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She’d been back and forth through the trees so many times now that Miriam felt like she was finally starting to see the forest like Kim did. Somehow, she just knew where she was, and which direction would lead outward. She saw subtle clues and landmarks that her memory quickly matched and oriented for her, keeping her on track without nearly as much effort as she’d needed before. That gave her more time to think, and more time to formulate.
More time to plan.
Miriam thrived on being truly alone. She didn’t feel like herself any other time. Being around people kept her on her guard constantly, requiring her to anticipate every social possibility so that she could respond appropriately, to do her best to not seem like a complete freak. It didn’t even work most of the time, but she felt sure that if people saw her when she was the very most her, they wouldn’t even be able to relate. Everyone else seemed to derive some sort of benefit from social interaction, but Miriam often wondered whether she could subsist without ever talking to another human being ever again in her life. She thought she could.
One personality trait that would surely raise objection with most was her tendency to emotionally detach from almost anything. Somewhere in the woods, Macy sat alone and scared, but Miriam couldn’t... connect with that. She cared about Macy, in her own weird way, but she didn’t fear for her life in the way she felt like maybe she should. Macy had survived Hogg Run in spite of a murderer and a mutant pig, both of which actively wanted to kill her. Despite the damage the dobhar-chús were capable of, Miriam believed Kim that they didn’t mean harm, and wouldn’t resort to attacks unless pushed. And Macy was the gentlest soul Miriam had ever met.
Yet, here she was trudging through the woods to save a woman she’d only just met. Fine. Miriam didn’t even understand herself, apparently. Or perhaps she was just really good at triage.
The mission was over, really. The devil had been revealed to be a misplaced dobhar-chú, and with Kim’s help, Miriam would have all she’d need to write a convincing report. She still wanted to gather up some physical evidence, though. Pictures, at the very least. Hair samples would be even better. And maybe, since Kawa had an injury anyway, gathering up blood wouldn’t be too cruel. Damn. She should have thought of that before she’d left. The blood would tell them a lot about the creature’s origins.
Miriam turned her attention to the mystery of how exactly the dobhar-chú made it to southwestern Washington state all the way from Ireland. She loved pondering mysteries more than anything else in the world.
Either the dobhar-chú existed in multiple places, or someone had brought them in. Intentionally? She struggled to think of a motive for something like that. Surely no one would derive benefit from introducing monsters into the local ecosystem. If they knew they had a mysterious cryptid on their hands, they would have gained greater rewards from turning it over to someone. Maybe not money. People didn’t tend to pay well for cryptid proof—Miriam had learned that the hard way—but at least fame and respect.
No, these things got here without anyone knowing.
Up ahead, Miriam finally spotted the worn trail that led back to the parking lot. No more tromping through the thick vegetation to find her way. Now the path would be clear.
She pulled out her phone and checked her coordinates. Abby’s contact would be another few miles past the parking lot, giving Miriam a lot of time. She thought about calling the authorities against Abby’s admonition, but decided against it. Abby seemed so adamant, and if Miriam did call the cops, the dobhar-chú would be public knowledge too soon. She’d been hired to find it, catalog it, report on it. It wasn’t for her to decide when the existence of this creature went public.
Before she put the phone away, she noticed the cell reception ticking back up as she got closer to civilization. Without Macy, Miriam lacked someone to bounce ideas off of; someone to help her solve the problem. Perhaps talking to herself would work. She had a better idea, though.
She brought up the phone app and punched in Tanner’s number, having memorized it long ago. Miriam tended to memorize almost anything, and despite never needing the number thanks to current technology, somehow it still stuck in her head, perfectly clear.
It rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth, his voicemail picked up. Not even customized. Just a pre-recorded lady informing her that the mobile customer was not available.
After the beep, Miriam dumped as much of the situation as she could in the short time frame given. She didn’t really expect him to do anything about it, but at least someone would know their situation.
She finished by setting a time limit by which she wanted him to call the cops. That seemed like the best of both worlds. She’d get the authorities involved eventually—if necessary—but gave herself some time to get things sorted out. To save Macy and Abby. To assure Kim the dobhar-chú would be safe. That actually seemed the hardest task of all, because Miriam still didn’t know how to protect the things once the world knew that they existed.
Lost in thought, the miles melted away. The sun tracked across the sky. The air was cool enough that Miriam didn’t feel the heat of it, and the canopy protected her mostly from sunburn. Periodically she checked her coordinates until she was right on it...
...and then, over a fence, in the middle of a field, she saw a small plane. That had to be where Abby meant her to go.
She hopped the fence and started forward. A man stepped out of the pilot seat. Short, young, and energetic, he flashed her a wide smile lined with bleached teeth. His skin was pleasantly tan, his eyes piercingly blue. As she got closer, she realized he wasn’t really that young. He just looked it, like some of those actors who never seemed to age.
When she got within about twenty feet, he hollered at her: “Hey there!”
No questions. No accusations. He seemed on his guard, but in the most jovial way possible.
Miriam closed the gap, didn’t offer a handshake, and instead spilled straight into her purpose.
“Are you Radley?” she asked.
His smile evaporated almost immediately, his guard shifting from jovial to cautious.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said, offering a hand now that the introductions had become personal.
Miriam took his smaller hand in hers and shook it firmly. Two pumps, no more, just as her father had taught her. “You work with Abby, right?”
More cautious now, his eyes suddenly sharpened. His young countenance looked shrewder, almost dangerous, as he opened his mouth to respond, closed it, then started again.
“That’s right. How do you know her?”
“Let’s just say we’re recent acquaintances. I met her near Misty Lake.”
And there he was. Back to jovial. Though small, Miriam felt threatened by this guy’s mercurial shiftiness.
“Ah. So you must be Miriam Brooks then?”
Now it was Miriam’s turn to be surprised, only she was far worse at hiding it. “How did you know—“
“Doesn’t matter. What’s wrong with Abby?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong,” Miriam said, still trying to find her footing.
“Well you’re here. She’s not. Something must be wrong.”
“Right. So, yeah. She’s hurt. In the woods. I have the coordinates. She said I should tell you instead of calling an ambulance.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He simply asked, “What happened?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t know how much he knew, and if he didn’t know about the devil—the dobhar-chú—then she didn’t want to be the one to clue him in.
“Not sure. A bear maybe? I found her in pretty bad shape. A lot of blood. She needs medical attention.”
He nodded curtly, not showing surprise exactly, but at least a little bit of consternation.
“Thanks for the heads up. If you’ll just give me the coordinates, I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
Miriam popped out Kim’s phone and relayed the coordinates to him, which he took down on a small notepad that he retrieved from the cockpit. How very old school.
“Thanks, Miriam,” he said with another of his bone-white smiles. He tried to lock his gaze onto hers, but Miriam was quite adept at avoiding eye contact.
“No problem,” she stammered. “I’m gonna head back. I guess maybe I’ll see you out there.”
He started to climb back up into the cabin of his plane. “Maybe so.”
Radley saved Miriam the hassle of trying to extricate herself as graciously as possible, instead closing the door and removing himself from the situation. She turned and walked away, fighting the urge to look back. Something seemed off about that guy, despite his carefully crafted persona—or maybe that’s what was off.
Her mind didn’t worry about it for very long before meandering back to the dobhar-chú. The time away from the mystery had served her well: the answer hit her like lightning. She remembered something Kim had said—that the otter population had been nearly wiped out in the fur trade, and that they’d brought in otters from outside to reinvigorate the population.
Sea otters, she thought, which were far larger than river otters, but she’d bet her paycheck that those rehomed otters came from Ireland. It was easy to understand how they might have mistaken dobhar-chú pups for sea otters. Then it wasn’t much of a leap to believe they’d found themselves inland, being freshwater animals.
That had to be it.
Miriam smiled to herself. A solid working theory that would definitely go into her report. More intriguing still would be that surely Ireland had some, too. If she could find a dobhar-chú there, then she’d really have something to be proud of. It wasn’t often that cryptids were found, much less tracked back to their home of origin.
Lost in thought like this, musing about the possibilities, thinking about all the mysteries of the animal kingdom, Miriam almost forgot that Macy was lost in the woods.
