EPILOGUE: Flotsam & Jetsam

And so it ends.

Thank you for following this story — and it’s meant a lot to me to see that some people have even parted with their hard-earned cash for the ebook/audiobook versions of APOCALYPSE ROCK 🖤 🙏 🖤

I wanted to give The Beachcomber the last word, delivering the epilogue to APOCALYPSE ROCK. She is an odd, and to me, endearing character. Along with her obvious personal eccentricities, she is sharp, curious, persistent. Valuable and inspiring qualities, I think.

Indeed, The Beachcomber knows that no story ever really ends… And so, for you, o subscribed reader, I do hope the Sternum Island universe will persist, strangely, curiously, irregularly… And there are several more stories set in the Sternum Island universe that I have been developing. More on that soon 👀

I would be remiss to not mention that you can buy APOCALYPSE ROCK as an audiobook through Audible (CA/UK/US) and the ebook on Kindle (CA/UK/US)

Bon voyage, happy trails, safe journeys, fare thee well 🐾

A FAMILIAR MONTAGE of aerial shots of different shorelines passed by, filmed using a variety of cameras and recording technology from over the past century: tropical beaches shot in old warbling video, grainy 16mm film footage shows a speedboat cutting a white line across Biscayne Bay in Miami, a series of massive breakers pummel the rocky shores of some dark, treeless and wind-blown Atlantic island, in super-sharp flatness a fisherman in a tiny dinghy waves up at a drone flying across the placid lagoon of a South Pacific atoll, and others.

“The Beachcomber,” title comes up in shimmering golden 3D letters. A digital wave of oily water crests and crashes down over the title, submerging it in lurid, frothy blue and green fluid.

The ersatz tide pulls back to reveal numerous brightly colored running shoes, covered in black seaweed and encrusted with bone white barnacles.

“Ahoy there,” the screen cut to The Beachcomber, standing stiffly on a moss-covered bluff over a choppy grey sea in the background. Dressed in her signature navy blue sailor’s cap and coat, and heavy hiking boots, she stares into the camera as she’s baffled by a strong wind.

After a long moment, she finally speaks in her stilted rhythm, “Last episode we were on our way to Sternum Island in the Pacific Northwest. We were to join our investigative crew as they tried to get to the bottom of a mystery. A mystery of dismembered body parts. A mystery of a special school with a dark past, for special kids with troubled lives. A community under a mysterious threat. A mystery with some special, sinister characters…”

The screen zoomed in to The Beachcomber’s face, making her nearly transparently pale skin almost glow against the grey seascape behind, her unblinking pale blue eyes widening as if to hypnotize her viewers.

“But, that had to be canceled,” The Beachcomber continued, finally blinking her eyes in a slow, purposeful manner. “There was an incendiary event of still unknown origins that seemingly caused a telecommunications blackout, as well as the cancellation of all transportation. We attempted to hire a seaplane, but even air travel had been banned. For safety reasons.”

The screen cut to The Beachcomber walking along the bluff, hopping over rocks and logs as she continued.

“In the sea, everything is connected. Nothing is separate.”

She stopped next to a twisted Arbutus tree and pondered it, raising her hand and touching its thin-skinned blistering bark.

The Beachcomber turned back to the camera, “Our team embedded on Sternum Island has yet to report back. We’ll have to wait until telecommunications are restored.”

The grainy nighttime image of a speedboat came onto the screen. There were what looked like a dozen figures hunched in it, about to depart from a pier in the rough seas. Animated red circles drew themselves around two of the little, blurry faces as the screen zoomed in.

“But before the storm knocked out signal, we received this from our team. It is Brian Bozmann aka David Dorchester aka Gavin Gregory aka Mr Grey. He’s escaping from Sternum Island’s Leek Point facility in the stormy early hours of last Sunday morning. In the boat with him is the hitherto missing Constable Sweetland…”

The screen zoomed in to show a fuzzy image of Sweetland’s disfigured and bandaged face.

“… He seems to have suffered a terrible injury. Alongside them are a number of soldiers who are armed to the teeth. Our team managed to attach a homing beacon to the boat before it left. And we traced their journey all night and all day. And that’s why we’re here now…”

The screen cut back to The Beachcomber, now standing next to a chainlink fence topped with razor-wire, running down the mossy bluff, across the massive craggy rocks of the shore, and into the waves. That line was continued out into the sea by a series of small orange buoys bobbing in the water. Little red lights mounted on their top gave out an occasional blink.

Silently and slowly, The Beachcomber pointed to a sign on the fence: the black silhouette of a person with their arms jerking out, a large thunderbolt running through their body.

Still pointing, she continued, “We’ve come north to Blubber Bay. Specifically, to the military base here. Notoriously, this has been the home to all manner of experiments on sea mammals. Beluga whales, dolphins, seals and more. All in an apparent attempt to weaponize these poor creatures for kamikaze missions, or to retrieve lost torpedoes, or other espionage. Our team has also tracked tidal flows and identified Blubber Bay as one very likely departure point for many of the detached feet found across the Salish Sea. The same feet that we have now discovered contains a virulent strain of rabies. The same Blubber Bay where the shady Brian Bozmann aka David Dorchester aka Gavin Gregory aka Mr Grey escaped to after using the small community of Sternum Island for some illicit brainwashing experiments… Allegedly… Now that’s a bucketful of dark.”

The Beachcomber was still pointing at the sign on the fence of the person being electrocuted. She stared into the camera intensely and put her index finger over her lips in a soundless shushing gesture.

The video cut to a close-up of her emotionless face. Her voice spoke but her lips stayed shut, still crossed with her index finger in a shush: “I’m The Beachcomber. Let’s see what’s washed ashore.”