Loch: A Dane Maddock Adventure

by David Wood

  “Hold on, I’ve got you.” Ignoring her protests, Grizzly ran over to her, helped her to her feet, and supported her weight as they made their way over to the tent.

  She hated accepting help from this buffoon, but he seemed to know about ankle sprains. He cautioned her not to remove her hiking boot, explaining that, should she take it off, the foot might swell, making it impossible to put the boot back on. He tightened her laces, propped her foot on his backpack, and laid a cold pack from his first aid kit atop her swelling ankle.

  “RICE,” he said. “Rest, ice, compression, elevation.”

  This display of competence, however limited, gave her hope that the article might not be entirely without merit. Maybe she could pluck some valuable nuggets from the dross he spewed forth.

  “As long as I’m resting my ankle, we might as well talk about the Grey Man. I just hope we don’t miss him while we’re sitting in here,” she kidded.

  “Don’t worry about that. He’s seldom seen any time other than dawn. That’ll be our best chance to catch sight of him.”

  “I didn’t know we were spending the night. I’d have brought my own tent.”

  “The tent is for you,” Grizzly said. “I’ll be outside in my sleeping bag. I don’t expect the star of the show to appear during the night, but I want to be ready if he does.”

  His words put Isla at ease. She took out her notebook and recorder, shifted into a comfortable position, and began the interview. “Why don’t you start by telling our readers about the legendary Grey Man?”

  As Grizzly launched into his description of the cryptid, his entire countenance changed. No longer was he a puffed-up phony, preening for the camera. He was knowledgeable, sincere, even earnest at times as he held forth on the subject.

  Am Fear Liath Mòr, Scottish Gaelic for The Big Grey Man or The Auld Grey Man, was a mysterious cryptid known to haunt the summit of Ben Macdui. Most reported sightings were not sightings at all, but climbers hearing its footsteps crunching the gravel as it stalked them. Those who caught a glimpse of the creature described the Grey Man as thin, covered in dark fur, and standing anywhere from six feet tall to three times the height of a man. Some believed it to be a Yeti-type creature while others considered it more of a supernatural being. All, however, agreed that its presence induced terror in those who encountered it.

  “There have been many accounts from reliable sources, such as professors, naturalists, and experienced mountaineers. Some think it’s merely a legend, but time will tell.” Grizzly lapsed into a reverential silence.

  “You really believe this stuff, don’t you?” Isla asked.

  “I believe in possibilities,” Grizzly said. “I don’t just take it for granted that all legends are bogus. I know at least some of them are real.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Grizzly pursed his lips, considering. “Personal reasons. I don’t really like to talk about it.”

  That surprised Isla. She’d figured there was nothing Grizzly wouldn’t want to talk about. The man hadn’t shut up since the moment they’d met, but now he seemed lost in his thoughts.

  Suddenly, as if waking from a dream, he gave his head a quick shake. “I’m going to set up outside. There’s food and water in the pack. Call me if you need anything.” He picked up his sleeping bag and headed for the door. “I’ll come and get you if I see anything. Otherwise, I’ll wake you before sunrise. Fingers crossed that we’ll see something remarkable.”

  When he was gone, Isla turned to a blank page in her notebook and began writing her article. She preferred longhand for the first draft. Her thoughts and words seemed to meld better that way. She decided to focus on the mountain itself: its history and its stark beauty. The hunt for the Grey Man would merely be the framework for a meatier piece designed to entice tourists to visit this lonely mountain.

  An hour later, her work complete, she allowed her thoughts to drift to the summit marker and the inscriptions on the top. Nothing had stood out as being unusual. She wished she were home right now, cross referencing her notes with the high-resolution photographs she had taken. There had to be something there. The latest clue seemed genuine.

  After thirty minutes of fruitless pondering, she accepted that she’d make no breakthroughs by merely thinking about it. She had no appetite, but still took a few minutes to dine abstemiously on granola, nuts, and dried fruit. With no service on her phone and nothing else to do, she decided to call it an evening. A couple of ibuprofen washed down with water, and then she was curled up in her sleeping bag, trying to clear her mind.

  The alarm on her phone went off far too early. With only the greatest reluctance, she slipped from the warmth of her sleeping bag and into the chilly air inside the tent. There was no sign of Grizzly or his sleeping bag. Apparently, he’d held to his pledge to remain outside during the night. Her opinion of the man slightly improved, she put on her coat and gloves and crawled out of the tent.

  She found the cryptid hunter sitting on his sleeping bag in between the tent and the shelter of the rock wall. He held a steaming cup in his gloved hands and gazed toward the east, where the first streak of gray painted the horizon.

  “Is that coffee?” she whispered.

  “It’s only instant,” he said. “You can have some if you like.” He inclined his head toward a thermos and a tin cup.

  Isla helped herself to a cup of the bitter liquid. Oddly, she occasionally enjoyed a cup of instant coffee. It brought back childhood memories of camping trips with her father, sitting around the campfire, listening to him spin tales of Celtic mythology.

  “Did you light a fire?” she asked.

  “Wing stove and a sierra cup,” he said. “The flame is tiny, so we don’t have to worry about scaring away the Grey Man.”

  Isla didn’t know what either of the items he listed was, but she didn’t really care. She was just happy to have some coffee.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asked.

  “Better. I barely feel a twinge when I put my weight on it.”

  Grizzly nodded. “When we leave, we’ll take the easy way down, just to be safe.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  They sat quietly, drinking coffee and watching the sun rise. She found herself thinking that this would be a romantic moment were she with someone other than Grizzly. At least she’d reached a point at which she could tolerate the man. In fact, the silence they shared was almost companionable. On the downside, dawn was breaking and, as expected, they’d caught no sight of the Grey Man.

  At least I won’t have to rewrite the ending of my story, she thought.

  Grizzly stood, stretched, and yawned. He suddenly stood ramrod straight. “Oh my God!” He grabbed her by the shoulder. “Look over there!”

  “If you’re trying to wind me up, it won’t work.” Isla turned and looked in the direction he indicated. Her breath caught in her throat.

  In the midst of the morning fog, at the western edge of the summit, stood a tall, wraithlike figure.

  “Am Fear Liath Mòr,” Grizzly whispered. “The Grey Man!”

  Chapter 5

  Off the Coast of Wigtownshire

  Maddock rose early and followed the aroma of freshly-brewed coffee up to the main cabin, where Corey was already at work.

  “You do realize I’m not paying you by the hour,” he said, taking a seat at his friend’s side.

  Corey grinned. “This isn’t work. At least, not really. Just researching sea monsters.”

  “You forgot to close the tab with tentacle porn on it.” Maddock tapped the screen.

  “Just a pop-up window,” Corey said, hurriedly closing one of the browser windows. “Searching for terms like Leviathan, Kraken, and giant squid turns up some weird stuff.” His crimson cheeks and reddening ears told a different story.

  “Gotcha,” Maddock said. “Find anything interesting?”

  “Not yet, still in the information gathering stage. I’ve steered clear of the obvious up to this point. At least, obvious
for this part of the world.”

  “Plesiosaur?” Maddock asked, naming the creature most frequently associated with the Loch Ness phenomenon.

  Corey nodded. “I’ll dig into that later.”

  “Sounds good. Once the guys are awake, we’ll start working on the strongbox we brought up from the sub.”

  Their final dive of the previous day, one in which Matt and Willis had joined Bones and Maddock, hadn’t turned up any treasure. They’d found a few more coins, as well as some buttons and knives that might be of modest value to collectors. The item of most interest had been a strongbox found in the captain’s quarters. Given its weight, Maddock doubted it held any sort of treasure, but he’d thought it worth the effort of retrieving. Today they’d open it and see what was inside.

  He busied himself with calisthenics, then enjoyed another cup of coffee as he watched the sun rise. He thought about calling Angel, his fiancée and Bones’ sister. She was in Los Angeles, meeting with an agent who wanted to capitalize on her growing fame as an MMA fighter and turn her into a movie star. What time was it there? Late night?

  “Oh, what the hell.” He punched up her number. After a long pause, it began ringing. No answer. Either she was asleep or otherwise occupied. He’d check in with her later. Of course, he wasn’t sure she would be eager to take his call. Things had been tense between them the past few weeks. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but something was different.

  “I hate it when you navel-gaze.” As if from nowhere, Bones appeared at his side, holding two steaming mugs. “Thought you might like a refill.”

  “Thanks.” Maddock accepted the cup. “And you know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”

  “I’m not sneaking. Indians just now how to move quietly, unlike white people, who can’t do anything without waking the neighbors.”

  “Fair enough.” Maddock took a sip of coffee, trying to decide if he wanted to broach the topic of Angel. “Bones, has Angel said anything to you lately?”

  “She says all kinds of stuff to me. Mostly ‘assclown’ and ‘asshat.’ She really likes to work ‘ass’ into things. No pun intended.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Bones shook his head. “Bro, you know my rule. I stay out of your romantic crap. She’s my sister, you’re basically my brother, and incest is for rednecks, and you know how I feel about them.”

  “So you don’t know of any reason things might have changed between us? She says we’re good, but something feels off.” He hesitated. “I saw a press photo of her at some movie premiere, and she wasn’t wearing her ring.”

  “Dude, sometimes I don’t know which one of you is the girl in your relationship. Actually, I do.” Bones grinned, but his smile evaporated when he saw the look in Maddock’s eyes. “Okay, fine. She hasn’t said a freaking thing to me, but I have a theory. You and I are never going to stop doing what we do. At least, not as long as we’re able. Angel’s the same way. She’s got a lot of new stuff going on in her life. Maybe right now is not a good time for the two of you to be more than friends with benefits.”

  Maddock nodded. It made sense. For most of the time he and Angel had known one another, he’d been the more accomplished of the two. Now, she was a prominent fighter in mixed martial arts, and her beauty had brought her a degree of celebrity and a plethora of business opportunities. And, it seemed, Hollywood fame might not be far behind.

  “Then again,” Bones said, “I’m an advocate for the friend with benefits arrangement, so I’m biased.”

  Maddock forced a smile. “Food for thought.” He drained his cup, stood, and sucked in a breath of fresh morning air. “I think I’ve explored my feminine side enough for one day. Let’s wake the others and see what’s inside the strongbox.”

  Belowdecks of the Sea Foam, Maddock and crew had set aside a special room for the care and preservation of artifacts. Different items required various types of treatment, depending on composition and the setting in which they were found, and this room was equipped to handle just about any set of circumstances they might encounter.

  The strongbox was locked, but the real challenge was the years of pressure and sea water that had effectively sealed it closed. It took Maddock a full two hours to carefully work it open. He could have cut through it, but the meticulous nature of the task afforded him the opportunity to lose himself in the work and forget his troubles.

  While he attended to the task, the others worked on the rest of their finds: cleaning and preserving the coins and artifacts recovered from the sub. They all paused to watch when Maddock opened the box.

  His heart sank when he removed the lid and saw that, as he had feared, the sea had managed to penetrate the closed box. Bit by bit, he scooped out the salt water, filtering it to make sure he didn’t lose anything. Finally, when the water level was almost at the bottom of the box, he got a good look at its contents: a tarnished pocket watch; several gold coins; a rectangular box about the size of a paperback novel; and a piece of black stone.

  “I’ll bet this box belonged to the U-boat captain and these were his personal effects,” Maddock said, carefully lifting the watch out and passing it over to Matt.

  Next, he removed one of the gold coins. The obverse side featured the profile of a bearded man and the words Friedrich Deutscher Kaiser Konig V. Preussen, while the reverse displayed the German imperial eagle.

  Maddock held the coin up and read aloud, “Deutches Reich 1888. Twenty mark.”

  “That’ll be good for gas money,” Willis said, helping Maddock move the coins to another container.

  “What’s up with that rock in there?” Bones asked. “It’s not an uncut gemstone, is it?”

  “Hardly.” Maddock picked it up and examined it in the light. About the size of a golf ball, it was black, smooth and glossy on three sides, and rough on the other. “It’s obviously a corner piece broken off a larger stone.”

  “The captain, or whoever, valued it enough to lock it in the strongbox. Wonder why?” Bones asked.

  “I don’t know. I see some lines carved in it, but not enough to tell if they were part of some text, or maybe an image or design. We’ll definitely hang on to it, though.”

  The smaller box was sealed even tighter than the strongbox, and Maddock had no choice but to use main force to cut it open. Moisture had penetrated this box too, though not as thoroughly as it had the strongbox. Inside lay a journal. The pages were sodden, but the book had at least held together.

  “Anything cool inside?” Bones asked.

  “Not sure.” Maddock laid it out on the table and, using a pair of rubber coated tweezers, opened it. He let out a small groan. The writing was smeared so badly that he could make out only inky squiggles. After the first few pages, the next several clung together and would not be parted. Not ready to give up just yet, he turned it over and worked his way backward, again using the tweezers to turn the blank pages until he came to the final entry. This one was legible. He knew only a limited amount of German, but one word, which was the same in English, stood out.

  Monster!

  Chapter 6

  The summit of Ben MacDui

  The tall, gray figure stood motionless in the swirling mist, making no move to come closer. It was thin, impossibly so, with disproportionately long legs, and around its head shone a halo-like glow. Perhaps it was the cold morning, the fog, or the surreal nature of the encounter, but Isla began to shiver.

  Calm down, she told herself. You have a job to do. Quickly, she took aim and began snapping photographs.

  “You are getting all of this, aren’t you?” Grizzly asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great. I’m going to try to capture it on video.” Grizzly leaned down and rummaged around in his backpack.

  Just then the creature hunched down and began to slowly amble forward. Isla sucked in her breath.

  “It’s coming,” she whispered.

  “Really?” Grizzly stood, holding up his video camera.

  The
creature stood, raised its arms, and froze.

  Isla stared, trying to comprehend this odd behavior. A creeping suspicion filled her mind. And then it struck her.

  “I think I know what this is.” Still snapping pictures, she rose to stand beside Grizzly. As she stood, another dark figure suddenly appeared.

  The cryptid hunter gasped. “There’s another one! I can’t believe this. No one has ever seen two Grey Men before. I’m going to try and get closer.”

  “Don’t bother,” Isla said.

  Grizzly ignored her. He stepped over the low stone wall and, still filming, approached the two shadowy figures. As he moved toward the shadowy Grey Men, one of the figures also began to move forward, as if in lockstep with him. Grizzly froze.

  “I think we should remain still,” he said. “They don’t seem to want to move unless we move first.”

  Isla let out an exhausted groan. She lowered her camera, rubbed her eyes. “That’s because they are us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s a Brocken Spectre.”

  “A spectre?” Grizzly asked, still pointing his camera at the figures. “They’re ghosts?”

  Isla pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a headache coming on. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Grizzly slowly lowered his video camera and turned to face her. “Let’s pretend I don’t know what this Glockenschpectre is and you explain it to me.”

  “In a nutshell, a Brocken Spectre is a shadow cast in fog. It requires a very specific set of circumstances—sufficient fog plus the proper angle and amount of light. Sunlight, moonlight, even a flashlight can create the illusion. That’s why the image appears so long and thin. It’s a distant shadow.”

  “And that’s why it seemed to move when I did.”

  “Correct. The second image showed up when I stood.” She sighed. “I read about them ages ago, but the memory didn’t come back to me until I actually saw the phenomenon in person.”