Horror on vacation

Ever been genuinely terrified? I mean truly in fear for your life. A moment of true terror in which your life literally does flash before your eyes.  I have. I’m not proud of it, but I am not ashamed either. I am only a mortal man after all. When you read the rest of this tale of horror and torment, you will share my dread. You will understand.

I came face to face with mortal fear one cloudy day in August, 2002, near a seaside town named Moro Bay. My presence there was not of my own making, an old friend I visited in a nearby town had suggested I visit the town on my way back to the rental car depot the following day. After eating ice cream, patting a shaggy dog and teasing seals by pretending to toss fish to them at the town’s fishing wharf and tourist precinct, I made my way to the town’s real tourist attraction, Morro Rock.

Morro Rock juts out of the Pacific Ocean like a teenage boy watching a Katy Perry video. It is clearly visible from a distance of several miles. This geographical fluke was quite fortuitous for me, as I was soon thoroughly lost and looking at the damn thing from several miles further along the coast.

It looked pretty innocent from that distance; after all it is simply a 581 foot tall lump of volcanic rock. What could go wrong? So, on a whim I shoe-horned myself into the tiny Chrysler Neon rental car and drove over to take a closer look.

The rock itself is joined to the coast by a strip of beach a couple of hundred yards long. People use the beach to go swimming. In the ocean. That is another mystery I cannot fathom. Why on earth people would voluntarily throw themselves in to an ocean packed full of man eating sharks is beyond me. But that’s a story for another day.

I parked in the small car park close to the base of the rock and squeezed out of the car. Grabbing my camera, I wandered over to the base of Morro Rock, ignoring the growing aura of evil. I spent a little while perving in vain along the beach, but the weather wasn’t conducive to quality perving and I decided to retreat to the car.

I had only gone a short distance, when some movement among the rocks of the seawall caught my attention. A tiny squirrel had ventured out of his cozy little nest in the rocks and was regarding me with what I thought was cute curiosity. He sat up on his hind legs and looked at me with one bulging black eye, then the other.

“AAAAAAWWWW,” I said as I slowly moved closer, un bagging my camera, hoping for the shot of a lifetime.

My movement caught his attention and he sat staring at me long enough for me to take one great shot. As I prepared to take a second picture, he gave a little squeak. A friendly little hello, or so I thought.

A couple of squirrels scrabbled out of gaps in the rocks, and sat near the first, staring at me with dark eyes. They were joined my another, and another, and yet another. All six of them sat on the grey rocks of the sea wall, staring at me as though I was a giant nut. Lowering my camera, a feeling of unease settled like fog on my mind.

More squirrels appeared from recesses on the seawall. At least twelve of them now, gazed at me with their beady little eyes.

Hurriedly I put my camera back in its case as even more of them materialised out of the shadows, some of them even skittered out onto the sand not far from where I stood, unable to break the gaze of the furry creature that had initially greeted me.

Tiny scratching sounds came from the rocks to me left and right. From the corners of my eyes, I caught flashes of brown furry movement in the rocks. Not taking my eyes of the first squirrel, I took a slow step backward. A few advanced a few feet from the base of the wall.

The stone wall was filling up. Dozens of pairs of soulless black eyes now fixed themselves on me. Looking to my left, then my right, I took another step back. They were out of the rocks, and sitting in the sand to my rear.

A small dark squirrel rushed squealing from the cover of the rocks, aiming directly at my feet, yellow fangs bared. Gasping in shock, I kicked out with my right foot as it closed in on me. It deftly avoided my flailing right foot and latched onto my left ankle. Shrieking like a carnally wayward cheerleader in a slasher movie, I lashed out vainly at the clinging lump of dark fur.

My attention diverted, I didn’t see the larger squirrel dart in from the left until it hit me in the knee. Dropping to the sand, I looked around in time for the thing to kick a pawful of coarse beach sand into my face, blinding me.

Hearing a high pitched squeak from the rocks, I spun in the sand and blindly scrambled toward the car. A squirrel leapt at my face from the right. I frantically batted it away as I fled, half crawling, half running.

By now they were pursuing me across the sand in an undulating brown mass. The sand shifted under my feet, making it difficult to gain any purchase, slowing me down. I was sure now that they would overtake me before I reached the car. I wondered what my parents would say when they were told I was eaten by squirrels in America. Mum would cry, that’s what mums do. Dad, a man of very few words would likely say, “Squirrels? That’s odd.”

The thought of making mum sad and dad say something, was enough. A surge of strength coursed through my quaking body, forcing air into my gasping lungs. Hitting the button on my keyring, flung the door open and dove into the tiny car, tossing my leg grabbing passenger back through the open door.

The squirrels were streaming over the little Chrysler, rocking the little car side to side as I turned the key to kick the engine to life. Dragging the gear lever into reverse, I stamped my foot on the accelerator. The tiny car shuddered backward throwing furry brown passengers in all directions. I threw the car into drive and peeled rubber from the parking lot, one stubborn squirrel clawing rabidly at the windscreen. He steadfastly refused to let go until I hit turned the windscreen sprayer on. I followed it with a couple of sweeps of the wipers and he tumbled wildly to the roadway, where he sat looking angry and dazed.

As I reached the road, I chanced a look in the mirror, and was chilled by the sight of a receding brown shape sitting atop the rock wall, watching me escape with dead black squirrel eyes.

I told you. True gut wrenching terror can find you anywhere, anytime.