Cryptid Summer: Better Off Dead

I wasn't even done with my coffee yet when I heard the rattling of the door behind me. I hate it when that happens.

The library has an old emergency door right beside my desk. I'm the only one who ever uses it; it's my secret escape hatch. But every once in a while, someone mistakes it for the main entrance and tries to get in.

There was a guy rattling at the door. I opened it and said,"The main entrance is over there; can I help you?"
"Oh, yeah, I was asked to deliver this to you," he said. He handed me a small bound photo album. I opened it and saw photos, with notes attached, and ink marks all over them.

I sighed. "Thank you."

There had been a woman calling me lately. She claimed to have seen UFOs, ghosts, and cryptids....There wasn't much paranormal stuff she hadn't seen. The problem was that she was, to put it generously, insane. The photos showed a bunch of things that she'd labelled as creatures and UFOs, none of which was really visible among the blurriness.

First thing in the morning.

I got home from work and walked into my haunted house through the back door. Our old dog Duke walked into the room to greet me, but otherwise there was a distinct lack of shouting and running around. This was explained when I went out to get the mail, and found Tif, Paul, and Rosie out front splashing each other with water.

"Daddy!" said Paul.

"Mom went to take a walk," said Tif. "Get some exercise."

I sat down on a lawn chair and shuffled through the mail. "Piper Museum newsletter," I said. "Looks like they're short on money. COVID did a number on their funds, and cut back on income."

"Why did you leave Piper? Is there something I don't remember?"

"Mostly Paul. He was turning four, I wanted to spend more time with him at home. I loved the museum, but it was taking up the most time for least return."

"I thought it was something like that."

"I might contact John and see if I can do a fundraiser for them. I might be able to bring in a few hundred dollars."

"One of your ghost-hunting classes?"

"I play to my strengths."

"I thought you were getting out of ghosts for a while."

"Yeah. I was. But for Piper....I'll get back in."

I sat at the kitchen table, late at night, with my new laptop. The house was dark, and everyone else was asleep. Even Duke, curled up on his dog bed. Just me.

I took a deep breath, and then typed out an e-mail to the president of the Piper Museum, offering to do a ghost-hunting fundraiser to help. Then I turned off the computer, and went into the other room to watch TV.

Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the kitchen, checking to see if there was any reply.

Nothing.

I opened a beer and went back to the TV.

I checked again before going to bed.

And again when I got up in the morning.

Nothing yet.

I checked when I got to work.

Also six times throughout the day.

I checked again when I got home.

It's possible I was taking this thing too seriously.

Four days later, the reply came in.

"Yes!"

"Are we going to see the Jersey Devil?" asked Paul.

"You never know," I said, walking Rosie down our street. "The last time the Jersey Devil was seen at the paper factory was a hundred and twelve years ago. But maybe."

I love our neighborhood. There's history, haunted houses, a crytpid or two, and underground tunnels and caverns everywhere. I never want to move. Also, moving is a pain in the ass.

"Tell me about the Jerset Devil, Daddy," said Paul.

We turned the corner and headed down toward the paper factory. "The Jersey Devil is from New Jersey," I said. "It was born about three hundred years ago. It's kind of a flying kangaroo horse creature, and it gets seen in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. It was seen in Lock Haven a few times in the winter of 1909."

'That's cool," said Paul.

His hand slipped into mine. Sometimes he wants to hold hands as we walk, and sometimes not.

"Looks like it's going to rain," he said.

I nodded. "We could be in for a storm."

"Does the Jersey Devil like storms?"

"Not as much as Thunderbirds," I said.

"Sorry I'm the only one who came to your birdwatching program, Daddy," said Tif.

"Don't be," I said. "I got some time with my daughter, and I managed to hold a program without having to deal with the general public. This is basically best-case scenario, unless we see a Piasa Bird."

We were sitting out on the southwest lawn of the library, with binoculars and a camera, looking for birds. 

"President John okayed the fundraiser," I said. "It's set for July 10th. I've started advertising; I hope I get a crowd."

"Let's hope," said Tif. 

"I'm going to have to practice a bit," I said. "I haven't investigated a haunted place since Gwen died. I'm out of practice."

"You've been doing this for years. You know what you're doing."

"Well, I need to brush up a little. You know the last three months is the longest I've gone without ghost hunting since, what, 2007 maybe. Before I can teach it again, it'd be best for me to find a place to investigate."

"Where you thinking? Highland?"

"I can investigate Highland anytime I want. And I've spent the last year investigating nothing but our place and the library. I need someplace a little challenging. Somewhere different."

"Have anywhere in mind?"
I looked across the street. "I might have some ideas."

I watched as Rosie raced around on the grass, pursued by three other dogs. We'd recently discovered a dog park in Flemington, and we'd been taking her there in the evenings to wear her out. She loved playing with the other dogs. Her best friend was Jackson, a giant black thing who was very gentle with her. 

"Think I'll walk over to Flemington Cemetery," I said. "Paul, you want to come with me?"

"No, I'll stay here with Rosie," said Paul.

"Okay," I said. "Back in a bit."

I grabbed my pack and left the dog park, leaving Paul and my wife to watch the blur that was Rosie. I walked up past the playground, through the bowling alley parking lot, and across High Street to the cemetery.

The Flemington Cemetery had been around since the 1840s. Originally intended as the site of a church, a man had fallen during construction and died. They'd buried him where he lay, scrapped the church, and made it into a cemetery. It would do as well as anywhere for retraining.

I dug into my pack. For the first time in a quarter of a year, I held my laser thermometer, digital recorder, and EMF detector. I was wearing my black jacket with all the buttons and patches on it, and my Snallygaster shirt.

"Time to work."

Taking photos, I walked through the cemetery. Flemington is a lovely cemetery. I mean, it's not Highland, but it's a beautiful, historic spot on top of a hill. I had a selection of old tombstones to work with. I needed one where the birth and death dates were close together. I needed the grave of a child.

I looked at the stones as I walked through the cemetery. Zinck---Nineteen years old; a possible. I got a high temperature reading on the stone of Margaret Keller---Not even one year old; I'd have to consider that. Weiler---Two years old. Maybe.

I was over the hill when I found the best one.

There was a plot for the Bryerton family, marked off by a concrete barrier. The parents were buried there, and a twenty-year-old son who'd died in 1900. And, next to that, two white stone lambs that were just barely visible over the grass.

As a general rule, lambs meant a child's grave. There were obviously more to see of the markers, but over the years they'd sunk too much and become buried. The only thing I could see were the stone lambs themselves. Not a child's grave---The grave of two unidentified children.

I got out my digital recorder.

Cue the Rocky theme.

I was sitting in a haunted house with a beer. I'm allowed to do that when it's my own haunted house. I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop, Duke at my feet. I was drinking Labbatt---Goddamn COVID had caused a shortage of some beers, and my usual favorite was commonly out lately.

My wife came into the dark room. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Checking my messages. What are you doing up? You went to bed two hours ago."

"Couldn't sleep. Too hot. Anything interesting?"

"Kevin sent me an e-mail from New Jersey. He's discovered old articles about a new cryptid in Potter County."

"This is what you do after everyone else goes to bed?"

"Articles in the Potter County newspaper from 1897 talked about hunters encountering this weird, gorilla-like creature with a hairy head and tusks. The paper did an investigation into it, and found other witnesses. They suggested it was some sort of escapee from a traveling circus show, and said it probably ran further south, down toward Kettle Creek."

"You going to look into this?"

"Yeah, I might get an article out of it for the PA Wilds. I'll pitch it to Hannah, and if she doesn't respond, I'll know she likes the idea."

President John was coming out the downstairs door as I was coming in. It was my first time at the Piper Museum in quite a while....It used to be practically daily.

"Hi, John," I said. "Came in to pick up the key, like you asked."

"Oh, sure," he said. It had been quite a while since I'd seen him. He'd grown a little older, looked maybe a little more frail. "Come on up. You can see the new space."

We got in the elevator. "Love your articles," he said as we rode up to the third floor. "They're really good. I read every crumb, every week."

I smiled. "That means a lot."

We got out on the third floor and walked across the hall. What had once been a big, empty room had now been converted into a party room, with tables and chairs arranged throughout. I said,"This is great."

"You can rearrange it however you like," said John.

I shook my head. "It's perfect the way it is. I won't have to change a thing."

"So, you coming back to help us out?"

I nodded.

"Whenever you need me."

Saturday night. Quarter to seven. John and I opened up the third floor and turned the lights on. I moved a chair out onto the floor for him, and I was getting my equipment set up on the table. I was wearing the new outfit---My black shirt with the ghost on it, my yellow Piper bandanna, and one of my jackets with all the buttons and badges on it.

People began filing in, and I took their money. A teenaged girl came in, with light brown hair and a blue bandanna. I fist-bumped her. The kid had been doing some volunteer work for me at the library.

"Gracie! Good to see you. Thanks for coming."

She smiled shyly. "Thanks for inviting me."

We wound up with about a dozen people, plus a support dog. Everyone chose tables, and I took a deep breath.

Okay. I've been out of ghost hunting for a while. But I've practiced, I know this, and it's time again. 

Let's do this.

"Thank you for coming," I said. "With all of you here, plus my own donation, we've made a hundred and twenty dollars for the Piper Museum." Everyone applauded as I handed the money to John. "Tonight, I'm going to teach you how to responsibly, scientifically investigate both ghosts and UFOs. How many of you watch the ghost-hunting TV shows?" A couple of hands went up. "Yeah, forget all that. They really dramatize it on the TV shows. Let me show you how it's really done."

I began with the historic research, and taught all that I could. I moved on to the equipment, showing the cameras, digital recorders, laser thermometers, and K2 meters.

A woman raised her hand. "Could that detect a pacemaker?"

"Hmm. Good question," I said. "I've never been asked that before."

"Because my husband has a pacemaker."

"Well, let's find out." I walked over to the table and handed her the K2 meter. She held it up to her husband's chest, and the lights went up to red.

Everyone laughed. I said,"Hunh. That actually works. You have batteries that need to be changed about every five years, am I right?"

He nodded. "Just had it done last year."

"Well, it's still working, apparently." I walked back to the table and spread my equipment out. "Let's do a practice investigation. Who wants to borrow my equipment?"

Gracie was the first one to jump up. "I want that thing in your hand."

I handed her the laser thermometer. She began checking temperatures around the kitchen area, and I handed out a few other pieces of equipment to the crowd. After a few minutes, I said,"Let's sit down and do an EVP session."

We all sat down at the tables. I decided to sit with Gracie, and I picked up my digital recorder.

"Be patient with me," I said. "I just recently got this model. I like it because it's rechargeable---I don't have to mess around carrying batteries. But I'm still learning the buttons."

I turned it on, and set it on the table. And, for the first time in months, I flipped the switch.

"Recording," I said. "Third floor of the Piper Museum, July tenth, eight-forty-five PM."

"I'm here." Barb arrived at the main desk on the hour. That's our signal---"I'm here" is what we all say to signify the changing of the guard. I stood up. I had a researcher going through the microfilm, young Gracie helping to file the obit index, and a new book about cryptids that Mel had just gotten me from ILL.

"Thanks, Barb. Be at my desk if you need me."

"Hey. That donation you made. On the memorial, is that all you want the name to say?"

"Yeah, just like I wrote on the form."

"So the plate will just say 'In memory of Baby Gwen'."

I nodded.

"Yeah. That's all I need."

I pulled my bike into the driveway of the house. I stopped for a moment to look around....It was the first time I'd been here in a year and a half..

I walked up the path. I didn't have to ring the doorbell; Millie saw me coming and opened the door. I reached out and gave her a hug. Millie, not normally a hugger, hugged back.

It was the first LHPS meeting since February of 2020. We all arrived. Ashlin, Charlie, and SaraLee. Hugs and greetings, and then we sat down to get to work. Just me and my friends....For the first time in a long time.