The Ripple

by J. J. Belding

"I guess it was on your charge card."

  "I paid cash."

  "Guess I'm psychic." This time the grin he wore threatened to split his face in half.

  "You know because I told you that first Saturday." Ed didn't say anything, just watched him. Just waited. "You know, don't you? You know what's going on."

  "I've lived in Hemisphere all my life. So yeah, I tend to know what's going on. Most times, anyway."

  "Then maybe you can tell me why this day keeps repeating." There. He'd said it. Sort of.

  "Does it?"

  "At least fifteen times so far."

  Ed just kept staring, hoisting himself up to sit beside his cup, rubbing his chin with a thumb and forefinger.

  "I've heard of—some call them ripples in time—but I can't tell you much about them."

  "Because you haven't experienced it for yourself or because they don't affect you?"

  "Until you got stuck in one, I've never had any personal experience with them. And I guess we both know it hasn't had any effect on me. Except for the dates on my computer and clocks."

  "What about your waitresses? And the Hunters and the woman at the museum? Why is it affecting them?"

  "I just told you I've never had any experience with this kind of thing," Ed said, his words slow and precise, like he was speaking to a not very bright individual. Wyatt sighed, frustrated, and Ed took a little pity on him. "Maybe the people who deal directly with you, myself excluded, are in a kind of fugue state. Or whatever it is that makes some people forget Hemisphere when they leave affects their memories from day to day when a ripple is going on."

  "That was in the Visitors Packet," Wyatt murmured, longing for the day he and Tessa could leave this cursed town and forget everything about it. He paused, gathering his thoughts and asked again, "What day is this?" For a moment, he thought Ed was going to skirt the question again but then he shrugged and said,

  "Tuesday. Tuna Surprise is always on Tuesdays."

  "Does everybody in town know?"

  "No. And before you ask, no one knows why it affects some but not others. Trying to figure it out would be like trying to figure out where the bang came from that supposedly created our universe. Everything that happens here just is."

  "That's just nuts. I've been living this day – Saturday – over and over and over. I don't even know how many times it's happened anymore."

  "Then maybe the better question is, what's the date?"

  "October twenty-eighth."

  "It's actually November thirteenth." He appeared to be thinking hard for a moment. "Looks like you've been here eighteen days."

  "Why?" Wyatt demanded, glaring at his half empty plate, wishing he could throw it.

  "If you're stuck in a ripple, if there really is such a thing, what makes you think I'd know how it works? I mean, you could just be a nutcase who's trying to distract me with a cockamamie story so you can rob me blind."

  "Yeah, I wish." He'd rather be a thief risking jail than trapped in Hemisphere forever. "You remember me telling you about my job and my wife, don't you?"

  "And if I do?"

  "I made a wish for time."

  "Which you seem to have gotten."

  "But it isn't making any difference," he muttered, dropping his fork on the Formica with a clatter. "What's the point of time if nothing is ever going to change?"

  "Hmm. That's a good question." Ed hopped down and started pacing slowly between the counters. After a minute or so, he snapped his fingers and came out to sit on the stool beside Wyatt, asking bluntly, "Have you changed?"

  "No. I still want my wife back."

  "Let me rephrase that. What have you done differently from the first day to win her back?"

  "I don't know. We have breakfast. We go to the museum. Well, I kind of follow her because by then she's told me she wants a divorce and is ignoring me more than she's already been doing. I hang around until she comes out again and tell her I love her. I reassure her that this is only for three more years and then I'll slow down so we can start our family. Once our future is secure." Ed's deep, amused laughter startled him. "Care to let me in on the joke?"

  "Are you for real?" he asked, laughing again. After several amused moments, he sobered and got serious. "Sounds to me like all you've been doing with your time is reassuring her that every reason she thinks she has to leave is still valid. If she's not happy with the way your marriage is going now, why would you think more of the same ol' same ol' for the next few years would make her want to stay?"

  "But- I-" Wyatt blew out a slow breath, then hung his head, defeat washing over him like waves in the harbor during rough seas. Ed was right. He hadn't given her a single reason to give him another chance.

  "A wise man once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.' Seems to me that's all you've been doing, boy. You gotta shake things up a little. Do something she's not expecting. Catch her off guard. Show her you're serious about changing. Make sure she knows she's more important than the secure future you've been chasing."

  Wyatt nodded his head slowly, knowing he'd just been given the best advice he'd ever received. He was about to thank Ed when the older man slid out of the seat and got to his feet.

  "Another wise man – me – says finish that pie and get back to the inn before dark so you don't have to sit in the E.R. all night."

  "What?"

  "Barbara Hunter locks her doors as soon as the sun is down – and you won't be getting back in until morning. Only place in town open all night, that most folks frequent anyway, is the emergency room."

  "What is wrong with everyone here?" Wyatt asked, shaking his head before stuffing the last bite of pie in his mouth and getting to his feet too. "They take this monster festival stuff a little too seriously."

  "Or you don't take it seriously enough." Ed's tone turned deadly serious. "Get back to the inn, Wyatt. And don't take your time. Sun's about down."

  Chapter 5

  Wyatt planned to ignore Ed's ridiculous warning and take his time walking back to the B&B. He needed to think about the things they had discussed, and then try to figure out what he could do differently. Come up with a plan that would make Tessa understand that she was the most important thing in his life.

  Except when he stepped outside the diner, it felt like he'd stepped onto the set of a creepy disaster film. There were almost no cars moving on the street. There were no people sitting on porches or messing around in any yard.

  One person, about a block away was walking toward the harbor. He kept glancing around, his pace fast, like he had to be somewhere in a hurry. Occasionally, he saw the rustle of a curtain in one of the houses he passed but that was it. Hemisphere had the feel of a ghost town. Or a town that was waiting for zombies to attack.

  He blamed the fear that was taking root in his belly on the stupid warning but was hyperaware of the fact that there was only a sliver of sky between the sun and the water. A chill worked its way slowly down his spine and, feeling a little foolish, he broke into a sprint, covering the last two blocks in record time and stepping into the foyer at Cottage Inn just as the uppermost edge of the sun kissed the horizon.

  "Oh good," Mrs. Hunter said, her smile managing to look both relieved and nervous. "You're the last one in so I guess I can lock up for the night."

  For the first time, Wyatt noticed that there were two deadbolts and a chain on the front door. A little extreme, he thought, for living in such a quiet, quaint little town. Shaking his head, he bid her goodnight, then started up the stairs.

  A faint noise behind him drew his attention and he glanced over his shoulder. From a decorative milk can beside the door, Mrs. Hunter scooped out a cup of fine rock salt and poured a thin line across the doorway.

  Unable to shake the vague feeling of unease, Wyatt found himself dipping into the washtub of salt in their room after he closed and locked the door. Yeah, he felt more than a little foolish but the fear he'd felt in the deserted streets was still fresh in hi
s mind.

  That done, he turned his attention to Tessa. She was curled on her side, facing away from him. They'd been married long enough for him to know she wasn't asleep. She was just pretending and he wanted to shake her.

  "I know you're awake," he said quietly. "And I want you to know that I'm going to fight you on this. I love you and I'm not going to agree to a divorce."

  "Our joke of a home address is in a no-fault state, Wyatt. It doesn't matter whether you fight it or not. We don't have any property together, just your precious savings account and I don't want any of it. It's your first love. Maybe it will keep you warm during cold winter nights." She hadn't moved a muscle and he walked around to that side of the bed. She refused to look at him.

  "It's your money too."

  "No, it's yours. I finally figured out it's all that really matters to you. And no matter how much you save, it's never going to be enough. There's never going to be enough to give you whatever sense of security you're looking for."

  "That's not true!" he snapped, walking over to the French doors, now closed against the darkness outside.

  Beyond the concrete balustrade across the street, the sun had disappeared. Now, reflections of the moon and a few of the brighter stars danced on the gentle waves below. It was a peaceful, calming sight, the polar opposite of the rage that sprung up in his belly at her words.

  "The truth," he said, after a moment's silence, "is that our marriage isn't important to you. I'm not important. I bust my butt day after day to give us a secure future. And because I work so hard, you get to sit at home and sew those blankets of yours. Then sit and sell them at the craft shows I lug them to for you."

  He heard something that sounded suspiciously like weeping but couldn't make himself turn around to look at her. Maybe being honest was finally getting through. He just wished it wasn't coming out in the form of ugly, hurtful words.

  He wasn't sure where the anger was coming from but it seemed to consume him and it was pouring out of his mouth like someone turned a faucet on. One he couldn't turn off. He wanted to kick himself. He was supposed to be trying to win her back, not give her more reasons to go. But he supposed after the dozen and a half times of hearing her tell him she wanted a divorce, no matter how hard he'd tried to prove his love to her, it had all been in vain. And now he was mad.

  "Four years is all I get? And what have I really done to deserve it, Tessa? What? I've never cheated on you. I've supported everything you've ever wanted to do. I've given you everything."

  "Everything but your time, Wyatt." Her voice was shaking so hard he was surprised he could make out the words. "That's all I've ever wanted."

  The bed springs creaked as she got up and it wasn't long before he heard the bathroom door close quietly behind her. It struck him as funny – in an anything but humorous kind of way – that they both wanted for time.

  Wyatt wondered if this was what Big Ed had meant when he said to shake things up a little. Somehow, he doubted it and for once, he was glad the time would be resetting in less than two hours. At least he hoped it would. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to actually remember this conversation.

  Tessa?

  When she suddenly appeared in front of him, Wyatt's jaw dropped.

  Instead of hiding out in the bathroom like he thought she'd done, she'd gone outside instead. She was standing beside the balustrade, wearing nothing but the boxers and tank top, her now usual nighttime attire.

  The fear he'd felt earlier when there was still a hint of daylight left came slamming back into his gut like someone slugged him. He reached for the door handle to tell her to come back inside – and froze.

  He couldn't be seeing what he was seeing, a dark shape coming up from the cliff side of the rail. He didn't know what it was but it was something … terrifying.

  Tessa's scream was cut short as her body crumpled to the ground, a puddle of blood forming where her head should have been.

  "Tessa!” he screamed, spinning around and running for the door.

  By the time he hit the main floor, Mrs. Hunter and her big hulk of a husband were there, blocking the door, keeping him from his wife.

  "It's too late," Mrs. Hunter said, throwing her arms around his waist as her husband grabbed him from behind. "We've called the police. They'll be here in a few—"

  "Let me go! I've got to go to her!" Hard as he fought, he couldn't get them off. "Something got her. Something came over the wall and-"

  "We can't let you do that. It might still be out there. You need to let the police deal with this."

  "Deal with what?" he demanded as he fought to get loose. "What was it? What killed my wife?"

  "We don't know. Some sort of animal maybe. If we let you go, it might get you too."

  "That was no animal," he whispered. "It was-" It was a monster.

  Mr. Hunter's hands were like vice grips on his arms and no matter how much he struggled, Wyatt couldn't get loose. All he could do was sob as he continued to fight, trying to break free of them and get to the wife he'd just seen beheaded before his eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Wyatt sat on the balcony outside his room staring at the activity across the street. Spotlights lit up the area like daylight as police and other emergency personnel scoured the grisly scene for clues. Except the clues weren't there. They were on the other side of the balustrade and no one was going near that.

  Probably because they knew what he'd so recently discovered. That there was something evil there. Some sort of monster that went about ripping heads off unsuspecting victims – like his wife. The thought made the chill that settled over him even colder and he pulled the quilt Mrs. Hunter had wrapped around him earlier a little tighter.

  It didn't help, not any more than the hot cup of tea that had cooled on the table. Or the others she'd set beside it. He wished they'd stop hovering. Leave him alone with his guilt. But they didn't. One or the other was always there. Sometimes both of them.

  He stared at the chalk outline someone had drawn around her before they'd zipped her body in a black bag and carted it off to the morgue. First, they'd taken samples of something around her neck while the others continued to search the area.

  It was like a comedic scene in a macabre comedy. Everyone knew where the creature was hiding so they studiously avoided the area, tripping over one another in their efforts to avoid solving a crime that would bring them face-to-face with what they feared most. Cowards.

  They hadn't let him see his wife either. Not that he could have gone near her, he admitted, staring out across the water. When he'd finally pulled free of the Hunters', he'd made it as far as the front gate but couldn't force himself to cross the road. Couldn't force himself to look too closely at her mutilated body.

  Eventually, everyone at the inn had given their statements to the detective who came to the house but, like the Hunters had done earlier, he'd also hedged when Wyatt wanted to know what killed Tessa. Some kind of animal. Maybe a bear. Only Wyatt knew it was a lie. So did the officer because he wouldn't meet his eyes when he said it.

  As he headed back to the crime scene to help complete the investigation, Wyatt heard him snapping at the Hunters. Hadn't they warned them to stay in after sunset? Had they given them the visitors packet? 'This' hadn't happened in a long time and it shouldn't have this time either. Did they have any idea the amount of paperwork he was going to have to deal with now?

  Periodically, there were more questions but he just zoned it all out. It was too much. His wife was dead. And it was his fault. Apparently, he'd brought her to vacation in a town with murderous monsters and other secrets the town kept hidden. Everything he'd seen online – from the two and a half weeklong tribute to monsters to the city ordinance urging guests to get off the streets by dark – should have been a big red flag. Yeah, quilt museum or no, he should have never brought her here.

  "Please reset," he muttered over and over. "Please reset."

  He'd finally done something different and this was the resul
t? He prayed hard that it wasn't the catalyst that caused time to begin moving forward again. In fact, he'd never prayed so hard for anything in his life.

  As he counted seconds that passed as though in slow motion, tears streamed down his face. He'd known losing Tessa would hurt and this proved it as nothing else could. It also drove home the fact that he had to figure out a way to save his marriage. And he'd do anything he had to in order to make it happen.

  If he got another chance.

  Please reset. Please reset. Please reset.

  And then she was there. Sound asleep, safe in the bed. The police and lights were gone. The Hunters were gone. It was just the two of them again. Wyatt knelt on the floor beside the bed, sobbing into a pillow as he watched her breathe.

  He'd gotten another chance. He didn't know how many more there would be so this time he was going to do everything right. He wouldn't blow it again.

  Chapter 7

  Big Ed's opened at six and much as he hated to leave Tessa, he needed to talk to the only man who knew what was going on. Or knew as much as he did anyway.

  Making sure not to disturb the line of salt across the doorway, and pouring more across the other possible entrances to the room, he crept out into the quiet hallway and down the stairs. Since the sun was up enough to shed some of its light on Hemisphere, the deadbolts were unlocked and he hurried through the door and out to the car. In minutes, he was parked at the counter, the only customer in the place at six-o-four in the morning.

  When Gloria stopped in front of him, he ordered coffee, then motioned to Ed as soon as his face appeared in the order window. Once his cup was filled, Gloria went back to stuffing napkins in silver dispensers, and topping off catsup bottles, and salt and pepper shakers at a booth across the room and Wyatt slapped the visitors packet on the counter.

  "What's up?" Ed asked, coming out to stand between the counters, glancing briefly at the packet then back at him.

  "She died," Wyatt said quietly, the agony of what he'd lived through the night before still too fresh for those word to come easily.