The Haunting of Tranquility Cove

The vague fishy smell that seemed to permeate every inch of the island was gone in the hospital, replaced with the sharp, almost stinging scent of disinfectant. The receptionist seemed skeptical of the two, and after some debate allowed them in only on the condition that Charles leave his camera at the front desk. Eventually, the pair would be led to Theo’s room, where they would find him sitting on a bed with his leg and arm in a cast. He seemed to brighten up when they entered, waving for them to take a seat and sipping on a glass of orange juice.

“You came,” he said. “Does that mean you actually believe me, Barbara? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. It’s a pretty far-fetched story, I admit. It’s all real though, I promise.”
 
Barbara hesitated. "I think I do believe you," she admitted. "We found Tim, and he has a very interesting story. Charles caught it all." She stopped suddenly and glanced at Charles. "You... did take the tape out, right? Right??"

"Uh..." Charles patted his pockets frantically then smiled in relief as he held up the tape. "I got it! Uh... Why?"

"So no one can erase it," Barbara pointed out. "Anyway, we met Tim and listened to his story. Lucy is in some serious trouble, and now so are you, I think."
 
Theo stared at Barbara, shocked at what he was hearing. What all had happened when he was out looking for Clipper? How much had he missed? Whatever had happened, it seemed extreme enough that it had somehow shifted Barbara’s point of view entirely.

“What happened?” he asked. “What did Tim say? Where’s Lucy? What do you mean she’s in trouble? What do you mean I’m in trouble? Tell me everything, Barbara! What’s going on here?”

He tried to struggle out of bed, but found his twisted ankle to be useless and slumped back down with a sigh of disappointment.

“Where’s Lucy?” he asked. “You guys sure have been busy.”
 
Barbara put a hand firmly on his shoulder and pushed him back. "You are staying put. Period. That head bashing did you no favors, and your ankle is broken, so stay. You need to heal up before you go anywhere."

She stepped back once she had him in bed. "I'm still favoring the cult theory, but now I'm wondering if perhaps there's drugs or identity theft involved. I don't know where Lucy is, only what Tim told me, and apparently your cousin did a number on him. He's currently living on the streets as an alcoholic because of her, and before you jump all over me, you weren't looking him in the eye when he told his story."

She told him the while story, keeping it brief as possible while keeping the facts straight. She told him everything Tim had said, the locals had said, everything she could think of.
 
Theo remained silent throughout Barbara’s retelling, eyes growing wider and wider as she explained what Tim had told them. This was getting crazier and crazier. Was she secretly the one who had been pulling his leg this whole time? Somehow he doubted it. She seemed sincere, and he doubted that she could have made this whole thing up. When she finished, he nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“So…” he said finally, “so what do you think is going on? You think Lucy got kidnapped and drugged by some cult? Or that she was replaced by some imposter that looks exactly like her? That definitely doesn’t sound like her. Tim seemed like such a solid guy, too. It’s hard to believe he’d end up like that. Something really weird is going on here, Barbara. I don’t like it. I should be out there looking for her with you guys. Wait...you are looking for her, right?”

The last question came with the sudden realization that they could very well just leave, abandoning him and his cousin here on the island. He supposed that he couldn’t blame them if they went that route, but he sure hoped that they wouldn’t. He needed their help, now more than ever.
 
"'Course we're looking!" said Charles cheerfully. "Not that we'll find much."

Barbara elbowed him hard. "We'll do what we can, but I'm honestly not sure what else we can do," she said truthfully. "Tomorrow, we're supposed to be going to the mainland, and if I mess up again, I'm out a job and I'll have to do secretarial work." She made a face. "I really don't want to be a secretary. But so far, all we've been able to find is everyone on this island is insane, and your cousin is some sort of psychological abuser." She held up a hand to stay any protest to that. "At least that's what the cold facts say. We don't have anything to say she's not her, and we have Tim saying she basically drove him mad. According to the facts, we don't have much left we can do but round him up, take him back with us, and make him get help while we report your cousin as missing and potentially in danger."
 
Theo sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. This wasn’t looking good, not for anyone involved. Barbara was right, though. There wasn’t much to be done.

“From what you tell me,” he said, “you’ll have a hell of a time getting Tim off the island. Besides, what are you going to do back on the mainland? I doubt anyone will pay much attention to some woman who turned out to not be as nice as she seemed. That really doesn’t sound like her, though. I just can’t believe it.”

He shook his head, racking his brain to try and figure something out. His cousin was missing and not acting like herself, her husband was a homeless alcoholic, his dog was gone, and he was laid up in a hospital with broken bones. Could this have possibly gone any worse?

“I guess there is one thing to do,” he said. “If you can find her, maybe you’ll be able to sort this out. Figure out what’s going on, you know? If only I could go with you, I’m sure I could reason with her…but I guess I can’t go anywhere. Man, all this and neither of you have so much as laid eyes on her…I’m really sorry for dragging you two into this. It’s really not your mess to be tied up in. I will say, though...don’t be too sure about going home tomorrow. I saw on the news that there was going to be a storm. They say the ferry doesn’t run in bad storms.”
 
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She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck tiredly. Great. A storm. She'd figure that out later. Maybe they could leave a little early, and weather reports were wrong all the time. There was a good chance they could still get out of here, and if worst came to worst, how long could a storm possibly last?

"I'm sorry we can't help you any more, Theo, but I honestly don't know how we could talk Lucy into anything," Barbara said. "Tim we can sedate or something and take him on the ferry that way. Yes, basically abduction but for his own good. Lucy? I don't know. Trick her into waiting until we can get you with her?" She shook her head. "I'm a reporter, not a doctor or anything like that."
 
Theo groaned, but nodded. Barbara was right. It felt like giving up, but what else could they do? All of them were in way over their heads with something that none of them understood very well at all.

“Alright,” he said. “I guess that’s the only plan we’ve got. Do what you think is best, it’s not like I’ll be any help laid up here like this. Thanks again for your help, and for not thinking I’m crazy. I guess you’d probably be better off trying to get a hold of Tim in the morning, then.”

“Visiting hours end in five minutes,” chirped a nurse, poking her head in through the door. “If you’re not sick, hurt, or pregnant, you’re going home.”
 
Charles looked at Barbara and opened his mouth.

Barbara held up a warning finger. "Don't you even unless you want to fall into the 'injured' catagory. Got it?"

Charles closed his mouth.

Barbara turned back to Theo and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll probably be out of here tomorrow, and then we can try to grab Tim. You'll be helpful with your knowledge. And we'll show you thee tape, okay? We'll figure something out."

"Yeah, like when to run," Charles grumbled.

Barbara took him by the arm and firmly led him out of the room. "We have a show to shoot. I want to get a few more candid shots before we call it good, and then we should watch the tape."

"Right, tight, ow! You have a really strong grip!"
 
Heading back outside, the two intrepid reporters would find the whale festival in full swing. Vendors were out in force, selling all manner of whale-related crafts and products made from eels. As they filmed their candids, they would be assailed by hawker after hawker, each one with stranger wares than the last. One man had an entire tent full of unusual eel items, complete with eel oil soaps (slimy,) eel caviar (icky,) and eel pills (suspicious.) Everybody in town seemed to have something to sell, and the vast majority of them seemed to be trying to offload various forms of eel onto the tourists.

“It really is strange,” said a fisherman, squinting into Charles’ camera with his one remaining eye. “You can hardly cast a net nowadays without it coming up full of eels, but damn if there’s anything else out there. I bet the damn things eat all the lobsters.”

“It’s the bounty of the sea,” said a younger man, sounding oddly dazed and dreamy. “The sea provides. We should be thankful for what we’re given. That’s what she says, anyways.”
 
Barbara was trying to avoid the sellers while smiling all the while. The job of smiling on camera and looking pretty and unfazed was not as easy as most people seemed to think. Charles was trying his best to get good shots of everything, including one-eyed fishermen.

Then Barbara heard what the younger man said and zeroed in on him. "Excuse me!" she said brightly to the old fisherman and the young man. "Would you be ever so kind as to tell me more? I am afraid a mainlander like myself is struggling to understand, as I know many others are, and hearing both sides of your issues would enlighten us greatly." She looked to the fisherman first. "Is it true that the eels appear to have displaced the lobsters? Has that harmed your economy?"

Charles dutifully videoed it all, but he was getting edgy. It was growing late, and he'd made a promise to meet someone. A couple of hours might not be enough time to get ready!
 
The old one-eyed fisherman snorted derisively, pulling a corncob pipe from his pocket and packing it full of some manner of dried leaves that smelled suspiciously like kelp.

“Aye,” he said. “There be nary a lobster to be found in these waters. Every cage we pull up is either empty or full of those damn eels. I swear to hell and back I’ve seen eels twelve feet or longer. Never seen them before in all my years, and now all of a sudden that’s all we’ve got. As for the economy...you could say that, and you could also say we ‘harmed’ Hiroshima in ‘45. Blown our economy out of the damn water, it has. When every other man on the island fishes for a living, those eels have been worse for our economy than the lobster pox of ‘68. You young’uns do know about the lobster pox of ‘68, right?”

He squinted at her, as if daring her to admit that she didn’t know. The younger man cut in, voice still slow and precise as though he were reciting his words from memory.

“The eels are a gift from the bottom of the sea,” he said. “Down at the bottom lies all the treasures of the world. Not only of humanity, but of those that came before.”

“Shut your yap,” snapped the older fisherman. “Young people these days. All listening to rock music and smoking dope all the time. Rots the brains. What you need is some honest work, and you can quote me on that.”
 
Barbara opened her mouth to say "of course," even though she would have only been four or five at the time, and her family couldn't afford lobster, poxed or otherwise. The young man inturrupted her, though, babbling on about the sea. Maybe whoever this was was hypnotizing or brainwashing people? That idea made as much sense as any other idea she'd come up with so far.

"Honest work," Barbara agreed, nodding as she wrote it down. "You got that, right, Charles?"

"Yep, nice and clear," Charles reported.

Barbara turned to the young man. "But you think the eels are a good thing? Why do you think that when so many other people seem to be suffering from them?" she asked, keeping her tone light and polite, as if offering him the chance to share his secret with the world.
 
“Isn’t it obvious?” responded the young man, staring past Barbara at something that only he could see. “Where do you think the eels come from? Currents? That’s nonsense. They come from the bottom of the sea, of course. The eels are the treasure, the bounty of the depths. They are the shepherds that will lead us down to the bottom of the sea, to the paradise beneath.”

The old fisherman frowned at him, taking a couple of steps backwards and chewing on the stem of his pipe. It was clear that he didn’t believe a word that the younger man said, and that he suspected the strange young man of partaking in the devil’s lettuce.

“Down at the bottom of the sea,” continued the starry-eyed young man, “there are lobsters and fish aplenty. But more than that, there is light. There is warmth. More than any of us will ever feel here on the land.”
 
"Uh.... right..." Barbara said, faltering. "That sounds very nice. Um... You realize that..." She stopped herself. Now really wasn't the time to argue. She rallied and smiled brightly. "Such a wonderful idea! It sounds very, ah, inviting! Who is it that has told you these stories?"

"The kid's a bloomin' crackpot," Charles muttered out of the corner of his mouth to the fisherman, taking care the younger man wouldn't hear him. "Are there many talking like him?"
 
The young man frowned, as though this were the first time he’d considered this question. When he responded, he spoke slowly and carefully, as though talking to a small child.

“You know,” he said. “Her. The lady on the television. She talks to me in the middle of the night. It’s not just a broadcast, she really talks to me. Said my name and everything, once. Don’t you know her? I thought everyone did.”

“Aye,” said the fisherman to Charles. “Seems like all the young fellers on the island are talking about the bottom of the sea. Smoking dope, the lot of them. Always talking about some television woman too. Back when I was his age, the only woman worth ogling after was painted on the side of a bomber. Ol’ Lucky Lori, she was a beauty. Shot down over France in ‘44. Real shame, too. They don’t make’em like that no more, no sir.”
 
"The tv?" Barbara repeated slowly. "Oh, yes!" She remembered the broadcast she'd seen that one evening. "Yes, I have seen it. Was her name, perhaps, Lucy? Can you remember if she had a name?"

Charles eyed the young fellow. "Begging your parden, sir," he said, for once taking great care to make his words understandable, "but I've been around a couple of fellows on the weed, and they didn't act like that. They mostly talked about how much they loved everything and were real dopes. That;s why I was smart and didn't use it." He swallowed. Man, talking Old was hard! "Did you say only the guys? No girls? Isn't that a bit wa-strange?"
 
The young man shrugged noncommittally, then glanced down conspicuously at his watch. It was clear by the way he shuffled his feet and kept looking back over his shoulder that he was growing impatient with the interview. Still, he didn’t stop talking in that same dazed voice.

“Names…” he said. “Who knows? Who needs names, anyways? We won’t need them once we’re together at the bottom of the sea. She hasn’t said her name, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I’d recognize that voice anywhere. You can even hear her at night sometimes, calling out in the fog. Even without a television set.”

The fisherman frowned at Charles, letting out a long puff of bluish grey smoke that hovered in the air in an oddly persistent cloud. He seemed rather skeptical of the boy’s claim that he didn’t use “the weed” but decided not to push the matter.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose all the young ladies in the town have their movie sweethearts and rock stars that they all ogle at, but I haven’t heard any of them talking much about the sea. As it should be, really. The sea is no place for women. Why, I had an uncle once who found a woman on his boat and threw her overboard. Probably had something to do with why that marriage didn’t last very long, but that’s none of my business.”
 
"You are right. You are absolutely right!" Barbara soothed. "Names are silly. What if I wanted to meet her so she could show me the way? Where should I go? I really want to meet her." Barbara was glad they were getting this on tape. No one would believe her otherwise! Heck, she was here listening to it and she wasn't sure she believed. What on earth was going on here?

Charles gave the fisherman an odd look, not sure what he was supposed to do with that last bit of information. After a bit, he asked, "So, just the guys? No girls. Isn't that a little weird that all the du-men, young men of this... really great island should start going weird at the same time as these freaky eels showing up? What if it's the eels doing it?"
 
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