The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All by Laird Barron Page A

demons were in here, swimming around, watching for intruders. He said most white people believed it was mainly ghosts of those who drowned haunted this place, but he thought that was wrong. Only a few corrupted souls linger here on Earth. Or a few who get lost and forget who they are. The rest go to their reward, or punishment."
        "Uh-huh," Bernice said. This conversation brought back the creepy feelings. She was frightened and that kindled the helpless anger, again.
        "The spirits are great deceivers. They delight in causing pain and fear. Of course, the spirits are angry about the houses, the motor boats, the trash, and seek to lure anyone they can and drown them."
        Bernice shook her head. "Last night you groused at us for telling tales. Now look at you go…"
        "The cat is out of the bag."
        "Huh. Maybe you should put it back in the bag."
        "That it? The codger was superstitious?" Dixie lighted a cigarette and Bernice's mouth watered.
        "His brother Caleb drowned in the Devil's Punch Bowl. Four people saw him fall into the water and disappear. The body was lost, but Job claimed to meet something pretending to be his brother a year later. He was walking along the beach and saw him lying under a pile of driftwood. Job ran toward his brother's corpse, but when he reached it, Caleb sprang from the weeds and slithered into the water, laughing. Job was terrified when he realized the figure didn't really resemble his brother at all. And that's why he stopped fishing here."
        "I hope he gave up on moonshine too," Bernice said.
        Lourdes was the one who spotted the rowboat. It lay grounded on the beach, partially obscured by a tangle of driftwood just below their cabin. The women gathered around and peeked inside. Nothing seemed amiss- the oars were stowed and only a pail or two of rainwater slopped beneath the floorboards.
        "It's a rental," Dixie said. "The lodges around here rent skiffs and canoes. Somebody forgot to tie it to the dock."
        "I don't think so," Bernice said. The boat was weathered, its boards slightly warped, tinged green and gray. "This thing looks old." Actually, ancient might've been more accurate. It smelled of algae and wood rot.
        "Yeah. Older than Andy Griffith," Karla said.
        "Maybe it belongs to one of the locals."
        "Anything's possible. We'll tell the lodge. Let them sort it out." Dixie tied the mooring rope to a half-buried stump and off they went.
        
    5
        
        They stopped at the Bigfish to report the abandoned boat and use the showers, then drove into Port Angeles for dinner at the Red Devil. When they returned a few hours later, the moon was rising. Bernice and Karla lugged in wood for the fire. Li-Hua fixed hot chocolate and they drank it on the porch.
        "The boat's still here," Lourdes said, indicating its dark bulk against the shining sliver of beach.
        "Ah, they'll come get it in the morning," Bernice said. "Or not. Who cares."
        "I know!" Dixie clapped for attention. "Let's take it for a spin."
        "A spin? That would imply the existence of an outboard motor," Karla said.
        "Yes, but we'll just use the manual override. It comes with oars."
        "I've stuffed my face with entirely too much lobster to take that suggestion seriously."
        "Don't look at me," Bernice said. "I mean it, Dix. Stop looking at me."
        A few minutes later she and Lourdes were helping Dixie shove off. Li-Hua and Karla waved from the shore, steadily shrinking to a pair of smudges as Dixie pulled on the oars. "Isn't this great?" she said.
        Bernice perched in the bow, soon mesmerized by the slap of the oar blades dipping into the glassy surface, their steady creak in the metal eye rings. The boat surged forward and left the rising mist in tatters. She was disquieted by the sensation of floating over a Hadal gulf, an insect prey to gargantuan forms lurking