Below The Waves

Chapter Fourteen: A Message

Ricky stumbled through the thick woods. Not sure where in the world he was going but he went without hesitation. Tripping over roots and crunching fallen branches. He mumbled to himself. Had anyone saw him they wouldnt have called the police about a crazy person. Maybe he was crazy, maybe he was slowly being driven to insanity. He fell to the ground. The dirt smearing across his face and the front of his shirt. Ricky didn't bother to pick himself up. He lay on the soft dirt, thinking.

How in Gods name did this become my life? He just wanted to go back. He wanted to graduate, to go to collage and start a life, get a job and fall in love. Now though, he was stuck in the middle of something big. Hot tears streamed down his face and dropped to the soil beneath him. He wanted to be normal. Ricky didn't want all this. He didn't want to be in this downward spiral some people would call a life. He wanted to die.

That's it.

That's what he wanted.

He wanted to die. To be free. To not have to deal with spirits and killers and things he didn't understand. He was already dead though wasn't he? He had no heartbeat. No blood pumping through his veins. He could feel nothing at the moment. The earth beneath his body didn't feel there, it was like he never existed. His mental state was questionable. Very questionable. Had he told anyone else they would never have believed him, it was still hard to belive Shawn did.

Shawn.

He still had the girl. He had saved someone! With new found energy Ricky struggled to his feet and ran through the trees. He would die. he wouldn't lie there and pity himself. He had saved that girl, changed her life. He was put in the terrifying situation for a reason, after all the times he failed, after all the lives he destroyed he would finally save one. He would stop this massacre. Or he would die trying.

He cried out as he burst out of the woods, panting. Ricky stared at the cabin, at the lake where it all started, at the fishing boat. The stupid fishing boat. He scowled at the small boat, at the tackle box, at the scratches on the side.

Wait. Ricky stepped closer. He stared at the jagged marks in the side of the wooden boat. They were words.

Ricky.

This is Ricky. Yea I know its hard to believe but I think enough crazy shit has happened, so I'm guessing this is pretty calm. Anyway I don't know what year it is you re in, I'm here in 1932 and its pretty terrible. The great depression and stuff. I know I'm not talking "properly" for someone of this time, but that's because I'm not from this time at all. So yea, there is a weird machine in the basement. DON'T TOUCH IT! That's kinda how i got here. anyway its going to take a while for you to read this, if the boats still intact. but ima be old so yea, I'm hoping to be in the old folks home in this town! so come by, I'm not sure when I'm going to die so yea.

-Ricky (i really hope this all stays intact)

Ricky blinked.

What? With a quick glance at the cabin he walked in the direction if the city. He had a whole lot of questions, and maybe this Ricky could answer them.

Where the hell was his heartbeat? What was even happening? What was he? Who was he? He had no idea. But maybe this Ricky would.

Maybe this Ricky. He thought. Would have answers.