The Haunting of Tranquility Cove

The oil-seller happily handed over a small jar of the thick, fishy-smelling goop. Pocketing the money, he tried to take the photo but found himself unable to pull it from her grip. After another unsuccessful tug, he frowned and leaned over to look.

“Pretty girl,” he said. “And I’ve seen a dog like that! Down in front of the bakery, used to sit in front of the door and sniff people as they walked by. Good pup. Barky was his name, I think. Or maybe Bart or Barnaby or Buck...I dunno, I don’t remember. He was young Iggy Stilman’s dog, fine lad. Poor kid never came back from the war, though. That dog of his was never quite the same. They buried the dog out back behind the store in ‘72 or ‘73. Come to think of it, I don’t think that dog looked very much like your friend’s dog at all. It was brown with spots, not grey. I don’t think I’ve seen that one anywhere.”

The other man looked at the camera and snorted, shaking his head.

“Mainlanders,” he said. “What makes you think our whale festival is your business? If you really want to talk to someone, talk to ol’ Mainland Tim. He always wants to talk, whether you want to listen or not. Look, there he is.”

He gestured off the balcony to a filthy, bearded man sitting on the pavement in front of a saltwater taffy shop. The man seemed to be trying to explain something to a tourist woman, who seemed to be trying to ignore him as she edged slowly away.

“Go talk to him,” said the man, laughing. “He’ll talk to you mainlanders all day long. Hell, I bet he even knows what happened to your dog. He probably ate it!”
 
Barbara stared blankly at the man then carefully put the jar of oil in her bag. "Uh. Right. Thank you." Then she frowned. "I'm sorry, but can you answer me one question? Why do you hate mainlanders so much? Surely your shops appreciate the extra money we bring in, and we get rid of a lot of your, uh, eels." In being tricked into eating and buying them.

Charles was listening in, and he took his eye away from the camera long enough to look over the balcony at the scruffy man below. "Harsh," he mumbled before turning back to work. He wondered if he could spot Theo. He scanned the crowds casually before turning back to the parade. The parade was almost over, and once it was, they would likely be heading down to talk to this Tim person.
 
The man contemplated her question for a moment, seeming almost on the verge of giving her a snarky response but thinking better of it. When he spoke, his words were slow and cautious, as though chosen very carefully.

“We get along fine without the tourist money,” he said. “And we can deal with the eels ourselves. The island is so small that you can really get to know every inch of it. It really does feel like home, like an extension of your own house. And we don’t like strangers trampling all over our home.”

Making their way down to meet with Mainland Tim, they found the scruffy man sitting against the candy shop wall and eating what looked like an old hot dog. He looked up at them, and they would find that he looked quite a bit younger than he’d first appeared. Perhaps in his late twenties, the tall, bearded man was very dirty indeed and smelled somewhat of fish.

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, hey! TV people! Over here! I wanna talk, I got something to say! To you, to America, to my wife, to everyone!”
 
Barbara thought about the answer as she made her way through the thinning crowd. She supposed that it made sense. She still got the feeling the old man wasn't telling her everything, but at least she'd been given a reasonalbe answer, for once. She'd thanked him, and she and Charles went down. The island was like an extenssion of their home... What if, just maybe, this wasn't some kind of weird cult thing, but some kind of actual monster that had been disturbed? There didn't have to be anything supernatural about it. The sea hid a lot of weird stuff. People were still discovering all sorts of creatures that looks freakish and supernatural that were just living peaceful lives in the dark. Maybe the excessive travel during this whale season disrupted one that... gave out some kind of halucanagetic gas? Still reasonable. If unlikely.

Then Tim started yelling at them. Oh great. One of those type. She sighed then fixed a smile on her face as she approached. "Stay close, Charles," she mumbled.

"Uh-huh," Charles agreed, eyeing the fellow.

"Hello, sir! You have something you wanted to tell us?" Barbara asked cheerfully.
 
“Yes,” said Mainland Tim, his eyes wide and wild. “Yes, I have something to tell you. I have something to tell everyone, but nobody listens! Nobody ever listens! They’ve got water in their ears, all of them! Salt water from the ocean, whispering away into their minds twenty-four hours a day! All they hear is the sound of the waves, and they never listen when a real human being is talking! A real human being, that’s what I am! Maybe the only real one on the island!”

From this close, Barbara would be able to smell the stale yeasty scent of cheap beer behind the stench of fish. Tim turned away from her, stepping towards Charles until his face was inches from the boy’s camera.

“I’ve got something to tell you, alright,” he said. “So you’d better listen up! Listen to what the last real human being on Tranquility Cove has to say! The sea isn’t just water, it’s a real living thing. It’s cruel! It steals from us, steals everything. It took my wife from me, you hear? My wife! We moved here because we thought this island was a nice little seaside paradise, but no. Oh no no no, it’s not that. The sea isn’t just something to watch on tv. It bites. It bites and tears and slices and steals until there’s nothing left, nobody left. I can’t even leave the island now, or it’ll steal me away too. Stuck on this miserable rock for the rest of my days! You’re stuck too, now. We’re all trapped, trapped forever!”

He stopped abruptly to scarf down the rest of his hot dog, still staring intently into the camera. Once he finished, he let out a loud belch and wiped mustard off his beard with his sleeve.

“You can quote me on that,” he said. “Quote me on all of that. Every word! Don’t try to snip and cut and twist my words into something else. I know how you news types are. You don’t bend the truth, you twist it and turn it until it’s like a pretzel. Well, there won’t be any news-pretzels from me! Quote me! Timothy Blair! That’s my name, you write that down. They call me Mainland Tim around here, but I don’t think I’ll ever set foot on the mainland again. Too risky to cross the sea.”
 
Barbara and Charles gaped at him. Well, Barbara gaped. Charles tried to stay out of breath range. Charles inched back, trying to keep the camera away from this "Tim" fellow. He wasn't even actually rolling right now. He'd had to stop while walking, and he hadn't gotten around to starting it yet. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

"Right, uh, yes, that's brilliannt. Very nice," Barbara gulped. "Well, see, you said it all to the camera! Everything is fine and dandy! We'll just be going on our way now. Thank you for your help!" She kept a bright smile as she edged away.

"That was weird," Charles said flatly.j

"That's the clearest thing You've ever said!" Barbara chuckled. "Let's go find... Wait..." She stopped short, a memory jumping out and smacking her. She spun around. "Tim Blair?? Your wife's name is Lucy? I can't believe I've found you!"
 
Tim froze at the mention of Lucy’s name, mouth hanging open as whatever rant he’d been about to deliver died in his throat. Turning away from the camera, he whirled on Barbara, this time leaning close enough for her to count the veins in his bloodshot eyes.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Who are you, and why do you know my wife’s name? Why do you know my name? Who sent you, huh? Who are you working for? Do you have water in your ears too? You’re not going to drag me into the sea, are you? I won’t go! You won’t get me near that ocean no matter how hard you try!”

He began to back away slowly, edging towards a dark alley. The wild madness in his eyes was gone now, replaced with a look of suspicion and fear.
 
Charles started rolling just in time to catch the rant.

Barbara held up her hands. "Easy, easy, it's okay. I came to the island with your wife's cousin, Theo. Do you remember Theo? He's been looking desperately for Lucy and you. There's no water in my ears, I promise, and we aren't going anywhere near the water."

She kept her voice low and gentle, resisting the urge to chance him. Where was Theo when she finally needed him?? How was she supposed to handle this clearly insane dude? Maybe he'd killed his wife. He looked freaky enough.

"Tim, what happened to Lucy? Can you tell me? Please?" she coaxed.
 
Tim paused in his ranting and stopped backing up, but continued to eye Barbara and Charles suspiciously. He looked around carefully, glancing around at all the crowds and shaking his head.

“You’re with Theo?” he asked. “That guy? I didn’t know him well myself, but Lucy would talk about him every now and then. They were pretty close, those two.”

He sighed, rubbing his dirt-covered face with his hands. This didn’t seem to help with the layer of filth, but at least seemed to get the mustard out of his beard.

“Not here,” he said. “It’s too open. Too many people here, too many listeners. Somewhere else, somewhere private. Where is Theo, anyways?”
 
Barbara nodded. "Any suggestions where we can go? We could go to the inn, but I don't trust it. Things... happened there." She looked around briefly, hoping Theo would magically appear. "Theo is looking for his dog. It ran away, and he's been trying to find it and you and Lucy ever since we got here. I really don't know where he is now, but I'm really hoping he'll show up soon."

"Can't we just go into the alley?" Charles suggested with a moan. "My feet are starting to hurt, and this camera is really heavy."

"Actually, the alley is probably a good idea?" Barbara suggested to Tim.
 
Tim nodded, ushering the two of them into the dark, dirty alley. Here, the smell of rotting fish was almost overpowering, hanging heavily in the fetid air like a layer of fog. Tim didn’t seem particularly bothered by the smell, likely having gotten used to it in his time on the streets.

“He came to visit once,” he said. “Theo did, and that dog of his. Lucy loved that dog. Doted on it and gave it snacks for the whole time he was there. I swear she spent more time snuggled up on that dog than she did on me that week.”

He chuckled at the memory, then shook his head. A large black rat came scurrying out from a hole in the wall, staring up at the three of them before running between Charles’ feet and out of the alley.

“The alley was a smart idea,” said Tim. “Nobody comes to listen in the alley. Nobody but the rats, and the rats don’t tell. Who thought it was a good idea to call a snitch a rat? I’ve never been snitched on by a rodent before. As for what happened to Lucy...well, I’m still trying to figure that out myself, to tell you the truth. I really don’t know. I wish I knew, oh I wish. But I just have no idea.”

Sighing, he sat down on the ground, slumping against the wall. Crumpled up like this, he once more looked far older than he was. The memory etched lines of stress across his face, and he pulled a flask from his pocket and took a gulp before continuing.

“When we moved here,” he said, his voice softer and more calm than before, “we thought it was an island paradise. Just a friendly little small town by the sea. Perfect place to live, you know? And for a while, it was. Sure, people took a while to warm up to us, but everyone seemed to be friendly enough after a couple of weeks. Everybody liked Lucy, anyways. But then one day we went down to the beach, same as ever. It was foggy, but that never bothered us much. Lucy always loved the ocean, and always insisted on going swimming no matter the weather. She went in the water first, and then she just...vanished into the fog. She was gone. I went out into the water looking for her, called for her, searched the whole beach, nothing. Not a trace. I even called the police, the coast guard, everybody. They sent out search parties, but didn’t find a trace. Then, later that night...she just came back. Walked right into the house like nothing had happened.”

He shuddered, taking another pull from his flask and coughing violently. Despite the alcohol, his face had gone entirely pale, and he stared off into the distance at something neither Barbara nor Charles could see.

“It wasn’t her,” he said. “That wasn’t my wife that walked in the door that night. It looked like her, sure. Talked like her. But it wasn’t her. It was someone else, something else. She was different. Colder. Meaner. She’d mock me, belittle me to my face, then convince me I was crazy. She’d go out all night to who-knows-where. People told me she was seeing other men, a lot of other men, but I didn’t want to believe it. And the sea...she loved the sea before, but after that night she simply adored it. I swear she spent every waking moment out in the water, swimming and diving in the ocean no matter the weather. She went swimming in a storm once, when even the ferry wouldn’t go out. I thought for sure she’d drown, but she just came right back like she’d been out for a nice evening stroll. That wasn’t the worst part, though. The cheating, the fighting, the obsession with the sea. All of that was nothing compared to the nights she was home. As I tried to sleep, she’d whisper to me. Whisper all night long about how the sea was life, and how the solution to all our problems could be found at the bottom of the sea. All night long, no matter how much I tried to ignore her, she’d just whisper away. I tried to hang on as long as I could, but eventually I couldn’t take it any longer and I left. From what I hear, she sold the house soon after. Nobody knows where she is now. Probably out in the ocean as we speak.”
 
Barbara ignored the rat. It wasn't that she wasn't repulsed by it, she would freak out later. She hated rats! But this was far more important than rats.

Charles whimpered and skipped awkwardly as he tried to avoid the rat. Rats! Why rats?! He hated rats! He forced himself not to run screaming out of the alleyway. How would that look, a girl staying in a dank, rat infested alleyway while he ran away? Not good at all.

Then Tim started telling his story. Both Barbara and Charles stood entranced by the story. It was unbelievable! And yet... something in Tim's baring convinced them it was the truth. The complete truth. Who wold make up something like this? It made a weird sort of sense. Very weird sense.

Neither said anything for a long time after Tim finished his tale. Neither was certain what to even say. What could you say?

Finally, Barbara said, "Thank you for talking to us, Tim. Please stay in touch with us." She looked at Charles. "We have to find Theo now. And that stupid dog. Then we can work together to find Lucy."

"Brilliant idea. Any clues where to start?" Charles asked dryly.
 
“Stay in touch?” asked Tim, chuckling. “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll stay in touch alright. You guys are at the Whalebone, right? I’ll find you guys there if I need you. If you need me, I’ll probably be at the fish market. The hot dog guy pays me two bucks an hour to wear a hot dog suit and hold a sign, and he gives me free food too. I don’t know if you want to find Lucy, though. Not anymore, anyways.”

He shuffled off down the dark alley, leaving Barbara and Charles alone with the rats. As soon as he was gone, the rodents seemed to come out in force, swarming and scurrying over the broken cobblestones of the alley as they scrambled for scraps and fought over what looked like a rotting eel head. Out from the street, a siren would blare suddenly as an ambulance tried to force its way past the floats down the parade route.

“Out of the way,” called a voice over the ambulance’s loudspeaker. “Step aside. There’s been an injury at the cliffs by the lighthouse. Step out of the way.”
 
"Ew!" Barbara groaned and danced out of the alley. "Ew ew ew!" She paused to brush herself down. "Ugh, why can't I ever get a nice, straightforward story? It was supposed to be a story about the whale parade! Just whales! What could go wrong with-" She stopped short as Charles poked her shoulder. "What?"

Charles pointed to the ambulance. "They said somebody got hurt at the cliffs. You don't think...?"

Barbara froze. "Damn it, Theo!" She tucked her bag tight against her and started running. Charles tucked his camera under his arm and ran after her, easily keeping up as they followed the path the ambulance was cutting through the crowd. They ran to the cliffs, ignoring any police in the way and strained to see. Barbara's heart thumped in her throat, terrified of what she would see. Charles automatically started filming.
 
There was already a crowd at the cliffs by the time Barbara and Charles made their way over. If they managed to shove their way to the front, they would see the paramedics set up at the edge of the ciff, hauling a stretcher up over the rocks with a makeshift crane. As the stretcher came into view, it would become clear that it was Theo being lifted up over the rocks. He seemed to be conscious and able to talk to the paramedics, despite the bandage wrapped around his head that was slowly becoming soaked through with blood. The crowd muttered among themselves as they watched, and it soon became clear which ones were from the island.

“Damn mainlanders,” whispered one. “Waltzing around like they own the place. Serves him right, I say.”

The group of grizzled-looking fishermen around him nodded their agreement, puffing on their pipes as they watched the proceedings.
 
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Barbara lost her temper. She rounded on the fishermen and yelled, "Would you take your superiorist attitude and stuff it up your jumpers? He got hurt because none of you lot would help him! He's not just some mainlander getting in trouble, you idiots. He came respectfully asking for help to find a lost woman and a lost dog, and you treated him like garbage. You want mainlanders to stop littering your coastline? How about giving them a bit of help when they ask nicely? Or better yet, if you all are soo concerned about keeping this stupid pile of rocks pure, shut down the whole damn island and turn yourself into some sort of shut off cultist commune! You're already one step away, just do it already! Just stop with all of your ridiculous damnable nodding and secretive looks. You aren't actually hiding anything! You're just a bunch of scared slobs trying desperately to cling to the exact same lifestyle your grandfather's led. Guess what? It doesn't work like that, and meanwhile, people die because of you! I hope you're happy as a bunch of mass murderers."

She turned and stormed off, breaking into a trot to reach the paramedics at the top of the cliff. She was probably going to pay for that later, but to hell with it. The only person she'd be scared of right now was her mother if she heard her daughter talking this way. She hurried up to the paramedics. "Excuse me, that's a friend of mine. Please, can you tell me what happened?"
 
The group of fishermen whirled around, gaping at Barbara’s sudden outburst. They stared at her in silence as she berated them, then shrugged and went back to their idle chatter as soon as she walked away.

“See what I mean?” said one. “Mainlanders. Can’t control themselves, always blaming others. Tsk tsk. They don’t raise their kids right anymore.”

“Mainland women especially,” replied another. “So emotional.”

The paramedics looked over at Barbara as she approached, giving her only the briefest of glances before turning their attention back to the winch mechanism. One of them spoke without looking, sweat beading on his face as he hauled Theo up the cliff.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he said. “He wasn’t making much sense. Best we can tell, he saw someone he knew down at the bottom of the cliff, something about a girl and a dog. Tried to go down too quick, took a tumble. We didn’t see any footprints or anything down there, though. Besides, you’d think if the girl was there, she’d call for the ambulance herself, but no. It was the cops at the lighthouse that called us. Poor guy must be on shrooms.”
 
Barbara shook her head. "I can vouch for his sanity. He has been trying to find his cousin, that's the whole reason we came to this island-" okay, a little white lie, but whatever, "and it's really been playing havoc with him because no one will help us. Then his dog got kidnapped or dognapped or something. Maybe the fog played tricks on his eyes along with his desperation."

Charles caught up and peered at Theo. "Dude looks like he got faced! Dang. Did he find Clipper or Lucy?"

"I think if he'd found either of them they'd be here," Barbara pointed out, trying not to sound snippy. She looked at the paramedic. "He's going to be okay, though, right? Nothing broken?"
 
“He’ll live,” said the paramedic. “Probably tried to catch himself on the way down, broke his wrist. Also, he banged his head pretty good and twisted his ankle something awful. He’ll make it, though. Don’t you worry.”

As they lifted Theo up over the edge of the cliff, he glanced over and recognized Barbara in the crowd. He waved for her to come over, even as the paramedics hurried over to help him into the back of the ambulance.

“Barbara,” he said, as soon as she was close enough for him to whisper, “I saw her. I know you’re not going to believe me, but I really did. She was there, Barbara. She was carrying Clipper like a baby, all wrapped up in a blanket so he couldn’t move. She was on the beach, but when I tried to get down the cliff, my foot slipped and-”

“In you go,” interrupted one of the paramedics, slamming the door of the ambulance. “You can visit him at the TC General if you really must talk to him. That’s where we’re going. With that head injury, he’ll probably be staying the night for observation. You’re not a family member, so you can’t ride with us.”

With that, he walked around to the front of the ambulance and started back towards the town. Excitement over, the crowd began to disperse, following the ambulance as they made their way back towards the festival.
 
Barbara sighed. "I really wish we had a car, or at least a bicycle!" she moaned. She glanced at Charles. "Come on, Charles," she said tiredly. "Let's go."

"I'd rather go back to the inn and check our footage," Charles complained.

"And I'd rather go check the shoreline, myself, but I think Theo needs us, and I don't dare let you out of my sight in case you fall over the cliff next," Barbara explained as she started walking.

Charles considered. "When you put it like that..." He followed her as they made the trek to the hospital.

Thankfully, on a small island, walking anywhere didn't take too long. The hospital was small, just like everything else, but clean. So clean Barbara felt dirty walking in. It was probably the first truly clean place she'd seen in two days. Gosh, was it really only two days? She felt like she'd spent an eternity on this island.
 
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