The coastal county of 275,000 souls is not our most dangerous place, but Santa Cruz embodies the greatest fears of Californians, which are about powerlessness.

Our coastal beauty is under attack by climate change, our immigrant neighbors are persecuted, and our state’s wealth no longer guarantees a roof over our heads. But what can we do about it?

Perhaps that’s what made Santa Cruz such an effective setting for Jordan Peele’s “Us” — the year’s most popular horror film. “Being here feels like there’s this black cloud hanging over me,” says the film’s protagonist, played by Lupita Nyong’o.

She isn’t the first to feel that way. Santa Cruz history is full of blood-curdling episodes, from the 1812 murder of Father Andres Quintana at Santa Cruz’s mission to two serial killers in the 1970s. Even the road into Santa Cruz is frightening. California State Route 17 is a “Blood Alley” of sharp turns, blind spots and narrow shoulders.

Santa Cruz faces profound environmental threats. In another drought, the city could quickly run short of water. Rising seas are eroding its signature shoreline. In 2017, a woman was killed when a cliff collapsed beneath her. (The ocean isn’t much safer — the great white shark population has made a huge comeback.)

But, as any horror filmmaker will tell you, the scariest threats come from daily routines. This may be where Santa Cruz is scariest. Traffic is terrible. Parking is a horror show. And there’s a good chance the other people driving are so high they’re effectively zombies, as cannabis has swept over Santa Cruz with the force of a Pacific tsunami.

If Santa Cruz is going to build a better future, it must do better for its children. Its rate of child poverty is the second highest among California’s 58 counties. Santa Cruz is in a particularly perilous position. It has the high cost of living of Bay Area counties but with relatively lower incomes reflecting its low-wage agriculture and hospitality jobs. Still those incomes are often too high for families to be eligible for welfare programs. It’s a scary squeeze.

Homelessness is serious and persistent. There is a shortage of affordable housing both for middle-class workers (Santa Cruz is the nation’s least affordable housing market for teachers) and for college students. Last year, UC Santa Cruz begged faculty members to house students.

If all that weren’t enough to curdle your blood, Santa Cruz now faces scary new threats from the Trump administration, which seeks to open up coastal oil drilling and cut Medicaid for its relatively high percentage of poor people. And Santa Cruz’s undocumented workers have been forced underground by federal immigration enforcement. News broke recently of a secret food bank for those who fear going to grocery stores or public food banks.

Such realities suggest that film director Peele was wise to make Santa Cruz the setting for his horror allegory of a United States that buries its unwanted people. The film “Us” uses Santa Cruz forests and beaches to create fear that at any moment your demons might emerge from the ground beneath you. And there’s nothing you can do about it. (California taxpayers may also find the film scary. It received $5.2 million in state tax breaks that it didn’t need since it made $254 million worldwide.)

On a recent visit, I didn’t encounter any red-clad doppelgangers like those in Peele’s movie. But I was scared nonetheless. Santa Cruz is California’s hall of mirrors. If you stare at it, you’ll find our state’s scariest problems looking right back at you.

Joe Mathews writes the Connecting California column for Zócalo Public Square.