Free The Green Lama: Horror in Clay (The Green Lama Legacy Book 2) by Adam Lance Garcia Page B

7
    SECRETS BY THE SEA
    Jean trekked her way from the shoreline toward the boardwalk in the distance, her bare feet kicking up the cool loose sand, granules clinging to her still moist skin. There were lights on the horizon, bright and ostentatious, flashing off and on, every color of the rainbow, twisting and turning in the night sky. A faint sound of music echoed softly in the air, high octaves and a fast rhythm, which only added to rather than relieved the sense of dread Jean felt coursing through her. She did her best to stop her body from shivering and her teeth from chattering, but nothing could stop the cold sense of terror at the pit of her stomach. What scared her most, what dug down deep into her gut and churned around the bile until it made her nauseous was the simple fact that none of this was possible. No one—not even the Green Lama—could instantly transport from one place to another. Whatever had happened to her was… wrong .
    Making it to the boardwalk, she climbed over the guardrails and tossed her shoes and coat onto the wooden boards. Sitting down so that her feet hung off the edge of the walkway she began batting off the clumps of sand that had formed around her heels and between her toes.
    Despite the dark Jean couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew this place. As if she had been here—maybe even several times—before. She couldn’t see the city, nor could she see anything beyond the coast save for a ship or two in the distance. The boardwalk—even the lights down on the horizon—were good signs. They meant that wherever she was it was near or part of civilization. Hopefully her own.
    “Um, young miss, don’t you think it’s quite late for a walk on the beach?”
    She heard someone speak from behind her. She instantly reached for her gun in her coat pocket, remembering too late that the coat was folded up on the ground behind her. Risking a glance behind, Jean saw a small man standing a few feet away. Dressed all in black with an old, worn fedora atop his head and a long white beard, flecked with red flowing down his chest, he smiled at her pleasantly.
    Jean measured the old man, determining him probably harmless. Probably. “Won’t disagree with ya there, padre,” Jean said after a moment.
    The old man nodded. “Cold, too. Yes. Much too cold. You must be freezing,” he said, indicating her feet with his wooden cane.
    “A little chilly, sure,” Jean said as she wiped the last bit of sand off her feet, stood up, and slipped on her shoes and coat. “Hey, look, this might sound a little bit nutty, but humor me...”
    The old man shrugged. “I do whatever a beautiful young woman asks.”
    She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Heh, right. So this is gonna make me seem a bit off my rocker, but… you mind telling me where I am?”
    The old man frowned. He glanced over at the shoreline, then at the lights on the horizon. “I would have assumed that would be more than obvious, wouldn’t you think, young miss?” he said waving his cane around him.
    “Like I said, humor me.”
    “Well, young miss… You’re in Coney Island.”
    Jean’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Lord… How?” She stumbled forward, collapsing into the old man’s arms, which caught her much more skillfully than she would have given him credit for.
    “Come, now, it cannot be that bad? It’s the playground of the world, no?”
    Jean steadied herself. “It’s not that. I…” She looked at the old man and decided against telling him she had been inexplicably transported across the city. She already thought she had gone insane; imagine what Grandpa would think. “I just had a long day, padre. That’s all. Guess I just lost my bearing is all.”
    “I know the feeling, my dear,” the old man said with sincerity. “Do you have any place to stay?”
    Jean shook her head. “Not around here, no.”
    The old man tapped his cane three times on the ground. “Then you shall stay with me. My wife and I have several spare