Del Obispo Road
written by Michael Coulombe
[this is a rough first draft]
The city of San Juan Capistrano is a small community in Southern California - Orange County - to be exact and sits roughly ten miles from the Pacific Ocean, which is great in the summer as there is still a nice cool breeze which helps keep the heat somewhat at bay.
The mission there was established by Father Junipero Serra, and the town was named after Saint John of Capistrano and founded by the Spanish in 1776. And until an earthquake caused extensive damage in 1812, the small rural community was left rather untouched.
The mission, which was the seventh of the missions of California was built within sixty years of the native village of Acjacheme, which, sadly, were used and exploited as a source of labor for the mission.
Now, in the summer of 1985, it is a bustling and thriving community; the mission having been restored and becoming a popular tourist destination. Southern California has grown, and most of the land around San Juan Capistrano has been developed; as families moved in due to the Aerospace and Defense boom from companies like Northrup and Lockheed Martin; or the growth of the entertainment business an hour north in the city of Los Angeles. As those larger cities were over populating, families were looking for cheaper housing and better schooling.
The warm afternoon sun has been pulled down and made way for a massive bright full moon which shines with a luciferous light against the darkness of the black sky.
There is a stillness to the even tide as a gentle breeze pushes the cool air from the ocean, softening the heat from the warm summer day. As it pushes past midnight, there are now a few clouds scattered, reflecting the moonlight and an almost eerie silence that slowly creeps across the valley.
An old beat up 1979 Peugeot drives down Del Obispo Road, its normally drab hue subdued under the blanket of night. It drives sporadically under the street lights, so occasionally it is thrown into complete darkness, only to have a moments relief when bathed again by the lamp.
Nico is driving and chatting with his girlfriend Rachel who sits in the passenger seat. The windows are down and her long blonde hair blows around her face as the air pushes in and around them. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears plays on the radio but Rachel is unable to hear it as Nico is talking to her, his thick Italian accent drowning out the song.
“I’m just saying it’s not as good as how my mother makes it, that’s all. Like she literally makes the best pasta all’arrabbiata. It’s a family recipe that goes back generations -“
“ We didn’t have to have Italian food.” Rachel turns and looks at him. He is a handsome twenty year old with dark eyebrows and light brown eyes. He makes her smile and they just ended a lovely evening having dinner. “There was a nice seafood place in the harbor I wanted to try. I told you that -
“You said Italian was your favorite. I wanted to make you happy.” He smiles at her. Oh, how that smile always makes her weak.
She grabs his hand and kisses it. “No, I said to eat with my favorite Italian.”
He blushes. “Oh. I misunderstood.”
She smiles. She studies him for a moment, enjoy the crinkle of his nose that tells her he is deep in though. “Wasn’t there anything about the dinner you did enjoy?”
He shrugs. “The food, not really. The company, yes.” He smiles again, looking at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road. He gently removes his hand from her grip and places it back on the steering wheel.
She laughs quietly, “Oh please, save that cheese for your spaghetti.”
He looks at her quizzically. “It’s pasta all’arrabbiata.”
She smiles. “Whatever, you had me at pizza.”
He stares at her and then realizing it is a joke, he gives a small chuckle. “Oh, is a joke. Very funny.” She laughs herself and looks away again, staring out the window at the full moon - as if it was just as interested in her as she was in him.
Suddenly, the lights on the dashboard flicker and the radio starts to static. Nico looks concerned. “Oh no, all the lights just went crazy.” He taps the dashboard but that does nothing to help. He pushes on the gas but the car starts to sputter and slow down. “Oh, the car is slowing down. I think we need to pull over.”
Rachel tenses. “What? Really? Here?”
Nico shrugs. “Yeah, looks that way.” He pulls the car over to the side of the road, stopping just under one of the street lamps. “Luckily we can stop under the light so we don’t have to sit in complete darkness.”
Rachel sighs. “I told you this car was a piece of junk.”
He turns and looks at her. “What, this car is a classic.”
“You’re right. It’s a classy piece of junk.” She, jokingly, sticks her tongue out at Nico but notices that he is too concerned to really pay attention to her. She places a hand on his arm.
He tries to smile. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just creepy out here. Luckily there is a full moon so it’s not so dark…but the street is completely empty. We are the only ones out here.” Rachel turns and locks the doors.
“You’re locking the doors?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s midnight. I really don’t want to take any chances. He is still out there.”
“Who is still out there?”
“The Night Stalker.”
“What? The serial killer? Rachel, I think you are over reacting. Nothing that exciting ever happens in Orange Country, especially in San Juan Capistrano - we have a mission here.”
Rachel looks at him, confounded. “I don’t see how having a mission makes any difference.”
“What, it does. This is a safe Catholic neighborhood. Seriously, we will be fine. Plus it is such a beautiful evening. Didn’t we just have a nice dinner together?”
“Yes, I mean, of course. But I’m still scared Nico.”
“I know babe, I know.” He turns the key in the ignition again but the car just sputters, the engine coughing. Nico finally gives up. “I’ll give it five minutes and try again, okay?”
Rachel looks down, concerned. “Yeah, okay.” She sighs and shifts in her seat. There is nothing but silence between them; both unsure of what to say or how to make the other feel comforted in this moment. The only sound they hear are the crickets that chirp in the summer evening.
She finally looks up at Nico, studying him but then turns and looks away. He turns and looks at her, watching her as she looks out the window, studying the full moon above them; half-hidden among the trees. She turns and looks at him and their eyes meet but she tilts her head and looks down. He puts his hand on hers. “What?”
She continues to keep her head down. “I don’t know how to bring this up..”
“Is everything okay?”
Rachel takes a deep breath. “I saw you talking to Vittoria the other day in between classes.”
Nico, exasperated, removes his hand from hers. “Not this again.”
She raises her head and looks at him. “Yes, this is again.” She moves in her seat again, feeling the seatbelt against her body. She unsnaps it and lets it retract back into place. “I’m just trying to distract myself.”
“With this? This is what you choose to distract yourself with? Me talking to Vittoria?” He looks at her but she does not say anything else. She looks sad and he wants to reach towards her and cup her face into his hands but he is frustrated. He is tired of having to defend himself. “We have biology class together, you know that -“
“- which I don’t like -“
“- and she goes to my church.”
“And she has huge tits.” Rachel looks down at her own cleavage, feeling vulnerable and rather exposed. She pulls her shirt down, tighter, fidgeting again in her seat.
This almost makes Nico laugh. “Seriously?”
“Plus she is Italian and Catholic just like your mother wants. I’m not Italian..and I’m baptist!”
“What, your baptist?!”
“I’m being serious Nico. Don’t play dumb. Please. You know, Baptists read the same bible you do.”
“Not exactly, I don’t think. There are several differences. We don’t have the same version of Jesus, plus we have a Pope. Baptists don’t have a pope. Plus a mission. We have a mission!”
Rachel just stares at him. “That’s your rationale? The Pope and a mission?”
He shrugs. “They are valid arguments, to me, anyways. Well and to my mother. Besides, you are the one who brought it up. I don’t know why you want to talk about the bible while we are sitting on the side of the road.”
“I want to talk about Vittoria.”
Nico looks at her, his eyes pleading. He knows it is no use though. It has been bothering her for some time now and they both have no where to go. He will not be able to charm his way out of this conversation. “She and I dated for like a week. In middle school. And we went to like once school dance. Rachel, that was so long ago. Why is this an issue now?”
“She still likes you. I can tell.”
“You can tell?”
“Girls know.”
“I’m not sure that is true. Besides, she slept with my older brother, remember? As far as I know, they still hook up from time to time.” He takes Rachel’s hand again and looks at her. He smiles. “I’m with you okay? Vittoria knows that. My mom knows that and she has to accept you, Baptist and all.” He reaches over and wipes a tear that runs down her cheek. “Although, she does pray for you!”
Rachel rolls her eyes and pushes his hand away, trying not to smile. Nico looks at her again sheepishly. “She does have huge tits though.”
“Gross, they’re not that huge.” She turns away adjusting her own cleave again, feeling inadequate. Nico notices and starts to tickle her, getting her to smile, finally. “There is that smile I love.”
The lights on the dashboard flutter and turn off. “Um - that’s strange.” He tries to start the car again but this time it just clicks, almost as if the battery were dead. Rachel tenses. Then the street light above them flickers and goes out, throwing them into almost complete darkness.
Rachel yelps. “What the fuck?” She looks out the window noticing that only the light above them is out.
Nico is not paying attention, he continues to turn the key, hoping the engine will connect. “It has to be a coincidence.”
“A coincidence Nico, really? Look. The other street lamps are on.”
“Yes, a coincidence. You are just scared so you are reading too much into it.”
“Hell yeah I’m scared. It’s dark as fuck. The moon is hidden by the clouds and I can’t see anything. I’m very sensitive to things like this.”
Nico looks at her nonplussed. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“You believe in a dead man on a cross…you celebrate his resurrection. Seems like a ghost to me.”
“Really Rachel?”
She throws her hands up. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m just spooked.”
“You know that I have been having issues with this car recently.”
“Yeah…”
He looks at her. Her face is hidden in half shadow but he can easily tell that she is concerned. He grabs her hand. It is shaking and he does his best to comfort her. “Trust me babe. It’s fine. There is no serial killer. There are no ghosts, okay?” She finds his smile comforting; hears the sincerity in his voice and she calms a bit. She takes a deep breath and holds it, feeling some of the tension in her shoulder ease.
She wants to go home badly. She knows she is over reacting, she knows that Nico is trying to be strong for her and she appreciates how patient he is being with her. She is just nervous; there is an uneasiness about her right now and she cannot explain why she feels this way.
Is it because the night is so dark, so black? Or how all the lights around them seemed to have turned off; or the way that the full moon is now hidden from view? Or that the car suddenly died and does not want to start? Or is it because the air feels heavy and the crickets have stopped singing their dulcet song?
Yeah, that is it! The crickets! Where are the crickets? Why have they stopped serenading the evening? Do they sense how thick the darkness has become? “The crickets?”
Nico looks at her. “The crickets? What about them?”
“They stopped making noise. Why did they stop?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know they were making noise - “
“They were! They were making noise but now - now they aren’t? Why?”
He just sits there staring at her, watching her, trying to understand her. She sits there as well, quietly, studying the night air. “What is that? I hear something.”
Nico shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Sshhh.” She hears a faint noise, barely noticeable at first but it slowly gets louder, somewhere behind her, in the distance; perhaps coming from the ocean and being carried in on the breeze. She does not move; her back facing the window.
She hears a rattle - similar to the sound a person makes as they are dying and their lungs are filling with blood. Rachel stiffens. Nico reacts to that. He pulls his hand back sharply. “Rachel, what is it?”
He looks up at her again but this time his gaze shifts slightly to the side of her; as if looking past her, out the window. He freezes, his eyes locked wide open, his mouth agape. He starts to quiver, almost unaware actually. He tries to talk; wants to push away, but his body will not move.
Rachel starts to panic, afraid to move, afraid to look over her shoulder, feeling vulnerable as her back shields her from - what, she did not know? “Nico. Nico! What’s wrong? Oh fuck. What the fuck is happening?” Her heart starts racing. She can feel his clammy hands in hers.
Then he stops quivering. In fact, he stops moving completely. He just sits there, mortified. He is slowly panting and she can feel his blood pulsating in his hands.
Then Rachel hears it - a faint whisper. Audible yes and anything but human and it is literally right behind her ear - the same direction in which Nico is looking. There is a tingle that runs up and down her spine.
“Wwwwweeeeee aaaaarrrrrrrrreeeeeeeee……”
A gust of cold air hits Rachel, almost burning and searing her skin. Another chill shakes her. She screams! It is so loud, so filled with terror, that it breaks Nico’s gaze. He jerks out of his trance. He looks at Rachel, looks past her, looks at her again. He frantically looks around, taking in everything around him. “What - what - “
Suddenly the street lamp above them pops back on startling Rachel who yelps. It makes Nico jump. The lights on the dashboard flicker back on - the radio crashing on and breaking through the silence; the DJ yammering about the next love song he wants to play.
“Nico, Nico! Oh my God, drive. Drive! Please!”
Disoriented at first, the sheer panic in Rachel’s voice is enough to draw him out. “What the fuck - what the fuck -“ He turns the key in the ignition and the car comes to life, as if it never had any issues. Nico throws the car into drive and speeds off.
By now, the effulgent moon has reappeared and watches intently as the dirty brown Peugeot careens down the road. The empty road feels so vast and never ending in the morn hours; the car looking so small and inconsequential against the backdrop of darkness.
Inside the car, Nico drives quickly; almost recklessly, his knuckles white from clutching the steering wheel. His face is covered in sweat; and he is panting. Rachel cannot be sure but she hears him talking to himself; perhaps a prayer he is reciting. She does not understand what he is saying as he murmurs in Italian.
Occasionally he reaches up to the small cross, which hangs around his neck, and rubs it while he prays. It seems almost comical, except for the fact, that something indeed spooked him.
Rachel hangs on, watching him. “Nico. Nico!” Nico continues to drive, remaining focused on his silent appeal to God. “NICO!” He is lost in his own thoughts. Frustrated, she finally punches him in the shoulder. Startled, he turns his gaze towards her, finally seeing her. “Nico, what the fuck happened back there? What did you see?”
He continues panting but tries to calm his breathing enough to answer. “I-I-I don’t…it…the face…”
Rachel is dumbstruck, confused by his words. “What face? Nico, I don’t understand.”
“I mean…the face…it was pale..oh my God I could see right through it.”
That statement gives Rachel pause. A small tingle walks down her spine. She shivers. “What?’ A face? Of who? Who was it?
Nico does not seem to be listening, again almost talking to himself. “How could I see right through it? It was…it was….” He begins to panic again, his heart racing. “How could I see right through it?”
By this time, they have pulled off of Del Obispo Road and drive through the main town. There are a few cars, which pass them now but are oblivious to their plight; as they just pluck along, heading home from their own celebrations or simple, quiet evenings.
Rachel holds her breath as Nico steps on the gas, determined to fly through a yellow stoplight, and she hopes that there are no cops around. Or better yet, she wishes there were, because they could ask for help. But help for what? What even happened? Nico saw something; she felt something - maybe even heard it - but she knew that no one would believe them. She lived it and did not believe it.
She was so frustrated; she just wants Nico to talk to her. She reaches for his hand but they are both clutched still to the steering wheel and decides better against it as Nico pulls into the driveway of his parent’s house. He turns the car off and jumps out of the car in one movement, leaving Rachel behind, confused.
“Nico, wait!” She calls after him but he is gone and she is left alone in the car. The dark house is suddenly filled with lights as Nico apparently wakes up those inside. Rachel undoes her seatbelt and slowly begins to exit the car, not ready to face the onslaught of questions that his parents would have.
She walks up to the house, in a daze, and enters through the opened door. By now, there is hushed commotion coming from the back bedroom. She can hear Nico talking with his parents, their muffled Italian words quietly echo down the hallway.
Rachel stands awkwardly in the living room, trying not to listen, but also unsure of what else she can do. It is almost one AM and she did not drive here, Nico picking her up for their date and so now she is at the mercy of the morning and of Nico’s family.
She looks around the room, taking in the modest decorations. She is drawn to a small statue of the Virgin Mary that sits on the mantel of the fireplace. She is supposed to look graceful and benevolent but to Rachel she feels disconsolate and diabolic; where was she this evening when Nico needed her? When some unseen force, or demon, or apparition spooked them? Rachel rolls her eyes. What does she know anyways, she is not Catholic and it all really just seems so bizarre to her.
She moves instead down the hallway towards the sound of Nico’s voice. It almost sounds like he is chanting and from what Rachel can tell it sounds as if his mother may have joined him as well. Their cacophonous duo sounds inharmonious; each one bellowing in different rhythms.
A small shaft of light spreads across the dark hall as the bedroom door sits ajar and as she gets closer it opens all the way as Enzo, Nico’s father steps out. From behind him, she can see his mother, Sofia, her gray hair in a mess around her shoulders and she sits on the edge of the bed. Nico, sits on his knees kneeled before, his hands clasped in prayer. He rocks gently back and forth.
Sofia stops vocalizing and looks at Rachel, her eyes boring into her, as if looking for some unknown reason or answer. “He is shaking. He won’t tell me what is wrong.”
Rachel looks at Sofia unsure if she herself has any sort of remark. How does she explain the incident? She was not wholly sure what had expired as well. She just knew that there was something behind her. She could sense it, feel it. Thinking about it now she could remember the cold breath on the back of her neck. She threw her hand to her nape and rubbed it, as if she could push away the memory. “Something scared him. I-I don’t know what he saw, he won’t tell me…but I could feel it…we were driving down Del Obispo Road and the car just stopped -“
Sofia raises her hand. “It’s late, you should go home.”
“Something happened!” Rachel tries to remain calm but her frustration starts to overwhelm her. She takes a deep breath. Nico does not even notice she is there, does not react to her voice. He just continues to pray.
Enzo puts his hand on her shoulder. She flinches slightly. “It was nothing, I’m sure.”
“Look at him. He is terrified. How can that be nothing?? He saw something. I heard it!”
Sofia dismisses her. “It was just the radio.”
“The car was dead. It wouldn’t start. The lights on the dashboard were out. The street light was - “
Enzo again tries to comfort here. “Sshhh, it’s okay.”
Rachel explodes. “It’s not okay!”
Sofia firmly stands and looks at Rachel. Rachel is defiant. “We are people of Fatih. We do not believe in your ghost stories. You come in here, raise your voice to us, and demand what, that we listen to you tell stories about hauntings and evil spirits?”
“Look at him. Look at your son! He is terrified. What would terrify him that much?”
“You filled his head with nonsense, all because you don’t believe in his faith, his upbringing.” Sofia grabs her rosary and sits down next to Nico again. She puts her hand on his back and soothly rubs it, comforting him. “This is why I told him not to date a Baptist.”
Rachel wants to scream, or cry, or just collapse from exhaustion. She is so angry for being blamed, and for what? She does not even know what Nico saw. She is beginning to think that maybe it did not happen after all. No, it did happen - she felt something!
“I felt it! It touched me! Nico isn’t the only one who is scared!”
Enzo approaches her again and puts his hand on her shoulder. This time he is tender, fatherly. It is late and Rachel is exhausted and has nothing left to say. “It’s been a long night I’m sure. Maybe it’s best I get you home.” Rachel looks at him, pleading but she know is of no use. This is a battle she is not going to win. “Do you have your things?” She nods.
“Bye Nico, I’ll call you later.”
Sofia looks at her, rosary still in hand. “Please. Don’t upset him any more than he already is.”
Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs. “Yeah, fine.”
With that, Enzo closes the bedroom door, sealing them off from one another.
Rachel, now in pajamas, sits at the vanity in her bedroom. Her hair wet and she rubs it dry with a towel. She stares at herself in the mirror. Her eyes have dark circles. She looks like she has a rough night.
After Enzo dropped her off, she had to talk to her mom. He would not leave until they had spoken - as if he needed to explain that whatever happened to Nico was some how her fault. Her mother listened, thanked him for dropping her daughter off, and politely escorted him out.
When she closed the door behind him, she just took Rachel into her arms and gave her a hug: no judgement, no reprimand, no words; just comfort. She must have seen the fear and exhaustion on her face.
Rachel embraced her mother, drew strength from her and finally cried. Releasing all of her fret and worry was cathartic and after she was done, she felt relieved and more tired and finally told her mom that she was going to take a shower and go to bed. Her mom kissed her on her forehead and that was the last they spoke of it.
Rachel grabs her brush and starts to stroke her hair. Not that her hair needed it. It was more that it was a familiar rote to her nightly routine. Her mind is plagued with quick flashes of the evening and she just continues to hear the disembodied whisper over and over again.
She slams the brush down on the vanity, harder than she anticipated, and grabs a bottle of sleeping pills. She takes one and swallows it. Next to her, sits her bible. She looks at it and then looks at herself again the mirror. She closes her eyes and takes three long breaths. As she does this, she can feel her heart slow and her body being to relax.
She opens her eyes. Grabbing her bible she moves over to her bed and slides in between the covers. Her body feels heavy and laying on the soft cool covers feels refreshing. She opens a page of her bible that is marked and reads.
‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.’ Philippians 4:6-7
She takes a moment to let those words sink in. She closes her eyes and mutters a quick prayer, hoping that indeed Christ Jesus would hear her request. “God, I know I am not the best Baptist but I am still a good servant. At least, I try to be. I hope you can see the goodness I have in my heart. And I hope you watch over Nico this evening and help guide him as he tries to understand his fear. Also, please help me forget what I heard this evening. Give me the strength to face my own fears this evening.” She stops for a moment and thinks. “I will also work extra hard this week and I’ll go to church on Sunday. Amen.” That last part makes her feel better and she knows she means it to. She was willing to do anything to help herself most past the events of the evening.
She closes her bible and lays it delicately and neatly on her night stand and then reaches over and turns off the light throwing her room into darkness. She lies there, in the complete silence, eyes closed, waiting for the sleeping pill to take effect.
She is not sure at first but the room starts to feel more cold. She shivers and she starts to move under the covers, wrapping them around herself to warm up but it is no use, she is freezing! Maybe she should have dried her hair more before getting into bed.
As she lies there she can hear a faint noise in the darkness. She stiffens and another shiver creeps along her spine. It makes her whole body convulse and she gets a sinking feeling in her stomach.
A gurgle and a moan and then the rattle - the same rattle she heard from outside the car. That unmistakeable discordance that pierced their evening earlier. That distinct sound that someone makes as they welcome the sweet arms of death; the same sound she had heard before when her grandfather had passed. Yes, that was why it had sounded familiar to her because she had heard it before.
Death has a familiar tone and she is acquainted with it.
She tenses. Why is Death talking to her? What did it want with her? Why now? Then as she starts to slowly sit up she hears the whisper….
“Wwwwwweeeeee aaaaaarrrrrrrrrreeeee hhhhhheeeeeerrrrreeee……”
She bolts upright and turns her head towards the wall across from her bed. A huge shadow stands there in the center of her room. She is unable to make any discernible features out; it just massive and shrouded in darkness.
Rachel is frozen. She holds her breathe, afraid to move.
The whisper stops and the shadow stands there looming.
Suddenly it lunges for her and Rachel screams, frantically, desperately, fearfully. She struggles against its cold grip. It grabs her leg first and pulls her. She falls off the bed and hits her head on the soft carpet. “Fuck.” She kicks at it, unable to see anything; as it seemed to suck out the darkness of the room. It was not like she was looking into a black room; it was like she could not see anything at all.
She was scared; terrified in a way she had never felt before and as a cold hand gripped her mouth, it smelled of rotting flesh and made her vomit - but with no where for it to go, she began to choke on it. Tears filled her eyes and her struggling became more violent but the dark shadow continued to envelope her, suffocating her, until she dissolved into the bleak nebulous - as if it were swallowing her whole!
When Rachel’s mother opened her door the following morning, after not answering any of her calls for breakfast, she found the room empty. It looked undisturbed, although her bed was unmade.
She was surprised that her room was cold and smelling slightly of sulphur, which almost made her wretch. But Rachel, herself, was no where to be found. She was not in the shower, nor anywhere downstairs; and she was not even outside when she went to look. For all she could tell, Rachel had just completely vanished.
She hurried to the phone and dialed the authorities. The cops and the local news had surrounded the house by late afternoon. And by early evening the whole neighborhood was out searching for her.
And Rachel’s mother sat in the kitchen, hands locked with her husband’s, listening to the detectives as they strategized. But she was not listening; she was not mentally present. She was lost in thought. Lost in a time, twenty years previous, when something happened; something she had tried so hard to forget….something that happened on Del Obispo Road.
And until today, she had all been certain that the past would remain locked away. She broke down; and her husband put his around her, assured her, positive she was reacting to what she was hearing; and exhausted and scared and completely overwhelmed.
Which, of course, she was all those things. But she was also anxious, she was also afraid, and she was also confident that a pact she made with her friends in her youth had finally been broken..and that one of her whilom friends from her past was exacting revenge.
And she knew that Rachel’s disappearance was just only the beginning…