The Peculiar Case of the Red Tide

by Constance Barker

  “You can name him. I’m bad at naming things. I named my childhood dog Liz,” she pointed out.

  “What’s so wrong with that? Elizabeth is a wonderful name,” Agnes argued, returning the flakes to the cabinet.

  “Well, Liz was actually short for Lizard. I named my dog Lizard. She wasn’t even green or scaly or anything,” Izzie mused aloud. I couldn’t help but bark out a disbelieving laugh, nearly doubling over at the story.

  “My messed up childhood aside, I had something I wanted to ask of you, Aggie,” Isabella mused, tilting back in her chair. The fish seemed to be watching her with a rather curious expression, and she winked at the aquatic creature.

  “Ask away, darling,” Agnes said idly, and I blinked hard at Isabella who could only blush faintly.

  “Oh. Uh. Yeah. It’s about that kid. The one at the asylum,” she began, wringing her hands a bit nervously. “Does he happen to... have any family? Why is he locked up?” She inquired mildly, or as mildly as could be expected.

  “I suppose his father didn’t have the time to devote to him. It’s easier to pay the cash and have someone else watch a troubled child, especially when you’re a renowned scientist,” Agnes said a bit brusquely. Isabella got a rather strange expression on her face, looking at me with a slight tilt of her head. I wondered if Agnes had really missed the obvious implications of her words, thinking back to the boy with red ringed eyes, who kept repeating some strange chemical composition.

  “Aggie,” Isabella pressed, grabbing Agnes by the sleeve and forcing the older woman to look at her. Agnes didn’t bother to struggle, looking at Izzie with a slight sigh. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the kid was shouting some kind of... sciency business, and his dad is a ‘renowned scientist’,” Isabella continued, using air quotes as she spoke. Agnes looked taken aback initially, glancing towards the fish in the tank as it swam in circles. Now that we all watched it, it seemed to be acting strangely, as if it had no clue what to do with itself. Isabella frowned, tensing her hands in her lap. Agnes startled slightly as the fish slammed against the glass before resuming its circling. I mused to myself that if it could speak, it would likely be screaming the very same tirade the very ill boy had been repeating.

  “I think it would be best if we go see this scientist guy,” I pointed out, rising to my feet and staggering a bit from the spinning I’d done.

  “I think you have a point,” Agnes paused, looking between Izzie and myself. “Both of you. But... Isabella, dear, I don’t think it would be wise for you to tag along on this trip,” she continued. I expected Isabella to explode in a well-prepared argument, but she shrugged a shoulder, nodding agreeably.

  “Prison suit orange wouldn’t look flattering on me,” she said coolly.

  “I’ll stay behind with Miss Isabella, here, while the two of you go and see what you can find out,” Robert offered, smiling warmly at me. I was a bit touched that he seemed content to let the newbie take the wheel, but before I could think about it too much, Agnes was dragging me towards the stairs. Another day, another adventure, it seemed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Agnes and I were silent for most of the car ride, as I personally tried to think of a way to milk her for information. She seemed too lost in thought to worry about the decidedly nefarious expression I could see staring back at me from my reflection in the window. I didn’t like to think of myself as being devious, but at the same time, I felt entitled to the information that the rest of our little group seemed to be privy to. I didn’t want to have to force the explanation out of them, but it didn’t seem as if they would provide it willingly anytime soon. I probably could have pestered the older woman until we got to our destination, but instead, I resigned myself to sulking in the passenger seat.

  “Now, don’t you go getting all upset on me, dear girl,” Agnes murmured quietly, seeming genuinely worried by the notion. I sighed, shifting to sit upright in my seat and watch her drive. Her eyes were crinkled in the corners, her forehead wrinkled, and I had not seen her so exhausted in the whole time I’d known her—granted that wasn’t as long as I might have liked, it was obvious that this whole situation was getting to her a bit more than she would like to admit. I suppose it fell upon me to try and reel everything into a more workable pace, even as we were speeding down the highway to some mad scientist’s house. Granted, it could very well be argued that Agnes was some sort of mad scientist. As far as I was aware, however, she had never performed any experiments on her loved ones. I didn’t know if she actually had loved ones, but I couldn’t see her doing anything to purposely hurt Isabella or myself, even in the short time we’d been a little group—a pseudo family.

  “I’m not upset, Agnes,” I lied, hoping it wasn’t as evident as it felt. Her frown only deepened, and it was painfully evident that she could see straight through me. I bit my lip, staring straight ahead as I tried to think of a way to salvage the situation. “Alright, I’m upset. But I’m not angry at you, not really. It’s just a bit disheartening to be the only one left out of all of this important information,” I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. “Like... Robert seems to know so much about you, and I can understand that to an extent, but at the same time, I’m your assistant now. It seems like I should be the one helping you with things...,” I trailed off, realizing how silly the statement sounded as we drove towards the scientist’s home, only the two of us in the car.

  “I understand, Abigail. Believe me, I understand how frustrating all of this must be. I’m afraid that all you can do for now is trust in me, and believe that I will tell you the truth when the time is right,” Agnes sighed, tensing her hands on the steering wheel. I wanted to bite out a scathing retort, but it was obviously not the time. Instead, I settled down and stared out my window until we came to a rather run down looking house in the middle of nowhere—much like the cabin we were staying in. Somehow, this place looked even more dilapidated. I almost wished Isabella had come along to see, I feel like it’s something she would have been entertained by. Then again, I had no idea what her deal was lately. No matter. For now, it was Agnes and I—the indomitable duo, solving mysteries and putting families back together.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone is home,” I pointed out, although there was a car in the driveway. It looked nearly as bad as the house, even worse than my dump of a car. The windows had been smashed, likely by local teenagers looking for a bit of fun, and all sides of the car were dented.

  “Perhaps not. Do you suppose we should leave?” Agnes mused, glancing over to me. I hesitated, not really expecting to take control of our direction. My lips worked soundlessly for a moment before I swallowed and shook my head, pushing the passenger door open and sliding out of the car. Agnes hesitated only a brief moment before getting out as well. We stood side by side in front of my car, and Agnes stared towards the upper windows of the house. There seemed to be at least one light on inside, which indicated that at the very least, the power bill was being paid. From the looks of it, and the slight flickering, it very well could have been a candle on the other hand. No power bill being paid, but someone had to light the candle, didn’t they? I had sincerely hoped this wouldn’t be some haunted adventure, especially after dealing with the fright of having a snake in my bed. I’d seen my share of spirits before, but I couldn’t imagine anything friendly living in this God forsaken place.

  “I guess all we can do is go inside,” I muttered, beginning to regret this entire trip. Agnes had a rather excited glimmer in her eyes, however, and I was pleased to be the cause of that excitement—indirectly or otherwise. She strode towards the door, rapping her knuckles against the peeling surface. She made a face as the wood seemed to give a bit under her strikes. She glanced at me with a sly grin, gesturing for me to open the door. I rolled my eyes a bit, trying not to reveal how thrilling it was to be her favorite again—at least, for the time being. I tested the doorknob, half praying it was locked while the rest of me pleaded to be allowed inside. The door swung inwards, lea
ding into the darkness of the house. Fortunately, we’d come early enough for there to be a bit of sun left in the sky, so it wasn’t pitch black in the house. The curtains looked old and moldy, but at least they allowed the sunlight to filter in to some extent. I’d hate to have to touch the curtains for the sole purpose of ripping them down.

  “I didn’t peg you as the type for breaking and entering, Abigail,” Agnes said in a hushed voice, though I still felt the need to shush her even more. Truth be told, my awkward attempt to silence her was likely louder than she had been in the first place.

  “I’m not! If I get arrested, you better post my bail,” I hissed, slipping towards the kitchen. The scent of decay was strong in this area of the house, and I was hesitant to continue forward. I wasn’t sure what I might find, and if I wanted to find it in the first place. Agnes wasn’t so easily dissuaded, striding confidently towards the kitchen. She paused in the open doorway, making a face and waving the air in front of her face before sharply turning around and returning to me.

  “Some animal corpse. A cat, I think. Ironic, considering it looked to be torn to bits by rats or something similar,” she muttered, taking my arm and pulling me away. I didn’t have to be told twice, thinking of my own cat who was waiting for me at my dad’s house while I was away. I hoped he was okay, the little nuisance. I couldn’t imagine walking in to see his rotting cadaver, which only made me all the more sure that no one had been here in years. That candle, though, continued to flicker in the back of my mind and, likely, still upstairs.

  “What are we even looking for, at this point?” I asked quietly, stiffening as the older woman drew me towards a winding staircase that led to the second level of the house.

  “There’s someone up there, and I’m sure of it. It may very well be a vagrant, in which case I will throw some chocolate at them while we escape. However, if my hunch is right, we might have a bit more fun with this,” she said with a cheeky grin. I had no idea what could be fun about this entire situation, but allowed her to lead the way up the creaking stairs. I felt as if they would collapse under my weight at any given moment, moreso than I’d felt about the ladder in Agnes’ cabin. I tested each step before applying my full weight to it, whispering a prayer under my breath though I was certain this house was off the map of any higher power. At the very least, the scent of decay had begun to fade slightly. Now, it only smelled like... stinky armpits, truthfully. I hesitated, lifting my arm and giving myself a sniff. No, as I’d suspected, I only permeated the scent of my powery deodorant. “You actually think that’s you?” Agnes asked critically, though I’d caught her smelling herself as well. I decided to be the bigger person and not mention it, instead gesturing for her to continue leading us down the hallway. Most of the doors were open, leading into empty rooms, but at the end of the hall there was a tall door that stood closed, standing between us and our fate. I almost wanted to turn back, wondering which would be the better outcome: a ghost, or a vagrant.

  “Agnes are you sure we should be here—,”I began with traces of desperation in my voice. I only received a dry laugh in response, though she did pause to consider my fearful expression.

  “I’m almost positive we shouldn’t be, dear girl. Has that ever stopped us before?” She grinned. I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding agreeably and falling into step beside her. Maybe we were both wrong. Maybe there wasn’t anything in that room at the end of the hall, just the destroyed remains of what used to be a family home. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would bear to live here, which bode the question of where the scientist had gone. It seemed unlikely that he would leave the town his son was in altogether—simply pack his bags and leave. I could never imagine doing that to my father, let alone any future children I may have. “You’re overthinking this. Just breathe, slowly now. All this gasping isn’t doing us any good,” Agnes murmured, stepping ahead and stopping just before the mighty door. It was a normal door for all intents and purposes, but it seemed much larger and much more important. It seemed like the gate to a castle, a castle haunted by about three dozen vampires. I braced myself as Agnes pushed the door open without even knocking, the scent of body odor washing over us. I swallowed a gag, covering my nose as I made an attempt to peer into the room. At first, nothing was evident inside. Agnes seemed as confused as I did, especially as the sound of scratching began to whisper in our ears. Agnes stepped into the room, gasping and nearly jolting back into me as she seemed to find what she was looking for. It was a coffin, I was just sure of it. A coffin full of dirty gym socks, or... God, I don’t know.

  “Agnes,” I whispered, glancing past her. Huddled in the corner of the room, I could see what had given her such a fright and struggled to swallow a shout of my own. There was a man in the room, clad in nothing but filthy underwear. A dirty lab coat was draped across the back of the chair, but that did nothing to distract from the man himself. His bones jutted out at angles that almost looked unnatural. He was so skinny that it was a wonder he was even alive. I could see the candle that had been flickering in the window, and it seemed to be the only thing lighting his work. The scratching had been the sound of a pencil against paper, scraping annoyingly against the desk. Agnes didn’t look particularly thrilled by what we had found, and if he weren’t slowly and methodically writing line after line in front of us, I might have thought he was dead. Maybe he was a zombie—somehow a combination of a ghost and a vagrant. “We should leave,” I hissed out, aware of eyes upon us. I looked towards the desk, spotting a very large rat with deep red fur and bright red eyes. He watched us with strange intelligence in his eyes, his nose twitching before he squeaked loudly and scrambled away, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The man at the desk seemed nonplussed, and as the rat circled the desk, I was reminded of the fish, and the son of... this man? Surely this couldn’t be the scientist. This was some ghoul of a man, something that would surely take our lives if we distracted him from his task. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts and remaining absolutely still that I didn’t notice Agnes had moved away from my side until she was nearly upon the man. I squeaked, covering my mouth to muffle any noise. Agnes shot a glare in my direction before gently resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. If he felt it, he gave no indication, only continuing to write and whisper something under his breath. I drew closer, not wanting to leave Agnes to have her soul ripped out, at least, not alone. I peered over the man’s shoulder, recognizing the chemical compound that I had written down at the asylum.

  “Sir,” Agnes piped up quietly, and as if something inside him snapped, he lurched to his feet, wheeling around to face us and brandishing his pencil like some sort of weapon. I cried out, scrambling back for a moment although Agnes didn’t seem concerned.

  “Who... who are you!? Get out of my house! I told you, I told all of you, leave me alone! Just leave me alone. I have to... I have to figure out the formula,” he stammered out, his long and gnarly nails sinking into his palms.

  “Our names don’t matter sir. What matters to me, is—,” Agnes paused, slapping her hand on the desk. The man screeched, throwing his body over the majority of the papers and the writing utensils on the desk in the process. “Where did you find this incomplete formula? You do realize it’s incomplete right?” Agnes pushed.

  “Of course... of course I know. It took my son from me,” he whispered, wrapping his bony arms around himself.

  Agnes smiled a bit, her expression a bit devious. This, we could work with. It was just a matter of getting the rest of the story.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Where did you find this formula?” Anges pressed once more, getting right down to business. The man blinked at us, his eyes teary behind his large glasses. I shifted uncomfortably as his eyes fell upon me as I tried not to show how spooked I was by the whole situation. He worried his lip between his teeth, edging away from the desk and allowing Agnes to approach with a strained expression. It looked as if it was all he could do to keep from exploding as Agnes examined the papers, flipping through
them with an occasional hum or sigh. Plucking one particular page from the pile, she folded it before depositing it in her pocket. The man lurched forward, his lips pulled back in a snarl that made him seem more beast than man.

  “I need that! You can’t take it,” he hissed out, hands wildly grabbing at Agnes. She grimaced, slapping his hands away and giving him a swift shove backwards. He staggered back, hitting the ground with a solid thump that seemed as if it could shatter his fragile bones.

  “You’ve gone and made a mess of things with this, do you understand? You don’t need this any more than your son needed whatever serum you inflicted upon him,” Agnes bit out. I was a bit startled by how furious she appeared to be, seeming content to leave the man to his misery. His hands curled into fists at his side, and I almost wondered if he would rise up and attack Agnes again, but he simply unleashed an almost unearthly wail as he slammed his fists against the floor.

  “It was supposed to fix him! He was dying! I was going to lose him, and this... all my tests indicated that this would help. I missed a key component, though. It drove him over the edge, and I couldn’t stand to watch him deteriorate in mind and soul,” he cried out, trying to get to his feet. He stumbled, his legs seeming as if they were scarcely able to support the weight of him. Agnes frowned, stepping forward and helping the man to his feet, as much as I wanted to tell her to keep her distance. He quaked violently, his teeth chattering and eyes watering as he lowered himself back to the chair he’d been sitting in for what must have been longer than I could begin to fathom. He clutched his pencil in his hands, tapping the tip of the graphite to the paper. Agnes crossed her arms, and I could tell she was preparing to launch into some sort of rant.