Cryptid Summer: Angels Among Us

"Excuse me," the woman said, standing by my desk. "I was wondering if you have a moment."
You ever meet one of those people where you see them, and immediately think,"Oh, shit"?

She'd come to me a few years ago to bitch me out for an article I'd written. I'd found an obit of a man who'd claimed to have created a very popular product, except he hadn't---The patent documentation from the company proved he'd been eleven when the product was invented. I'd written an article about it, and this woman had turned out to be his granddaughter. She'd stopped by to  ream me for about an hour.

"What can I do for you?" I asked coolly.

"Well, I wanted to talk with you," she said. "You'll be getting some old documents from my family."

"Um....Me personally, or...."

"Well, the library. But I know that you seem to be in charge of the history here, so I wanted to let you know. An old house in my family is being sold, and there's a lot of old papers.  I wanted them to come here, and I just wanted you to promise me that you'll check with me before writing about my family."

Well, that was definitely not going to happen. As diplomatically as I could, I said,"I'm unlikely to be writing about your family, ma'am."

"Well, you might change your mind. There's some fascinating stuff. And I just wanted you to promise that you'll check with me before you do it."

"As I said....I'm unlikely to be writing about your family."

"If you change your mind, I want you to check with me."

"I doubt I'll be changing my mind."

"Just in case. Do you have my contact information?"

"I won't be needing it."

I could see her considering who else she might complain to. "Is Diane still the director here?"

"No, she retired three years ago."

"I see. Do you still write for John?"

"I still write for the Record, but he sold the paper."

"Mmm."

She stared at me for another moment, and then turned and left. I turned back to my desk and went back to work. 

My phone blipped, that little sound it makes when the call's for me. I picked it up. "Lou."

"Hey, Lou. It's Ian." My friend Ian, a park ranger with DCNR. "I know it's a little late in the year to ask, but would you be willing to do a program for me?"

"I'm always willing, Ian, you know that. What do you have in mind?"

"Any stories you can come up with. You always do some good ones. Talk about true stories from the area."

"I can handle that. You want me at Little Pine or Kettle Creek this year?"

"Actually," he said,"This year I want you at Hyner Run."

I was working the desk when Gracie came in. "Hey, boss!" she said. "How was your trip?"

I'd been calling our director "Boss" for three years, and I'd referred to Theresa that way in the past. It felt considerably different being on the receiving end. "It was good," I said. "I looked for some ghosts, and checked around for the water monster. How have you been?"

"Pretty good," she said.

"Is that a Fresno Nightcrawler button on your vest? Proud of you."

She smiled. "Got anything for me to do today?"

"I do," I said. "I'm gonna sic you on the microfilm."

"Yes!" She did a little fist-pump.

"Oh, you've been waiting for that?"
"I really, really want to try it."

"You're familiar enough with the system by now. I have a program to give up at Hyner Run State Park in two weeks. I need you to find me some material. Look up Chapman Township, Hyner, North Bend, and see if you can find anything good."

"Okay," she said. "Should I look up Youngwomanstown, too?"
"Good idea. Excellent thinking. We'll be camping out up there, so I figure I'll look into some stuff. The Giwoggle is up there, Clinton County's official cryptid, and the Swamp Angel, the ghost of a woman who died in the swamps. A century ago, they believed that if you went to the swamp and asked the Swamp Angel for help, she'd come and help you with your problem."

"That's pretty cool. We have some good legends here, don't we?"

"We do," I agreed.

Gracie was hard at work when the phone rang. It was Tif.

"Dad, you may want to come home and check on Duke. He's not breathing well, and he can't stand up."

"I'm on my way," I said.

I hung up the phone and went to the microfilm.

"Gracie, I gotta run," I said. "My dog isn't doing well."

"Go," she said. "I got this."

I biked home to find Duke lying on his dog bed, unable to stand. I knelt down beside him.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," said Tif. "I'm sorry I had to call you."

"You did the right thing," I said.

"I thought you should be here."

I held Duke.

"You're a good boy, Duke. You are so much loved." I whispered to him as I hugged him. "I love you, buddy. You saved my son's life. I love you, so, so much."

I got to the coffee shop at about the same time as my last two editors. LaKeshia, who'd recruited me for the Pennsylvania Wilds in the first place, and Hannah, who was currently pretty good at putting up with all my crap. Hannah had sent me a rare e-mail that morning, inviting me to get coffee with them while she was in town.

Hannah gave me a hug. "It's nice to meet you in person finally," she said.

"Nice to meet you, too," I told her.

"I'm trying to get better about the e-mails," she told me.

"I have no complaints," I assured her.

We got our drinks and sat down at the table. Hannah said,"So how are you doing?"

"As well as I can. Our old dog Duke died on Monday."
"I saw on Facebook. I'm so sorry."

"It kind if creeps up on me in unexpected places, you know? I'll go get the leash to take him out, and then remember. Otherwise, doing okay. Got a talk to give in Hyner Run, so I'll be double-dipping and doing an article for you about the trip."

"That sounds great," said Hannah. "I love those little family articles. Paul is so cute."

"He is aware of that."

"I love that blue thing he always wears on his head."
"He pretends that's his hair. It started out with him trying to look like his favorite cartoon character, and then Covid hit, and I think it's now a security sort of thing."

"Aww."

"I thought of you recently," said LaKeshia. "Well, not immediately. But afterward. I saw a cryptid."

"Tell me about it."

"I was driving out on the Farrandsville Road," she said. "It ran across the road in front of me. It was weird, a small brown thing---Not a deer, but looked a little like a deer---And its legs didn't bend. It's hard to describe, but strange-looking."

"We can file this one under Not-Deer," I said. "A creature that you think is a deer at first, but then you realize it's not. I just learned about them from one of the newsletters I get. I recently got another sighting of one. I'll look into it."

"Look, the creek is up," my wife said as we drove into the park.

"There's been a few flash flood warnings lately," I commented, getting out of the car. Hyner Run was up and running strong, right beside the campsite.

"The sound is nice," said Michelle. "Maybe it'll help me sleep tonight."

"I'll get the tent set up," I said. "Then I'm going to check in at the main office, and take a walk."

"We'll be up at the pool."

I got the tent set up. We've had the same tent since before we were married, an eighteen-dollar Ozark Trail piece of work. I'm always astounded at how much use we've gotten out of it; we wound up paying less than a dollar a year for this thing. One day, it'll fall apart, and I'll genuinely miss it.

I walked up to the office to check in. There was a woman working the desk.

"Hi," I said. "I'm the guest speaker for tonight. I just wanted to check in, mention I'm here."

"Oh, yes, thanks for coming," she said. "I'm a big fan. I read all of your columns."

"Well, that's nice to hear. Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to hearing you tonight. Is that what you always wear for these things? Kind of so people know who you are?"

I looked at myself. I was wearing black jeans and my black ghost t-shirt. "Pretty much, yeah. It's the uniform."

"Well, I'm really looking forward to this. Thank you again for coming."

'Thanks for having me."

I walked around the park for a while, getting a sense of the place, and then back to the camp. I lit a cigar as I tried to get a fire started. It was an uphill battle; my firestarting skills seemed to have atrophied in recent years. It was about an hour before Michelle and Paul came back.

"I'm hungry," said Paul.

"Well, that works," I said. "I think I have this fire started just enough to cook a couple of hot dogs, if you like. Or we have cold baloney sandwiches."

Paul thought it over. "Can I have a baloney sandwich while we cook the hot dogs?"

"Yeah, you can do that."

I got out some of the cooking equipment and retrieved two of the extendable skewers. "This stuff is older than I am. My dad used to use it, and he gave ti to me. One day, when my camping days are done, I'll give it to you."

"I don't like nature as much as you. I mostly come because you like it."

"Is that so?"

"Daddy?" Paul said softly. "I feel like nobody likes me."
"What? People like you. You're a good little guy."
"I feel like I have no friends."
We'd been going through COVID for a year and a half now. Paul hadn't been in school, and had mostly been playing with the little girl next door, who was a grade-A pain in the ass. Like everyone else, his mental health had taken a hit.

"You're a good kid, Pipper, and people like you a lot. Right now, it's still too dangerous to send you back to school, but as soon as we can get you vaccinated, we'll get you back in."
He thought this through for a minute.

"Do black lives matter?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"Do I matter?"

"God, yes, you matter," I said. "You matter more to me than anyone."

"Thanks for coming, folks," I said, standing in front of the small audience. "I hope you enjoyed the talk. Check out my column."

I greeted Chris and his wife, who'd shown up for the program, and talked to Ian for a minute. Afterward, I walked back to the campsite. Michelle and Paul were waiting there. Paul said,"I don't want to complain, but I'm not having fun. I want to go home."
I shrugged. "Gonna be honest, I'm not as into this as I thought I'd be, either. If you two want to pack up, I won't be upset about it."

"Let's go home," said Michelle.

"We'll roast a few marshmallows, put out the fire, and get on the road," I said. "Honestly....Last year when we went to Little Pine, it made me feel better about stuff. Now....Now I'm just depressed."

"I miss Rosie," commented Paul.

"I'm going to take a little walk," I said. "Soon as I come back, we'll pack the car."

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked.

I shook my head.

"Nobody is."

I was partway down the path when Paul caught up to me. "I want to come, too, Daddy," he said.

"Okay," I said. "Why don't we go down to the bridge, and look for the Swamp Angel a bit?"

"What's the Swamp Angel?"

"It's the ghost of a woman in the swamp, from an old legend. They say if you need help, and you ask, she'll come and help you. Christ, half the country needs help right about now."

We walked down the path toward the bridge. I said,"Look at the mist coming from the creek."

"That's campfire smoke."

"Well. Maybe."

"Dad, I feel lonely," Paul said. "I feel like everyone will always pick on me."

"That's not true," I said. "Mostly lately, you've been playing with the kid next door, and she's not a very good friend. Hopefully soon, we'll be able to get you vaccinated and send you back to school, and then you'll have plenty of kids to choose from." And because of the assholes refusing to get vaccinated, I now had a choice between my son's mental health and his physical health, which made me furious as hell.

We reached the bridge and turned down onto the grass by the creek. 

"The Swamp Angel lives here?"

"Well, around here somewhere. According to the story."

"I want to wish for new friends."

"I wonder if I can still skip a rock," I said.

I picked up a flat rock and tried to spin it across the water like I had when I was a kid. It plonked right in.

"Nope," I said. "I used to be better at that."

Paul picked up a rock and threw it in. "I can do it. Wait, that didn't work."

"You have to get a flat rock, and kind of spin it. You want to just drop rocks off the bridge?"

"Yeah!"

We found a couple of good-sized rocks, and I let him heave them off with a satisfying splash. He sat on the stone wall.

"Dad, you've been acting weird all day."

"Have I?"

"Yes."

I sat down next to him. 

"I haven't been doing so well myself, little man. You know how you've been feeling sad and lonely? I have, too. I still miss Duke. The Coronavirus has lasted too long, and hurt a lot of people. I'm feeling depressed, so I know how you feel."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"You know what? You and I need to come up with more stuff to do together. Maybe I haven't been spending enough time with you lately. Might make us both feel better."

"Yeah. That would be good."

Maybe the Swamp Angel had managed to find a way to help, after all.

"Come on, buddy," I said. "Let's pack up and go home."

Cryptid Summer: Midnight Prius To Georgia

It wasn't my idea to go to Georgia to visit my in-laws. But it was kind of my fault.

Michelle's mother had refused to get vaccinated for COVID. My wife had been worried about her.

"Tell her we're not coming for a visit until she's vaccinated," I said. "We couldn't take that risk."

Michelle, in a phone call, had evidently told her mother just that. And a week later, we'd been sent a photo of her getting her first shot.

"Well, now we can visit," Michelle said happily.

"I didn't say we'd definitely go," I said. "I said we wouldn't visit unless she did...."

"I'm going to visit my mother in Georgia," Michelle said. "Now, are you coming, or not?"

Which is how I came to be sitting in the Prius halfway across Virginia. It was the first time I'd been outside Pennsylvania in nearly two years, thanks to COVID---The last time I could recall leaving the state, it had been an overnight trip to New Jersey in November of 2019 to look for the Jersey Devil. The last time I'd been in Georgia specifically was about six years ago, when we'd finalized Paul's adoption. We'd stopped for a visit on the way home. I try to avoid going to visit my in-laws more than, say, twice a decade.

I was wearing my shirt with an America map on it, with cryptids on each state. I figured I could use it for directions if I got lost. I'd packed one cryptid shirt for every state we'd be traveling through. I didn't want to think too deeply into what it meant that I actually own one cryptid shirt per each state.

But I had a couple of things planned. There was a haunted cemetery near Michelle's mom, and the Altamaha-Ha, a water monster from nearby. I'd learned about the Wog, a dog-like monster in the state. I planned on slipping off to investigate those, if I could.

Someday, I might travel and just do the planned itinerary.

But not in Georgia, for damn sure. And not today.

I rolled out of bed in a hotel in North Carolina, wearing my Lake Erie Monster pajamas. My wife was already up. 

"Should we call the kennel?" she asked.

I nodded. "I'm worried about Duke. He wasn't doing too good yesterday."

Duke and Rosie were in a kennel in Avis for the week. We'd gotten calls from them as we traveled yesterday, with seventeen-year-old Duke not feeling well. We dialed the kennel on her cell phone.

"Hi, this is Michelle," said my wife. "We called to check on Duke and Rosie."

"Oh, Duke is doing better," said the kennel lady. "The emergency vet put him on antibiotics, and he's up and around now. He ate some canned food. We had to mix the antibiotics with the canned food; he doesn't like to be given pills."

"No, he doesn't," I agreed. "But he does love canned food."

"We put him in his own cage, but he didn't like it. When we moved him in with Rosie, he felt better."

"How is Rosie?"

The lady laughed. "She's fine. She's a little sweetie."

Paul came out of the bathroom carrying the little hotel soaps and shampoos. "Do we get to keep these?"
"We do," I said. "You know what else they don't mind you keeping? This notepad and pen. You can write with them if you like."

And that was how I came to have notes delivered to me from the back of the Prius via paper airplane all the way to Georgia.

I walked across the sandy lawn, careful to avoid the fire ants. The South. Jesus, the South drives me up the wall. You'd think I'd enjoy a place more when the insects are all basically already cryptids.

I retrieved my laptop case and cryptid bag from the Prius, and went into the trailer.

"There's cactuses growing on the edge of the lawn," I said. "Cactuses. I don't think I've ever seen a cactus in the wild before."

"Oh, we got 'em growing all over the place," said my mother-in-law.

I turned to my wife. "There's a trailer across the road that looks like a serial killer stole it from another serial killer."

"Probably is," said Michelle. "Pizza for dinner? My sister's on her way over."

"Sure." I picked up my copy of Weird Georgia, which I'd brought along. I began paging through. I found a mention of Saint Simons Island, said to be haunted because of slaves that drowned themselves in the ocean. According to legend, you could hear the ghostly chains rattling.

"You want to go to Saint Simons Island tomorrow?" Michelle asked. "My friend Mary Jane is staying near there."

"Sure," I said. "I'm up for that."

Didn't even have to be sneaky about that one.

I was in the back of the vehicle, Michelle's old school friend Mary Jane driving. I shared the back with Paul and Mary Jane's granddaughter as we headed for Saint Simons Island. Paul and the granddaughter had hit it off right away, comparing toys and favorite games.

"The island is haunted," announced the granddaughter.

"Is it?" Mary Jane asked. "I never heard that."

"Me either," commented Michelle. She glanced back at me. "Lou? Did you know anything about this?"

"I've read about it," I said. Just last night, in fact. "Weird Georgia has a whole chapter on it. Slaves who died, haunting the island."

"Good! Finally!" said Paul. "Ghosts! Something me and Daddy can do together!"

I smiled. "You know, there's a haunted cemetery near Nana's place. Also, a water monster. We can go check that out, if you like."

"Yeah!" said Paul. 

I walked along the beach, Paul playing at the edge of the water. I was wearing my Altamaha-Ha T-shirt. I knelt down and picked up a shell, turning it over. Tif had wanted us to bring her home some shells. I saw the live crab inside, and set it down. I picked up another one. There was a crab in that one, too.

I walked along, found a couple of clamshells that seemed to be crab-free, and dropped them in the side pocket on my pack. I got out my K2 meter and took a reading---Not much of a flicker. There wasn't much point in trying the laser thermometer, not with the ocean on my side and the breeze. What I really needed was a few minutes with the digital recorder, but that wasn't going to happen on this trip.

I picked up another shell. Nope, crab.

A little later, we walked up to the top of the lighthouse. A hundred and twenty-nine steps to get there. I stood on the edge and looked far out, over the ocean.

I'm at the edge of America. Out where I'm looking, it's not my country anymore. This is the edge of my land. That's always fascinated me.

"Look out there, Paul," I said.

"Cool," said Paul.

"I can't believe I didn't want to come to this place," said Paul in the back of the Prius. He was polishing off his corn dog and starting on his grape slush. With COVID, Sonic was the perfect place to sit and eat in the car.

"Knew you'd like this," I said. "You want to stop at the river and get water samples on the way home?"

"Sure," said Paul.

I turned to my wife. "You can get us to the Altamaha?"

"If I remember the way."

"Last time, it was Jaycees Landing Road...."

"That's right, I remember now. Wasn't that the place where the old people on the porch swing told you that you were going to be eaten by an alligator?"

"Yeah, that's the place."

"I wonder if they're still there."

"They may still be on that same porch swing, for all I know."

We pulled down the ramp to the river. The old people weren't there, but there was a redneck in the water. He was riding a four-wheeler into the water, with a Confederate flag on the back. Jesus christ. The South. There was a sign that said "No Swimming," and technically, he was following that particular rule---Swimming usually doesn't involve four-wheelers.

He rode away as I got out of the car. "I'm coming with you," said Paul.

"Hoped you might," I said. "Come on."

I grabbed my crypto bag from the back of the car, and slung it over my shoulder---Green bag with a Bigfoot patch on it. We walked down to the water, and I handed him a sample container.

"Go ahead, we'll both get a sample." I knelt down and scooped up some water. I was still wearing my Altamaha-Ha shirt. Maybe the monster would notice.

"I got it half full," said Paul.

"That's plenty for our purposes." I took a few photos.

Michelle was looking around. "Wasn't this where the old people were? I don't even see the cabin. Just that set of restrooms."

"My guess is a tornado took out the cabin, and they replaced them with the restrooms. Gonna rain. Lets; get back to the trailer."

I set the water samples on the counter and got out my litmus paper. "You want to show Nana how this works?"

"You take the color-changing paper," said Paul. His grandmother leaned over to watch. I was reasonably sure that Paul had more experience with litmus paper than Michelle's mom. "You dip it in the water and it changes color. See?" He held up the paper, which had turned a light green.

"Match it with the chart," I said.

The litmus paper came with a small chart that had all the colors, acids to bases. Paul lined the paper up. "That one. Seven."

"That's right. And what does that mean?"

"Things can live in the water," he said.

"That's right. Maybe a water monster."

For the first time in four days, I walked into a library. But this one was on an island. And a thousand miles away from Lock Haven. And probably not quite as haunted.

"Hello," said the staffer at the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, just browsing," I said. "I work in a library up in Pennsylvania, and I kind of wanted to compare."

"Welcome!" he said. "My name's Jim. We use Overdrive for our digital services."

"Yeah, us too. Still getting used to the system changes."

He nodded. "We got a lot of patrons into it last year, when we were closed for four months because of COVID."

"Yeah, us too. Did some virtual tours to keep people busy."

"That's a good idea. What are you doing on Saint Simons Island?"

"My wife is from Georgia. We're visiting family."

Paul stuck his head in the door. "Dad! Come on!"

I smiled. "My son. Nice talking to you."

I walked out to the park area, holding the K2 meter. As I approached the picnic tables, it lit up, going red for a moment. It continued to flicker, not a steady reading, but jumping back and forth to red, as high as I've ever seen a reading. I held it up to Paul.

"Check it out, kid."

Paul looked at the meter. "That means there's electricity."

"Or ghosts."

"This place has electric lights," Michelle pointed out.

I lowered the K2 to the ground, and it went dead. "I'm only getting a reading about five feet off the ground. If there are wires, they'd be buried; I'd get more readings at ground level. Something's going on here."

"We're going to take Paul swimming," she said. "You able to kill a little time?"

"Sure. I'll explore a little."

Michelle took her sister and her mom into the pool area with Paul. I shrugged my backpack on and walked around the island. The visitors' center, the touristy downtown stretch along Mallery Street. It always amazes me, travel. All you have to do is sit in a vehicle for some predetermined length of tie, and you can just be someplace. Somewhere everything is different.

I bought a new T-shirt at one of the stores and then walked down to the pier. With my camera, I walked out to the end and looked at the ocean. Jesus, I love the ocean. I mean, to see it I always have to be in godawful places like the deep South or New Jersey, but I love the ocean.

I walked to a local bar and had a beer, my first in a while. It was really nice just to sit in a bar again. I was to the point I reach in every trip, when I'm ready to go home. I missed Tif and Biz. I missed Rosie and Duke. I missed Gracie, and the library, and pretty much all of Lock Haven.

So I did what I always do when I'm down. I went out and researched the mysterious.

 I walked back down to the park area and took a few more EMF readings, getting those high red flickers again.

"Hi, Daddy!" Paul was approaching down the path, followed by Michelle, Jill, and their mom. I set my pack on the picnic table.

"You have fun swimming, little man?" I asked.

"Yeah! There was a slide!"

Jill indicated the large poles holding up some of the hanging tree branches. "Know why those are there?"

"I assumed to support the branches after they got to a certain size."

"Yeah, one of them fell and killed a picnicker a few years ago."

"That's not where I expected this to go," I said.

"These trees are really, really old," she said.

I considered it. "About how old are they?"

"I don't know exactly, but really old. Several hundred years old."

"Ah,: I said. "That explains a lot." I turned to Paul. "That's why I might get a reading around the trees. The ghosts are familiar with them---The trees are the only thing that have been here as long as they have."

Friday morning, on an overcast day, we packed everything back into the Prius and got in. I said,"Ready to go, little man? We got some neat stuff to see on the way."

"Yeah!" said Paul. "I miss Rosie."
"Me, too. Also, there's a water monster in North Carolina---He's in Lake Norman, so they call him Norm. We'll take a look as we go past."

"Can we stop at Sonic?" Paul asked.

I nodded.

"Let's get on the road."