Signs

“Hi. Hello. I’m looking for a sign.” Liza started to lift up the paper she was holding, but the short man she’d hoped would provide the answer simply shook his head at her and walked away.

“Lady, aren’t we all?”

If this had been a project on social behaviors in a small town, Liza would have struck gold. It would have been even better if her project had been a study of how outsiders in a tourist village were treated. No, she just had to come to Corolla to study history and not even anything as interesting as the wild horses or the nearby lighthouse. Liza was a landlubber searching for a sunken ship among a collection of sunken ships in an area known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic. 

The wreck of the Metropolis was supposed to be famous. The ship’s sinking was an event that changed ocean rescue in the country forever, but no one really seemed very interested in her questions. Local stories told of one ship or another being discovered somewhere, either offshore or buried in the sand of the beach, but it turned out that identification of each of the ships wasn’t the priority she’d counted on.

As another stranger approached, Liza straightened herself up and tried another way in. This one, an older woman, at least seemed to be a little more welcoming. She made eye contact and smiled. That was better than anyone had managed so far. 

“Hello,” Liza began, returning the smile she’d been given while holding up her paper so that she looked like a reporter. “I’ve been doing a history project on the Coast Guard and I came here looking for the wreck of the Metropolis.”

“Oh, yes!” The woman nodded vehemently. “You’re always hearing about that one. Terrible thing that happened. Eighty some people were killed. That ship was only about one hundred feet off the beach, stuck on a sandbar. Poor people were only four miles from the lifesaving station, but no one came to help them. Not right away, anyway. A lot of work here is seasonal, well it was seasonal back then, too, even for the people who were supposed to be saving lives.”

Feeling as if she had finally caught her break, Liza listened and nodded. She already knew the story, of course. “I heard it was that sinking that changed the service and made it shift into the Coast Guard that we know today.”

“Certainly put it on the road towards that.”

Liza’s head bobbed again and her smile broadened before she went in for the kill, asking the one question that no one had so far been willing or able to answer. “I came out here to hopefully get some pictures for my project. I know the beach changes all the time, but I wondered if there was some kind of sign or display that I could use as a point of reference.”

“Well now, I know there’s a museum about all the shipwrecks along the islands. Called the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum, I believe, but I think that’s quite a way south from here.” The old woman glanced at the sky, squinting against the sun for a moment before she spoke again. “Someone did find part of a shipwreck in the sand along the beach not too long ago, but you know, that sort of thing happens here all the time. I couldn’t tell you if it was the Metropolis or not. They know where it sank, of course, but storms uncover things and move them around.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Lisa tried to hold in the sigh that tried to escape her at being let down yet again. At least there had been some conversation here. Maybe she could include that instead of photographic evidence. “Well, thank you for your time. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all. Good luck with your work.”

“Thanks.” Lifting her hand in farewell, Liza finally let out the huff of frustration she’d been holding in, then leaned back against the white railing that guided visitors up to one of the many buildings in the village shopping area. The shade of the tree above her felt cool and welcoming and for the first time since she arrived, she was beginning to wonder if the futility of her endeavor was simply outweighing the chance of getting a nice, juicy A.

She could tell the story of the Metropolis without the images, but the project’s specifications were clear in that actual footwork and proof of said footwork would provide a substantial amount of extra credit due to the effort put in. Liza had even chosen the topic based on the fact that she was only an hour from the place where it all happened. Now she was starting to think she would be forced to admit defeat and that her current grade, which was nearing the low end of C, would have to keep fighting to remain above water for the rest of the semester.

“I need a piece of wood,” she grumbled as she ran her fingers through hair that had been tossed around in the ocean breeze. “A tourist trap would even do right now. I’ll take any sign or stop you can give me! Something, anything!” Liza’s pleas lifted to the tree and thrust itself up among the branches, startling a bird, who took off with a call of protest.

Flying a few feet, the black creature stopped and perched itself on a collection of teal and blue poles for bicycle parking. Its dark feathers almost shone with a blue iridescence that seemed to lift from the item it stood on and cover the bird with a strange kind of beauty. Then it turned to stare back at her, head tipping one way and then another and she could see yellow eyes filled with intelligence and intent. The bird stared at her for a breath or two before it sang again and flew off to the next parking point, a few yards down the road.

Liza’s mouth twitched with uncertainty and she chewed at the inside of her cheek. “I did ask for a sign,” she told herself in a whisper before looking around to see if anyone would overhear her self aimed conversation. “Kind of thought I’d find something nailed to a wall or set on a post, not one with wings.”

The bird remained where it was this time, letting out that same call again that seemed to insist she move closer.

“What the hell,” Liza finally said, shouldering her camera bag and striding forward. “Haven’t got anything to lose.”

As she moved ahead, the bird did also, flying down the rest of the short road to where the stop light and traffic from the intersection kept Liza from following. She sighed as it continued on, across the main road and over a strip of grass that looked a little bit like a park. There was an inlet of sorts, lined on both sides with trees, and an open area, exposed to the sun. 

“Well, so much for that,” she said, lifting her hand to gesture at the bird who was flying off, happy as he pleased. “Thanks and all.”

Shaking her head at herself for giving in to such nonsense, Liza started to turn away from the road. She would head back to the shopping area. At least there she might run into someone who could actually speak. Maybe it would take time, but she knew it was better than chasing the local wildlife. As she turned the screech of a child’s voice drew her attention back to the road, where a couple of kids were riding their bikes. She hovered in place for a minute, just on instinct, trying to determine if the cry was one of play or a need for genuine help, but then caught her breath as she watched the two youngsters continue on their way, right past a white sign that was outlined in a thin, black border.

Quickly, Liza’s hands dove into her bag and pulled the camera up to her eye. Using the zoom, she zipped across the road in the blink of an eye and let out a yelp of glee when she took in the words printed there. 

WRECK OF THE METROPOLIS