I used my tongs to flip the corn on the grill, picked up my beer, and sat down beside my daughter. Tif was sitting in her wheelchair on the grass, while my son Paul was splashing delightedly in the new pool. Younger daughter Biz was sitting in a chair, talking with my wife.
"So when are you leaving?" Tif asked.
I took a drink of my beer. "Thursday morning. We should be in Virginia in seven hours or so. Thanks for watching the dogs while we're gone. Don't forget to give Kasper his pills."
'Dad. Jesus. I won't forget. What're you guys gonna go do in Virginia?"
"We're gonna see Williamsburg, Jamestown, some of the historic places. Jamestown has a cursed tree, did you know? And I figure if I get time, I'll look into Chessie, the Chesapeake Bay serpent."
"The Chesapeake has a serpent?"
"A big one. Been sighted for about a hundred years now. Michelle rented a cottage in Quiet Cove, right near the Chesapeake, so I figure it won't be too much of a stretch to take binoculars and do some water samples."
"You know you're not gonna catch a sea monster, right? You can't even swim."
"Maybe I'll bring one home on a leash. Kasper gets half a pill in the morning, a whole pill at night. I'll leave dog food out."
"Mind if I sleep over and watch your TV while you're gone?"
"No reason why not. Have a ball."
Tif looked at Paul for a moment, squirting the side of the house with his water shooter. "Lock Haven feels weird," she said. "The city never feels right with you gone."
I took another drink.
"Doesn't feel right to me, either," I said.
I looked up at King Kong, who was holding my son in his hand. Standing around me were several dinosaurs---I'd spotted an Ankylosaur and a Triceratops already, and there were more lurking around. Plus a giant octopus.
Dinosaurland, in northern Virginia, had been well worth the eight bucks a person to get in. Paul had been having a great time, pointing and running around among the sculpture dinosaurs. Michelle took a photo of him, sitting in King Kong's outstretched hand---The place wasn't exclusively limited to dinosaurs, which made it somehow cooler. Kong's other hand held a bright yellow Piper Cub, which gave me a little smile.
"This is awesome, Daddy!" Paul cheerfully declared, climbing down the ramp from Kong's hand.
"I think so, too," I said. "I'm enjoying this place. They could ask for way more than the eight bucks they charged us."
Paul ran ahead. I stopped and looked at an aquatic dinosaur, sitting by the trail.
"We're gonna try to find something like this, little man," I said. "Next stop, Quiet Cove."
"There's our cottage," Michelle said as we pulled in. She'd booked us a small place on a working farm, right on the coast of the Chesapeake. Three goats came running out to see us as we got out of the car.
"I want to go in first," said Paul. "I will tell you if it's safe."
I don't know where he gets these things. I unlocked the door and let him walk in. One quick look around, and he declared,"Safe."
I carried in our luggage. I have a slow, steady way of packing for vacations. I keep a bag partially packed at all times with stuff I always need, like toiletries and socks. As the vacation approaches, I start adding clothes and other items weeks in advance, until a few days before, I look around and realize I'm pretty much packed.
The place was nice---Basically all one small, open floorplan with a bed on one side, a small kitchen area, and a couch. I set down my bags near the couch.
Paul was running around, exploring the place. Like Daddy does. I got out my notebook to check my notes on Chessie. We had plans for Williamsburg and other places, but the water was a five-minute walk away. I was going to have plenty of time to investigate sea monsters.
"There's a trap door in the bathroom, Daddy," Paul reported as he dashed past.
We spent the first official morning in Williamsburg, walking around the historic old community. It was hot and sweaty, and Paul wore out pretty early on, so I wound up carrying him most of the day, which was easier before he weighed as much as a six-volume genealogy set.
We stopped for lunch in a tavern that was said to be haunted, but they served pizza, which made Paul very happy. A serving wench smiled at me. I treated Paul to a soda from a vending machine that served cold drinks, which cost about $3.50. We killed some time looking at stuff until that evening, when it was time to go home.
"We're going to lie down and take a nap," Michelle said. She glanced over at Paul, presently building a pillow fort on the floor by the coffee table. "At least, I am."
"Got it," I said. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk. Back in half an hour." I glanced at Paul. "When I get back, you want to help me with the color-changing paper, little guy?
"Yah!"
"Back in a bit."
I slung my crypto kit over my shoulder---A green bag with the equipment I'd need to investigate cryptids. I was wearing my Loch Ness Monster T-shirt. The cottage was tucked in back of the farm, and I walked out and around the house, to the street, and headed east. I'd memorized the map before arriving.
I hit the coast in about a quarter mile. I stood on a small marshy beach area, the waves lapping at my sneakers, and looked out at the Chesapeake. Small crabs scuttled around my feet. The South. Jesus, the South drives me nuts. It's so alive down there, and I don't mean that in a positive way. There's invariably something buzzing or slithering at you. Most of my training is specific to the American Northeast, where I can at least go for a five-minute walk without encountering twenty reptiles.
I got out a small container and got a water sample, then took several photos. The camera in my crypto kit was made for this stuff; it had an excellent zoom. Nothing guarantees you're gonna see a monster close up.
The interesting thing about Chessie is how neatly it gets around the population problem. In bodies of water, like lakes, monsters aren't going anywhere. They're stuck where they're put. So if there are reports going back a century, obviously it's not one monster, but actually a family of them. So then you have to do the math, and wonder if there's enough of a food supply to support the population, and why they're not sighted more often.
Not the case with Chessie. The Chesapeake let out to the ocean, which was a big enough space that questions of food and population were irrelevant. Most Chessie sightings were probably ocean creatures like oarfish, swimming in when they felt like it.
I stood, looking out over the bay at the very edge of the country. It always amazes me, travel. It blows my mind how all you have to do is drive forever, and you can just be someplace. Like Virginia. I wouldn't want to spend my whole life that way---Lock Haven is my home, and I always feel a little off when I'm not there. But it's good to get away.
I heard water running behind me. I turned to see that I was now on something of a sandbar that was rapidly becoming an island. The tide was coming in, and quickly cutting off my exit route as it filled in the sand behind me.
Dammit, this was another thing I never had to deal with in Lock Haven. The Susquehannna River always stayed where I'd left it. I made a mental note that 6:30 PM was about high tide.
I turned, took about three steps, and ran, launching myself over the rising water. I came crashing down on the other side, scaring hell out of twenty or so little crabs. I moved up, back to the road, the crypto kit still hanging over my shoulder, and headed back toward the cottage.
"Daddy!" Paul cried out, running to me as I walked in the door. "You're back!"
He does this every time I go someplace. I could leave for five minutes, and he'd go through the whole thing again. I hugged him. "I got a water sample, little man. Want to help me test it?"
"Yah!"
I set the sample on the counter, and got out my litmus paper---Also part of the crypto kit. I handed Paul a couple of pieces---He's never satisfied with just one---And let him dip them in the water. They immediately turned a pale shade of green.
I matched it to the chart on the packet, and it rated a seven. I said,"So what does this tell us, little man?"
"It's good water," Paul said.
"Pretty much. This water isn't too acidic or basic, and can support life."
"You want to come in my fort, Daddy?" asked Paul.
"Yeah, let's crawl in your fort."
I woke up in the night, which was about typical, as I was clinging to the edge of the bed. The bed was small and high, and initially, I'd been going to let Michelle and Paul have it, and I'd sleep on the couch. But Michelle had worried that Paul might roll off and hurt himself, and it was a valid fear, as Paul sleeps like he's trying out for the Olympics. So I was trying to sleep on five inches of bed and act as a protective bumper for my son.
I crawled out of bed, walking across the cottage in my Lake Erie monster pajamas. Lightning was flashing outside the window---We'd had a thunderstorm every single night since arriving in Virginia. I got a beer out of the small fridge and sat down by the window to watch the storm.
I missed Lock Haven. I love to travel, but I'm only good for a couple of days, and then I want to be back on my home turf. I missed my dogs. I missed Tif and Biz. I missed the library, the haunted houses, the streets I knew.
I drank some of the beer. I'd picked it up at the local Kroger, which was something of a novelty for me---In Pennsylvania, they're really picky about where you can buy alcohol. In the South, you can practically get it in vending machines.
I'd be going home soon.
In the meantime, there was still a monster to find.
It's kind of refreshing to be on a haunted tour and not be in charge of it.
Or maybe that's just me.
We arrived in the market square in Williamsburg in time for the ghost tour Michelle had booked. We sat down in the audience in a small amphitheater mostly constructed of log benches. Paul sat in the front row as a woman began talking.
"Okay, before we get started, there are a few Yagottas. Yagotta Number One: Yagotta stay quiet. No talking, no interrupting. No cell phones...."
Paul crawled across the benches back toward me. "You said I could carry your equipment, Daddy," he whispered.
"I did," I agreed. I handed him my EMF detector and my laser thermometer.
Fifteen minutes later:
"Yagotta Number Four-B: Don't step in the puddles. Don't...."
Finally, after way too long a session of going over the rules, she began talking about ghosts. She took a long time at that, too, dragging out the first story ridiculously. About half an hour after we'd started, we finally began moving and got to the second stop, under a huge, dark tree. I'd have been halfway through my tour by this point; audiences start to lose interest if you drag it out too much.
Paul leaned over toward us. "Mommy? Daddy? I had a accident."
I sighed. "Come on, little guy. Let's go."
We got up and left the tour, Paul dragging his feet dejectedly. As we walked toward the bus stop, Michelle said,"You don't look wet. Did you really?"
"Yes," said Paul.
"Really?"
"Um....No."
"Did you just make that up to get out of the tour?"
"It's a long story," said Paul
I laughed. "The tour was boring, wasn't it, little man?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," I said. "Don't lie to us again, but I like your ability to plan. Daddy gives better ghost tours than that, right?"
"Right!"
"Come on, we'll go back to the cottage. You can pet the goats."
"Can we get pizza?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, we can get pizza."
"Tomorrow, let's find something to do that Paul will enjoy," said Michelle.
I nodded. "Let's."
It was the last day of our vacation. The weather was fine in the morning, so we drove across the bridge to Yorktown and let Paul play at the beach. Paul loves the beach. He immediately ran to the water and began splashing with his new beach toys.
Michelle sat down by the edge. I stood on the sand for a while, watching my son. Then I said,"I'm gonna go walk over on the pier. I'll be in view the whole time. Back in a minute."
"Have fun," said Michelle, putting on my Bigfoot hat.
I walked down the beach to the pier. People were fishing on the end, throwing bait into the water. If you want to see a sea creature, go where the bait is. I walked along the pier, looking down at the water. Peaceful.
Then I saw something in the water.
Down below me, underwater, it was something big, flat, and light-colored. A ray? An oarfish? Chessie maybe? I couldn't tell. It was swimming fast under the water, heading northwest.
I broke into a run, dashing for the end of the pier. I was grabbing my camera from my pocket as I ran. Now I know why every damn cryptid photo is always blurry. I pulled the camera out, instinctively wrapping the cord around my wrist as I moved.
I got to the end of the pier just fast enough to click one photo, which turned out to be basically a shot of the water with a light-colored blob in it. I watched it going out, away from the pier---Chessie sightings were probably exactly what I'd just seen: Some ocean creature that came in a little too close to the shore.
And then it was gone.
There was another storm that night. I was mostly packed, sitting on the couch in my pajamas and reading a novel. It was our final night in Virginia.
Across the room, Paul slipped out of bed. He walked over, standing just beyond the coffee table, and with absolutely no introduction or context, did a dance.
He danced around for a moment, and then announced,"Pennsylvania!"
Then he came over and curled up on the couch beside me.
"That was the Pennsylvania dance," he explained.
I smiled.
"I know, little guy," I said. "We'll be headed home tomorrow."
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