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Throughout the night, Miriam drifted in and out of sleep, but her body had given up on being hungry. At some point, Macy had joined her and now they nestled under the covers, tangled together in an attempt to fortify themselves against the grief. As the morning sun streaked through the hotel room’s cheap blackout curtains, Miriam snapped fully awake. For a few seconds, Tanner and the attack stayed in the back of her mind, but soon the tears came once more.
Macy still slept, her chest softly pushing against Miriam’s back. Miriam had never been held before. Not that she could remember. There was an unexpected safety in it; not so much physical as existential. Miriam curled her fingers into the crooks of Macy’s hand, desperately soaking in the warmth.
Miriam’s natural tendencies pointed her towards action. As grief-stricken as she was over Tanner, the only solution she could calculate was revenge. It’s how she had handled Cornelius’ death. And that had worked, sort of, allowing her to at least move forward. To uproot her life, switch universities, and strike out on her own. Well, not on her own. She’d had Tanner, and because of a chance encounter in a tiny Texas town, she had Macy. But now, she worried that she had only Macy.
Technically, Detective Wallace had classified Tanner as “missing.” For a while, Miriam had been convinced that Tanner still clung to life out in the roiling ocean, but the reality of the situation had started to settle in, and claw at the edges of her resolve. With likely broken ankles and land too far away, what could Tanner possibly do to survive? Not even he was that strong.
Detective Wallace had asked Miriam whether she’d like to be the one to call her father about Tanner’s disappearance, but she declined. She couldn’t handle talking to her dad like this. Not when it was her own foolish fault. She wondered whether the call had been made, whether her dad was even reachable. And if he had gotten the call, how had he reacted? Would he even care?
Miriam stretched her legs as best she could without kicking Macy. How would she tackle the day? Without support, she felt shackled and ineffective. It didn’t make sense to go back out on the water until she had a plan. And weapons. Lots of weapons.
Part of her begged to stay in bed. The covers were warm, and the idea of complete and utter retreat strongly enticed her to just sink into depression and accept her life of tragedy. But something urged her forward. The same something that had managed to get her this far. Maybe the one thing her father accidentally gave her: he had forged her into a survivor.
Miriam forced herself from the covers. There were things she could do. Joe Hampton had survived an attack by this creature, so maybe Tanner could, too. She sat at the tiny desk, opened the laptop and started her search with the article about Joe’s death. She scanned it again and found the part she was looking for — Mr. Hampton is survived by his wife, Stacy.
Stacy Hampton. She would know the full story of how Joe escaped the clutches — or tentacles — of evil. Miriam would find Stacy, go to her house, and ask her about it. Though it had been over six months, she considered the possibility that Stacy wouldn’t want to talk about her late husband, but the larger part of Miriam didn’t care. She needed this information. It was the only way she would be able to stay sane while they waited for further developments, and until Tanner’s body turned up, Miriam didn’t think she could ever accept his death.
Cape Madre was small enough that there was only one Stacy Hampton. Miriam found references to her as a clerk for the county, as well as few mentions here and there of her donating her time at local high school fundraisers. None of that since Joe’s death, though. Her picture still adorned the county website, but the little paragraph that described her ended with: Mrs. Hampton is currently on an extended leave of absence.
Had she left Cape Madre? Miriam could drive. As long as she could get back to Cape Madre quickly, she’d drive anywhere to meet this lady. Calling would work in a pinch, but Miriam suspected that it would take a little bit of elbow grease for her to get in the door.
She clicked and typed and searched and read until she finally found what she was looking for: an address for Stacy Hampton.
Miriam typed the address into her phone and stood up from the chair, filled with purpose and, perhaps, a little bit of denial about her situation. She crossed back to the bed where Macy slept and tapped one of her feet.
Macy’s eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and tired. Miriam knew the feeling well; she just wouldn’t let that stop her.
Macy sat up with a jolt. “Did they find him?”
Miriam sat on the end of the bed and laid a hand on Macy’s covered leg. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just... I have a lead. I want to go talk to Joe’s wife, and I want you to come with me.”
Macy looked confused. “Who’s Joe?”
“The guy. Who got attacked before. In October.”
One of Macy’s eyes went narrower than the other as she tried to work it out with her fuzzy morning brain. “Isn’t he dead?”
“Yeah,” Miriam sighed. “But this thing didn’t kill him. He escaped it. He survived it. I need to know how.”
“But why? Just get back in bed. Detective Wallace will call if they find something.”
Miriam slapped Macy on what she took to be Macy’s shin. “No. Get up. I need to know that it can be done. If some random fisherman could escape, then Tanner might have, too. Maybe they found Joe later washed up somewhere, or maybe a boat found him. I need to know how it all happened.”
“Because if you know,” Macy said with defeated sympathy. “Then it gives you hope?”
Miriam looked down at the shape of Macy’s legs beneath the covers. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but yeah. It gave her hope, something she desperately needed right now. She nodded.
Macy threw the covers off herself, stood up, and stretched her arms above her head. “Fine. But can I take a shower?”
***
For the first time that Miriam could remember, Macy hadn’t straightened out her hair, instead stuffing it into a huge frizzy ponytail. Miriam liked it this way, rugged and natural. It hinted at a Macy who could eschew public perception and dive into the nitty-gritty of a good hunt.
“This is it,” Miriam said, as she pulled the car up along the curb of a sagging, yellow house.
They both studied it for a moment, with Macy breaking the silence. “Looks rundown. You sure she still lives here?”
“Only one way to find out!”
Miriam stepped out of the car and met Macy on the other side. The morning smelled like grass up here, which Miriam preferred to the fishy smells down on the beach. The house across the way looked abandoned, even though it sounded like someone was mowing the backyard. Hopefully their next project would be the weed-laden front yard. The house they were visiting, however, did have a well-manicured lawn.
Miriam knocked on the splintered blue door and steeled herself for a chilly reception. Macy hung behind, studying her surroundings.
When no one answered the door, Miriam began to do the same. A truck sat on the curb across from their car, old and rusted with a fishing pole rack in the bed. Most of the other houses looked empty, but it was the middle of the week, after all. Maybe Stacy was out running errands.
Macy shrugged. “Maybe she’s not home. We can come back later?”
On cue, the door opened. Not entirely, but enough for Miriam to see the tall, slender frame of a woman.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
Miriam swallowed, then regurgitated the speech she had been working on in her head. “Hi. My name is Miriam Brooks. My cousin, Tanner, was recently attacked by something out in the waters. Something scary. And big. And —” she paused here for effect. “Not a shark.”
The door shimmied as the woman considered closing it, but Miriam locked her eyes onto the woman’s and begged, “I really need some information. So I can save him. Please.”
A moment of silence passed between them as probably-Stacy studied Miriam’s face, then Macy’s.
“Please?” Miriam stated again emphatically, this time choosing to make it more of a question than a statement.
The woman shifted. Miriam thought for sure the door would slam in her face, but instead it opened wide and they were motioned inside. With the door out of the way, Miriam could now see her host entirely. She was a tall, lanky woman, with big teeth and large, sunken eyes. Even as her clothes were dramatically oversized, it seemed a safe guess that Stacy Hampton was underweight.
“I’m Stacy,” the woman said.
“Miriam, and this is my...” she paused. “...best friend, Macy Donner.”
It was the first time Miriam had ever called Macy that aloud, not to mention the first time she had ever given anyone that label. To Miriam, though, Macy had fit that role for some time.
“Nice to meet you both,” Stacy said as she led them through the small foyer and into a well-kept living room. Stacy sat on the love-seat, leaving the couch for Miriam and Macy.
The three of them sat in silence at first. Miriam spent the time sizing up the room and her host. Stacy looked sad, and Miriam wondered if Stacy thought the same about her. Miriam might have looked that way, but she had a hard time reconciling her grief with her will to push on. Sad people didn’t force friends out of bed to interview random strangers, did they?
When it seemed that no one was going to talk at all, Macy took over. “Thanks for talking to us, Stacy.”
Stacy flashed a sympathetic smile. “This part’s hard. After the attack.”
“It all seems so unbelievable.” Miriam nodded. “I just want him to be okay.”
Silence filled the room once again as all three women struggled to broach the topic. Miriam certainly didn’t want to dredge up feelings that Stacy may have buried, so she thought hard on how to ask her questions in the most sensitive way. She didn’t even know where to start. Maybe with condolences?
“First off, I want to say that I’m so sorry about your husband’s accident,” Miriam offered.
“Thank you.” Stacy’s eyes glistened. “You just need to keep an eye on your cousin right now, okay? Keep him close. Don’t let him go off on his own.”
Miriam glanced at Macy, who looked as confused as Miriam felt. “But he’s still missing. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to ask about how your husband escaped.”
Stacy looked taken aback, as if she had misunderstood the entire premise of their conversation. She stood from her love-seat and walked to the mantle, turning her back to both girls as she studied a photo on the mantle. Stacy sniffled.
Macy took a tissue from the box on the end table and offered it to Stacy. Stacy mumbled appreciation as she took it, clearly enjoying Macy’s comforting hand. Miriam marveled at how natural it all was for her friend.
“May I see?” Macy asked, referring to the photo.
Stacy nodded and handed Macy the frame. Macy studied it for a few seconds before walking it over to Miriam. The cheap gold frame looked like it came from a discount store, but the picture inside spoke volumes about the woman Stacy must have once been. Miriam absentmindedly ran her fingers across a picture of a man and a woman standing next to one another, each one holding on to one end of a very large fish. The man was big. Jolly. Like a lumberjack of the sea. And he was happy. They both were. It was almost hard to tell, but the woman in the photo was Stacy, with a huge smile, windswept hair, and a long neck leading down to a cute black bikini. There were curves under all those wrinkled clothes, after all.
Miriam stood and offered the photo back. “Thank you.”
Stacy took the photo and carefully placed it back on the mantle, adjusting it left and right until she found the exact right spot. There were more tears, more dabbing. Macy returned to Miriam’s side on the couch, and both waited in silence. Miriam’s stomach swam, and she worried for a second that she might be sick, but she pushed the feeling down.
Tanner could not be dead. She would not allow him to be.
Once Stacy had collected herself, she answered, “Um. The attack. He was out on a job. On a fishing boat. Joe fell overboard when that thing rocked the boat.”
“Why did the paper say it was a shark attack?” Miriam asked.
Stacy shrugged. “I don’t know. No one believes that. No one who lives here anyway. Everyone here knows the truth.”
Miriam shuddered. Sharks. Krakens. Both seemed like bad news for a beach that staked its livelihood on tourism.
“How did Joe get away from the kraken?” Miriam asked.
Stacy huffed, a hint of a smile turning up on her lips, before both her smile and her body sank back down onto the love-seat. “Is that what they call it? Fitting, I guess.” Abruptly, she sat up. “Are either of you thirsty? I could make some tea. Or, there are sodas in the fridge, I think. Old, but do those things ever go bad, really?”
Stacy didn’t want to answer these questions, and Miriam couldn’t blame her. “No, I’m good. Thank you, though.”
Stacy’s gaze turned to Macy who smiled. “A soda would be lovely. Thank you.”
Miriam wondered if accepting the drink was the appropriate thing to do in a situation like this. Probably so; if it’s what Macy did. How had Miriam learned so many skills, but never how to be a normal human being? She envied Macy her normal childhood, even if it did include a divorce. At least divorce occurred in a remarkably high number of marriages. Very few children were raised to be monster hunters.
Stacy disappeared into the kitchen. Macy squeezed Miriam’s hand and whispered, “It might take a while. Gotta be patient.”
Miriam nodded as if she understood, but she only knew it logically. She didn’t feel it in the way that Macy seemed to.
Stacy returned with a generic brand Coke and handed it to Macy, who immediately popped the tab and took a drink. Stacy sat back in her seat and nursed her own soda, sending the three women into silence once again. Miriam wanted to push forward. To pepper Stacy with questions. But she held back like Macy said.
Eventually, Stacy broke the silence. “He couldn’t remember a lot of it. It pulled him under. Over and over. Joe thought he’d drown, but every time he couldn’t hold his breath another second, he would pop back up to the surface. He said that it was playing with him.”
Macy must have winced, causing Stacy to continue, “Yeah. Crazy, right? That it would be smart enough to do that. I don’t know what it is. I’ve never seen it. But it’s evil.”
“How did Joe get out of the water?” Miriam prodded.
“Bark fished him out. Chased him for almost an hour until the thing let him go.”
“Who’s Bark?” Macy asked.
Miriam, of course, already knew the answer to the question, but there had been no reason to tell Macy about him. Bark. The man with the cats. The man who was too scared to go to the vortex but showed up there anyway. So, he knew more than he’d let on. Miriam made a mental note to call on him next to get a firsthand account of the kraken.
“He’s a local fisherman. The local fisherman really. He’s been doing it longer than any of the others. Really cares about people. The town.”
“His cats,” Miriam added.
Stacy smirked. “So, you’ve met him then?”
“Yeah. On the docks. Before I chartered the boat from Newt.”
A wave of concern washed over Stacy’s face that she quickly hid behind her can of soda. “Be careful with Newt. He’ll talk you out of your last penny.”
Miriam could feel the heat of Macy’s gaze on her, silently asking why she didn’t already know about Bark. But it didn’t seem important at the time. It wasn’t the boat they had chartered anyway.
“How did Bark find him in the water?” Miriam asked, trying to further the conversation along.
Stacy answered plainly, “He saw him fall in, I suppose. Joe was working for Bark when it happened. Helping him haul fish in on the Mayhem.”
Bark had been there. Across the vortex from the Mama Jean, shouting words of warning across the radio. Bark knew what was going to happen, because it had happened before. But Newt said there were no fish at the vortex. Why would Bark and Joe have been fishing there?
The possibility flitted through Miriam’s mind that maybe Bark had found Tanner and fished him up out of the ocean the same way he had done Joe. But, if so, surely Detective Wallace would have gotten word by now. The need to talk to Bark overwhelmed Miriam.
“I really appreciate you talking to us like this. It gives us hope, you know? That maybe it didn’t kill Tanner. Maybe he’s still out there.”
Stacy didn’t respond to that, probably to avoid telling Miriam the obvious. It wouldn’t have upset her, though. Not when she had leads to follow and hope to grasp onto. Miriam stood, followed by Macy, then Stacy.
Before walking them to the door, Stacy warned, “If you do find him. Alive. Hold onto him. Don’t let him out of your sight. He’ll need you. Living through that changed Joe.”
Miriam could only imagine. Not only did Joe have to recover from horrible injuries, he’d also had to face the fact that reality wasn’t what he had always thought it to be. Having to accept that legendary monsters were real sounded hard. It just wasn’t something Miriam had ever had to cope with.
Stacy escorted them to the door and ushered them out to the walkway. “Good luck finding your cousin.”
“Thanks,” Miriam said.
Once they made it to the car, Macy started talking. “Bark? We gotta go see Bark, right? You know where he is?”
Miriam nodded. “Yeah. He was there last night. On the water with us.”
