Anomaly: the first chapter

Deke Jones work up with his wife’s dead body beside him. Her pale green eyes gazed up at the ceiling, giving the impression she was lost in thought. Without makeup her skin was blotchy, but her face was unscarred and bore no trace of the automobile accident which had claimed her life the week before.

His mind raced, wondering how she had gotten there. She was supposed to be in the funeral home until the ceremony tomorrow. Had he gotten so drunk last night he had broken into the undertaker’s parlour and stolen his wife’s body?

Without warning, she turned on her side and spoke to him.

‘Good morning, honey. How did you sleep?’

Deke screamed as he fell out of bed. Getting to his feet, he backed away from the apparition, babbling incoherently.

Rosemary’s face creased in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’

‘A bad dream?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘No. It was a total living nightmare. I saw you dead.’

Rosemary’s eyes widened in fear.

‘I know it wasn’t a dream,’ Deke said. ‘I can’t have dreamed the past six days. What’s happening? Are you real?’

‘Of course I’m real, what are you saying?’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Stop it, Deke, you’re scaring me.’

‘Am I hallucinating? Is this a side effect of grief?’

‘Deke, please.’ Tears glistened in Rosemary’s eyes.

Staring into his wife’s face, seeing the fear and uncertainty there, all question of his own sanity left his mind. His heart told him the truth; this was Rosemary, alive and in the flesh. Whatever miracle or oddity was occurring, it could be answered later. Right now, his wife needed support.

He went to her and took her in his arms – she was solid, real – and hushed sweet nothings. For several minutes they held one another close, reassuring, comforting. When they had both been soothed, he looked into her eyes and asked:

‘Why do you not remember dying?’

‘Why do you think I died?’ she retorted.

‘I’ve spoken with the undertaker. I made funeral arrangements.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I saw the mangled car. I saw your body, your dead body.’

Rosemary leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. When she pulled away, she said, ‘But I’m not dead.’

‘But you were,’ he said quietly. ‘You were driving to your mother’s. The car’s power cell overheated and fried the auto-navigation.’

‘I haven’t seen my mother for three months. I should go see her,’ she added to herself.

‘That’s exactly what you said last Monday. Which is why you went to see her on Tuesday.’

‘I remember making the plans,’ Rosemary said, nodding. ‘I said I’d go the following day, but the weather was atrocious that day so I put it off.’

Deke shook his head.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Tuesday was clear. The rainstorm came on Wednesday. I remember it vividly because it was as if the world was mourning with me.’

Rosemary placed a hand on his cheek. ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ she said softly. ‘We had the conversation over dinner on Monday. You’d grilled that wonderful faux-chicken.’

‘Yes,’ Deke agreed.

‘And the following morning was torrential rain.’

‘No, that was on Wednesday.’

‘That’s what I’m saying, the next day.’

Deke paused while his brain made sense of his wife’s words.

‘What about Tuesday?’ he asked.

‘Tomorrow?’ She sounded as confused as he felt.

‘No, Tuesday last week.’

Rosemary shook her head. She looked at him as if he had asked to her spell the word riddle using only the numbers three, six and nine.

‘How many days are there in a week?’ he asked.

‘Duh,’ she said in reply. Deke knew she hated being asked ridiculous questions.

‘No, seriously,’ he cajoled. ‘How many days this week?’

‘Seven,’ she said icily.

‘Two weeks ago?’

‘Seven.’ Her body stiffened and he knew she was getting annoyed with him.

‘And last week?’

‘Six.’

*

They continued to discuss the conundrum but, try as he might, Deke could not get Rosemary to see the error of a six-day week. She did not even seem disturbed that one week of the month should have a day less than the others. So convinced was she in her conviction, he began to wonder if he was wrong.

‘Alexa, holovision,’ he commanded.

The projectors in the corners of the room sprang to life and a 3D image appeared in the centre of the room. Under the floating app icons, rolling text announced the day, time, local weather and the headlines. Above them all, an advertisement declared sneak previews of the upcoming Inside Reality HV: The Making of The Real Housewives of Beijing were available to stream now.

‘News, Monday seventeenth,’ Deke said.

The BBC HV 24 News app blinked several times, then the entire display was replaced by an Indian woman sitting behind a desk.

‘It’s just turned midnight,’ she said, ‘welcome to Monday the seventeenth of August, twenty forty-nine. Good morning. Carrying on with the main news, demonstrations continued outside Hardie Grant Publishing as the CEO refused-’

‘Jump to time twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty seconds.’

The image of the newscaster dimmed, flickered, and was replaced by a man in his late forties.

‘…said the recent tsunami in California is not evidence of global warming. Andrea Cabrera, founder of the hashtag-like-father-like-son movement, stated that President Trum-’

‘-confirmed the body is likely linked to that of several other victims discovered recently,’ a black man said. ‘More on that later, but right now, good morning. It’s Wednesday the nineteenth of August, twenty forty-nine.’

‘Alexa, off,’ Rosemary said. ‘See?’ she said to Deke. ‘Wednesday followed Monday.’

‘But the announcer changed. One second it was Nigel what’s-his-name, then it was Justin Forbes. There was no break in the picture, no change of camera. It was like twenty-four hours of time just… vanished.’

*

Deke convinced Rosemary to go to the university with him. She’d suggested he take the day off to get some rest, arguing that his irrational idea of missing time was most likely due to stress. He lied, saying he had to go in to arrange cover so he could take the remainder of the week off.

While Rosemary was in the shower, Deke called Esme.

‘Hey, stranger,’ her holographic face above the phone’s display beamed. ‘You coming to work today, or still playing truant?’

‘Trua-? You know why I haven’t been in. I’ve been dealing with the funeral arrangements.’

Esme’s smile vanished from her face.

‘Funeral? God, what happened?’

‘You don’t remember Rosemary died last week?’ Deke asked.

‘What?’ Esme shrieked. ‘Rosemary? God, no. When?’

Deke remembered Esme having a similar reaction last Tuesday. She had been beside him when the police had visited him at work to break the news. He didn’t have the time or energy to go through this conversation again.

‘Esme, look. I’m bringing her to the university. I want you to ask-’

‘What do you mean?’ Esme interrupted. ‘You’re bringing her body here?’

‘No, she’s alive.’ Deke stopped when he realised how crazy he sounded. In one breath he had stated his wife had died a week ago and in the next he announced she was fit and well. Am I going crazy? he wondered.

‘It’s... complex,’ he said. ‘Please, just ask Roman to run a search for any events that happened last Tuesday. We’ll be there in half an hour.’

*

In the double garage, Rosemary was discreet enough not to mention her car which sat undamaged in its usual spot. Deke walked up to the Ford and inspected the power cable. The vehicle emitted a low double-beep as he unhooked the attachment, a signal that the power cell had not been fully charged.

‘When did you plug this in?’ he asked Rosemary.

‘Saturday, when I got back from Jessica’s. It should have been fully charged by yesterday morning.’

‘It’s a fault in the power cell,’ Deke said, citing the police report which had identified the cause of the fatal accident. ‘Please don’t drive this until we can get it looked at.’

Rosemary nodded. By the look in her eyes, he could tell she was beginning to believe at least part of his story.

Deke unclipped the power from his own car – no beep – and they climbed in. ‘Work,’ he said. The car thrummed to life and the garage doors opened automatically. As they pulled off the drive, Deke saw the neighbours’ son on the lawn. The boy looked forlorn, his face pale and washed out.

‘Jayke looks terrible,’ he said. ‘He looks like a ghost.’

Rosemary looked in the direction Deke was pointing, then turned back to her husband.

‘Who’s Jayke?’ she asked.

‘Cora and Steph’s son. He turned seven last month. We got him a chemistry set. Don’t you remember?’

Her face was blank as she shook her head. ‘Cora and Steph don’t have a son. They have the baby, Emma.’

‘Yes, Emma. Birthed by Steph. But before that, Cora birthed Jayke.’

Rosemary shook her head again. ‘There’s only Emma. Deke, this is getting worrying.’

Deke could only nod in agreement.

*

Deke saw a second ghost in the university lobby. Standing beside the reception desk, Marika looked on as someone new performed her job.

‘Good morning, Professor Jones,’ the young man said with familiarity. ‘Lovely to see you too, Mrs Jones.’

‘Hi, Gareth,’ Rosemary answered. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m very well, thank you.’

‘And how is… Jasvinder?’

‘Jaspinder,’ Gareth answered with a smile. ‘She’s good. She agreed to marry me.’

‘Congratulations,’ Rosemary said. ‘I’m thrilled for you both.’

As his wife asked for details of the proposal, Deke watched the shade of Marika turn her head from Gareth to Rosemary to him. When she realised he was looking at her, her eyes widened in shock. She opened her mouth and spoke rapidly, but no sound came.

Already unnerved by the events of the morning, Deke could not bear to see the fear on the transparent face of the woman who had greeted him for the last four years. He pulled Rosemary away from the reception desk and led her through the corridors to his office.

Esme was sitting behind her desk, tapping away on a keyboard. When she saw them enter, she flicked a button and the holoscreen before her vanished. Rising from her seat, she rushed to Rosemary and threw her arms around her.

‘Oh, thank God you’re alive,’ she cried. ‘I was so worried. This idiot told me you’d died.’

‘The idiot told me the same thing,’ Rosemary replied.

Both women turned to look at Deke, concern etched on their faces.

‘What’s going on, Deke?’ Esme asked softly.

‘Who’s on the front desk?’ Deke asked.

‘You know who-’ Rosemary said but Deke lifted a finger to silence her. Her eyes flashed with anger.

‘Please, just humour me,’ he coaxed. To Esme, he asked, ‘The guy on the front desk – do you know who that is?’

Esme looked at him as though he was losing his mind. He wondered if she were right.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘It’s Gareth. Gareth Kramer. Sitting in the same place he has for the past three years.’

‘What happened to Marika?’ Deke said.

‘Who’s Marika?’ Rosemary and Esme said at the same time.

‘Polish lady. Been the receptionist here for four years.’

‘What are you talking about, Deke?’ Esme’s voice was strained with anxiety.

Deke exhaled loudly and slumped on the edge of his desk. He buried his face in his hands as he considered the facts.

He had vivid memories of Rosemary’s death: the wrecked car, identifying her body in the morgue, calling the funeral home and insurance companies. He remembered dropping the birthday gift off for little Jayke Philips only five weeks earlier. And over the past four years he had had countless interactions with Marika, good mornings and birthday wishes and faculty events. Yet the two women before him, two of the people he trusted most in the world, had no recollection of any of those things.

Is this madness? he thought. Is this how my mind unravels?

The door slammed open, causing the three of them to jump. Roman Zorić, Deke and Esme’s research assistant, stomped into the office and shrieked:

‘What the hell has happened to Marika?’