Page 100 of Corpse Roads

“This is the hotel.” Hunter pulls into a half-empty car park, studying the building area. “It’s the best I could do.”

“I like it.”

He’s too busy studying the road behind us, where the blue estate car has passed the turn and carried on down to the coast. Hunter seems to deflate a little.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “It’s nothing.”

Climbing out of the car together, he grabs our overnight bags and gestures for me to go ahead. We approach the hotel, our bodies swaying in the high winds. It’s even colder than it was back home.

“Go sit down.” Hunter points to a plush chair in the window, half hidden by potted plants and curtains. “I’ll check us in.”

My leg jiggles nervously as he approaches the front desk, handing off our overnight bags to the awaiting staff. They seem slightly startled to have a guest at this time of year.

Outside, rain is beginning to fall. It’s thicker, mixed with snow to form a blanket of sleet. I don’t realise my feet are moving until it’s too late. They carry me out into the rising storm, desperate to taste the first winter snow.

It whips my face in ice-cold lashings, cutting through the haze that accompanies every second of my days. I feel like I can breathe easier in the midst of the storm, surrendering to a force bigger than myself.

“Harlow! Get back here!”

I ignore Hunter’s yelling and carry on walking towards the sound of roaring waves. I’m being pulled towards the water, dragged by a soundless chorus of whispers. Tia’s living inside of me, ready to be reunited with the sea.

“Harlow, wait up.” A hand snatches mine, pulling me to a halt. “We’re in the middle of a fucking storm.”

I push Hunter away. “I’m fine. I have to see it.”

“See what?” he shouts above the wind.

My eyes are locked on the dark horizon. “The sea. She wants me to see it.”

“Who?”

He curses colourfully as I take off, following the descending path that cuts into the side of the cliff. Rather than turn back, he follows, tightening his pea coat and chequered scarf around him.

“Catch a cold and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Hunter smarts, but he doesn’t sound angry. “Jesus, Harlow.”

“I have to see it,” I repeat.

“Why? What’s gotten into you?”

The flash of images slices into my brain again. Sand. Water. Giggling. Ice lollies and high-pitched squeals. I need to know what it means, why this place is tugging at something buried inside of me.

“I’ve never been here before, and even though it’s impossible, I feel like I have.”

Hunter tries to grab me again, digging his heels in. “We can’t do this here, sweetheart. Let’s go back inside.”

“No. We’re so close.”

Darkness is descending quickly, but the glow of streetlights marks our path down the hill. The tang of salt in the air increases until I can smell the freshness of water, tantalisingly close.

Ahead of us, the cliffs finally give way to nature’s unspeakable violence. Undulating waves of grey and dark blue beat the coastline into submission, roaring so loudly, it almost deafens me.

I stop at the sand’s edge, staring into inky blackness. There’s no light out here, just God’s raw, ephemeral beauty in the crash of waves.

“It’s beautiful.”

Hunter stops by my side. “And cold.”