#99: Sea Change: A River Runs Near It

"The Susquehanna River," I said,"Is not supposed to flow that way."

Tif and Michelle looked up from the table. Paul got up to join me at the restaurant window. I said,"Look at that! This is one hell of a thunderstorm. The wind is blowing the river in a way it's not supposed to go---In this area, the Susquehanna runs south, but the river's actually blowing it east toward us."

"I hope we can get to camp," said Tif.

"We'll manage," I said. "I'm glad we're in here for the duration, though."

"Dad!" said Paul. "I think I see Ray!"

"You mean Raystown Ray?"

"Yeah!" 

"Wrong county, little guy. We're after the Susquehanna Mystery Thing this trip." I glanced back out, where the rain was beating hard against the window. "This is a great storm! Best day all summer!"

"Well, fuck."

I removed the sopping wet sleeping bag from the car and flung it over the porch railing to dry. Most of our stuff had come through unscathed. Packing my shirts for the trip had involved two Loch Ness Monsters, two Snallygasters, a Bigfoot, and a ghost. Tif came out of the cabin door and sat down on the bench. I sat down near her.

"Stuff got goddamn soaked on the roof of the car," I said. "We'll try to have it dry by morning. In the meantime, I'm gonna look into the Susquehanna Mystery Thing."

"Water monster?"

"Yeah, it's been sighted in this part of the Susquehanna. A reporter wrote a whole piece about it, some big thing swimming in the water. I checked it out once before from the west side of the river, when we were in Lewisburg. A drunk guy drank my water sample. Now I'm gonna try it from here." I lit a cigar. "Been using this summer to try and put myself back together."

"I wasn't aware you were falling apart."

"COVID did a number on my head. I'm not what I once was. Been too depressed to hunt ghosts; not enjoying my job."
"What else would you do?"

"You'll notice I'm still there."

"You hide this well. You've been a little irritable, but I had no idea it was this bad."

"I'm working on it," I said. "Trying to come back."

I walked down along Chillesquaque Creek, which feeds into the Susquehanna. I was wearing my travel outfit: Black fishing vest, fingerless gloves with skulls on them. I had a Loch Ness Monster pin on the vest, and my green cryptozoology kit slung over one shoulder. I stopped and took a water sample, securing it in my pocket. 

As I walked back up to the camp, a golf cart pulled up. There was an older couple in it. "Going fishing?" the man asked.

"Something like that," I said.

The woman looked me over. "You're one of them investigators, ain'tcha? My son is really into that."

"I am," I said. "I'm looking into reports of a water creature."

I walked up to the pavilion and dropped about $3.50 on a couple of sodas. The employee, a woman with a badge that said,"Ranger Kelly," asked,"Enjoying your trip?"

"So far. Let me ask you a weird question."

"Oh, there's no such thing as weird questions," she said. 

"You'd be surprised. Do you know of any good ghost stories out here? Cryptids, that sort of thing?"

She smiled. "I'm not from here. They're short-staffed, so they brought me up from Florida. But there's a guy who works here who's really into that stuff. He's away at a funeral right now, but I'll call him and ask. He'd love to tell you some stories."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

I walked down the path toward the pool, which was where Paul was spending most of his time. There was a camper along the path in Site 75, where the owner was outside working at a table. The camper had an American flag in Christmas lights on it, some conservative-looking stickers, and a sticker that said,"I party with Sasquatch." That caught my attention, and I stopped and looked him over.

Heavyset guy. About my age. Wearing a camouflage hat, black shirt, and cargo shorts. He was smoking a cigar. He had an array of dart guns and cameras set out on the table in front of him, and, I swear, a goddamn Alfa Romeo parked in front of the trailer.

He looked up and saw me. I glared at him. He glared at me. I held up two fingers pointed at my own eyes, then turned them around and pointed them at him.

I turned and walked up to the pool, where Paul was splashing around under the supervision of Michelle and Tif.

"Hi, guys." I sat down.

"I am exhausted," said Tif. "I couldn't get any sleep last night, because I can't sleep unless I'm sitting up. Maybe I'll sleep in the car tonight."

"That could get really hot," I said. "And kind of damp---The car's still drying out from the thunderstorm. I'll pile some sleeping bags up for you, and see if that helps."

"We'll try it."

"There's another paranormal investigator in camp," I said.

"Did you talk to him?" Michelle asked.

"No."

"Isn't there some kind of code?"

"Fuck him, he looks like a Trumper redneck. I got enough friends in the business---Kevin, Norman....He was over there smoking a cigar, like he's all special."

"Dad," said Tif. "Let it go."

"Never. He's wearing a leaf camouflage hat, so that makes me automatically smarter. He probably believes in gravity hills and stuff. I'm gonna beat him to the Susquehanna Mystery Thing. I can take him."
"Of course you can," said Tif. "How many multi-tools do you have on yourself right now?"

"Does my Swiss Army Knife count?"

"Yes."
"Six."
"Is that counting the bottle opener on your belt buckle?"

"....Seven."

"You think he has that many?"

"Sitting there with his dart guns," I said. "Shady bastard. I can take him."

"Hey, Pipper," I said,"Want to help me do the litmus test?"

Paul came out from the cabin's back bedroom. "Sure," he said.

I reached into my vest pocket and pulled out the water sample and the litmus paper. I passed them to him---At eight years old, the kid knows what to do. He dipped the paper into the water, and compared it to the colors on the small chart on the package.

"Looks like an eight," he said.

"A little high, but still able to support life," I said.

He sat down on his bed. "I want my puppy," he said.

I hugged him. "I miss Rosie, too. But she's having fun---She's in the kennel with other dogs, and having her own little adventure. We'll see her in a few days. In the meantime, let's have fun."

I walked along the river, looking for signs of water monsters. You know, that common camp activity. It had gotten really hot out, and I'd stopped to unzip the vent flap on the back of my vest. It folded into a small pocket on the bottom, leaving the back more ventilated mesh.

I walked up the hill a little bit and hit the overpass. Then I stopped. Someone was standing there, looking out over the river.

It was him.

He had his dart gun on the guardrail, and a camera with a tripod set up and aimed out over the river. A pair of very expensive-looking binoculars hung around his neck.

We stopped and stared at each other from a distance. Cue the theme to The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly.

I glared at him. He glared back.

My eyes narrowed. 

He sneered.

We could have probably done that all day, but then there was a splash up the river.

We both turned to look. Something big was up there, splashing around.

Simultaneously, we bolted.

I turned and ran for the best angle. He ran for his camera. Equipment matters, but there's a lot to be said for being mobile---Everything I needed was tucked into the pockets of my vest. I ran down the overpass, vaulting over the guardrail and into the grass. He grabbed the camera and reversed, following me.

I kicked a branch into the way as I ran. He leaped over it and kept coming. I got through the trees and down toward the river. I was in better shape---He was starting to breathe hard, and his camera slipped from his hands and hit the mud.

I had my camera out and slid the strap around my wrist---I'd done this so many times I didn't even need to think about it. Clumsy procedure there, guy. I stopped where there was something large in the water, splashing away from me and headed upstream. I raised my camera and snapped a photo.

Got it.

He was still trying to get into position as I walked away. Score one for the good guys.

Immediately upon waking up, Paul wanted to go to the pool. Michelle took him up, and Tif took a book and went out to read. I made myself a cup of coffee with one of the single bags we'd bought, and drank it on the porch for a while. I studied the map of camp, looking for places to stake out. After I was done, I walked up and joined them.

"Still can't sleep, Dad," said Tif. "The sleeping bags fell off the bed, and so did I."

"What would help?" I asked.

"If I could sit up against something solid," she said. "It's how I do it at home."

"Hmm."

I sat for a while and looked out over the pool area. I could pick out Paul, splashing down the slide with a bunch of other kids he'd just met that day. There were parents throughout the area, some sitting in the chairs or lounge chairs, of which there were maybe a hundred. Some of them had alcohol, which even I can't get into at ten-thirty in the morning. 

I looked at one of the lounge chairs.

"Be right back," I said.

I walked toward the pavilion. A couple on the way, stopped, looking at me. "Are you Lou?" the woman asked.

I was fifty miles from home.

"Yeah, that's me," I said.

"I read a lot of your articles."

"Thank you. I hope you're enjoying them."

I found Ranger Kelly working the register in the snack bar. She smiled when she saw me. "I called Bert," she said. "I left him a message asking about ghosts."

"Thanks. I have another weird question. My daughter is handicapped, and has trouble sleeping if she's not sitting up. After hours, would it be possible to borrow one of the adult lounge chairs for her to sleep in?"

"Oh, I don't see why not," she said. "I'll call maintenance."

Five minutes later, a maintenance guy arrived and I repeated the question to him.

"I'll go one better," he said. "We have the old chairs that we're not using anymore up at the warehouse. I can get you one of those right now."

"That'd be great," I said. "Thanks."

Tif lowered herself carefully into the pool chair, testing it out. After fidgeting around for a while, she smiled. "I think this might work, Dad."

"I was hoping," I said. "Better than sleeping in the car. They were really nice about bringing it down for us."

There was a knock at the door. Paul and I went to answer it. Ranger Kelly stood on the porch.

"Just the guy I wanted to see," she said. "Is the lounge chair okay?"

"It looks like it's going to work," I said. "Thanks so much!"

"Of course, of course," she said. "I spoke to Bert on the phone. He's really into the ghost stories, and he was all excited." She handed me a slip of paper. "The Rishel Covered Bridge, near here, is haunted by some children who died there. He says if you cover your car hood with talcum powder, you can see the handprints of children who push it away."

I smiled. I said,"That's great. Thanks."

Paul said,"But Daddy, isn't that---"

"Sssh. Ranger Kelly, I appreciate this. You know, you should also share this with the guy in Site 75. He's into this stuff, as well."

"Will do!"

We walked back inside. Tif asked,"Who was that?"

"Ranger Kelly tracked down a ghost story for me involving a bunch of dead kids and a talcum powdered car."

"That's a gravity hill," she said. "You hate those."

"Yeah," I said. "But with any luck, she'll pass it on to the other guy, and he'll waste his time checking it out while I discover a river monster."

Tif and I are always the last ones awake on these family trips. Michelle generally can't wait until bedtime, and Paul wears himself out enough that he passes out immediately. So we wound up on the porch together, talking for a while after dark.

"I figure I'm gonna go take a walk before bed," I said. "Stake out the river and see about the monster. I'll head down to the overpass."

"What is it with cryptids and overpasses?" Tif asked.

"I don't know, cryptids love overpasses. The Virginia Bunnyman won't stray more than fifteen feet from an overpass."

"The Virginia Bunn---You know what, never mind. Have fun."

I walked down the road, along the creek. The sun had set, and it was cooling off a bit. 

An Alfa Romeo with conservative stickers rode past me and turned right, heading for the covered bridge. I smiled.

I got to the overpass, walked down to the bank, and sat down. I lit a cigar. I wouldn't do that if I were staking out the place for, say, Bigfoot, but it was unlikely that a water monster was going to smell the tobacco and get suspicious. And I waited.

Over the summer, I'd uncovered a hoax and brushed up on my ghost hunting. I'd spent time with Paul, and made a few plans. Working on myself.

COVID had knocked a lot of the confidence out of me, but I could come back from that. Over two years of worry had taken a toll, and I knew I wasn't the only one. What I needed to do was find the joy in life again.

Down below, in the water, there was a sound. I looked down with the night-vision binoculars. A catfish was down there---I could see it in the green laser light. It looked at least three feet long.

If I didn't have binoculars made specifically for darkness, all I'd be seeing was something big, slithering through the water. The Susquehanna Mystery Thing could just be a series of giant-sized catfish.

I smiled.

Things were looking up.

 We walked into the small office, where a woman was waiting at the desk. Another woman went into the back and came out with our small black dog. Paul and the dog launched themselves at one another.

"Rosie!"

Paul hugged her. Rosie bounced around, taking turns jumping on all of us and managing to get a few good licks on Paul's face. I smiled.

"She's coming home now, buddy. You get to sleep with Rosie tonight."

Paul hugged his dog.

"I love you, Rosie," he said. "I'll never leave you again."