There Is A Place On The Mountain Called ‘Borrasca’ Where People Go To Disappear

“Oh right, it’s your ditch day.” Meera wiped her eyes only to have them fill with tears again. “I don’t understand, Sam, this store, this store has been operating in the red ever since I was hired to manage it. What am I doing wrong?”

“I don’t…know,” I offered lamely, the instinct to escape never stronger.

“No one comes in here – ever – and Mr. Prescott refuses to let me put signs up to advertise! He says they’re unsightly, but how does he expect me to pull in business? I need this job, Sam, god, I just…”

I must have looked like a frightened deer because when Meera finally looked up at me she seemed to subtly collect herself. “Go ahead and go out to the front. I’ll do your timecard.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I really liked Meera and I hated seeing her like this.

The front didn’t end up being much better. I could hear Meera crying over the store’s dated music track. Her sobs went from painfully audible to muffled whimpers. After half an hour I decided I had to do something. Since I was entirely unequipped to deal with an adult woman’s emotional breakdown I decided to call Meera’s husband Owen. He was thankfully at home and answered on the second ring. “I’ll be right there.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a truck pull up outside and saw the tall, yet girthy Owen step out of it. He walked in during a quiet lull in his wife’s sobs.

“I’m sorry to call you at home, Mr. Daley, I just didn’t know what else to do…”

“That’s okay, Sam, you did the right thing.” He looked tired, as if this situation wasn’t new to him.

“Is she ok?” I asked.

“Oh…yeah.” He nodded. “We’re just going through some things.”

“Oh yeah. Meera said the store is going bankrupt.” I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

“Yeah,” Owen ran a hand through his hair. “That’s part of it, although I don’t think Jim is going to let that happen. Meera is more upset about…” he sighed. “Has Meera told you about her, ah, appointments?”

“Ah…no.”

“Well, the thing is we’ve been trying to have a baby for years. Very long, painful years. It’s just so goddamn important for her to have a baby. And you know she blames me for our fertility issues?”

He walked around the room, glancing at the pictures on the wall and not really talking to me anymore.

“I understand why it’s important to her, I just don’t understand the obsession with it, you know? Because she’s the last one in her family? Because she’s the last McCaskey on the planet? I mean, does she even realize that our baby wouldn’t be a McCaskey? He’d be a Daley! I tell you Sam, never marry a woman with a crazy father and four dead uncles. They develop these obsessions with lineage and-“

“Four dead uncles?”

“What? Oh, yeah. The famous ones. You know the four brothers who died in the Drisking mines? Well that only left her dad. And her parents were only able to conceive her. Which leaves her as the last McCaskey and ‘hope for the family line’. So of course you see how this is all my fault.”

I looked at him blankly and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, kid. These aren’t your problems and they’re way over your paygrade anyway. I’m just very stressed out right now. Our medical issues and Meera’s absolute abhorrence to our only other option, I just-“

“But how did they die?” I was desperate to talk about anything else and the story of Meera’s uncles interested me.

“The McCaskey boys? I don’t really know. They died on the mountain somewhere.”

“Oh. Well, um, have you heard of the Skinned Men?”

“Skinned men?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about Borrasca?”

Owen Daley squeezed his eyes shut and pushed in on his temples with his fingers. “What? What does a borrasca have to do with anything?”

“Owen?” Meera voice squeaked from the doorway.

“Oh, baby, are you okay? Sam called the house-“

“I want to do it.”

“You do?” Owen asked dubiously.

“I called him.”

His eyes flicked over to me and I immediately looked away. Another conversation I didn’t want a part in.

“Sam, why don’t you take off for the day? Meera and I will handle things here.”

“Okay,” I mumbled and bolted for the door. Once I was in my car and backing away, I called Kyle.

“Dude, fucking weird shit is going on in this town.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t explain it over the phone. Where are you at?”

“I’m at Kimber’s. Are you off work?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come get me?”

By ‘at Kimber’s’ Kyle meant sitting on the curb in front of the house, kicked off the property again. When I pulled up Kimber came out and met us at the curb.

“I’m so sorry, Kyle,” she said. “She’s really upset today, she wouldn’t even let me leave the house to sit with you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me I just want to make sure you and your mom are okay.”

“We’re okay. And my dad will be home soon.”

“Text us when he gets home and we’ll come get you.” I said.

“I wish I could, I’m babysitting tonight until 7:30. Maybe after that?”

“Sure.”

Kyle and Kimber hugged goodbye and then Kimber rushed back to her house as something crashed inside.

“So what’s going on?” Kyle asked, taking a sip of a warm Dr. Pepper sitting in my cup holder. “You’re still wearing your apron, you know.”

“Meera had a breakdown,” I said, peeling it off.

“Really? What happened?”

I told Kyle the full story paying particular attention to the four uncles.

“Yeah the McCaskeys. I’ve heard of them. Didn’t know Meera was one, though, I thought they were all dead.”

“Yeah, she’s the last one. So like…do you think the McCaskey deaths have anything to do with the other disappearances?”

It had been awhile since I’d mentioned anything about Borrasca and Kyle choked a little on the warm soda.

“I don’t…I don’t know, man. I mean maybe if the disappearances started around the same time?”

“How can we find that out?”

“Maybe the cops? There have to be police reports.”

“Okay, but what if I couldn’t ask my dad?”

Kyle shook his head. “I don’t know then.”

“What about like records? The historical society people, maybe?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, nodding. “We can try them. They’re over on 2nd. They share an office with Drisking Arts and Antiques.”

I made a U-turn and started back toward town.

“Hey, ah, Sammy…why are we doing this?”

I’d known the question was coming but I’d hoped to have more answers myself before giving him one.

“It’s just…Whitney,” was all I could say. Kyle didn’t ask anything more. The History Preservation Society of Drisking was at the back of the Antiquities shop and the owner – a wan, stone-faced Mr. Dranger – eyed us warily as we walked through. At the end of a short hallway we found a small room with two desks pushed together. One was empty and the other was stacked high with books and folders of loose paper. We could hear someone typing behind the stacks.

I cleared my throat. “Hello?” A small woman popped up from behind the desk. I recognized her as the same woman who had given the us the lecture in 6th grade. “Hello. How can I help you boys?” She asked, walking out to greet us.

“Um, yeah, I have a few questions about Drisking’s…history, I guess?”

“Oh great! Is this for an end of year report? Have a seat, boys.” She gestured to the empty chair sitting behind the other desk. I nodded at Kyle and he sat down, looking uneasy.

“Yeah, it’s for an essay we have to write. Hey, I think you gave a lecture to us like five years ago with Jimmy Prescott.”

“Oh yes! I give that lecture every year with Mr. Prescott,” she smiled.

“Yeah it was you and one other guy, too. A bald guy.” Kyle said, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair.

“Yes, that was my fiancé Wyatt Dowding. He passed several years ago.”

“Oh.” Kyle said.

“So, ah, Miss- Miss-“

“Scanlon. But you can call me Kathryn.” She said.

“Kathryn,” I tried. I hated calling adults by their first names. “Um, we want to know about the McCaskey kids.”

“Ooh,” Kathryn said shaking her head. “A dark part of history there but history nonetheless.”

“Yeah, so when did that happen?”

“And how did they die?” Kyle added.

“Well they didn’t die. I mean, they certainly perished in the mines but their bodies were never recovered so we don’t know the answer to that. I would think dehydration, starvation and exhaustion killed them within days of getting lost down there. And to your second question that was…1953, I believe.”

“And the mines closed that year?”

“Well actually the mines officially closed the year after. There was a legal spat between the city and the Prescott family who wanted to leave the mines open until the bodies were recovered. But the city won and the mines were condemned.”

“Wait, why did the Prescott’s care?”

“Don’t you want to write this down?” Kathryn asked.

Kyle tapped his temple twice with his finger. Kathryn shrugged and continued.

“Well, the Prescott and the McCaskey families were closely related. Tom Prescott was paying teams of unemployed miners to go down in the mines and search for the bodies. The city had had enough of it, the mountain was unstable and they didn’t want any more deaths. The mines had been abandoned years before and were structurally unsafe. After the city banned the Recovery teams from the mines, members of the Prescott family started going down there themselves. One of them, a cousin I think, died during the search from a fall down a shaft and the city had finally had enough. Less than a week later they hastily had the mines collapsed.”

“With bombs?” Kyle asked.

“Well, with explosives. And that’s what led to the ‘incident’ as it’s called. By this time the mines had been unprofitable for a few years and the city was quite broke. They hired a less than reputable company to collapse the mines and, well, when they set off the explosives, they accidentally broke into Drisking’s water table. The city went into debt trying to purify the water of silt and iron ore. It wasn’t until two years later that things started getting better, thanks to the Prescott’s who truly did revitalize Drisking.”

Kyle’s phone chirped and he pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s Kimber. She wants us to come over.”

“Okay. Thanks Ms. Scanlon. I mean, Kathryn”

“Sure! If you have any other questions feel free to come by. We’re almost always open during the day. Oh! Or you can email me.” She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a loose business card. It was creased and had a dusty smudge on it.

“Thanks.”

“So what do you think?” Kyle asked when we got to the car.