There was no way in hell Kevin would ever begin to even hint about the possibility of a supernatural explanation, so he just kept on studying the ‘mystery’ year after year, since it was a nice chance to reminisce about the weird old days with Bernice. The more time passed, the more he could think of that episode of his life as an adventure instead of a nightmare.
If only it hadn’t ended with Bernice disappearing again.
Kevin didn’t mind that he had the answer to the mystery of that swamp and no one else ever would. It amused him to hear the theories getting more and more crazy as time went by. And crazy the theories were. How could a rational mind explain that wind and animals weren’t dispersing invasive seeds into the swamp like they dispersed them everywhere else? And if the seeds were being dispersed in the swamp, there was no way a rational mind could explain why the seeds weren’t germinating. Not just one species not germinating. But all the invasive species. And just the invasives. Not the natives.
One of his personal favorite crazy theories was that Cleary Swamp was a secret test site for a new selective herbicide that targeted only invasive species. Idiotic. Such an herbicide simply could not exist, and it made him cringe a bit to even hear them toss around the possibility. That level of selectivity was just impossible in an herbicide. And even if it had been possible, no one with such an amount of money to fund something that out there would deem invasives a cause worthy of dumping all that money into. Also, things were never perfect on the first try, and thus during tests the wrong plants would be killed until the kinks were worked out, to say nothing of unforeseen consequences for the surrounding environment; poisoned water, birth defects in local populations, etc. That sort of testing was the sort of testing that was not done on American soil. That sort of testing was done in poor, developing countries where it was easier to get away with being an unethical monster.
Another of Kevin’s favorite of his colleagues’ theories was that environmental crusaders came to the swamp under cover of darkness, eradicating every last invasive, then snuck out before dawn, not leaving a trace. But, of course, even if a big group of people cared enough about invasives to go to all the trouble of being nefarious like that, there would still be no point. There was no conceivable reason they wouldn’t come during daylight to do the same thing, just with better lighting and with the possibility of volunteer credits or experience for a resume.
Nope, all their rational minds could not figure it out. He could never, ever admit to believing in a supernatural explanation. Professors of botany did not generally believe in magic. But then, professors of botany did not generally have a personal experience with being strangled by a vine from a talking swamp.
He sometimes found himself getting a bit of a supercilious attitude about it, until he stopped and realized that if there was one phenomenon that had an honest-to-goodness supernatural explanation, then it logically followed that other unexplainable phenomena might be explained by the supernatural as well. After all, the odds of him being in the know about the only bit of supernatural in the world were quite slim. This opened up a whole can of worms; the placebo effect, Naga fireballs, the building of Stonehenge, ghosts, psychics. Hell, Sasquatch was probably real. How often had he dreamt up idiotic explanations for the unexplainable like his colleagues were doing for the lack of invasives at Clearly Swamp?
Kevin shook his head and watched the undergrads walking around, hopefully not stepping on anything rare. But even if they did trample something important, Bernice would see to it that it was replaced.
After a bit, Kevin gathered them all together and they talked about their findings. “Okay,” he said at last. “Crash course in compass use. Find your own way back to the van. I’ll be a few minutes behind you.”
“You mean we gotta navigate alone?” one boy asked. The kid was a freshman. The only freshman in the class.
Everyone rolled their eyes at him.
“Yep,” Kevin answered.
The freshman continued, “But … Professor James, this place is totally haunted or something. By that one girl―”
A girl beside him gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“Oh. Yeah …” the freshman muttered.
The students all got awkward. Rumors of Kevin’s murder accusation sure had stuck over the years.
Kevin sighed. “Look, the swamp’s not haunted, and I’m not a murderer. Go ahead and check. It’s public record. Tons of evidence. You all head on back to the van.”
Pulling out their compasses, they turned and headed off, some of them shooting apologetic glances back at Kevin, while others began to mock the freshman for believing in ghosts.
Kevin watched them walk off, then headed north toward Bernice’s old research plot. The willow was still there, nearly dead. He moseyed up to it and pulled out his pocket knife. There, right at eye level, was the B he’d carved into the bark the year she’d disappeared the second time. Sure, as a botany professor, he should not be carving into a tree trunk. But when one was friends with a swamp witch who one hadn’t seen in three decades, one had to communicate how one could. He ran his fingers over the B he’d carved, then over the K that had appeared beside the B a few years later. Under the B he had scratched in a tally mark for every time he’d returned. Sixty-two tally marks so far. Under the K, there were twenty-one.
No―twenty-two.
There was a new one.
Bernice had been back to the tree sometime between last fall and this summer.
Kevin was about to go meet up with the students when suddenly the voice filled his head.
She needs help.
Kevin froze. He shook his head.
She needs help.
He swallowed heavily and looked around. What? While it was not at all uncommon for him to hear the voice in his head when he was in Cleary Swamp, it was always quiet and muddled and incoherent. Not loud and clear like this, filling his skull.
She needs help.
Kevin put a hand to the trunk to steady himself as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He blinked and stared at the tally marks. “What, Bernice?” he muttered. Then he noticed something else scratched into the willow bark, around the tree to the right of the tally marks. He walked around to check it out.
Scratched in the trunk was a message of sorts: ? — R — B — ?
Kevin squinted at the message and ran his hand across it. Well … Okay. R was Rebecca and B was Bernice. The first question mark had to be for Rebecca’s predecessor. So the second one was Bernice’s successor. The second question mark was underlined, and she’d left this thing as a message for him. Why?
Kevin swallowed. His heart rate picked up.
The swamp wanted him to find a successor for Bernice.
Bernice was going to do to someone else what Rebecca had done to her. And the swamp wanted his help. Needed his help, if the swamp voice was to be believed, which he supposed it must be. Could swamps lie?
Was Bernice sick? Why was a replacement needed? She was only fifty-five. Maybe the swamp needed his help because Bernice was refusing to find a replacement herself?
He took a few steps away from the tree, still staring at the message.
“Professor James?” came a voice from behind him.
Kevin turned to find one of his students, Jason, standing a few paces away, eyeing him questioningly. The kid was wearing a vintage Space Mantis tee shirt―the show was experiencing a resurgence in popularity. Kevin couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the shirt, since it made him think of pre-swamp Bernice.
Kevin turned away from the half-dead willow and said to Jason, “Did you get lost on the way to the van?” He doubted it. Jason was easily one of the program’s best students. He could identify every flower, every tree, every bird. He set the curve in every class from wetlands to policy to statistics. And not only did the kid have the technical stuff down, he loved it. He loved it all. Jason w
ouldn’t get lost in the swamp. The kid wasn’t capable of being lost in nature. He was probably born with a flawless internal compass in his brain.
Jason had a great future ahead of him.
Maybe …
But, on the other hand, something had just occurred to Kevin …
“Nope, Professor. Not lost. I just got distracted.” He waved his phone at Kevin. “I was taking pictures of some flowers. I found some super cool stuff.” He walked to Kevin’s side, shoved his phone in Kevin’s face, and began to scroll through some images.
“Oh, wow,” Kevin exclaimed, impressed. “Could you send me those?”
“Sure thing.”
They began to walk back to the van.
Jason said, “This swamp is crazy beautiful. So cool.”
“Mmm,” said Kevin. “Hey, what’s that you’re carrying?” He’d just spotted some hedge clippers in Jason’s hand.
“Oh, I tripped over these when I was back over there.” Jason waved the clippers in the direction of a clump of alders. “They were stuck in a tussock of grass. Figured I’d bring them back to campus and dispose of them properly.”
Kevin held out his hand for the clippers, his heart hammering. Had he just seen …
Jason handed the clippers over.
Kevin stared at them. Yes. Most of the stickers were peeled off or faded beyond recognition, but there was one that showed Aragorn waving Anduril over his head heroically. Super quality adhesive and sealant on that sticker to have lasted three decades in a swamp.
Jason had found Bernice’s old hedge clippers.
Kevin cleared his throat. He sighed. Then he spoke. “Hey, Jason, do you have a summer job lined up yet?”
“Nope, Professor,” Jason answered, scanning through his photos as he walked over roots and tussocks of grass, not tripping once. “Why?”
“I’ve got an opening if you’re interested in cataloging the plant species in the swamp this summer.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Morrison lives in the Metro Detroit area with her husband, daughters, cats, and vegetable garden. She has a B.S. in applied ecology and environmental science from Michigan Technological University. Before she was a writer and stay-at-home mom, she battled invasive species and researched turtles. Her novel, Grimbargo, is published with Spaceboy Books.
Laura Morrison_ComeBackToTheSwamp_EbookFormatting Embedded Cover Page 11