DEARLY
DEPARTING
Geoff North
Copyright © 2021 Geoff North
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Books by Geoff North
Live Again (Out of Time 1)
Last Contact (Out of Time 2)
Lost Playground (Out of Time 3)
Ambition (Long Haul 1)
Retribution (Long Haul 2)
Annihilation (Long Haul 3)
Thaw (CRYERS 1)
Burn (CRYERS 2)
Twisted Tales (Volume 1)
Twisted Tales (Volume 2)
Twisted Tales (Volume 3)
Twisted Tales (Volume 4)
Horror Stories (Volume 1)
Horror Stories (Volume 2)
Horror Stories (Volume 3)
Horror Stories (Volume 4)
For Younger Readers
The Vampire Zombie Ghost Club (Casefile 1)
The Vampire Zombie Ghost Club (Casefile 2)
The Vampire Zombie Ghost Club (Casefile 3)
The Vampire Zombie Ghost Club (Casefile 4)
Collections
The Long Haul
Twisted Tales Collection
Horror Stories Volumes 1-4
The Vampire Zombie Ghost Club Casefiles 1-4
Chapter 1
Standing in the ocean up to his waist and thinking of the end of things wasn’t how Raymond Wallace imagined his fiftieth birthday would go down. But here he was, middle-aged and alone, far away from home on the eastern tip of the Dominican Republic, considering just that.
Health wasn’t an issue. Raymond—old Ray to those he worked for and his small collection of friends—was in decent shape, physically and otherwise. He was a gentle giant of a man with big wide shoulders, and a gut that wasn’t all that noticeable if he sucked it in. There wasn’t a damned thing wrong with him that a good pair of reading glasses and a better diet couldn’t cure. Unfortunately, Ray’s problems had been building for years, for decades. They were the things that affect everyone throughout life. The good times and the bad times. Somewhere along the way, Ray discovered a different kind of time. It’s that moment when a few people might inevitably ask if it’s all been worth it. Is life worth continuing after everything you’ve accomplished—or sadly never achieved—seemingly done?
Lots of folks, especially around Ray’s work place, would call this depression. They’re the kinds of people that start popping pills and putting names to their disorders. Clinical. Seasonal. Atypical. Psychotic. There were dozens more classifications of depressed states Ray had heard of in the hospital hallways. Maybe he suffered from one or more of these, and maybe he didn’t. Ray may have worked in a hospital, but he wasn’t a doctor. Ray was a maintenance man. He replaced light bulbs and mowed grass. He was just one step above janitor, but he’d heard enough talk about depression to realize he didn’t want to be another moan and groan patient dependant on chemicals.
A gentle wave washed up over his chest forcing Ray to take a few steps back. He splashed a double handful of water on his face and rubbed his big wet hands dry across his shaved scalp. He turned around to take in the shoreline. The strip of white sand a hundred feet away was filled with tourists from a dozen countries walking aimlessly north and south. Ray liked to think of them at times as the stumblers. Most were unused to walking with bare feet on wet ground. Their sunburnt toes would catch in the sand, or their heels would sink into cracked pieces of sea shell causing them to jump awkwardly. Ray could appreciate the desire to take it all in. These people had saved their money during the long cold months wherever it was they came from to enjoy such a stroll. But it seemed as if most had no clue where they were walking to or why. They simply stumbled and lurched and grimaced their way along, the warm Caribbean breeze pushing at their backs or against their bellies.
Beyond the people was a line of swaying palms. Behind the trees was Ray’s resort, the Riu Bambu. It was one of dozens lined up and down the Bavaro coast catering to Canadians—such as himself—and to Americans, and travelers even further east from Europe and Russia.
Ray thought the hotel was just okay. The food was decent, the booze—though watered down in some bars—was easy to come by, and in some cases too much for the average tourist to handle. It was everything these stumblers from all over the world wanted and expected. The Bambu wasn’t Ray’s first all-inclusive tropical trip. He’d been to Mexico with his wife seven years earlier.
Thinking of Caroline brought his thoughts back to the numb reality of his existence. She had left him shortly after Mexico with a doctor from South Africa. It hadn’t come as a huge shock to Ray. She was an administrative assistant in the same small-town hospital that Ray kept well swept, lit, and warm. Dr. Edgar Shelle was five years younger than Caroline—twelve years younger than old Ray. He was everything Ray was not. Young, confident, handsome, and financially secure. No, it wasn’t a surprise when Caroline left Ray and ran off to her new lover’s home country, but it still hurt like hell. Seven months after that, Dawn—Ray and Caroline’s only child—graduated from high school and left home for university.
Ray had been alone ever since. He had never missed a single shift at the hospital. He worked through the humiliation of it all. He had kept on changing florescent bulbs, replacing worn ceiling tiles, and painting walls in the medical center of small town Rokerton. Ray remained his quiet, humble self. He had few friends, and not a single enemy.
But Ray had secrets. He’d been holding on to them most of his life, and those secrets were taking their toll. Ray didn’t want to keep those secrets any longer, and he had no intention of sharing them.
A rumble sounded from above. Ray craned his head up and watched as a big jumbo jet drifted lazily through the late afternoon sky, heading west towards the Punta Cana
