The Second Day

  The rest of the first day had been unproductive. Junia and Millie wouldn’t even go to bed. They would eat, and they would talk with us, but they wouldn’t leave their dead mother’s side. ‘Mom said to stay with her.’ That’s all they would say when asked to go anywhere at all. It made me furious. An emotion I was allowing myself to feel more and more as the loop progressed. I couldn’t understand why anyone would do this to them. No one could gain anything from forcing children to starve in their mother’s life. I hadn’t understood what Margaret was doing either. But there is almost a strange sense to senseless murder. I’ve read enough stories that killing without reason, while grotesque, didn’t seem incomprehensible.

  But what was happening to the girls was beyond what I could process. There was no reason for it. There was no past I could imagine that could explain why anyone would want these sweet children to suffer. Watching them felt like drowning on a windy day. I couldn’t identify any direction, and attempts to breathe through it made me feel sick.

  I slept on the floor that night, sitting near the exhausted children and keeping an eye on them. They never left. And before I knew it, it was the second day, and Margaret was trying to wake me up. The world came into bleary focus, and a dehydration headache nailed itself into my skull as I let the world take shape again. I realized the ghostly woman was already speaking to me. I couldn’t process her words yet, as a dull throbbing radiated through my spine as a result of sleeping on the floor. Junia’s were the first words I actually understood as I pulled myself to my feet and rubbed my sore neck.

  “Good morning, Miss Mars,” Junia greeted. I offered a bleary and false smile to the girl. She appeared to have slept, but her night couldn’t have been any more comfortable than mine. Not out here, on a cold sofa with what was left of her mother and an eerily quiet Millie.

  “Good morning, Junia. Are you hungry?” I asked. Junia blushed as she looked up at me, but nodded meekly. “I’ll see if Harrison will come back with some breakfast. How are you feeling?”

  “Mars, please,” Margaret whispered. I knew what she wanted to say. I would go shortly. But I had to make sure the girls were alright. Or, as alright as they could be. I glanced down at the dirty wood floor where that trail of teal sparks continued to lead to the children right next to me. I understood she was right.

  “I’m sleepy, but I’m okay. I’m a little worried about Millie, but Mom will let us go to bed before she gets sick. I know she will,” Junia answered. I glanced up at the silent corpse and held in the trembling breath that tried to escape. I was already beginning to hate whoever this mage was. Whether it was this ‘Luke’ or someone else. Junia’s mother would never give them permission to leave, whether she was sick or not.

  “I’m sure she will,” I lied. “Keep your chin up, alright? Harrison will be here with breakfast soon.” Again, I glanced at the teal sparks on the floor, and again I looked into the empty eyes of the dead woman holding Millie. I bit my lip and reluctantly turned to leave, much to Margaret’s relief. I was trapped in my head as I went through the motions. I spoke to Harrison, and once he was on his way to the girls, I began walking through the cold morning and deciding where to go next.

  Things were different than when Margaret was the mage affecting the loop. Whoever had changed it had also changed the urgency of action. Helping individual people wasn’t more or less urgent than it had been before, but it was different. The aura leading me to the girls made that clear. Before, when the Quiet were killing, the trails would vanish if I was too late. If the quiet took someone, and I couldn’t turn them back. But this trail had led to the girls for over a day now, and more trails joined it every hour. If I understood them correctly, I believed this meant I had some way to help whoever they led me to.

  But ‘Undone’ didn’t free the children. If I tried to move them with ‘Still World’, Junia would simply go back. The single time I’d tried, she’d been so worried and anxious, begging her mother for forgiveness. I couldn’t try that again. I couldn’t get ‘Lamentations’ to work, and I wasn’t certain what past, if any, would convince the children their mother was gone. I had no way to help them. Not yet.

  But the trail still led me to them.

  So, instead of having hundreds of small windows to help individual people, the people I needed to save just piled higher and higher with every passing hour. And they suffered. Not all like the girls. I hadn’t seen anyone else so frozen in such a miserable place. But I remembered the looks in the eyes of the violent quieted. The heart knows when the mind has been taken from it, and it hurts. I understood this well. And I believed that was happening, in some way. There were too many kind people sitting happily with corpses and listening to vicious sermons. People who wouldn’t respond that way, not on their own. I didn’t know what it was exactly. Whether the living were being puppeted like Margaret had controlled the dead, or if only small perceptions were being changed. But I knew something was clouding minds. Which meant people were suffering.

  So I didn’t need to rush to help people for fear of missing my window. Everyone who needed my help would keep needing it until they were dead. They would keep suffering until they were dead. I had to hurry because I wouldn’t miss my chance. Because they would hurt, and hurt, and hurt. Until I did something.

  “Where are we going?” Margaret asked. Her mother was one of those people suffering until I helped. I wasn’t surprised by her anxiety. I shared it. We wanted the same thing.

  “I’m just… following the sparks,” I replied. It felt like a weak response, but it was what I had. “When you… last time, they led me to people who needed help. And helping them helped me. To figure out what was happening. And… it’s hard to explain. But it helped, and it’s all I can think of.”

  “But you haven’t been able to help when you reach the people they lead you to. What’s the point?” she pushed. I clenched my fists, a mild and weary frustration building just under my skin.

  “It’s all I know to do. There has to be some way I can help, and the more people I meet, the better my odds of figuring out what that is,” I explained.

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  “But we have a better lead. That… was it a church? I didn’t recognize Luke, but he could have been from the temple. Whatever they are, they are obviously tied to all of this,” she pressed again. I understood. The service we attended was tied to her mom. Of course she wanted to focus on it. But… I was afraid.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “That’s the best lead we have. You’re right that Luke… he doesn’t feel right. But–”

  “I get it, you don’t know it’s him. I understand you don’t want to do anything rash. But Mars, you’ll get another chance if you are wrong. Isn’t it worth it to just… try, at least?” she asked. My nails dug into my palms as I walked, still following the sparks along the poorly maintained cobblestones. I wasn’t certain Luke was responsible. I wasn’t. But I did think it was likely. There was a certain oil to his words, designed to make them sound like sugar and slide into our ears. But it was familiar, and it tasted like bile. If all I could do was investigate, then investigating him would probably be the fastest way to do it. I wouldn’t kill him. I didn’t care if I could try again. I couldn’t live with that. It would burn me from the inside out. But I knew I should be starting with him before anyone else.

  But dying hurts. It hurts, and it stayed with me every single time it happened. I didn’t want to start with him, not because I could be wrong, but because I could be right. Dying hurt so much, and I just wanted a break. I wanted to breathe.

  “I just… I’ll be more prepared to confront him,” I answered. “If I can help enough people first. It makes me stronger, Margaret. It’s how I was able to fight back a little harder every time you– after every loop. If I can save enough people, I can fight harder when it matters. I just want to try first.” She eyed me, but sighed and pushed her hands into her pocket. I sighed in relief.

  Dying hurts. I would do it anyway—if I had to. I had already resolved to face it so many times before. But it hurts, and it’s terrifying, and knowingly walking into it feels like peeling my own skin off. I would do it again. But I wanted just a few days where I wouldn’t have to. But Margaret had backed off. At least for now, we could do things my way. I could get my bearings in that new version of the loop. I took a deep breath, releasing my clenched fists. I kept walking until I found myself back in the market. I looked at all the workers behind tired tables, cheerfully doing far more business than made sense. It still felt wrong, but there was something else.

  “Margaret,” I whispered after a moment. “They’ve changed again. The shopkeepers have switched out. Do you recognize these ones?” Margaret walked up next to me and paused.

  “Yes,” she agreed after a breath. “These are the normal workers. The people who were missing yesterday.” I stopped, looking around again. I had to scrape my mind like ice from a stony walkway. I hadn’t lived in Beddenmor like she had, so the memory wasn’t so fresh, but she was right. As I looked at each, memories like bubbles floated to the top of my mind, and I remembered passing them dozens of times on previous loops. They had returned, but they were all far more cheerful than they had been before. That could have been a result of the unnaturally busy foot traffic they were getting, but that didn’t feel right. I walked into the nearest shop. A bakery with a pleasant woman smiling behind the counter. I glanced at my torn boots and the teal sparks dancing around them. A trail of aura led directly to her.

  I turned and left, walking into the butcher’s shop. Again, a trail of sparks led directly to the worker behind the counter. Again and again this happened. Every shop had its original worker back. Everyone who had been supposedly ‘missing’. All of them were back, all of them were smiling, and all of them waited at the end of a trail of aura. A trail which had only ever led to the dead and dying before.

  “What’s going on here?” Margaret asked. “It’s like the Quiet never existed.” She was right. People carried themselves like they’d left everything heavy behind. But the sparks were still there. The bodies were still there. The dead still existed, and their number grew with every passing hour.

  I didn’t answer. There were too many people around to speak to the ghost I’d built from loose threads in time. Instead, I just paused and watched the threads move. There were even more than that morning. One led to a man, whistling happily and walking casually past me.

  “Um, excuse me, sir?” I said, flagging him down before he could pass me. He paused, offering me a curious smile. “Are you, uh, alright?”

  He only looked more confused, but offered a broad smile. It looked like paper glued to his face. “Why ever would you ask me that? I’m doing better than ever!” he replied easily.

  “Even with everything that’s been happening? Even with the Quiet?” I asked.

  “Quiet? Ma’am, it’s hardly ever quiet at this time of day,” he replied with a jovial laugh. I paused, one hand in the air as I tried to process that response. “If you’ll excuse me,” he continued, tipping his hat and returning to his business.

  “He doesn’t even know what it is,” Margaret growled. I bit my lip, but set my jaw at the same moment.

  “Just like the girls,” I whispered.

  “He seemed far happier than they do,” Margaret challenged. “It doesn’t feel quite the same.” I shook my head.

  “It’s the same. I don’t know why it looks so different in their demeanor, but it’s the same,” I insisted. Margaret shrugged.

  “If you say so,” she replied.

  “Come on,” I murmured. “I want to see if we can find anyone else affected but acting differently.”

  We spent hours tracking those trails down. But aside from the girls, we only found two things. Closed doors and uncanny smiles. If we could find the person at the other end at all, they were always as cheerful as a child at a festival. Much of the day passed us by with nothing new to discover, until I finally found myself back at Livia’s inn. I felt confused, tired, and defeated. But I hadn’t bled yet, and somehow that felt like a victory. I was looking forward to a meal and time around Marcus and Livia, even if they didn’t really know me yet.

  “Hey there, Mars, welcome back!” Marcus greeted as soon as I walked through the door. I sighed. It was good to be back in the calm.

  “Hi Marcus, manage to convince Livia that the Quiet is real yet?” I replied. He looked at me with a tilted head.

  “The Quiet? What’s that?” he asked. I froze, then looked down at the ground. Again, a trail of teal sparks led to the man at the counter. He would be taken by the Quiet soon. It would happen roughly an hour after midday. But his mind had already been taken from him. My jaw trembled as I fought the water in my eyes. I looked at the kind man for only a moment, and then I fled to my room. I couldn’t face it again. Not with him. That acid smile of forced ignorance looked like rotten food spilling over his lips, and I couldn't face it. I just ran up the stairs and closed the door behind me, pushing my back against the old wood and sliding to the floor.

  “What do we do, Margaret?” I asked. “How do we help them?”

  End of the Second Day