The Haunting of Tranquility Cove

The young man let out a condescending chuckle, as though Barbara had just asked what color the sky was. He looked her directly in the eye for the first time, the dazed look gone. When he spoke, all traces of the earlier dreaminess were gone from his voice.

“Don’t you worry,” he said. “We’ll all meet her soon enough. We’ll meet her at the bottom of the sea. You’ll see. She’ll bring us there.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off without so much as a good-bye. Within moments, he vanished into the increasingly thick fog that seemed to have returned out of nowhere. The one-eyed fisherman watched him go, then turned back to Charles.

“Who’s to say whether it’s the eel’s fault?” he asked. “Young people are bound to act strangely, especially these days with all your television sets and rock music and arcade machines. Not a day’s hard work between the lot of them.”
 
Well, that wasn't creepy. At all. Barbara frowned. The shore. She had to try to search along the shoreline. And possibly tie Charles and Theo to something solid if this thing was catching, which, judging by Charles reaction earlier, it very well might be. She'd have to look into buying something for that. Rope or chains, maybe.

Charles had had enough of the man's condensation. Even though he knew he'd regret it, he said shortly, "Aye, not a day's work, exactly like you were when you were our age, right? That's what your folks said. Your new-fangled music and ideas and laziness. That's exactly what they said about you, and you know it wasn't true for you. Try getting off that high horse and look around. Something is wrong. And no, I'm not being an emotional mainlander, I'm a guy watching folk die and go mad."
 
The old fisherman bristled, glaring at Charles through an increasingly heavy haze of smoke. His remaining eye narrowed, squinting hard at the boy.

“Now listen here, lad,” he said, “This right here is the problem with you young people these days. Mainlanders, especially. No respect for your elders. Why, back in my day, a young feller like you would have been smacked six ways to sunday for that kind of talk. If we were on my boat right now by god you’d be walking home. I’ve no tolerance for impertinent whippersnappers on my boat. None!”

He stormed off as well, leaving Charles and Barbara alone in the fog. It had begun to get quite dark, and the streets were starting to empty out as people went in to avoid the fog.
 
Barbara glared at Charles. "I don't know what you said, but you-"

"Hang it," Charles snapped, putting away his camera. "I'm tired of people acting better than me, even moldy old fish-men who aren't better then the barnacles on the bottom of his boat!" He half yelled the last words, aiming them at the back of the retreating fisherman. "Old folk are all holier than though and 'in my day!' when really they were no better if not worse! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of this place! And I'm sick of you!"

Barbara stared at him in surprise as he shoved the bag into her arms then stormed off. She stared after him, too shocked to do anything else as he disappeared into the fog. Great. Just great. He was probably caught up in the same stuff as the rest of the guys.

"Now what?" she asked herself.

Now... she tried to learn something. She put the heavy bag over her shoulder and dug out the poleroid camera before doggedly following the dim shadow that was Charles. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she couldn't abandon him, and no one else could help them. It was up to her. Heaven help them all.
 
The cliffs were just as deserted and foggy as they’d been on that first night, the dense pea-soup mist soaking through clothes and dampening noises. There were no streetlights here, no stars in the sky. The only light came from the sweeping beam of the lighthouse as it raked over the cliff in its neverending rotation. Charles would find it a bit easier to get down the cliff this time, having already done it once before. As soon as he started on his way down the rocks, the voice would be back in his ear, whispering and begging for him to come join her down below on the beach. Once he made it to the sand, he’d be able to see her standing ankle-deep in the surf, waiting for him.

“Chaaaaarles,” she called, her voice clear and alluring over the sound of the waves, “you came. Early, too. Are you that excited to see me? Come here, come to the water.”

As Charles got closer, he’d be able to see that her hand was bleeding. A series of puncture marks on her left hand that looked suspiciously like a bite mark dripped blood into the water, but she didn’t seem to pay it any mind.
 
Charles gazed at her in awe. "Oh, you are so pretty!" he sighed. He swallowed hard and smoothed his hair. "I hope you don't mind that I'm early, uh... sorry, what's your name?"

Barbara tripped her way down the cliffs, moving slow and careful to avoid both falling to her doom and alerting Charles or anyone/thing else of her presense. She Spotted the stranger and froze. What the...? Wait. She frowned, staring at the bit hand. She stole Clippers! Or Chipper or...whatever, the dog! She carefully picked up a rock, hefted it, then hid behind a boulder to watch.
 
“Names,” repeated the woman, then let out a high, musical laugh that rang out over the dark beach. “Who needs names when we’re together? I know who you are, and you’ll know me soon enough. Come here, I’ll give you something better than my name.”

She beckoned him with her hands, gesturing for him to come closer as she backed up into the water. The icy surf came up to her knees now, but if the cold water bothered her she didn’t show it.

“Come,” she repeated, licking her lips hungrily. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to touch me, kiss me, feel me? We both know you do.”

The beam of the lighthouse swept over the beach, bathing them in light for a brief second. The sudden illumination would be enough for Barbara to see the woman’s face clearly, and for Charles to see the black eels lurking just below the surface as they squirmed and twisted around the woman’s legs. Of course, he would only see the eels if he managed to tear his eyes away from her bright green eyes, her painted red lips, or her very sheer and thoroughly soaked t-shirt.
 
Charles blinked in the sudden light and for a moment thought he saw something dark in the water... and then he noticed exactly how sheer the shirt was. He stepped forward, his mouth open slightly. "I... but... The water is cold!" He shivered, standing just in the surf. "Why don't you come to me?" He held out his arms longingly, leaning forward.

Barbara put a hand to her mouth to keep from gagging. EW!! So many slimy EELS!! She took a deep breath. This wasn't right. It wasn't normal. Something was very, very wrong. Rapidly, she weighed her options. Go for help? Too long. Scream at Charles? The thing in the water might pull him in anyway. She looked at the rock in her hands. Okay... Softball training, don't fail now!

She weighed the stone. It was just a bit smaller and heavier than a softball. It would do. She stood, aimed, and flung the stone as hard as she could at the woman's shoulder. Her aim was true and would strike unless the woman was supernaturally fast. The stone had barely left her hands when the camera came up and she took as many pictures as fast as she could.

"Charles! Get out of there! She stole the dog!"
 
The woman smiled, still beckoning to him. The eels vanished once more as the light swept away, disappearing in the dark water.

“I’d really rather you came here,” she said. “The water is warmer than you think. Besides, don’t you want to keep me warm? You know it’s not good to stay in wet clothes. Come here with me, you’ll see how warm I can be.”

She started to pull her shirt off, watching him as she lifted the wet fabric, but barely managed to expose her belly button before Barbara’s rock hit her in the shoulder with a soft thwack. She stumbled back with a cry of pain, stumbling backwards into the water. The surface of the sea exploded as hundreds of eels began thrashing and twisting, throwing themselves at Charles in an effort to drag him into the deeper water. Each one must have been six feet or longer, made up of powerful muscle underneath their slick, slimy black skin. They bit at his clothes and legs with mouths full of razor-sharp teeth, trying to catch a hold of him.
 
Charles' eyes went wide, and at first he reached out to help, but the eels erupted out of the ocean. He fell back with a scream. His screams turned into shrieks as teeth sliced into his legs. He scrambled back on the shore, trying to fight his way free, but he found himself slowly being pulled into the water.

Barbara slid the rest of the way down, scooping up another rock as she went. She flung it as hard as she could at the woman, not aiming as well this time. The rock soared at her at chest level. Barbara grabbed another bigger rock in one hand and used it to smash the head of an eel latched onto Charles' leg. She grabbed his arms and started pulling.

"Let go, demon!" she snarled. "The only one who gets to torture Charles is me! OFF!"

"Barbara, Help!" Charles squealed, kicking at the eels.
 
The second rock struck true, hitting the woman in the chest just as she tried to get to her feet. She stumbled back under the impact, vanishing beneath the surface of the water. The eels continued their assault, jumping and biting and pulling at Charles’ legs as Barbara tried to drag him ashore. They began launching themselves from the water, flying out to bite at Barbara’s hands before squirming back to the sea across the sand like snakes. Meanwhile, behind Charles, the sea began to froth and bubble. The woman rose from the foaming surface, buoyed up by a twisting, writhing mass of eels. They formed a pillar beneath her, twining themselves together to elevate her over the surface of the water and into the air. As the lighthouse beam swept over the beach once more, Barbara would see her standing tall atop her slimy mass of slithering black flesh, towering over them both. The woman opened her mouth and let out an ear-splitting scream, high enough to shatter glass and louder than the island’s foghorn. Figures began to appear at the top of the cliff, silhouettes of dozens of young men illuminated by the sweeping beam of the lighthouse.
 
Barbara paled, staring at the demonic creature before her. "Oh shit," she said weakly, followed up automatically by, "sorry, Mom." She looked around wildly. She could only throw so many rocks, and she couldn't pull Charles back. Her hands were bleeding, adding to the slick. Her hands were slipping! There had to be something! Charles was going to die, she was going to die, all those stupid boys were going to die...

Then her eye caught an inconspicuous strap hanging over the rocks.

The camera bag. Holding all of Charles' hair products. There was no way this could work, no way! But...

"Charles, hang on! I'll be back!" Barbara panted. She let go and bolted for the cliff.

"Barbara! Don't leave me!" Charles shrieked, scrabbling at the shore.

Barbara ignored him because she had to, breathing hard as she all but tumbled into the rocks. A sharp rock grazed her leg, but she ignored that, as well, and grabbed the bag. She tossed the cameras out hastily and rummaged in her own bag for paper and... YES! The lighter! It had lived in her bag practically since she'd bought it without getting used. Her hands shook as she flicked the lighter again and again. Finally, it caught. She applied it to the paper, waited for it to burn, and shoved it into the bag. She ran back to the shore.

"Hey!" she yelled out. "Lucy! Catch this!" She flung the bag at the woman, aiming for her legs and the eels. The bag caught fire. Barbara grabbed Charles and ducked. The bag was full of flammable hair products and camera oils. When it went, it would be like a small bomb.
 
The figures on the cliffs began to descend, rushing down the rocks without any regard for their own health or well-being. Several slipped and fell, tumbling all the way down only to get up and walk or limp their way towards the tower of eels. Every one of them seemed to be in a sort of trance, shambling along like moths drawn to a flame. All their eyes were fixed upon the woman, staring up at her like some kind of idol as she rode atop her tower of eels.

As Barbara let go of Charles, the eels would take hold and drag him beneath the surface. Though only in a few feet of water, Charles’ world would immediately become a black, slimy hell. The eels swarmed over him, twisting around him and biting at him as their squirming bodies held him down. He would be completely blind in the dark, murky water, completely at the mercy of what seemed like thousands of biting, tearing teeth. Every time he tried to get to his feet or even sit up, more eels would force him to the surface. Barbara would be unable to get close, held at bay by the mass of slippery, thrashing bodies.

Ironically, it was only because he was being dragged to the bottom that Charles was saved from the blast. The sudden boom echoed across the cliffs, ricocheting off the rocks and resonating across the water like a cannon blast. The tower of eels was engulfed in a pillar of fire, burning and cooking many instantaneously. The woman screamed again, stumbling and falling as she caught fire and her pedestal collapsed. She fell to the ground, landing on all fours in the water, and began to choke and cough. A black, slimy head appeared from her mouth, slithering up from within her throat as it escaped her body. The eel that emerged was thinner than all the rest but far longer, almost thirty feet from snout to tail. It thrashed around, splashing in the shallow water before a wave came in and carried it out to sea. The lighthouse’s beam swept around once more, and Barbara would see the long eel as a black streak speeding away from the coast. The rest of the eels followed it in a huge mob, leaving only the dead and dying ones thrashing around on the beach. The woman collapsed in the shallow water, unconscious and burned. Back by the cliffs, the gathered young men had all stopped, not one of them able to recall why they’d come all the way out here in the middle of the night. A dog’s bark rang out from the end of the beach, and Clipper came running, a frayed rope tied to his collar. He ran to the woman lying in the sand, sniffed at her for a moment, then laid down beside her and stared up at Barbara.
 
Barbara sat stunned and singed for few seconds, blinking. That had been even bigger and better than she'd expected. She'd have to be a lot more careful with her products and tell Charles to- Charles! She scrambled forward and found the badly shredded floating in the water. She lugged him out and dropped him on his back. He coughed and rolled onto his side, groaning. Okay. He was alive. She crawled over to Lucy next. Also still alive. And Clipper. Theo would be happy about that.

Barbara groaned as she forced herself to her feet and cupped her hands around her mouth. "OI! Hey! Guys! All of you, get over here! Now, please, watch your steps. Who has a phone? Anybody have a phone? Someone call the hospital now. You have all been under the effects of..."

He hesitated a split second. What was she supposed to tell them? Under the spell of some kind of evil eel queen who had taken over a human female to seduce them all and now they couldn't remember thanks to the spell? That sounded ludicrous to her, and she witnessed it! Nope, that wouldn't do.

"Some sort of mass hallucination brought on by the gasses of dying eels," she finished, trying to sound more confident than she was. It was the voice, the presence. Never let them think for a second you weren't in charge. "Those of you who aren't hurt, help those who are hurt over there. You and you, you look strong. Go check those two in the water. Is the ambulance coming yet? Tell them to step on it. There's been an eel attack."

An eel attack. Good grief, this whole thing was too absurd for a Lovecraft story! No one was ever going to believe her. She glanced over at where she'd tossed the cameras, and hope rose. Only to be dashed when she saw the casings had cracked. Great.
 
The crowd of young men stared at her, trying to comprehend what she’d just told them. Decomposing eel gasses? Could that really be true? It seemed far-fetched, but they were here, and she certainly did sound like she knew what she was talking about. Of course, then she asked if any of them had a phone, which baffled them further. A phone? Where did she expect them to have one of those, in their pockets? Still, her confident, commanding tone worked. They dutifully followed her commands, despite many of them having the odd sense that she wasn’t the woman they ought to be taking orders from. One of the boys near the top of the cliff climbed back up and ran off to find a phone, and ambulance sirens soon came blaring out over the top of the cliffs. The paramedics climbed down and were quickly pointed towards Barbara.

“What exactly is going on here?” asked one of the paramedics as the others gathered up Lucy and Charles. “Something about an...eel attack? And mass hallucination? Who exactly are you, miss? What happened here, really? Not much is making sense.”
 
"You are darn right nothing is making sense!" Barbara agreed. "There's a couple of waterlogged boys over there, I'm worried that one broke his neck, those have assorted gashes and bruises and possible broken bones, that lady nearly drowned in the sea and so did this guy. I heard screaming and I ran down here to find those two being dragged into the water by eels. Look, you can see all the dead ones and the bites on this guy. I'm worried he might get infected. Then the next thing I know, this group of fellows started hurtling themselves down the banks! And not a one of them knows why! I know it sounds crazy - believe you me, I know I sound crazy - but these injuries are real, and getting worse while we are standing around talking. Please. I'm going to start freaking out later like an emotional female, but right now I need to get these people safe."

She took a deep breath and walked away. "Guys? Start lining up for the medics! Worst ones first, but make certain every scratch gets looked at. Nice and orderly, now, hop to it!"

Satisfied that at least she didn't have a riot on her hands, Barbara let the medics take over as she knelt next to Clipper. She felt the panic clawing at her brain, but she firmly pushed it down. Freak out, later. Dog, now. "Okay, Clipper," she said soothingly. "These nice fellows are going to help Lucy. Are you hurt, boy? Let me see." She reached out to gently pet him. "Looks like you've been tied up somewhere. I wish I knew where. The lighthouse, maybe? Poor guy."

((Sorry, I was about 5-10 years too early for commercial cellular phones))
 
To say the paramedic was skeptical of Barbara’s story would have been quite the understatement, but the fact of the matter remained that there were a number of injured people on the beach. He shrugged and got to work, treating the crowd of increasingly baffled young men.

Clipper seemed reluctant to let Lucy go, but eventually seemed convinced that the paramedics meant her no harm. He sniffed at Lucy’s hand for a moment before licking her, sitting down at her feet to let her pet him. He seemed absolutely filthy, covered in sand and dried salt. The frayed rope had clearly been chewed through, possibly just minutes prior.

A couple more ambulances showed up, but it was over an hour before the last of the injuries on the beach had been treated. Most of the injured managed to make their way back up the cliffs on their own, with only the most badly hurt being hauled off to the TC General. Of course, Lucy and Charles were among the first to be admitted, with Lucy’s burns and Charles’ bite marks. Once at the hospital, a police officer approached Barbara, frowning at her from behind his mustache. She would recognize him as the one she’d spoken to at the lighthouse earlier in the day. Goodness, had it really only been a day?

“You’re that mainland reporter,” he said, squinting at her. “What happened out there? The boys said you were the only one that seemed to know. What exactly happened, and why are you in the middle of it?”

He reached down to pet Clipper, the dog whining unhappily as he rubbed it behind the ears.
 
Charles had woken when the paramedics were tending him and had babbled hysterical gibberish about being attacked by eels, but the paramedics had knocked him out to finish tending to his nasty wounds. Barbara couldn't help wondering how much of that had been passed on.

Barbara sat numbly on a rather uncomfortable chair, holding tight to Clipper's leash as if that alone was tying her to reality. She was so tired. So tired! And it wasn't over yet. She looked up at the police officer for a moment before answering. "I'll tell you, but you can't call me an emotional mainlander," she said. "I know what I saw, I know it was absolutely insane, and I just want to go home and never think about it again." She took a deep breath as her voice cracked from exhaustion and fear. Keep it together.

"Okay," she breathed out. "I was doing some on-street interviews with my cameraman, Charles, and we'd wrapped up for the day. He'd been acting weird all day, getting worse as the knight went on, and no, despite what crusty old fishermen grumble, it wasn't drugs. He hasn't touched drugs once in the year I've known him, and the producers are very strict about it. I don't think he cares enough to even try them. The only drugs he uses are for his hair." A tiny giggled escaped. She flushed. "Sorry. Anyway, he suddenly shoves the camera bag at me - which he'd never do in a normal situation ever - and took off running for the cliffs. I went after him because I knew something was wrong, and I was scared he was going to fall and hurt himself.

"I made it down the cliffs a good bit behind him, and there was this woman standing in the water, talking to him. He was lapping up her every word, probably because she was soaking wet in a white shirt, if you know what I mean. She was telling him to come join her in the surf and they'd go down to the bottom of the ocean together. She wanted him to drown himself. I started yelling, and all of a sudden..." She trailed off and bit her lip. "Oh, this is insane," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Then the eels attacked, and while the eels were attacking, and all these young men were literally throwing themselves down the cliffs. I ran to help Charles, and the eels bit me as well as him, but they wanted him, not me." She held up her bandaged, bitten hands as proof.
 
The cop took down Barbara’s statement in an illegible scribble, urging her along with soft grumbles and “mhmms.” When she was done, he stared down at his notes, then up at her with an incredulous wide-eyed gaze.

“Really?” he asked. “That’s it? That’s all there is to the story? Why do I get the feeling that you’re holding something back, missy? Maybe something about being jealous of that young woman? Perhaps something about baiting eels? I don’t suppose those critters just have a feeding frenzy on their own.”

He glared at her, glancing down at her hands as though he would find traces of eel bait stuck to her fingers. After a moment of silence, he stuffed his notebook back in his pocket.

“I don’t mind saying that if it were an islander that was all chewed up, you’d be in cuffs right now for suspicion of eel-baiting,” he said. “As it is, I want you off my island. Both of you. First boat tomorrow morning. If I see you by lunchtime tomorrow, there’ll be hell to pay, you hear me?”
 
Barbara sighed and rested her chin on the unbitten part of her hand. "If someone was eel-bating, it wasn't me. It might have been that other fellow on the beach, but I didn't get a good look. As for being jealous, of what? Of sopping wet clothing? Of trying to kill my cameraman? Don't think so. Never met her before in my life, and she looked hypnotized, like she didn't know what she was doing. As for the eels... I'm happy to leave the island if it means never seeing another one of those slimy things again. I have to get back to work tomorrow, anyway. There's a return slip in my bag, you'll see I got it the same day I came over." She looked up at the cop morosely. "You know... I never would have been down there trampling all over your precious island if you islanders would bother to be helpful. You're making a lot of your own problems, I hope you know that, and now I've got shredded hands, nightmares, and a dog. I don't even like dogs. I don't know what you do with dogs. What do you feed them? When? Do you throw a ball or..."

Her voice cracked, stopping her in mid-ramble. He leaned over and hugged Clipper tight as her resolve broke down. "I just want to go home!" she whispered.
 
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