wasteland | outer banks (obx)

PART I | PARADISE ON EARTH

california—vivacious and teeming with daydreams and possibilities socal was where dakota campbell had fastened the lock to her door to her studio apartment, shared with her mother and nine-year old twin brothers, for the last occasion. her newfound destination: the outer banks of north carolina.

it was the summer before sophomore year, and she was dedicating her sunrises and sunsets to approximately forty hours of driving in the passenger seat of her mother's station wagon, rover, with her headphones to her walkman in, listening to her father's vintage cassette tapes of led zeppelin, metallica, and even the beach boys. the ride's soundtrack was "kokomo" by the latter, and as the hills rolled and the moon followed her, she hummed the melody.

the eventide before, her and her mother, penny campbell, had divvied up a bottle of cheap liquor store wine and sipped on it like champagne at an opulent new year's eve gathering after rowan and august had tumbled into their routine of being stubborn about their fatigue, and descending into sleep mere moments following the protests.

"do you think this'll be good for us?" penny sincerely questioned, not initiating eye contact with dakota; swirling her wine in her ceramic mug that read "best mom ever" until it metamorphosed into a whirlpool.

dakota was undoubtedly thronged with quietude; her mother had been insisting that this was the right move, the just move, the move that would alter the alignment of the planets for them as they knew it to be. this was the first indication that perhaps she didn't have it all together.

"i don't know."

frankly, dakota didn't. she was a california girl at her crux, and leaving her hometown in the dust to be reduced to material possessions in cardboard boxes wasn't her idea of a summer. however, she would adjust. if not for herself, then at least for penny.

the drive was, evidently, long-winded, but with her polaroid camera and the multitude of halts of rover that she enforced, the scenery was enough to make it worth it for dakota. rowan and august bickered and bantered, noshing on gas station chips and candy bars for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and penny crooned along to the radio. they reserved motel rooms for themselves twice on the road, each nighttime brimming with fuzzy television sets, and vending machine snacks, and rowan, august, and dakota in the bed while penny slumbered on the floor beside them.

eventually, however, dakota snapped a photograph of the sign that proclaimed "welcome to north carolina!", and then "welcome to the outer banks! paradise on earth!" and she wondered if she was, in fact, welcomed. or rather, if she was welcoming it.

the drive into the outer banks was scenic and idyllic; all marsh and azure sea and fishermen casting their lines in hopes of achieving dinner for their families. it was nightfall, and the torches ablaze along the docks made dakota feel like home—a sensation arguably unexpected, but one that she was gracious towards nonetheless.

they careened into the driveway of their humble abode, the landlord perched on a lawn chair in the front yard, the grass sprouting up the plastic lining. the house wasn't much in the grand scheme of the universe, but it was undoubtedly more spacious than their studio apartment back in socal. the powder blue paint was peeling from the paneling, and the roofing appeared to be dilapidated. dandelions sprouted along the siding, and the cypress trees cultivated a canopy overhead.

"you made it," the landlord huffed, standing upright as they clambered out of rover, grateful to stretch their leg muscles and joints.

penny haphazardly shut the driver's side door of rover and extended a grapevine of a palm to the landlord, "judith. it's great to finally meet face-to-face."

judith scrunched her nose and shook penny's hand, rowan, august, and dakota standing behind their mother, dakota stance protective and defensive against the stranger.