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Miriam’s leg bounced up and down. She sat on a stiff, unwelcoming couch in a room that seemed far too quiet. She tried to focus on the television in the corner despite having only closed captioning. The TV showed a burning husk of a house, the shadow of the helicopter filming the shot visible in the white smoke. She couldn’t tell if any of the house remained.
Her pocket buzzed. She pulled out her phone to see a text from Gabe. He’d tried incessantly to get her to open up about the past few days, but every time she saw his texts, she avoided him. She told herself that she’d just hit her limit and couldn’t bother to talk with anyone right now, but that provided little consolation. His texts almost made her mad, but that made no sense whatsoever, and she hated it.
Miriam pushed aside the complexity of feelings she couldn’t understand, and instead forced herself to read the words on the television: “This mansion, owned by wealthy philanthropist Radley Coopersmith, went up in flames this past weekend.”
The melting house gave way to a classy professional headshot of a man with a bleached white smile and piercing blue eyes, fine-line crow’s feet forming at the corners. Radley Furey. Or, rather, as Miriam had just learned, Radley Coopersmith. Furey always did seem like too awesome of a last name to be real.
She continued reading: “The firemen have been unable to control the fire, and no sign of Mr. Coopersmith has thus far been recovered. It is unknown whether he was present when the fire started. Police are looking for any information about what started the fire, or anyone who might have information pertaining to a potential gunfight on the property.”
They wouldn’t find Radley there. If they ever found him at all, he’d no longer be in any recognizable form. It couldn’t be a coincidence that his estate went up in flames on the same day that she squared off with him in the forest. She’d never know the full story, but she suspected Abby. Who else would have cared enough to get involved?
From the burning building, the scene changed to another helicopter shot, this one of Misty Lake. Debris stretched across the surface.
The captioning caught up with: “In a potentially related case, a helicopter—belonging to the same Radley Coopersmith—lost control and crashed in Misty Lake this past weekend. There have been a number of casualties recovered, all of whom are assumed to have died in or shortly after the unfortunate crash. Eyewitnesses reported hearing the helicopter go down, but the tree cover prevented anyone from seeing the reason for the accident.”
They’d find the guards. The helicopter debris. The ropes and the tarp. But they wouldn’t find Kawa. The debris had pulled him under, hopefully forever to the bottom of Misty Lake. Miriam took solace in that. She looked down at the bound report in her lap. Macy had gone above and beyond, creating a professional looking cover and taking it to the local printshop to bind it with a little plastic spiral spine. Their first official report to a paying customer.
Miriam expected everything to change after this job. Once she turned this report in along with the physical evidence she’d collected, her little cryptozoology venture would come to a head, one way or another. She couldn’t be sure if it would mean more or less work, but it seemed hard to believe that all of the danger and fear and near-death came down to nothing but a few dozen pages bound by a minimum wage worker down at the local FedEx Office.
Since leaving the forest, Miriam hadn’t spoken to Kim. The last few days had been a whirlwind of medical attention, report writing, and a whole lot of lying to law enforcement and medical personnel. Just three girls camping in the woods, unexpectedly waylaid by a roaming grizzly that had gone too far south. They’d never find the grizzly, but they seemed to take the reports seriously enough, intent on hunting down and subduing the bear that would surely have an unshakable taste for people.
Miriam picked up the report and riffled through the pages.
“Miriam Brooks?” a lady said from a doorway. “We’re ready for you.”
She grabbed her backpack and slung it over a shoulder, standing, report in hand. It held everything except the part with Abby and Radley and his goons. Pictures. Samples. Her backpack held the footprint cast and a thumb drive with the audio of the mythical devil of Misty Lake. In just a few short minutes, it wouldn’t be a legend anymore. It would be real, and whether the world would know of its existence would become the sole discretion of the University of Washington.
“Please have a seat.”
Miriam stood stunned for a second when she saw blue hair. The girl turned.
Kim.
Miriam’s stomach did a somersault.
Kim didn’t have that blinding smile today. She looked nervous. Maybe even angry. Miriam knew Kim didn’t want her to do this, but she’d been hired to do a job and she had to tell the truth. She simply had to. For her own future. For the future of these creatures. Hiding them in the shadows only delayed the inevitable. Someone would find them eventually. Better her now than another Radley Coopersmith down the road, right?
Miriam sat. The woman took the chair across from her and sat at a large oak desk. She curled her fingers into one another before resting her hands on the table.
“Ms. Akana says that you had quite an adventure.”
Miriam nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad that none of you were seriously injured. We hold no personal responsibility of course, pursuant to the contract that you all signed. But still, none of us expected this.”
Kim answered before Miriam could. “Miriam’s expertise proved invaluable, though. She knew exactly how to save us from the grizzly that wanted to kill us.”
Miriam looked over at Kim, then down to the report in her hands. The report that would turn Kim into a liar, and surely sever any future relationship the two might have built. The report that would ensure that the hunt for the dobhar-chú would never end. She’d always believed that bringing such creatures to light would only protect them.
Miriam looked at Kim, their eyes locking on to one another. In Kim’s black eyes, Miriam saw, clearer than ever, the path Kim preferred. Her way would protect the dobhar-chú as well, perhaps not forever, but for a while. It would give them a chance to propagate, move, adapt, hide.
What was the point of it all, really?
Did Miriam mean to be famous? Of course not. She abhorred the idea. She hated interviews and press coverage. She delighted in the science of it, and finding these cryptids meant that she advanced science. But now she could see how that advancement sometimes came at a cost. A cost that maybe she didn’t want to be responsible for paying.
“Is that your final report?” the woman at the desk asked.
Miriam sat her backpack down in front of her, unzipped it and slipped the report inside. Instead she pulled out a second. Shorter, but bound just as nicely. She’d written it after, early in the morning. It contained no evidence of a dobhar-chú. No photos. No measurements of footprints, or descriptions of vocalizations. Even before coming face to face with Kim’s solemn expression, Miriam knew that perhaps the cost she needed to pay was one of her own professional advancement.
And, in this case, Kim was right. She had been all along. These beautiful dobhar-chú needed to be protected, and that couldn’t be done effectively if they were brought into the light for everyone to hunt. Wherever a scientist poked around, so too would someone looking to line their own pockets either with glory or gold.
It was a hard call. One that went against Miriam’s instincts. She wanted to study them, capture them, breed them. It was the only way their survival could be ensured. But living in only captivity would do a disservice to this majestic species. Perhaps nature deserved to chart its own course sometimes, without the meddling of man.
Miriam zipped up her backpack, leaving the cast of the footprint inside, along with the few other scraps of physical evidence she’d managed to salvage. She sat up straight. Perhaps straighter than she ever had before.
“Yes, ma’am. You’ll find my final report about the potential existence of the Devil of Misty Lake herein. I’m sorry we couldn’t prove anything. It’s my professional opinion that the stories are just that—stories. There are a lot of animals out there, and the average person just can’t tell the difference, especially under duress. Otters, bears, raccoons, birds. They’re all very intelligent animals capable of doing things that people don’t always understand animals can do.”
Kim’s face lit up, and something in Miriam’s chest suddenly felt lighter.
“I see.” The woman thumbed through the report, stopping on a few pages and pausing briefly before moving on. She closed the report and sat it down on her desk, resting her palms on the clear plastic cover.
“I appreciate the hard work you’ve put into this, and, again, I’m sorry that it turned into a dangerous assignment.”
“Just part of the job, ma’am. The thing about being a cryptozoologist is that most hunts are going to be failures, but that doesn’t mean we give up the chase. It doesn’t mean it’s not worth pursuing. It just means we’re looking in the wrong place for the wrong thing is all.”
The woman suddenly stood, causing Miriam to do the same. “Very well. Your payment should be deposited within the next few days.”
She offered a hand, Miriam gripped it and shook.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” Miriam said, casting a glance towards Kim. “And your excellent guide.”
Miriam picked up her backpack, shared one last meaningful look with Kim, then walked out of the office. Her perspective on what it meant to do her job might have changed.
Possibly forever.
But in this, she confidently believed she’d accomplished a job well done.
