Black Sand

[D/N]

2018

PART NULLA: HUMBOLDT COUNTY

Recorder on. She spoke.

Ten years ago I survived, trapped on an island for nine days and ordered to kill my classmates.

It was abandoned. Inhospitable. They call these islands the most dangerous places on Earth.

But what if I told you there were places just like these... closer than you ever knew?

Join me as we delve into the forgotten corners of the United States. To the most remote, lawless, dangerous places in America. And discover just who is fit enough, or crazy enough, to survive in such a place.

I'm Andrea Raymer, and these... are American Outlands.

Recorder off.

"So... whatcha think?"

Joel Smithson was listening. He was a geek-turned-good, Andrea could tell; toned, easygoing, smooth and casual. He was always charming. But all the sculpted shoulders and biceps, all the outdoors work in the world wouldn't hide his reedy voice, that curly red hair even when he kept it short. Andrea kinda knew he'd never be able to truly escape his own high school days. But he'd moved past them. She liked him for that.

"Is that what you're going for?" he asked. "That deliberately cheesy style?"

"Duh. I mean we're not shooting for an Emmy here or anything. We've gotta lean into it, make it fun, y'know, let 'em know we're in on the joke."

Eddie Imada was driving. He usually did. He represented the money after all; what little they had. Plus for a prissy-looking little Asian kid, he sure could drive off-road.

"Just don't lean too far into it, Andrea," he said from the front. "Overseas remember; If it's too self-aware we're not gonna sell it; they won't get it."

Rafael Ribeiro was sitting in the passenger seat and maybe asleep. He didn't say anything. Raf didn't add much to any conversations. That was fine.

-------

They'd left Palo Alto with the Land Rover piled high with gear over six hours ago, and holy crapsicles it had been slow going. Even getting through San Fran where the traffic seemed worse than ever, and taking into account they'd of course gone Highway 1 so that they could slow down and Joel could shoot some stock footage of the coast passing by, they were still behind schedule, and it was kinda really imperative that they got to Shelter Cove by nightfall. You didn't drive these roads at night. At least, not while you were still in transit. A few days from now might be a different story.

But it had been nice. For what it was. NoCal was looking more really like an off-brand version of the parts of SoCal she liked to drive. Small town, beach. Small town, beach. Country club, conservation area. Just with less dollars each time. At least until now when the Shoreline Highway was had ceased to resemble it's name in the slightest, had flicked east as they moved through the forests to meet back up with the 101.

"Redwoods..." she muttered. Andrea rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, breathing out smoke. Joel leaned over her, touched her shoulder. She smiled.

"My parents used to bring me up north a few times as a kid," he said. "Haven't been in years, though. It's kinda funny they seem even bigger now."

"You gonna get some footage?"

"Wait till we get up and turn back inland at Redway. They're bigger and we'll be actually offroad then." Eddie said from the front.

"You're the boss. How much longer?"

"I'm not a GPS and I don't trust an actual GPS. Like ten minutes to 101. Another half hour north, then an hour back to the coast."

They leaned back and Andrea smoked in silence for a minute and thought about that. What did she have, two years left? Not good. She wasn't looking forward to probably breaking her vow to no one to stop at 30.

Then Raf spoke out of nowhere. "Tell you, the Amazon? This is nothing you compare it to the Amazon."

Andrea laughed. "You're from Sao Paolo Raf, how many times have you been in the heart of the Amazon?"

"I worked a promo video. For a logging company."

"A... Like one of those ones that's destroying the Amazon?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged.

"I didn't put that on my resume."

Raf fell silent again for most of the ride.

---------

"So yeah, check this out."

She was flicking idly through her phone now that the road was straighter and the trees a bit pushed back. The sun was brighter.

"717 missing persons cases per, uh, 100,000 people. That's like TWICE the rate of the rest of California. It's the highest county by far. We gotta push that, Shane has some people who've got all sorts of theories but mostly it's the crazy weed growers and the cartels. We chat with them."

"Do they have like a board with all the missing people on it?" Joel asked. "I'm thinking like the start of The Lost Boys, a big huge board on the beach overflowing with old posters."

"I highly doubt that but I mean hopefully we can at least find a couple. Most of the cases are actually up in like Eureka but we're not going there."

"Lost People of the Lost Coast..." Joel mused, and Eddie cut in.

"Shit man. File that one away. That's actually good. Anyways, we've got five days. Maximize our time. We can stretch that for one day for reshoots or pickups, at most."

"We got it," she said. "Besides, I can't miss the reunion I'm not gonna go to. But I wanna keep my options open just in case."

Yeah. And besides that, it was June 16th 2018. And it had only been a week, and Christ she'd known it was coming, as always. Sixth sensed it out. Tennessee this time. And she'd done a couple interviews, of course she had.

"Reunion?" Joel asked.

But a couple was still only a couple. They were rote. She did them gladly, but still. Fucking rote.

And she wasn't gonna be rote.

"My old high school one. Ten years. Shit."

"Wow. That's, uh... they're doing that?"

"Yep. Like I said, not going. Unless I do. But I'm not. I'm here."

She played with her hair. Red now. She'd had a lot of careful deliberation about that. Classic black or something new for this project? And then that sense had started up, way back in February she knew SOTF was gonna happen this year again for sure, and before they'd filmed their first episode in Texas in April she'd made her decision and didn't regret it for a second.

Cause she was turning away from being rote, and she wasn't gonna head to Tennessee now and she wasn't gonna head there whenever the game inevitably got shown next month and the survivor got dropped out of the sky.

And she wasn't gonna call talk to Ben about Tennessee and he wasn't gonna talk to her. Cause there was nothing left for them to talk about when it came to the past. There was just the now and she was only gonna talk to him (and mostly through Eddie) about making sure his investment was well spent on something new.

Something new that wasn't and maybe someday she'd be totally convinced of that.

"Hey," she said, and pointed.

Eddie slowed the Rover down. Joel leaned out the window and shot the sign. It was stark, green and white, and perfectly foreboding. The hills rose in the background.

HUMBOLDT COUNTY LINE

[D/N]

THE FOX’S DEN

Night 2.

!We are 420 friendly - But please smoke outside!

Andrea stood on the porch and stared out at the Pacific. The sun was going down and The Fox’s Den, aka the AirBNB Eddie had griped about price-wise before agreeing it served their purpose, offered a nice enough view of it. The town of Shelter Cove sloped down towards the ocean so pretty much any building once you broke out of the forest did. The redwoods gave way to less-impressive spruce and pine; some still tall enough, others stunted and twisted from the rockier soil. The hills rolled and peaked and cut off that view at some points, but she wasn’t gonna complain.

She mentally calculated and stared northwest. Like she thought she’d see it as if the 600 miles north of her regular stomping grounds would make a difference. She smoked, but just a Capri. Ooh la la, how 1989 of her.

“Jesus!”

Joel pinched the nape of her neck and startled her out of any bullshit reminiscing for at least a moment.

“Eddie will be back in 30 to go over everything for tomorrow,” he said as she turned to him. He was dressed to impress; he was in a towel. A bead of sweat or water worked its way down the crevices of his abs — just toned enough to have crevices.

She smirked, turned back and took another drag while mentally calculating how long it would take him to say something else. Joel Smithson was naturally awkward enough at times; she hadn’t been with him long but it had been long enough to figure out he hated awkward silences exacerbating that even further. He cleared his throat and she gave him three more seconds.

It was the end Day 2 of shooting which was really Day 1 since on the actual Day 1 had just been arrival and check-in. Day 2 they’d met up with Shane Marques and gotten their footage and initial interview with him; establishing shots of the town and a couple local color interviews that might yield 30 seconds of good stuff if they were lucky. Day 3 tomorrow was when the real work was gonna start.

“So uh… nice view,” he said, right on time. Funny how she’d come to appreciate silences herself more over the years.

“The beach kinda freaked me out,” she said. “Guess that’s good. I didn’t expect it to be that black, had this I dunno, space-alien feel to it.”

“Eh, beaches freak me out in general. Forests, too.”

“Glad to have you on board then, Joel.”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m from Bakersfield. You’re in the desert. You go west, you end up at the beach and become a piece of shit hippie actor or something. You go east, you end up with the sequoias and become a piece of shit hippie treehugger instead. You’re supposed to stay right where you are.”

“Yeah, what do you become then?”

He paused for a second. “Just a piece of shit.” Then he laughed at his own joke. Ugggghs.

Andrea grabbed at his towel, pulled it off and darted back inside. He chased after her to grab it back; she tossed it at his duffel bag, smacked him and told him to get his ass dressed.

-------

They were in Bedroom #1 on the floor they were renting with ten minutes before meeting time and about an hour before they found a bar on the beach to (semi-responsibly) drink the night away. Eddie had Bedroom #2, Raf was of course good to take the pull-out. The Fox’s Den was a 2+2 plus den and living room and kitchen and she was just glad Eddie hadn’t bitched enough that they were stuck someplace more cramped. Andrea leaned back on the bed and flipped idly through her phone as Joel buttoned his shirt.

“I am serious about Bakersfield, though,” he said. “Place has a million people and an inferiority complex the size of those giant sequoias they hate living next to. You know they voted 62% for Cannon? In fucking California? Believe me, it is shit.”

“I believe you. You ever go back?”

He blinked. “Well yeah, I still got family there.”

She smiled. “I’ve still got family in St. Paul and I’ve sure as shit never been back.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s kinda different for you, Andrea. Besides… never mind.” He paused, made it awkward again, then blurted it out.

“I would go back if it was me.”

“Huh?” Andrea said.

“To Minnesota. You were talking about the reunion, I’d go back. If it’d been my Bakersfield class in SOTF and if I’d have gotten out, I mean.”

“Why? What would you do at it, show off?”

“Show off, my ass. I’m 33 and this is the biggest project I’ve worked on, no offense.”

“How much did high school suck for you, Joel?” Andrea cut in.

“Well that came out of nowhere.”

He paused.

“I didn’t fit in. It, uh, it took me a while to kinda grow into myself. Actually I think it was more bad memories from middle school, those weren’t good years. They bled over to high school, I guess. But I spend most of it waiting to get away.”

“So again, if you’re not gonna wanna show off, why would you go back?”

He fiddled with his shirt for a second. Then he sat down on the wicker chair. Andrea went back to her phone and kept an eye on him.

“Cause you don’t ever really get away.” Joel said. He chuckled, Andrea rolled her eyes and knew he was nervous as shit. Good. “I mean, you know that even if you don’t go back. C’mon.”

“Just cause I’ve made a life out of my past doesn’t mean I’m gonna physically revisit it,” she muttered.

“Yeah, well, it still stick with us. Here’s a game for you. If you ever catch Raf on the phone with his boyfriend — and you will, he calls him all the time — keep your eyes on him. And see if you can count how many times Raf touches that cross necklace he wears. Cause I guarantee you it’ll be at least twice, and I don’t think Raf even knows he’s doing it.” Pause. “You OK, Andrea?”

“I’m good.”

“Look, sorry if I…”

“No Joel, I’m good. You’re probably right. Eddie should be back soon, I’m gonna grab some cereal or something to chow on while we plan tomorrow. It’s our first night shoot so we actually do have to make sure we’re on point for this.”

“Well, we got that three hour window, I know you said you didn’t wanna use it but if we really end up pressed for time is that a possibility?”

She was off the bed and shaking out the pins and needles when he asked it and Andrea just wanted to laugh. Holy Christ he had the talent didn’t he?

“No Joel,” she couldn’t help herself. She was grinning. Better than the alternative. Oh, and of course it piqued his curiosity. And of course Joel couldn’t help but stumble into asking again.

“OK… what exactly do you need that time for? I mean, if I can ask…”

“I’m going to see someone,” she said plainly. “Outside of the production. At least probably outside of it, who the fuck knows. OK?”

“OK,” Joel paused again. “Can I-”

“No.”

“…OK.”

And that was that. She pinched his ass on her way to the kitchen to get back. Wasn’t near enough.

[D/N]

GRANDMA SHERRY MEMORIAL

Day 3.

Which again, was pretty much Day 2. Shooting-wise. Ah, forget it.

Andrea stood on charcoal and glittering onyx. The Black Sands Beach that was Shelter Cove’s trademark stretched northwards into oblivion. It was simultaneously more and less impressive than she’d expected. Up close it was clear: more stone than sand really; more grey than black. But seeing it in the distance, it faded into pitch and seemed to glean as the waves crashed over it. It wasn’t a beach for swimming, and not really much for walking either.

But it was a hell of a day. And the beach was something. Unique, at least. She ground her heels a bit. The sand was course, but it had give. And she had to admit, it was at least like no other beach she’d ever seen. And she could remember a couple of those oh yeah. Not just home at Santa Monica either. That was just a beach. A boardwalk and sunscreen assaulting her nostrils.

This was more like the one south of here. The tip she’d gone to, what was it like 7 years ago now or something? And the one… yeah it was still northwest. No matter where she went, it would always still be northwest.

They were the edges of the universe, and Andrea couldn’t help but feel that weird camaraderie with them.

At least so long as she looked north. Looking south back towards town there were people milling about, a few gawkers at the camera crew. A rock formation that was apparently the Grandma Sherry Memorial Rock which no one single person could explain the fucking nomenclature of but made for a good backdrop. Then it was just a beach again. Nobody seems to recognize who exactly they were or feel like approaching; that was good. They were just here to get some promo shots before moving into the woods after all.

By the treeline, Eddie and Shane Marques were talking. Andrea saw Eddie gesturing and snickered as she parsed exactly what hey was saying ‘We should get moving, we don’t wanna start the day late, blah blah blah.’ That was Eddie. Raf was adjusting some levels, Joel was coming towards her and Andrea met him first.

“Go tell Eddie we’re ready to go,” she cut him off. “I just gotta change my shoes.”

She stopped on a log near their gear and grabbed the boots and socks they’d brought along. The chunky heeled sandals she’d done the promo shots in would be impractical when they went in the woods. Of course, she was also wearing a short sleeveless burgundy dress, but hey, television. Besides, they’d called it a hiking dress. It was actually supposed to be good for day hikes, like 95% lycra and felt pretty nice, all things considered, and wasn’t like they were going fucking bushwhacking here. And Andrea mulled idly on that choice of outfit as she unstrapped her sandals and then saw Joel was filming.

“What? No.”

“Huh?”

“No foot shots.”

Joel snorted. “Could be a good shot, changing into your, y’know, backcountry outfit and all—”

“You can get a shot of me lacing up my boots,” she cut in. “That good?”

“Yeah…” She could tell he wanted to say something else and dared him.

He didn’t. Just said “Sounds good,” instead and waited.

——————

“That was what happened there,”

Ted Didn’twannaofficiallygivealastname had been rambling for about 20 minutes by now. Andrea and crew had been more than happy to let him.

“They all knew it was coming. When the proposition passed folks were already making plans, picking sides. Gettin’ ready.”

“So, about how many of the local farms were on the side of legalization?” she asked.

“Bout half. And half of them ones wanted to go legal they ain’t around anymore. More’n half. Other half, maybe more like a quarter went legal and’r still around, got the permits, managed to last, bout half of ‘em went modern, got these nice sleek farms, other half went specialty. Stayed small. Those ended up being the only ways to make it work. Go big or go small or go home, heheheheheh.”

“Uh… what about the other half?”

“Other halfa what?”

“The half that didn’t go legal.”

“Bout half of ‘em ain’t around anymore either. More’n half. All the new folk came in tried to get in while it was good drove a lot of em away. For the half, more like a quarter that stayed, kept under the radar, bout half of ‘em are just the same old ramshackle farms they were before.”

“And the other half of those?”

“Them. Those are the hombres you don’t mess with girlie.”

Holy shit Ted was great. What did Pres Canon, fuck his ass, sometimes bombast about? Guys straight out of central casting coming up to him. Hey, that at least Andrea could believe looking at Ted. Ted was anywhere between 45 and 106, balding and longhaired, wearing a motherfucking plaid flannel shirt with suspenders. His eyes darted around and his mouth worked in the way of some backwoodsman who was used to having a pipe or a chaw or something in there at all times. He lived off a trail, granted in a place with plumbing way too close to town to be a true backwoods hermit, but what the viewing audience didn’t know wasn’t gonna hurt them.

“Them’s the ones you got the connections. You find them up north mostly, hidden away. You don’t go near those ones, or you ain’t probably never coming home. They ain’t gonna find ya, and I’m not gonna tell you how to get to them. I, uh… hold on.”

He disappeared up the porch and into his place and came back a minute or so later with a couple of photos. Some long-haired guy, probably about 19. Mostly indistinguishable from the plethora of long-haired kids you were bound to meet up here. Joel zoomed into Ted’s fingers.

“Kid I used to know. Bout ten years ago he came in town, same as half these young kids, looking to get in with an op. Maybe set himself up to have something when things got legal. He didn’t make it that far. Got mixed up with one of them you-know-whats.”

“The cartels,” she said.

“You-know-whats all I call them, missie. Best you do to. He didn’t last near long enough for things to go one way or the other. Bout eight years ago poof he was gone. Cops don’t know shit. He’d blown into town, might’ve just blown his way out. But I don’t think he turned up anywhere else, ‘cept maybe as shark chow.

“Too bad. Good kid.”

They let that hang in the air for a moment. Then Andrea saw Eddie give her a motion.

“Thanks for your time, Ted,” she said.

Joel cut. Dropped the camera and Raf lowered the mic. Shane smiled and gave Andrea the cheesiest little rubbing-your-fingers-together-signalling-money gesture Andrea had ever seen. Ted broke out into a smile of his own.

“Good stuff, huh? Toldya I’d make it worth your whiles.”

“Great stuff,” Eddie said from the back.

“So hey, do I get any uh…. What was that thing I signed for yous?”

“Release form?”

“Yeah. Do that mean get any of those, royalties from when it gets shown?”

Eddie slipped so quickly into his casual smile, his gladhanding producer mode that Andrea couldn’t help but think about where exactly he’d learned to do that so quick. As if she didn’t know.

“Well,” he said, “Obviously it can’t work that way exactly that way, there’s no loyalties just for agreeing to be in the project, that was just your permission to let us use you, however that doesn’t mean there won’t be some possibilities in the future where you can? I’ve worked on a lot of projects where people got a lot of exposure.”

He hadn’t really.

“For example,” Eddie continued, “After it shows you might be asked to do some appearances, other interviews that sort of thing, for those you can charge a speaking fee. We just give you the exposure, and if you profit off of that, it’s all yours.”

Ted nodded. He liked that. “Oh hey, what if they wanna like make a movie, get someone to play me?”

“Um, well, yes that could definitely… and I’m sure you’d get something for that.”

“Yeah… now uh, you guys can’t legally use this stuff to make me look stupid or anything, can you?”

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Ted.”

“Hey,” Joel cut in. “If we can, I think we should do the shot where Ted jumps out on the trail again. Just for coverage, there was a bit of shakiness.”

“Huh?” Ted asked. Even Shane, off to the back, looked confused there. Andrea figured she could jump in.

“We’re gonna shoot your intro again, OK,” she said. “Just do the same thing, we’ll go back to the trail and jump out in front of me and Shane and give your big ‘What’re you doing on my property’ yell. You can do that?”

“Uh, but how’s that work, you kids know I’m comin’ up this time?”

“Don’t worry,” Andrea smiled. “I can sell it. You can sell it, right Shane?”

One pickup later and they were packing up to head back to the beach. Ted had tried to sell them on one more story.

“You go off to far in these woods, you got the bears too, you know,” he’d said. “Saw one leftover once, back about ten years. You ever seen a dead body girlie? Sitting there a while?”

“Yeah, actually.”

And she’d smiled.

On the way back, Andrea was walking behind Shane. She’d made sure to have him lead the way and knock aside any branches and thorns that might cut the shit out of her legs.

“Alright,” she called back. “Shane and I are heading out when we get back, then we meet back up at five to get ready for tonight, right Eddie?”

“That’s the plan.”

She’d have about three hours. Plenty of time.

Andrea could feel Joel’s eyes on her back as he followed her. She didn’t look at him.

[D/N]

WHITE THORN JUNCTION

“Boyfriend boy there wasn’t too happy to have you run off with me, was he?”

“Nope.”

“Guessing you didn’t tell him who we’re going to see?”

“Obviously,” Andrea said. “I wouldn’t have told you if I could help it.”

Shane smirked “That’d be kinda tough.”

Of course it would have. She wouldn’t be here without one Shane Marques. She’d met him… Christ, sometime in 2009? Before or during when things got bad for a bit; before that second arrest and first rehab stint. He was still mostly a kid himself, transplant number eight million trying to make it in L.A. before going back to his native habitat. Back then he’d been a guide for one of the celebrity bus tours. And she’d been just sad enough to agree to sit outside a coffee shop once a week or so, what a coincidence, just in time for Shane’s bus to drive on by.

Not as sad as the fucks who made his extra tips for the tour’s “authentic sighting” worth splitting with her, but still.

But that was then, and now they were so much older and wiser.

Which is why they’d been riding 40 minutes already via Shane’s ATV, had travelled all of 9 miles, and were just now turning off the main drag (that was a laugh) onto what a surprisingly newish road sign said was Briceland Road, following the Mattole River. There was a crossroads of sorts before it called Thorn Junction, a construction site and a fire station and some creaking buildings, but once they turned away from it they were straight in that territory that for years would’ve just been marked as ‘Unincorporated Territory’ or some shit. Apparently according to Census Designations as per Eddie, who was always the researcher of this team, it was known as Whitethorn and took up 350 square miles of nothing with about 800 people scattered throughout.

At least 800 was the semi-official count. There were a few more.

Shane had slowed down even more after they’d turned onto Briceland. The shiny new sign was a big fat honking lie; the street itself was paved but ill-maintained, and the forest encroached back in even more than when they’d first run into the redwoods on the way here. It wasn’t yet 3:00 but she could still feel that shade overhead threatening to cut it all off.

“How much longer?”

He shrugged. “Roads should be good enough. Maybe 15-20 minutes. It’ll be slower once we get off this road and into the backcountry.”

“Ahh,” she said. “Because this clearly isn’t backcountry enough.”

And they turned off onto an unmarked road.

————

“What were you and Joel arguing about on the beach there?”

“Feet.”

“Ah.”

Awkward pause.

“You know Andrea, you talk less than you used to.”

“Yeah, I’m not 19 anymore and neither are you. Anyway, so when I was on the island, there were like a couple times when I lost my shoes or wasn’t wearing them. Then a few years later I had this stalker guy, I mean just online but still. So he’d gone through all my SOTF stuff and taken all the screen caps of every time I was barefoot and he called me the Sole Queen of v4.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. So anyways, I don’t let people get foot shots if I can help it.”

She left unsaid that she knew it didn’t mean shit and there were a million other bozos out there, but that was fine. And Shane, brain only slightly fried, was smart enough not to comment.

“So…” he said after another moment, “when the guy was talking about bodies…”

Scratch that, he wasn’t that smart after all.

"How many bodies did you see? In SOTF? I mean, if you don’t remember or don’t wanna talk it, but I guess I never asked and I’m just curious—“

“Seven.”

“Whoa,” Shane paused. “Like, exactly seven or—”

“Seven up close. Or like in front of me. There were some other ones that I didn’t get near. Or maybe I am forgetting.”

Jane. Lily. Lucy whose collar got popped and whose neck blew up all over her. Max. Albert. Annaliese. Rosa.

Although to be fair she’d run off before Lily ended up bleeding out back at the church. But whatever, she still counted.

Andrea guessed that was vaguely average for the surviving kids? Huh. Would’ve been something interesting to research on, had she been dumber and had she cared more about the rest of them.

“Sorry,” Shane said. “I dunno. Bad conversation, my bad.”

“It’s good.”

“We’re pulling off again here. Hold on a sec.”

Shane stopped the ATV, hopped out, and crossed. There was no distance between the road and the woods at this point; the overhead sky was basically a sharpie drawn above them and the temp felt like it’d dropped another five degrees with the sun well past that line. He took a step on the grass and tossed aside some branches. There was a path there, between the trees. Of sorts.

Into the den of the woods.

More flashes.

========

“You got tenseness going on. You nervous about Gabe?”

Yeah, why be nervous? The skyline was gone and Shane’s headlights were on even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon and this was supposed to be fucking California. This wasn’t Ted living slightly off the beaten path. This was Hansel and Gretel just strolling into a house that wasn’t gonna be made out of candy this time. The leaves overhanging swiped fruitlessly at their ride and swatted Andrea’s exposed arms.

She snorted. “No, I’m not nervous about Gabe. Why, should I be?”

“Nah. He’s a pussycat. He’s just weird. Pretty paranoid.”

“Yeah, I got that when he moved to the middle of the fuckin’ woods and apparently demanded he be called Gabe. I’ve known him longer than you, Shane. I’m not worried.”

She wasn’t worried. After all, she’d known about him for over a year. When her old buddy Shane and called her up from Shelter Cove and spun her a tale about one of the colourful local kids who’d drifted into town a couple years prior like so many others, looking to make a windfall of green. Some of them stuck around and worked in the bigger grow-ups. More of them drifted back out. A few even ended up like Ted’s buddy whats-his-face.

And maybe even a few of them ended up like Gabe.

But Gabe had some loose lips when he got high enough, and ended up spilling that to Shane, who spilled that to Andrea, and no. It wasn’t like Andrea had set this whole show up to get to Shelter Cove. That’d be way too neat. She’d pitched it cause she liked it. Cause she needed a fucking gig. Cause she knew Ben’d be up to front it.

And yeah, maybe a bit because it gave her an excuse.

“Anyway,” he said. “I’m just saying. I know him. You, well, I mean, you knew him. Don’t be freaked. He’ll probably be weirder than you think, but hey, he’s expecting you. I’ll be around.”

“You’re not gonna come in with me, Shane.”

“I know that, but ain’t like I got much place to go from here.”

“Just… take a drive while I’m in, OK? Come back in an hour or so.”

And they were there.

It was actually more impressive than she’d thought.

Another beat-to-shit ATV outside. A water tank, something that was an outdoor toilet or shower or both she guessed. Generator. It was flat-roofed but not crumbling, better than a shack by a good margin but not exactly your ideal cabin.

She stepped off Shane’s ride. No jittery legs. That was good.

“Gabe” was at the doorway. He, on the other hand, looked like shit. Blonde hair, longer, stringy, hung in his face. And he looked fucking gaunt.

She smiled anyway.

Shane gave a shout and swung around, leaving them alone. He’d warned Andrea that Gabe was gonna make sure she didn’t tape him or anything.

So she’d been sure to have an extra recorder hidden on her before they got on the road.

END OF PART NULLA

[D/N]

To catch up on our story in previous years, please see parts I-III below.

2015

PART I: ROUTE 66

-----------

2012

PART II: SANTA MONICA

-----------

2010

PART III: LITTLE NEXT DOOR

We will return to 2018 next time with PART IV: UNINCORPORATED