May, After the Storm
Vlad was up early to catch the tide. He’s taken his dinghy and made it round the northeast tip of the island, up to Piper’s Hole. There are plenty of legends about this hidden sea cave, most involving ghostly tin miners and smugglers. Vlad’s favourite is the one suggesting any dog which ventures inside will emerge minus its fur.
But he is not here leading an excursion of tourists – he’s here to search. She has been missing forty-eight hours now.
At high tide the waters smash against the jagged granite rocks and he wouldn’t be able to get anywhere close. Now, with the tide out, he manages to clamber over the slippery boulders at the mouth of the cave to make his way inside.
No sun penetrates here and he has to rely on his head torch. Even though he’s told the search team where he’ll be, he is suddenly gripped by the primitive dreads: fear of the dark; fear of being trapped; fear 90 of the unknown. There’s an oppressive stench of brine and decay, like he’s within the guts of the earth, the belly of a whale.
Last night in the pub, Ted the boatman told him that if the maid went into the sea this side, she’d be long gone – swept out with the currents over to the nearby island of Samson to rot alongside the ancient burial grounds there.
But Vlad feels the need to check, just in case.
Towards the back of the cave there’s a small freshwater pool and a tiny gravel beach. The rocks above glow silver, not from precious metals as he’d first thought, but from microbes. The thought makes him shiver.
And in the corner—
His heart lurches. He tastes acid.
The light from his torch wobbles as he forces himself forwards.
The body lies twisted on its side, the hair tangled and spread out like a mermaid’s. There is no face.
His legs rebel but he takes one more step towards it. The shape is all wrong.
He slips, rights himself, creeps nearer and crouches. He makes himself reach out to the deathly chill of the thing before him, perhaps one of the bravest things he has ever done, touches horror, then slowly rolls the slimy torso towards him … and he sees it is not human after all.
A bin bag full of plastic bottles has entangled in a fishing net. Pollution, even here. The hair is seaweed.
There was a sighting from a couple sailing around the Eastern Isles yesterday. That body turned out to be a bloody seal! Vlad thought, how stupid would you have to be … so he doesn’t tell anyone about his own discovery – not until much later that night, after he’s had a fair few pints, after he’s stopped trembling.