Tides of Desire

Welcome to Alaska’s First City, Ketchikan. The Salmon Capital of the World!

Had it been any other day under almost any other circumstance, I would have at least cracked a smile at the town’s buoyant welcoming sign. But today, I was so far separated from anything even remotely mentally present, that I may as well have been in outer space.

I felt my grandpa’s eyes flickering from me, then back to the road. “What do you think of it?” he asked, his voice gruff, as it always was, but hopeful all the same.

I peeked out of my window again and was met with the dizzying sight of color. The buildings bundled together in clusters were painted in shades I’d never seen on the outside of a house before. From vibrant violet to a rich blue that was so bright it almost blended in with the sky above it—at least, what little of it was visible through the overcast of thick clouds.

The buildings rested upon boardwalks and pilings, where below, the dark greenish and blue hues of the town’s watery passage flowed beneath them, bordering roads that were far steeper than the last.

I looked again at the denseness of the clouds above. It looked like it would begin pouring any minute, and I had the feeling that it rained quite a lot here. It just…looked like the place for it. But it was fine. I didn’t mind the rain. I turned back to my grandfather, my forced smile twitching against my face.

“I like it, Gramps,” I said, surprised that I actually meant it. “It’s just as I remembered it.”

He looked surprised, too, beaming a rare smile in return. “Good,” he said. “Your grandma’s cooking up a storm for you back at our place. I hope you didn’t fill up too much on those criminally salty plane peanuts.”

“They aren’t half bad,” I said, grateful for the slight lift in my mood, however flighty in may have been.

There was a time when my appetite threatened to consume even me. But that same appetite evaded me nowadays. I barely had the stomach to force down a protein shake this morning in preparation for my flight away from home. Home. It was something else I’d lost in what had been this sudden upheaval of my life.

I didn’t have a home anymore. And realizing that, now, made me realize how little I’d appreciated it before. My eyes misted over, blurring the color in front of me, and I turned my head back to the window, hoping my grandpa hadn’t seen, but knowing he had, when his hand found mine on my lap.

This had become my new routine. In the few moments where I’d managed to scrape some semblance of joy, my mind would flash back to images of the broken car, the late-night phone call, the sleepless nights, the jointed funeral, the picture of my parents on their honeymoon, smiling together, young and happy, poised between their caskets.

I ’d turned twenty-one mere days ago. I was an adult by all means; but I’d never felt more infantile in my entire life. With my parents gone, it was almost as if I’d been orphaned. How helpless I felt; how small. And how large and out of control the world had suddenly become. I’d soon be graduating from college, and it hit me only recently that they wouldn’t be there to see me walk the stage.

And I wouldn’t get the chance to see the glowing pride on their beaming faces. All of that was ripped away from us, without any means of reclaiming it. I missed them so much it physically hurt thinking of them.

And as hard as I tried putting on a brave face, at least in front of my grandparents, I knew I was failing. My grams and gramps had lost their son and daughter-in-law. I wanted to be strong for them, even if I couldn’t be for myself.

But they’d seen me break time and time again, before they begged me to leave Texas altogether and move in with them.

“Just for the summer,” Grams had reasoned, her face dragged by the grief storming in her eyes. “I know you wanted to keep with your studies through to November, but…we’d love to have you here, honey—with us.”

It didn’t take much convincing. Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to leave school for a house I could barely stand to look at anymore, much less spend my summer holidays in.

I’d sometimes visited my grandparents as a child, but soon it made more sense for them to come to Texas to visit me instead, so the trips to Alaska became sparse. Their small, two leveled house in Ketchikan had its own personal brand of homestyle charm that I could live with.

It was familiar enough to be comfortable, but distanced enough from the life at home that I was used to. I could live with this. I could. And I would. Because anything was better than going back to being alone.

That, I couldn’t stand.

By the time we reached the end of the hill where the mahogany sidings of my grandparents’ house almost burned into the greenery surrounding it met my dreary, undoubtedly red-splotched eyes, I was feeling a tad more at peace with my thoughts. For the moment, anyway.

No sooner had Gramps pulled up did Grams come storming out of the house with her arms outstretched, her face reddened, and tear streaked.

Noticing this, I felt a swooping pang of dread hit my stomach, just before her arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a hug that tightened around me with strength I didn’t know her feeble limbs were capable of.

“Reyna, honey, I’m so glad you’re here,” she cried, backing away only slightly to take in my face, moving her fingers across my cheeks to dry my eyes. “How are you, darling? How was your flight? Are you tired? Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”

I opened my mouth with the intent to answer her, but my mind fogged halfway through. Instead, I leaned down to hug her small frame again, longing only for the comfort her embrace brought me, as it felt as if nothing else could even begin to sustain me in that moment. Gramps showed me to my bedroom, not that he needed to exactly, but the intent was nice all the same.

However, it was only after I was standing at the threshold to my new living space that I understood why he’d done it. They’d given my room a fresh coat of paint, replacing the papery white layers with ones of a baby blue hue.

The old carpet had been ripped out in favor of the gray tiles beneath it, the twin bed sized up to a double, and with a sturdy writing desk now replacing the single armchair and child’s bookcase in the corner.

The room was practically unrecognizable, nothing at all like how I remembered, or what I was expecting. But there was no denying the unmistakable dose of relief I felt in that moment.

I left home to move on, to move forward. And while temporarily bunking with my grandparents was a good start, I was prepared for the reminders of my past that would undoubtedly come crashing down on me the moment I re-entered their home.

Particularly in my old bedroom, where I’d spent quite a few summers before. But here, this truly felt like the fresh start I so desperately needed, and I was quick to turn back towards Gramps’ anxious expression to mouth to him my genuine gratitude. Not just for the room, but for making this change just a little bit easier for me.

I couldn’t sleep. Unsurprising. But still irritating beyond belief, considering that the changes brought about today should have at least left me craving a cat nap or two. But nothing. I was wide awake, and antsy to boot. I sat up, glimpsing at the clock for the dozenth time. Two fifteen AM and still my brain was as alert as it had been this morning.

Sighing, I threw the covers off me and stood to find my sneakers and windbreaker. At the very least, I had the privilege of walking off a restless night.

Something I’d avoided entirely back in Texas, thanks to the not so stellar crime rates in my old neighborhood.

I left the house with my phone in hand, stuffing it into my pocket along with my copy of the house key. The slate black surface of the waters encasing Grams and Gramps’ house were eerily still as I began pacing a slow line down its onyx edge.

Normally, this was the sort of space I avoided—the kind of which allotted me ample time to think, and, in turn, overthink about the turn my life had taken.

But wandering the house would have provided the same result. At least out here, the cool mist of the condensed air provided some relief from the general stuffy atmosphere of my bedroom.

So, with much effort, I focused instead on my plans for the foreseeable future. While my grandparents intended for me to take a break from my summer studies, I very obviously was incapable of sitting still. If I was in search of a proper distraction, this would be more than enough.

But while my mind ran through all possible outlets, something in my peripheral caught my eye before the barest splashing sounds met my ears. I turned my head towards the water, the thumping of my heart almost overwhelming the splashing noises.

Several yards from the coast, a man in a white button down and black slacks was treading slowly through the water. His strides were uneven, as if he were intoxicated, but this was secondary to what I noticed about him first.

His white shirt, which almost glowed under the dim moonlight, was drenched in splotches of scarlet. The blood coated him almost completely through, spilling into the water and mingling with the murky black depths below.

While I’d been momentarily stunned, I blinked my vision clear, jerking forward. “Hey! Hello?” I shouted at him.

But the man didn’t stop walking, only now, as I slowly approached, I could hear nearly muted mumbling leaving his lips.

“S—sir? Sir, are you all right?” An idiotic question, but I was terrified, my mind a haze, split between running up to help this man, or booking it back to the house for help as I called the police.

I had to make a decision and fast, I realized, as the man began disappearing beneath the waves, wild splashes and bubbling beginning to surround him, as if he were slowly submerging himself into a pot of boiling hot water.

My mind was made up, and I reached for my phone, the 911 operator uttering questions into my ear that my brain couldn’t process, as the water boiling near the man erupted around him, swallowing him whole, his mummering evolving into agonized screams.

And then, he was gone.

“Ma’am?” the operator’s voice, calm and steady, broke the proceeding silence. “Ma’am, are you still there? What is the state of your emergency?”

I swallowed, my throat dry and suddenly scratchy, as my voice cracked through. “He—help,” I muttered, my eyes never leaving the spot where the man had disappeared. “There was someone in the water but I—I think something’s just dragged him under!”

By the next morning, I was laid out on the couch in the den, my head feeling as if I’d spent the night thrashing it against a wall. The cops had allowed me to return to the house just an hour before, where Gramps had already lumbered into his truck to come find me.

I’d called them after the police had arrived, and with guilt eating at me every minute, they had shown up to wait with me as the officers hammered me with questions.

Things only escalated when the body was discovered—what was left of it. Only the remains of the man’s blouse and the tattered ends of his pants were found at first, but then, bits of his flesh were announced to have been found floating on the water’s surface. I was done after that, thankful for having been dismissed.

The sounds of Grams and Gramps muttering loudly in what almost sounded like an argument from the kitchen snaked its way into my ears, but I did what I could to block it out.

I knew their words were about me, and I hated that I had already managed to cause strife on my first fucking night in their home. If I hadn’t taken that stupid walk…Dammit, I hated this.

I hated what this had done to the effects of the reset button I thought I’d pushed on my life. And I absolutely hated how I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen, what I’d heard.

Those man’s screams…

Why had he willingly walked into the water? Why was he covered in blood? Why hadn’t I stopped him? I should have tried to save him. I should have done more…

I angrily swiped at my eyes, turning away from the den entryway to face the plush backrest of the couch, one of its adjoining pillows clutched firmly in my arms, where I held it like a lifeline.

The man had been killed. But by what?

Piranhas was the first, semi-logical explanation my mind could conjure—the legality of such a thing taking a backseat. It was possible that someone had hoarded them, then in an attempt to get rid of them, dumped them into the passage. My second theory—crocodiles.

But this made me pause. Were there crocodiles in Alaska? It was probably as likely as a horde of piranhas plaguing Ketchikan’s shores.

At the sound of my grandpa’s galoshes squeaking against the floor, I rolled off the couch, nearly tumbling to the floor in the process. Upon seeing me, he sighed, grabbing his gray poncho from the coat rack.

“How you doing, kiddo?” he asked, his voice a concerned grumble from beneath his scraggly beard.

I didn’t want to lie, but then again, what good would it do me to do so? What could I say? Sure, I’d seen someone die right in front of me, in a manner I couldn’t even begin to make sense of, but that I wasn’t at all totally scarred by the situation?

That it wasn’t weighing on me at all? The truth wasn’t the best alternative either, but it was better than whatever flimsy excuses I could convey to keep up appearances.

I shook my head, unable to communicate a response much further than that, and it pained me to see Gramps so concerned. The old man shouldn’t have to be worrying about his adult grandkid.

He should be out there enjoying himself, his life, his job that he refused to give up for the leisurely existence of retirement.

“I’m headed to work. Your grandma’s having a nap,” he said. “If you need anything, I’m only a ring away.”

I nodded wordlessly, his eyes lingering on me for a few beats, until he unlatched the front door and was gone. As soon as I heard his old truck ambling down the driveway, I was up on my feet, tiptoeing up the stairs and past Grams’ room, where her soft snoozing breezed out from the cracked door, and made it to my bedroom.

I unpacked my laptop, setting it onto the writing desk Gramps had assembled for me, and got to work stringing up the search engine. While there was still no news on the events of last night, pages upon pages of Ketchikan’s history with mysterious mass drownings flashed across the screen. Every case was nearly identical to the last. What police had once predicted as new-ranged suicide attempts by some of the locals, had now shifted to the possibility of cult activity. That was a theory I hadn’t worked out myself, and it seemed far more logical than whatever I’d proposed.

But still…I’d seen the effects the water had on that man. I’d seen only him willingly breaching its surface to his death. I’d seen him alone. I leaned back against my chair, my brain buzzing through every logistical possibility. No one else was there with us, that much I was certain of.

But even so, something had happened, someone or something had pulled him into the water. Crocodiles or piranha hordes be damned, I couldn’t let this go. That man’s death hadn’t been a one-off incident after all. There was a pattern—something else at work here. And I needed to figure out what that was.