politely as he could.

‘Don’t speak to me!’ she shrieked. The neighbours were quietly closing their windows. Dania’s temper was not unfamiliar to them all. Ryan deflated slightly. Trent and his father exchanged glances.

‘We can do it by ourselves,’ Trent said uneasily.

Debra looked both annoyed and embarrassed. ‘I’m truly sorry about this Ryan. She hasn’t been sleeping very well lately,’ Debra said, sounding quite tired herself.

‘It’s alright,’ Ryan replied uncomfortably.

‘You’ve done enough work today anyway. Don’t forget your pie,’ Trent called.

His father frowned. ‘Pie?’

‘Mrs. Bentley gave us both a pie for helping fix her fence,’ Trent explained.

His father’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Excellent.’ Ryan turned and tried not to slouch as he walked away. He could still feel Dania’s hateful gaze on his back. The wiry woman refused to move until Ryan was completely out of sight.

--

Later that night Ryan mashed some herbs, milk, butter, and potato and served the oven heated pie with boiled carrots.

‘This is delicious!’ Ryan’s mother exclaimed. She had worked a long day at the science centre. Apparently, a lot of equipment had been damaged by the storm.

‘Some days it feels like one step forward and two steps back in that place,’ Alice exclaimed as she stripped off her heavy coat. The sight and smell of dinner drew her in like a moth to a flame. Ryan just gave a weak smile. The family sat at the table, Tyler kicking little socked feet as he blissfully nibbled a slice of carrot.

‘Ryan honey, what’s wrong?’ Alice prodded. Her son’s shoulders were hunched, and he picked at his food. He frowned.

‘Mum, you know Dania, Debra’s sister?’ he asked. Grandpa Jo glanced at his daughter.

She glanced back. ‘Of course.’

‘Well Trent and I went over to help Debra move a fridge and Dania wouldn’t let me on her property. Trent’s dad was there so they moved the fridge without me but…’ Ryan trailed off.

‘Honey, you know that Dania… she’s not… well she’s not quite all there,’ Alice explained softly.

Tyler tipped his head curiously. ‘Where’s the rest of her?’ he asked with a giggle.

Ryan gave his little brother a fond smile. ‘Probably at the bottom of the ocean,’ Ryan teased.

‘You’re not wrong.’ Grandpa Jo said in a strange voice. He jumped slightly as though Alice had kicked him under the table.

‘That’s enough you two! She’s an ill woman and she requires a lot of space, that’s all,’ Alice snapped, glaring at them with a sharp eye. Grandpa Jo went back to his food with strange submissiveness.

‘But it feels like she hates me more than anyone else on this island,’ Ryan grumbled.

Alice’s face softened. ‘She’s a complicated woman with a complicated past. No one could hate you, Ryan. You are a wonderful person. Unfortunately, in this world, not everyone is loving towards each other,’ Alice said gently. Her son gave her a weak smile.

‘I love Ryan!’ Tyler announced loudly, banging his fork on the table. The group laughed.

‘I love you too little lemur.’

‘Lemur!’

‘On a much lighter note, Trent informed me that he and Catlin are going to the mainland tomorrow. You should go with them, have some fun. You’ve earned some time off,’ Grandpa Jo said.

‘Now that sounds like an excellent idea!’ Alice exclaimed, keen to have her son away from the dreary place for the day.

Ryan laughed. ‘Well twist my arm why don’t you? Fine I’ll go. Is there anything we need whilst I’m on the mainland?’ the boy asked.

‘You’re over there to have fun, but I suppose if you’re stopping in at that fancy fishing place, I could use some more fishing line. Mr. Bentley doesn’t have the gauge I need. I’ll write it down for you.’ Grandpa Jo said. Ryan nodded. They cleared the dishes and Alice wrote a thank you letter to Mrs. Bentley whilst Ryan got Tyler ready for bed. Once the clingy toddler was in bed, Ryan slipped into his own room. Thankfully, Tyler had never been difficult to get to sleep. Even when he was a baby, he mostly slept all the way through each night. Grandpa Jo insisted that Ryan was the same and that it was the sound of the ocean that put the boys to sleep. There must be something to that because whenever Ryan stayed with his cousins on the mainland he never slept very well.

He dreamt of the sea that night, the rolling waves rocking him gently. A streak of silver swum past his vision.

‘Hello?’ he called out. His mouth did not fill with water even though he was suspended in the ocean.

‘Come with me Ryan,’ said a voice. That voice. The man was in front of him. This time there was no hat to restrain the mane of silver locks. There was no neat suit to hide unearthly pale hard cut muscle and no pants and shoes that could ever compare to the long white glittering tail. Ryan followed the creature, mystified by his grace. The water got dark, richer, and bluer. Bubbles rose from the depth, and he felt a strange heavy sense of foreboding.

‘Wait,’ Ryan called. He didn’t want to go down any further. Didn’t want to go down deeper. The ocean was so vast.

Land, where was land?

Below him looked bottomless. Black. Still. His mind started to race. He could imagine an enormous sea serpent rising up and swallowing whole, mouth wider than any whale. He shuddered with cold terror. He tread the water.

‘Come Ryan,’ called the voice. Was it his imagination or was the voice beginning to sound impatient? The creature swum past him. Ryan didn’t want to be in the water anymore. He swam up, up to where the sun was meant to be.

Except there was no sun. Every time he went to swim up, he ended up swimming down. Suddenly he felt like he was drowning again, being tossed about by the currents. This is what it had felt like, to not know which way to go, to be at the mercy of the sea.

Suddenly hands gripped his arms.

‘Steady little petrel,’ said the creature. Ryan breathed heavily, bubbles travelling up from his mouth.

Petrel? As in the sea bird?

‘Sea birds that appear to walk on water as they hunt. They live on the water and fly through storms.’ It explained. Ryan used the arms to anchor himself. The man’s skin was soft, but underneath was hard muscle, like satin covered marble.

‘Who are you?’ Ryan whispered. That long silver tail brushed against his leg. His body twitched violently in pain. The edges of that tail were sharp like a king fish spine. Blood leaked into the water like thick dark ink.

‘Ryan, you will come with me now. Your time on land is up. The debt must be paid.’

‘You keep saying that!’ Ryan rasped, his ankle stung.

‘You don’t remember. That is understandable. You were young but it’s time that you understand what you are, what your family has done. You are responsible for paying back that debt,’ said the voice. The creature’s eyes were stunning. Its skin was alabaster pale, shining in the limited light. Those pupils were almost non-existent in pools of liquid black.

‘What debt? What are you talking about?’ Ryan croaked. His legs were getting tired. His left leg was starting to cramp again.

‘Your family owes us a blood debt. You will pay that blood debt. You will come with me. You will give up your life on land and spend the rest of your existence as mine.’

‘Yours?’ The words were getting harder to say.

‘Mine.’

--

‘Ryan, get up!’ Alice yelled, knocking on the door. Ryan sat upright with a violent jerk, his body drenched in sweat. Ryan threw on his clothes and hurried to the kitchen. He was late and his ankle throbbed with a strange phantom pain. The dream was slowly fading into his subconscious as he smeared jam over his toast.

‘Honestly, you were sleeping like the dead! I couldn’t wake you for a minute there. It’s not like you to oversleep,’ Alice said as she threw on her jacket.

‘You be good now. All of you,’ she announced, giving each of her boys a lipstick kiss on the cheek.

‘We promise,’ Grandpa Jo laughed. Alice gave them all one last glance before disappearing into the morning. Ryan licked the jam off his fingers and grabbed his wallet.

‘I’ll be back this afternoon with the five o’clock ferry,’ Ryan called. He would have to hurry if he didn’t want to miss the morning ferry. He ran the whole way which thankfully, wasn’t that far. By the time he reached the wharf his ankle had stopped aching. Trent and Catlin were waiting for him.

‘We were starting to worry. It’s not like you to be late,’ Catlin said with a shy smile. Ryan doubled over, panting for breath.

‘Sorry, I overslept,’ he admitted sheepishly. They bought their tickets and climbed aboard the old ferry. There were a few other locals and a couple of people the teens didn’t recognise. The ferry moved off, cutting through the choppy water. The day was one of the better days for the island, overcast but with a little sun peeking through. There was no wind and the sea spray felt rejuvenating on Ryan’s face.

‘First place I’m going to go is that new waffle house!’ Trent announced.

Catlin frowned. ‘You already had breakfast,’ she laughed.

‘I’m a growing boy! I can always go for seconds.’ The waves lapped softly at the sides of the boat. The fresh saltwater air filled their lungs. The sun glittered gold on the water, illuminating the city in the distance. A fishing boat blasted its horn in greeting as it passed. They waved. Ryan settled at the edge of the boat, relaxing with the gentle rocking of the ship. He loved sailing. A good way to earn a bit of cash was for him to help out the men on the fishing boats. Now that he was older, he could go on his own to the mainland more often. The fishermen were always happy to see him. Ryan had a knack for the ocean and its ways. He could smell a storm before the clouds even touched the sky. His grandfather had taught him well.

‘Oh look! The markets are on today!’ Catlin exclaimed with a wide grin. Along the jetty, little stalls were set up on the cobblestone. People bustled and shuffled about in the morning sunshine. It was a good day for it. The ferry docked and the crowd swapped places, tourists hustled onto the boat and the locals moved off into the city.

‘Can we go?’ Catlin begged, tugging on the boy’s arms, and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She pouted with full lips and long lashes.

‘Please?’ Trent huffed impatiently. Ryan just laughed.

‘Come on, let’s go check it out. They might even have some food stalls,’ Ryan encouraged. It certainly smelt like there was. Trent brightened. The trio set off. Catlin was in her element. She often loved the travel and was quite good at haggling. It didn’t take her long to replace a pale lavender scarf she liked. Trent found a kebab stall and Ryan found a stall that sold secondhand goods. He looked over the kitchen cutlery and old candle holders. A certain knife caught his eye. It had a strong handle and a wicked curved looking blade. It was very familiar. He pulled his own fishing knife from his boot.

‘They look really similar,’ he said, perplexed. The salesman eyed him carefully.

‘Where’d a nice lad like you get a knife like that one?’ said the old man, a wooden pipe hanging from his cracked lips.

‘My dad gave it to me a long time ago. One of the only useful things he ever gave me,’ Ryan said.

‘Your old man much of a sailor?’ asked the salesman, tapping his pipe against the table. Ryan frowned.

‘Uh, no. Not really. He works in California as a banking consultant or something,’ the old man raised a thickly bristled eyebrow.

‘No banker owns a knife quite like that one. It’s a local design. You can tell from the carving in the hilt. Good metal too. Hard to get these days.’ Ryan stared at his own fishing knife. It did have carving. Faded from years of use but still there. It was true that he had never needed to sharpen the blade for as long as he had owned it.

‘What can you tell me about them? Do you know who made them?’ Ryan asked. The old man nodded grimly.

‘Well, I can’t say who made them but supposedly each ship from this area had one on board. The symbols were custom designed for the captain. This one here has a trident on it. Let’s see the one you have.’ Ryan handed it over.

‘Yours has got some kind of bird, an osprey maybe or…’

‘A petrel,’ Ryan said dumbly. The old man gave a curt nod.

‘Could well be. Tell you what. It would be a shame to separate the two of these and quite frankly I’d rather sell this to a local who’s going to put it to some use rather than some damn tourist who’ll sit it on their mantelpiece back in their fancy hotel. I’ll sell this one to you for half price.’ Ryan handed over the money and slotted one knife in each boot. He felt a little numb. That sense of foreboding was back.

‘I don’t suppose these captains that were given the knives were outstanding citizens of the navy or something?’ he asked.

The old man laughed, a deep bell of a sound. ‘Not exactly. The story goes that those who had these blades were pirates.’

‘Ryan, come on!’ Trent yelled. The dark-haired boy nodded his thanks and dashed off. The trio went from stall to stall. Catlin was the first to notice just how quiet Ryan had become. She found a stall selling fresh deep-fried doughnuts and promptly bought a box to share. Birds whistled and jumped from one low roof top to the other. The crowd bustled around them, yelling and laughing. Licking the icing sugar off his fingers, Ryan headed into the fishing store and bought his grandfather the fishing line he needed. They wandered around for a while, content to stay near the pier.

The day had become quite hot. Trent and Ryan had stripped off their shirts and shoes. Tourists were swimming in the water. The bay was shallow and well protected, far better than the black jagged rocks of their own stormy island. The day dragged in that sort of lazy pleasant way. The breeze tugged gently, and the seagulls pestered them for food. They chattered about everything and nothing in particular as they sat on the pier. The boys were fishing. Catlin was content to watch. They didn’t really expect to catch anything. The waters were too crowded with noisy swimmers and small boats. Suddenly someone screamed.

‘Oh my God, Julia! She fell in, she can’t swim!’ A woman was screaming. Ryan didn’t think twice. He leapt off the jetty and into the water. The water was deep blue and cold but nothing like the thrashing waters around the island. He swam with ease. He opened his eyes, and he could see a young girl, maybe nine years old thrashing in the water, pink dress floating around her. His arm wrapped around her waist and with powerful legs, he swum to the surface. They broke the water as another man joined them. It was a lifeguard.

‘I’ve got her,’ Ryan called. The lifeguard helped the two back onto the jetty. The woman was frantic, clutching her spluttering daughter.

‘She’s fine, just a little shaken,’ Ryan said, handing over the little girl. The girl seemed rather reluctant to let go.

‘Thank you! Thank you so much!’ the woman sobbed, hugging Ryan tight despite him dripping with water. The crowd clapping and he received several hard pats on the back. The old man from the second-hand store gave him a knowing grin. Catlin watched with flushed cheeks as Ryan stood up, water dripping from his chiselled body, black hair swept back in messy tangles.

‘You got a little drool just there,’ Trent teased her. Catlin punched him, cheeks flushed.

‘Ow!’

‘You’re that guy from the news,’ said the lifeguard. Ryan frowned.

‘News?’

‘Yeah, you jumped into the water in that storm to save that guy from drowning. It was in the papers. You making a habit of saving people?’ the man asked with a grin. Ryan shrugged awkwardly. He hadn’t realised his actions had made it into the local paper.

‘Not intentionally.’

‘Call me George. I don’t suppose you have ever thought about becoming a lifeguard?’ asked George. Ryan frowned. He hadn’t. He always loved swimming.

‘No but it would be something I would love to do. I’ve done a few events on this beach before.’

‘I knew I recognised your face! You won the beach marathon last summer, didn’t you? Ryan Regale, wasn’t it?’ Ryan nodded. The man gave a whole-hearted laugh. ‘The boss man is going to love you. Tell you what, if you’re interested, you’ll have to attend some basic classes, a first aid session and of course, some hard training. Come by next week on Monday.’

George headed back to his post. The crowd began to die away but not before several of the tourist demanded a photo with the ‘town hero.’ Catlin was not impressed to watch several blonde, bikini’d teens snuggle close to Ryan for their photo. Trent was amused. Ryan just felt awkward. Finally, he was able to get away and put his shirt and boots back on. He felt better with the blade resting snuggly against his legs again. It would be long before they would need to climb back on the ferry for the trip home. Ryan ducked over to the fresh food and picked out an interesting sort of cheese and fish for home.

‘How do you do it dude?’ Trent asked once they were safely back on the ferry.

‘Do what?’ replied Ryan with a frown.

‘You didn’t even blink. You just jumped.’ Ryan shrugged.

‘I don’t know. I just did what I felt was right,’ he said, feeling awkward again.

‘You’re one strange dude.’ They stood in silence for a few awkward moments.

‘Uhm… Maybe don’t tell me mum that I jumped into the ocean to save someone… Again,’ Ryan said. Both Catlin and Trent laughed. Once back on the island, Trent and Catlin said goodbye but not before Catlin gave him a rather long hug.

‘She’s totally into you,’ Trent sniggered. Ryan gave him a shove. Trent waved and promptly jogged off. Ryan was left on his own, trudging up the road. The sun was beginning to set, and a strange fog was starting to roll in. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His house stood out like some strange hulking creature. The lights were on in the front room, making the structure glow. He let himself in to the house to be greeted by the wonderful smell of spaghetti bolognaise.

‘Rye!’ Tyler rushed over to him, arms up and out for a hug. Ryan swept his little brother up and strolled into the kitchen.

‘I’m home.’ His mother turned away from the pot she had been stirring.

‘Good timing, dinner is nearly ready. Did you have fun?’ Ryan grinned nervously. His mother’s eyes seemed to be searching his very soul.

‘Yeah. It was great, really busy with tourists. I got grandpa’s fishing line,’ he said.

Alice stared at him for a long, tense moment. ‘Hmm, well go wash up.’ He breathed a sigh of relief. Tyler followed him to the bathroom, chattering away about a new game Alice had downloaded for him on the computer.

‘And you collect caterpillars!’ he was saying. Ryan stripped of his salt crusted clothes. He was careful to stow away his two knives before having a quick shower. Tyler stayed outside, completely indifferent and still rather loudly explaining all the rules of his computer game.

‘Fog’s getting thicker by the minute out there,’ Grandpa Jo grunted as he pulled up a chair at the dinner table. Ryan salivated at the large plate of spaghetti in front of him.

‘Well, the good weather was never going to last,’ he sniggered. Alice sighed as she cut Tyler’s food up into smaller bites.

‘Don’t I know it,’ she grumbled.

‘The forecast doesn’t look any better for the search tomorrow either,’ she added. Ryan looked up from his plate.

‘True, they found the wreckage of the ferry but there are still many people missing, seven confirmed dead,’ Grandpa Jo said sadly. The family was silent for a few minutes, Tyler looking curiously at each of them. He was still too young to quite understand what was going on and Ryan wasn’t going to burst that happy little bubble for him. Alice changed the topic by asking more about what Ryan did that day.

After dinner Ryan retreated to his room. He lay on his bed, studying his new knife. He ran his fingertips over the carvings. Why would his father have a blade like this one? From what little he knew of the man he was a bit of a dweeb. Short, clumsy, and very much a city boy. Alice had shown him a few photos. The man certainly hadn’t looked like any kind of seaman. Maybe it had been a family heirloom? Maybe Ryan’s other grandfather had been a sailor like grandpa Jo. Ryan had never met anyone from his dad’s side of the family. Ryan sort of preferred it that way. They didn’t want to be a part of Ryan’s life so he didn’t see why he should try and be a part of theirs.

Still.

Ryan turned off the lamp and hid the two blades under his bed. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to keep the second blade a secret from his family. Something about it just felt special and something else… dangerous? He pulled the covers over himself to block out the damp chill. In the dark of his bedroom he could swear he heard tapping at his window. This time he did not get up to go look. He didn’t move his curtain to see the stranger and he turned off his phone. Childish maybe but somehow, he thought that maybe, just maybe, if he ignored all the strange things that were happening in his life then they would just… go away.

How very wrong he was.

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END

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