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Though Tanner and Macy weren’t completely dismissing her crusade, Miriam could tell by their tepid support that she wasn’t going to convince them to forgo their entire spring break on a lark. They just didn’t understand. This creature of the deep presented a curiosity to be studied, yes, but it also meant so much more. She’d been on an uncountable number of monster hunts, but all they’d ever found were pranksters and out-of-place animals, with the lone exception being a government experiment that didn’t quite qualify as a cryptid. This was her chance to do something her father never could. Her chance to prove that she could be better than he. Her chance to make Cornelius’ death mean something.
When she parked in the public lot next to a seedy motel, Miriam felt alive with purpose, but after stepping outside and taking one deep breath, she almost lost her lunch. The stench was overwhelming. Missouri had fishing, of course, but nothing like this. The boats lined the piers so closely that she couldn’t fathom how they managed to park. Burly men (and a few equally burly women) went about their business working nets and tossing around dead fish. It looked like thankless work.
If Miriam intended to change the world by discovering something new, she would have to do it on a shoestring budget. Macy had only reluctantly handed over one third of what she called their clubbing money so that Miriam could try to turn it into boating money instead. The marinas charged too much for charters, so this jumble of fishing boats represented her next best option. On the plus side, Miriam suspected that they’d know the waters better anyway.
She took off toward the dock, eying each boat and trying to get a sense of which she’d have the best luck with. There were newer boats, older boats, scary boats, and happy boats, but none of that told her which one would have the most amenable captain. She chose a small boat nearest her with only one person onboard. The curly blue script on the side read Mama Jean.
Awkwardly, Miriam waved at the man on the deck. “Hi. I’m Miriam.”
The man smiled and started toward her with a youthful exuberance. He was lean and tall with dark skin and well-defined muscles beneath his ratty clothes, and he wore a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses. When he got to her side of the boat, the man planted one hand on the side and landed firmly with a creaky thud onto the wooden planks stretching before her.
“Hi there, pretty lady. Lost?”
Miriam bristled slightly at being called “pretty lady” but didn’t take it as a threat.
“No. Not lost. Um. I’m looking for a charter. I have a...” She paused to find the least alerting words. “School project. Uh. For my oceanography class.”
“I see there,” he said with a solemn nod. “That’s quite a project. Me and Mama Jean might be able to help you. Providing you’re able to go out tonight. That’s when Mama Jean helps me find all the fishes.”
He seemed trustworthy enough. Friendly. She’d bring Tanner along just in case. This man was strong and sure, but Tanner was bigger and better-trained. She hated having to rely on him like that, but she needed to ensure that Mama Jean’s captain wouldn’t pose a threat.
“It’ll be me and a friend,” she said. “Maybe two friends. How much?”
“Oh, let me think,” he said, counting off fingers on his hands. “Three people means less fish. I could take ya out for a coupla hours. Hundred bucks.”
Miriam swallowed hard. More people and less fish made sense mathematically, but she doubted Mama Jean ever reached capacity. There’d be plenty of room for three more people. She hated negotiating, but her third of the clubbing money was just barely a hundred dollars, and she couldn’t spend it all on one charter.
She fought back. “You’re telling me you fill Mama Jean up to the brim with fish every night?”
He nodded. “Yes’m. Of course.”
She wished she could see his eyes. Then, she’d know for sure whether he spoke the truth. The Mama Jean was the first boat she checked. There were dozens of others. Her gut told her to comparison shop.
“Let me talk to a few other captains here. Make sure your rate’s competitive,” she said, drawing up her courage and forcing herself to turn away.
He hollered after her, “You won’t find no better deal, pretty lady. You’ll come back to Ol’ Newt.”
Indeed, she might, but she kept walking, putting more distance between them and fighting the urge to look back. She wondered whether he waited beside his boat, expecting her to change her mind. She hoped he would chase her and offer her a better deal, but she heard no footsteps other than her own.
***
Miriam walked past numerous boats that didn’t quite look right. Too gnarly. Too old. Most of the crews looked considerably less friendly than Ol’ Newt. She took a shot on a few of the boats that looked less imposing, but no one had time for a little girl with a science project. They all had deadlines and quotas, and routines they were unwilling to break. Some laughed at her, while others showed some sympathy, but none of them wanted to take a risk on her.
There weren’t many ships left on the dock, and most of what remained looked uninviting and dilapidated. Miriam had never had to be the front man. Her father had always taken on that role, confidently glad-handing everyone he met and using his God-given charisma to win people over to a crackpot cause. Getting people to cooperate was harder than Miriam imagined. She wondered if Macy might have had better luck.
Closing the distance between them, a man walked intently toward her, looking almost out of place as she did in his disheveled suit.
“Mornin’,” he said as they crossed paths, never slowing from clomping across the wooden planks in his scuffed-up dress shoes.
She mumbled a hello, but he was already crossing a nearby parking lot to a shiny black car. How embarrassing. She needed to work on her social skills.
Walking forward, she spotted a black cat sunbathing ahead of her, meticulously cleaning its paws. Her eyes scanned the docks in front of her, quickly losing count of all the cats. As a distraction, Miriam bent down to pet the one near her, causing it to roll onto its back and stretch its long legs. She liked animals. They never made her feel weird or uncomfortable. Or embarrassed.
“Popeye likes you,” a voice echoed from somewhere above.
She stood and looked up to a gaunt old man with tanned, leathery skin. He wore a newsie cap from another era, patchy overalls, and a smile full of rotten teeth. His boat, Madre’s Mayhem, stood taller than the others along the docks, and, based on the worn paint and sagging deck above, Miriam imagined that it had also seen the most years.
“Well, he’s a very pretty cat. Is he yours?” she asked.
The man nodded. “Aye. No one else’ll look after’em if I don’t.”
Her eyes searched across the man’s boat, noticing even more cats lying along the bow and hidden amongst the ropes of the docks. A bigger boat would surely be more expensive, but Miriam felt safe with a man who would go out of his way to take care of so many animals.
“Can I come up?”
The man looked up and down his deck, to places that she couldn’t see, before answering, “Don’t trouble yourself. I’ll come down.”
He started immediately, but slowly. Miriam had been standing next to the bottom of his ramp for what felt like an eternity before he finally hobbled down. He offered her a scarred hand, devoid of jewelry.
She took it, shaking firmly. “Hi. I’m Miriam. I’m looking for a charter. Uh. For a school project. Wondering if you might take a stowaway or two.”
The man’s droopy eyes considered her, looked her up and down, and landed back to meet her gaze. “You look fit enough, but it’s dangerous out there on the seas. Fishing boats aren’t for tourists.”
Miriam responded quickly, “Yessir, of course. I’m not a tourist. Well, I am. I mean. I’m not from here. But I don’t want to go sightseeing.”
The old man shook his head. “Mmhmm. I’m Fred Barker, by the way. People call me Bark.”
“Nice to meet you, Bark. I’m Miriam,” she forced out, eager to get on with the negotiations. “I won’t be any trouble. We can help. My cousin and I have a lot of experience.”
This caused Bark to cock an eyebrow. “Experience? On a deep-sea fishing boat?”
“Well, not exactly,” Miriam stuttered. “But with boats. Our dad was super outdoorsy and taught us how to drive them when we were young.”
“You and your cousin have the same dad?” he asked with a laugh.
Miriam felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “It’s complicated. We were raised together by my father, though, yes.”
“I see. Well, it is always nice to have a hand. I do most of the work myself these days. Ain’t none of these boys wanna work for Bark anymore. They say my bite is worse.”
He laughed mirthfully at his own play on words, tilting his head back and wrapping one hand around his belly. This man was old, odd, and mysterious, but also interesting. Less slimy than Newt on the Mama Jean, but also much rougher.
After coming down from his laugh, he continued, “I could take ya on. You can go out on my run this evenin’. If you’re willin’ to work for it, won’t even be no charge.”
Miriam felt her entire body relax. “That would be so great. Thank you!”
Bark smiled and nodded. “I’d like to know a little more about your project, though. You won’t be needin’ to take me too far outta my way, will ya?”
Of course. What was she thinking? He wasn’t going to drive her around like a chauffeur when he had a route to run and wasn’t getting paid.
She considered her answer carefully. “I’m looking for the deepest part of the waters around here.”
“For a school project, you say?”
Miriam nodded solemnly, doing her best not to give away the fact that she really intended to find a giant sea monster — or at least, the probable hiding place for it. Surely, he wouldn’t understand that motivation. Few would.
“The deepest part’s the vortex. But we ain’t goin’ anywhere near there. It’s not safe.”
The vortex? Did this mean there was a blue hole somewhere in the waters of Cape Madre? Well, likely not a blue one. The waters here were murky and green, but if there was an exceptionally deep hole on the ocean floor, then that could be exactly where she needed to go. She just had to convince this old man to take her.
Without anything else to offer, Miriam decided on the truth. “I think that the monster that attacked that Emma girl might live there.”
Bark laughed harshly, and for the first time Miriam felt uncomfortable. He looked different now, no longer like a kooky old man. He turned and moved up his ramp, faster than she otherwise would’ve guessed when she met him just moments ago. He seemed to suddenly have a purpose.
“Wait! I’m serious!”
Bark waved a dismissive hand on his walk up. Reaching the top, he turned to look at her. When he spoke, his voice was gruffer. Almost angry.
“Stay out of things you don’t understand, girl. The seas are dangerous. Any captain crazy enough to take you to the vortex is someone you shouldn’t trust.”
With that, Bark disappeared into the bowels of his ship, leaving Miriam confused and flustered. She hadn’t been thinking terribly far ahead. Even getting to the vortex wouldn’t solve her problem. It’s not like the sea monster would just pop up for a cup of tea once she got there. But she wanted to see the vortex anyway. Get an idea of its depth, its width. Assuming she could even tell that from the boat. She had hoped her charter would at least have a depth finder.
As she worked on regaining her composure, and deciding her next move, a charismatic voice came from behind. “I’ll do it for fifty.”
She spun around to see Newt flashing his bright smile. Had he heard her conversation with Bark? Surely, he wouldn’t lower his price once he knew the danger she would be asking of him.
“To take me to the vortex?” she asked hesitantly.
Newt nodded and extended a narrow hand with long fingers. “Sure, pretty lady. Mama Jean likes ya.”
Miriam crossed the few feet between them and shook his hand without even considering it. Apparently, Ol’ Newt was exactly the kind of crazy she was looking for.
