2019-05-13 - This Rock is Awful

It's that rarest of spring days in Gray Harbor: a beautiful, warm, CLOUDLESS day. As such, the beach, even as rocky as it is, has been crowded most of the day. Now, as the sun sinks over the ocean, turning it to gold and blood, the crowds have begun to thin out. It's not deserted, but a group of teenagers has started to cluster near the bonfire spot, and their music can be heard down the sand. Alexander is standing just inside the music's range, dressed in an oversized gray sweater with motheaten holes showing a bit of his white undershirt, and battered old jeans. His work boots are being washed in the tide as he tries to skip stones on the sea. Of course, that's not a thing when the water isn't flat, so mostly they just hit with a SPLOOSH, then sink immediately.

The whole cloudlessness of the day hasn't yet showed itself as an enigma to Sally, who is very new to the town. The beach was a draw after living landlocked at her last residence. With a granola bar in her hand she nibbles at it while taking in the incredible views on offer. Her eyes are drawn mostly to the sun as it ducks beyond the water bursting into the variety of colors, Away from the bulk of the people, she can still hear the music some. Dressed in jeans and a shirt and hoodie, she mostly minds her own business. "Looks like the sun should make a hissing noise when it appears to hit the water." Meandering closer to the stone skipper, she speaks quietly. And eats that granola bar.

Alexander jumps as he's addressed, flinching in surprise. As he was in mid rock-throw, the stone sails off at an angle and hits a jutting rock, then another, before sinking. He turns to Sally with a scowl. "I don't know you." It's immediate and dismissive, almost defensive. But something about her catches his attention, and he stares at her, eyes flat and near black, for much longer than is polite. Then ends up saying, "Who are you?" A glance towards the sun. "If it hissed, it wouldn't be very pleasant. Although some people think there's a giant, hungry snake curled into the heart of the sun, and the time is coming when it will break free and devour the solar system." A pause. "There would probably be hissing then."

Startling him hadn't exactly been her agenda so Sally gives him an apologetic look even if the words aren't exactly voiced. "I suppose you're right. There'd be hissing, but notably not from the sun, more from the burning masses on Earth. I think." Squatting down, she plucks up a rock and offers it over towards him. "Here ya go, to replace the other one I made you miss on." Leaving it in the flat of her hand, she keeps it extended. "I'm Sally, new in town. Figured I would take a look around and see what all the town had to offer."

Alexander narrows his eyes at the offered rock. "I wasn't aiming at anything." Still, he takes the rock with an inclination of his head that might be gratitude, if one squinted. "That's only half a name. There are a lot of Sallys in the world. How am I do know which one you /are/. Or whether you change it from day to day." He turns to toss the rock towards the ocean, following its arc with a frown. "Alexander Clayton," he offers, grudgingly and in return. "Where are you from?"

"Wouldn't that be really fun if we could change our name from day to day and be anyone we wanted to on any given day?" Sally lets that hang there a moment, giving him a tentative smile as she drops her hand after he takes the rock. The other still holds her granola bar but she doesn't take more bites yet. "Alexander Clayton. It's nice to meet you. Do you have any nicknames?" Since he'd asked, she does offer, "Sally Storm. It's a silly name I think, Storm, but it was my parents so I inherited it too." There's a thoughtful look, a slight tilt of her head. "Originally, I'm from Texas, but last place I lived was Oklahoma and that was only brief. Are you from here?"

"No." It's flat, and there's no return smile to Sally's. "And no. I have a name. Nicknames are confusing and unnecessary." He frowns. His shoulders hunch and he stares down at his feet for a bit, his brow furrowing as he puzzles something over, back and forth. "Were you involved in Jade Helm 15, Miss Storm? Was it the Chinese, or an interior operation by Homeland Security? I've never had the chance to go check for myself." Then he stops, rubs at his face. "I mean. I meant to say...I've never been to Texas. Or Oklahoma. Why here? Gray Harbor isn't exactly the tourist destination of the Northwest." He tries to smile at her - it's a lot like someone ripped a smile out of a magazine and pasted it sloppily over his regular features.

"Nicknames can be fun, if you let them be. Alexander, I bet someone has tried to call you Alex at least once?" Still with that tentative smile, Sally remains with her posture comfortably erect, a curiosity in her expression. His body language is noticed though and she folds over the wrapper of her granola bar and tucks it into her hoodie pocket. "Jade Helm? I heard of it. Even saw the Walmarts closing down and the federal vehicles around them. There was no martial law though, or people walking through the streets holding guns. I did realize a whole lot of walmarts opened mini stores near railroad tracks then closed them soon after and sold them all to Dollar General stores." So she's heard of it. "Why here? I've been to a lot of places, even abroad, but I've never been here. I was going to Seattle and heard about this place from an online friend. So I came." The smile turns more encouraging when she notices him trying to smile. "Are you a conspiracy theorist?"

"I am not /Alex/," Alexander snaps at her with a sudden burst of anger. "I am Alexander. I know who I am, and I don't need people trying to TWIST that with false names. It's not /fun/." He grimaces, then, his body language deflating. "I prefer Alexander. Just Alexander." He takes a breath, bends down to pick up another stone. Then, after a moment, he finds another, wet and smooth from the pounding of the waves. He offers this to her with an awkward sort of shove. "I like conspiracies," he admits, after a moment. "Trying to make sense out of the nonsensical. It's reassuring in a way, the idea that things can be explained logically, that it's all just a big, complex game run by intelligent and ruthless entities. When the truth is, more often, that people are just fucked up, and bad shit just happens."

Sally visibly flinches at the outburst but she doesn't move away from him, just riding out the moment, listening to his reasoning. "Alexander it is." The words finally offered after several moments of silence. With the offer of the rock, she accepts it, a nod of thanks towards him as she steps a little closer to the water. She turns towards her right a little, since she's eight handed, "I think that the Jade Helm conspiracy scared me more than anything else. I searched all I could find on it and some of it seemed so eerily true. It was reason enough to leave Oklahoma, but not the reason. It was just time for me to move on and explore. I do that a lot. Never settle into one place for too terribly long. Few years max." Now she draws back her arm after leveling the stone as if she's going to throw it. Instead, she thinks better of it and turns more to face him again. "Thank you," she says simply and deposits the rock in her jeans pocket. "You're probably right though. People are, and stuff just happens."

"Conspiracy theories are always eerily true," Alexander mutters. "A function of being challenged early and often - no one looks at a claim like 'the President of the United States is secretly a reptile man' and goes 'that seems reasonable', so if you're going to BELIEVE that, you have to have answers for the common questions like 'why doesn't he look like a lizard man' and 'don't people in his position have to have medical exams', and you can't have answers that can be easily disproved, so you rely on assertions and constructs which can easily explain away evidence to the contrary as long as you accept the assertion that everyone in power is lying to you - an assertion that most of us accept pretty well and which, by most evidence, can be considered factually true on some level, and which rely on the natural holes in any knowledge as it is created." It all comes out in a staccato rush. "It is compelling because it is PLAUSIBLE, as long as you believe that the world as we're taught it is a lie. Which it is." He turns to throw his rock. "What do you do, Miss Storm?"

Without a beat, after hearing him out, Sally intones softly, "I'd believe our current president is a lizard man." Deadpan. Then she cracks a smile becase she realizes how right he was in his spiel. "I guess I've never heard it put quite that way, but we the people, as a whole, are really obtuse aren't we? So easy to pull the wool over our eyes and all. But I think most people want to believe the best in others, not the worst, even though we're let down time and again by those we trust the most." Musing over it, she tucks her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and wears a thoughtful look. "I guess all we can do is find a piece of the world we can live in peace in, and pretend it's our happily ever after? Otherwise we'll always be looking over our shoulders for the shiv." Another beat and she focuses more on the water as it rolls in quietly and the sun sinks lower turning the evening darker. "I write. Not books or anything so important, but I'm a blogger. You should look into that with your theories. I'm sure you'd have a lot join you."

There's a rusty sound from Alexander; after a moment, it might be possible to identify it as a laugh. "Perhaps not the best example of an implausible conspiracy theory," he admits, and the true humor that lights his face for a moment makes him look almost normal. The expression quickly sinks back into a nearly flat affect as she continues, though. He listens, studies her with impolite intensity. "Look over your shoulders for the shiv, Miss Storm, and you don't GET the shiv. The one conspiracy theory that I absolutely believe, of which all others are mere shadows, is that they ARE, in fact, out to get you." He just shakes his head at the idea of becoming a blogger, but adds, "What do you blog about?"

Although the sound was unfamiliar to her, it wasn't unpleasant and Sally's smile inches up a few degrees in response. "Now I know you can smile a genuine smile, it means I'll have to try and cajole it out sometime. If we cross paths again, I mean. Like you said, stuff happens." Her own smile remains even when his fades and his flat look returns. "I'm not complacent, ever. I always have this restlessness inside so that's why I am always moving on somewhere new. No one has time to dig in the shiv, I guess, since I'm rarely in one place too long." Quietly, she observes him, squinting a bit against the approaching darkness surrounding them and moving in. "I blog about food." The words are given almost defensively, certainly with self-deprecation. "What do you do?" She hurries to ask, trying to fill the silence left by her confession.

"It's a small town, Miss Storm. Unless you wander off somewhere and die horribly, we'll probably see each other at a later time." It's not really said in an encouraging or friendly sort of tone, merely stated as an observation. A horrible observation. But Alexander jerks his chin, and starts to walk down the beach, further away from the teenagers and their music. "Come this way. I'll show you something." There are scenes from horror movies that probably start like this, especially as the evening darkness begins to fall in earnest. At least he doesn't seem put off by the food blogging. "I look into things. Sometimes I get paid. Blogging about food sounds interesting. There's a good fish place on the boardwalk."

"Then I'll look forward to it. Mostly." Sally tells him honestly and smiling a bit sheepishly at being so honest about it. The offer of the directional walk is met with a wry look but she follows along anyway. "As long as you're not the one carrying the blade, I'm game." Falling into step beside him, despite the weirdness of the evening, she glances up at him on occasion. "Look into things? Like mysteries?" Intrigued, she looks about to ask more before decidedly allowing herself to be deterred. "I'll have to try it and write about it. Thanks for the heads up. I love food. I learned how to cook it, now I just enjoy the twists and turns others put into a recipe. So many ways to eat the same thing."

"Fried Fish." Alexander frowns. "That's the name of the place." He gives her a sidelong and suspicious look, as if doubting her ability to look forward to interacting with him. "I'm not going to kill you." It's probably meant to be reassuring, but if you have to SAY it... He jerks his head downward, once, at her question. "Everything's a mystery to someone." He leads her into the darkening pools of shadow around a jagged outcropping of slate gray rocks. The largest one arches over their head and juts out into the frothing, rock-bound waters. He takes out a cell phone, turns on the flashlight app, and shines it at a space on the rock. There's a lot of lichen, and a couple of scuttling, many legged things that scuttle away from the light, but it reveals a sort of timeless classic where beach grafitti is concerned: someone's chipped in a heart with two sets of initials - H.J. and K.T. It's old enough that the grooves are softened and half-filled with moss, but still readable.

"Oh, well that's a clever name. I'll definitely look for it though, I don't think I've come across too many things that I don't like so far." Sally takes the reassurance in the spirit in which she hopes it was intended. Reassurance. "I guess it is.." Curious, she follows him towards the outcropping and when he shines the light over, she peers in that direction, looking up at him once she had seen the initials carved. "Do you know what they mean? Or is it a mystery you are trying to solve?"

"In general, or in Gray Harbor?" One corner of Alexander's mouth tilts up. "Either way, you're young. Just wait." He jerks his head again at her last questions. "Yes." There's the briefest, knife quick grin. "1945, the twelfth of June. Newlyweds Heather and Kevin Thompson were at the end of the first week of their two week honeymoon. Natives of Seattle, they'd come to Gray Harbor for a quiet, intimate, and cheap sojourn. It was a beautiful day, warm and cloudless, and they'd spent most of the day on the beach. Witnesses report seeing them snuggled on a beach towel around five that evening. Their hotel reports that they were blissfully happy. In love." He turns his attention to the heart. "Around approximately eight pm, Heather left her husband, who had fallen asleep on the towel, and came to this rock. Using another rock, she chiseled this design. Then, she picked up another, larger rock, carried it back to the towel, and bashed her new husband's skull into a thin read smear on the sand." He points to the largest rock. "She then climbed this rock, here, crawled out to the very end," his finger tracks the progress, "and threw herself down on the rocks below, head first." A pause. "Now, the mystery: Why did she use her maiden initials? A side effect of forgetfulness with whatever psychosis seized her? A symbolic divorce before murder?"

The tilt draws her eye and for a moment Sally finds herself grinning back at him with his brief one. It softens though when he tells her the story of the initials, enjoying the romanticism of it. There's even a moment where she sighs. Completely girl-like in delivery. Then the story turns and she holds her breath for a moment until a sound of dismay escapes anyway. "Why?" The word squeaks, even to her own ears and she clears her throat to try again. "Do you have any of those answers?" It was odd, something was off in the story and she looks stricken for a brief moment. "This rock here, it's not a good place or a romantic place. It's awful."

Alexander stares at the heart. "I think it's because they came here. If they'd gone to Portland instead, they'd probably have had many babies, and been happy until the inevitable middle age sag and bouts of infidelity set in. I don't know that for sure, of course. The seeds of murder were probably always there in her heart - but some places have particularly fertile soil for atrocity." He shrugs. "And now, Miss Storm, you have learned an important truth about Gray Harbor. It's not a good place or a romantic place. It's awful." His mouth twitches in one of those not-a-real-boy-smiles. "Enjoy your stay. Don't wander too far."

"You're a bit of a pessimist, and I get that, but why do you think /here/ is to blame? You mean this beach? This rock? This town?" The last goes a little high as if concerned it may be the town, but holding on to doubt all the same. Her eyes drop to the sand of the beach and she idly lifts a hand over her chest, visibly thinking about his words. Considering them deeply. Her eyes lift to him suddenly when he does clarify about the town. Again and she shivers suddenly, despite the warmth of the evening, and she wraps her arms around herself. For long moments, she doesn't respond as the water washes up on the beach and that heart shines beneath the moon as it makes an appearance. "You're not the most welcoming committee," she says quietly, but she moves back, not to get away from him, but the rock. "I should be getting along back home. See you around. If we both live through the night." She tries for a smile and fails, but she's turning to go back the way she came all the same.

Alexander watches her. Just watches. There's no attempt to offer sympathy or warmth or reassurance. "Very few people have ever called me welcoming at all, Miss Storm. Stick to the roads, and don't wander alone." Despite this advice, he doesn't offer to walk with her either, but rather turns and walks down to the ocean, under the shadow of that awful rock, and just stares at the foamy water breaking itself in futile fury against the stones, again and again and again.