Cavern

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Connie dipped her paddle into the water, careful not to clack the blade against the gunwale of the canoe. She’d already done it once, eliciting a sharp rebuke from Nelli. Connie loved her sister, but sometimes Nelli could be a downright pain. Pushing the thought aside, she focused on the task at hand—paddling silently through the dark waters of the Little Miami River. Out here on the water, beneath the night sky, with only the whisper of the wind through the reeds and the occasional cricket’s chirp or croak of a frog to break the silence, it was easy to forget that they weren’t all that far from Cincinnati.

“Paddle on the right,” Connie whispered. “I want to get out of the middle of the river.”

“Why? Are you afraid the Frogman might spot us?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Nelli hissed. “Well, afraid isn’t the right word. I just don’t want to scare him away.”

“Right,” Connie whispered. “Because he really exists.”

“I heard that.”

Connie rolled her eyes and kept paddling. Why did she let Nelli talk her into these crazy things? When they were kids, Nelli had been fascinated with unsolved mysteries. At age twelve, she’d canvassed their neighborhood in search of witnesses to an abduction that had taken place ten years earlier. Of course, she’d brought Connie along as a pack mule to carry her notebooks and oversized tape recorder. They managed to hit about ten houses before someone called their mother. As the years went by, Connie’s interests expanded to include lost treasures, the supernatural, and cryptids—creatures like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. Thanks to her sister’s domineering personality, Connie now had a misdemeanor on her record for trespassing in an alleged haunted house, although the charge was soon to be expunged from her record, provided she stayed out of trouble.

“Are you sure we’re not going to get busted?” she asked.

“By whom? And for what?” It’s not illegal to take a canoe out on the river.

Connie sighed. Nelli was probably right. And even when she wasn’t right, she wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“I still can’t believe you actually think giant frog people live in the river.”

“They aren’t giant, at least not compared to a human,” Nelli said. “They’re only four feet tall, maybe five.”

Connie gritted her teeth, wondering if a joke about their comparative heights was coming. Connie was of average height, but Nelli stood 5’10” without heels or hairspray, and she never let Connie forget it. But the joke didn’t come.

“And I don’t necessarily believe that the Frogman exists; I just think it’s worth investigating.”

Connie rolled her eyes. “Because of one crappy photo a drunk teenager took with his cell phone?”

“Yes, and I don’t care what anyone says. That photo can’t be easily explained away.”

I don’t care what anyone says. That summed up Nelli in a nutshell. She was older, more forceful, even taller than Connie, and she sometimes lorded it over her. Connie bit back a retort. It was her own fault for letting Nellie push her around. Which was the reason they were now out here searching for a four-foot tall frog-human hybrid with big glowing eyes.

“Connie! Look over there!” Nelli’s soft whisper scarcely reached her ears.

“You can’t scare me, Nelli.”

“I’m not joking. Look over there to the left. Just beyond that fallen log.”

Connie scanned the shoreline, wondering what had caught her sister’s attention. Probably a boulder or a stump. Every shadow seemed to be alive on a night like this.

And then she saw it. A dark, hunched shape moving near the shoreline, a faint, unearthly glow surrounding it.

“Keep the canoe still. I want to get pictures.”

Connie’s heart raced. Cold sweat dripped down the back of her neck.

“I’d rather just turn around and go back.”

“Not a chance.”

The camera’s shutter click sounded like gunfire in the silence. Another click, then another. Connie’s heart thrummed a rapid beat. Could that thing, whatever it was, hear the sound of the camera? What would it do if they drew its attention? She tried to tell herself there must be a rational explanation for what they were seeing, but she couldn’t quite make herself believe it.

“I need to get closer,” Nelli whispered.

“Hell, no!”

“I can’t get a good angle.”

“I do not care,” Connie said slowly, emphasizing each syllable. “I am not getting closer to the shore.”

Nelli let out an exasperated huff of breath. “Fine. Maybe if I stand up I can see over those reeds.

Before Connie could protest, the canoe wobbled.

“Conni, don’t stand up in the canoe.”

No sooner had the words passed her lips than the canoe lurched to the side. Connie let out a curse as the two young women plunged into the frigid water. Connie went in headfirst. The river was deeper than usual, thanks to heavy rain, and in an instant she found herself fully submerged. Her clothing quickly became waterlogged and her shoes filled with water. Suddenly held down by their weight, she felt fear course through her and she began thrashing about. Her hand struck something sharp, a lance of pain shooting up her arm. She opened her eyes to the freezing water, which stung her eyes as she searched the darkness for any sign of the fain moonlight that would guide her to the surface, but all was black.

Something grabbed her foot and she opened her mouth to scream. Water poured in, choking her. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she yanked her foot away from the clutches of whatever held her. The Frogman?

And then her foot came free. Through the haze of fear, she realized nothing had been holding on to her except the soft sand of the river bottom. Now free and properly oriented, she swam for the surface. The current and her heavy clothing fought against her, and she struggled to suppress the urge to cough, brought on by the water she’d inadvertently sucked into her lungs. She kicked and paddled but remained underwater.

Why didn’t I wear a life jacket? I’m a grown ass adult and I know better.

Her lungs burned, a sensation like ever tightening iron bands circled her chest and throat, and she saw spots before her eyes.

It can’t possibly be this deep? Am I going to die?

And then her head broke the surface and she sucked in a ragged, wet breath of sweet air. She began to cough and sucked in another mouthful of water. She fought to keep her head above water, but it was a losing battle.

Where is the canoe? If I can grab hold of it I can keep afloat.

Something collided with her.

“Connie?” It was Nelli! Before she could reply, Nelli grabbed her by the hair. “Help me! I can’t stay afloat.”

Connie closed her eyes as she was forced under the surface again. She had read about this—a drowning person became so panicked that she would take others down with her in her struggle to remain afloat. She fought to break Nelli’s grip on her, but her sister was out of control. No sooner had Connie managed to untangle Nelli’s hands from her hair than Nelli began kicking like Chuck Norris after too much espresso. A sharp, bony knee caught Connie in the forehead, followed by a kick to the gut that forced the air from her lungs.

Dizzy, out of breath, and exhausted, she stopped fighting.

That’s it. I give up.

She sank, frightened but beyond caring.

And then powerful arms circled her chest and hauled her upward. She was dreaming, hallucinating. Or maybe an angel was carrying her up to heaven?

She broke the surface again, reflexively took a deep breath. Her throat burned and her body was like lead.

“Just lie back,” a voice said in her ear. “Keep breathing, float if you can, and let me take you to shore.”

She tried to ask about Nelli, but all she could manage was to keep sucking in life-giving oxygen.

After what felt like an eternity, her heels struck the riverbed and their progress halted.

“Here, let me help you stand,” the voice said.

She found her footing and, with support, managed to stand on wobbly legs like a newborn foal. In the faint light, she could finally see her rescuer. He as a sturdily built man of above average height, short, blond hair, and light colored eyes. Maybe blue?

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “Your friend is okay. My buddy’s got her.”

Relief flooded through her, turning her knees to rubber.

“Easy,” the man said. “Do you need me to carry you?

Connie shook her head slowly. “No,” she gasped. “I’ll be all right.” The man helped her make her way to the shore where she plopped down on the soft earth. To her right, she saw Nelli being helped to shore by a huge man with long, dark hair. The moonlight highlighted his facial features, revealing him to be Native American.

“Who are you?” Connie asked.

“That’s Bones,” her rescuer pointed at the big man, “and I’m Dane Maddock.”