Chapter 5 – Unexpected Complications

 
Dexter's apartment had become mission control.
Every available surface was now covered with evidence: printed photographs pinned to the walls with red string connecting different sightings, Jesse's thermal imaging printouts, Martin's surprisingly detailed sketches of the claw marks, and Isabel's organized timeline of events. His laptop displayed a digital map of Millbrook Park with color-coded markers indicating sightings, tracks, and "areas of interest."
It looked like the workspace of either a dedicated researcher or an unhinged conspiracy theorist. Dexter chose to believe it was the former.
It was 9 PM, and the team was scattered across his living room in various states of exhaustion and caffeination. Jesse sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by drone equipment and muttering about "electromagnetic interference patterns." Martin was on the couch, flipping through a leather-bound book he'd checked out from the library called *Folklore and Legends of Central Pennsylvania*. Isabel occupied Dexter's desk chair, editing photos on her laptop.
Dexter himself was pacing, which he did when he was thinking. Or stressed. Or both.
"Okay," he said, stopping mid-stride. "Let's review what we know. The Millbrook Shadow appears in roughly twenty-to-thirty-year cycles. Each appearance seems to correlate with some kind of environmental disruption—storms, flooding. But this year, there hasn't been any major weather event."
"So what triggered it this time?" Isabel asked without looking up from her screen.
"That's the question." Dexter pointed to a map on his laptop. "I've been looking at the timeline of sightings. The first report was three weeks ago—someone's dog went missing near Ridgeline Trail. Then two weeks ago, the livestock deaths started. Last week, Mrs. Kowalski's encounter. Yesterday, we saw it. The activity is escalating."
"Maybe it's sick?" Martin suggested. "Or injured? That would make it act more erratically, come closer to humans."
"Or maybe it's looking for something," Jesse said. "The thermal patterns I've been analyzing—when it disappeared yesterday, the temperature drop was localized. Like it went into something cold. Underground, maybe?"
"There are no cave systems in that area," Isabel reminded him.
"That we know of," Jesse countered. "What if there's something we don't know about? An old mine shaft, a collapsed sinkhole, something that's not on official maps?"
Dexter felt a spark of excitement. "Martin, does that folklore book mention anything about caves or underground locations?"
Martin flipped through pages. "Uh... there's something here about 'the Hollow Place' in Lenape legends. Says it's a sacred site where the boundary between worlds is thin. Spirits could pass through. But it doesn't give a specific location."
"The Lenape were the indigenous people of this region," Dexter explained for Isabel and Jesse's benefit. "If there's truth to the legend, there could be a real location it's based on."
"You think the Shadow is connected to Native American folklore?" Isabel asked skeptically.
"I think every legend has a kernel of truth. Maybe what they called spirits, we'd call cryptids. Same phenomenon, different interpretation."
Isabel saved her work and turned to face the room. "Okay, let's say you're right. Let's say there's some kind of underground location where this thing dens. How do we find it?"
"Ground-penetrating radar?" Jesse suggested.
"Do you have ground-penetrating radar?" Dexter asked.
"No, but my uncle works in construction. He might have access to—"
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Everyone froze. Dexter checked his watch—9:30 PM. He wasn't expecting anyone.
"Did you order food?" Martin whispered.
"No."
Another knock, more insistent this time.
Dexter approached the door cautiously and peered through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was a woman in her late twenties, professional-looking, holding a briefcase. She didn't look like a threat, but she also didn't look like someone who should be at his door at 9:30 PM.
He opened it partway. "Can I help you?"
"Dexter Quinn?" the woman asked.
"Yes?"
"My name is Dr. Rebecca Marsh. I'm a wildlife biologist with the State Conservation Office." She pulled out an official-looking ID. "May I come in? I'd like to talk to you about your recent activities in Millbrook Park."
Dexter's stomach dropped. Behind him, he heard Jesse frantically closing his laptop.
"I... we were just doing some nature photography," Dexter said weakly.
Dr. Marsh looked past him into the apartment, taking in the wall of evidence, the maps, the obvious cryptid paraphernalia. One eyebrow rose slightly.
"Nature photography. Right." She smiled, but it wasn't unkind. "Mr. Quinn, you're not in trouble. But I do need to talk to you. May I?"
Dexter hesitated, then stepped aside.
Dr. Marsh entered and did a slow survey of the room. Martin gave a little wave. Jesse tried to hide behind his tablet. Isabel just watched with professional curiosity.
"Quite an operation you have here," Dr. Marsh said, examining the wall of photographs. "You've been busy."
"Are we breaking any laws?" Isabel asked directly.
"Not technically. The park closes at sunset, but as long as you're not damaging property or disturbing wildlife, it's a minor violation at worst." Dr. Marsh set her briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. "I'm not here to cite you. I'm here because I need your help."
That was not what Dexter had expected.
Dr. Marsh pulled out a folder containing her own set of photographs—professional wildlife camera images, time-stamped and high-resolution. She spread them on the table.
"We've had cameras in Millbrook Park for the past three months as part of a deer population study. Two weeks ago, we started getting... anomalies."
The first photo showed a deer grazing peacefully. The second, taken three seconds later, showed the same deer mid-flight, clearly fleeing from something just outside the frame. The third photo was almost completely black, except for what might have been glowing eyes in the upper corner.
"We have seventeen cameras distributed throughout the park," Dr. Marsh continued. "Twelve of them have captured similar images over the past two weeks. Whatever's in those woods is spooking wildlife, triggering motion sensors, and showing up on thermal imaging as something... unusual."
"What's your official theory?" Isabel asked.
"Officially? We're investigating the possibility of a black bear that's wandered outside its normal range. Unofficially?" Dr. Marsh looked at each of them in turn. "I've been a wildlife biologist for eight years. I've tracked bears, mountain lions, wolves. I know what their patterns look like. This isn't matching any of them."
"Why come to us?" Dexter asked.
"Because you're already investigating. Because you're locals who know the area. And because..." She pulled out one more photo. "We found this this morning."
The image showed a clearing Dexter didn't recognize. In the center was what looked like a circle of stones, deliberately arranged. In the middle of the circle, something had been left—deer bones, arranged in a specific pattern.
"This wasn't done by an animal," Dr. Marsh said quietly. "Animals don't create geometric patterns. They don't arrange bones ritualistically."
The room was silent.
"You think it's intelligent," Martin said finally.
"I think it's demonstrating behavior that suggests cognitive complexity beyond typical animal intelligence. Which means we need to be very careful about how we proceed." Dr. Marsh closed her folder. "The state is considering sending in a wildlife response team. Tranquilizers, tracking collars, the works. But if this is something unknown, something that thinks... that approach could be disastrous."
"So what do you want from us?" Dexter asked.
"Information. Documentation. You're already tracking it, and you're being more careful than some government team would be. I want to coordinate with you. Share data. And maybe, if we're lucky, figure out what this is before someone gets hurt."
Isabel leaned forward. "And if we find out what it is? What then?"
"That depends on what it is," Dr. Marsh said honestly. "If it's an undiscovered species, it would be the find of the century. We'd document it, protect its habitat, study it responsibly. If it's something that poses a genuine threat to public safety... that's a different conversation."
"We're not going to let anyone hurt it," Dexter said firmly.
"I'm not suggesting we should. But Mr. Quinn, if this creature is intelligent and potentially dangerous, we need to approach this scientifically. Not with emotion." She stood. "Think about it. I'll leave my contact information. If you see anything, if you find anything, call me. Day or night."
She handed Dexter a business card and headed for the door. Then she paused.
"One more thing. You're not the only ones looking. There's a hunting group that's been asking questions around town. Calls themselves the 'Trophy Trackers.' They heard about the sightings and think they've found their next big game." Dr. Marsh's expression hardened. "They're planning an expedition into the park this weekend. If they find what you're looking for before we do..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
After Dr. Marsh left, the room erupted.
"A *hunting group*?" Jesse said incredulously. "They want to shoot it?"
"We can't let that happen," Martin said, looking genuinely distressed.
"We also need to be realistic," Isabel said, ever the pragmatist. "If this thing is as dangerous as Bill suggested—"
"It's not!" Dexter said, surprising himself with his vehemence. "It's not. Think about it. All those years of sightings, and no one's been hurt. Livestock killed, sure. Pets missing, maybe. But no human casualties. If it wanted to hurt people, it could have. Easily."
"Or it just hasn't felt threatened enough yet," Isabel countered gently. "Dexter, I want to believe it's not dangerous too. But we have to consider all possibilities."
Dexter slumped into the nearest chair. She was right, of course. His whole life, he'd been so desperate to believe in something impossible that he'd never stopped to consider the full implications.
"So what do we do?" he asked quietly.
Martin cleared his throat. "We find it first. Before the hunters do. We document it, we prove it exists, and we make sure it's protected."
"How?" Jesse asked. "We've been trying to track it for days and we barely get glimpses."
"Then we stop tracking," Isabel said slowly, an idea forming. "We let it come to us."
Everyone looked at her.
"The stone circle," she explained. "That was deliberate. It was communication. Maybe the Shadow isn't just avoiding us. Maybe it's trying to figure us out the same way we're trying to figure it out."
"You want to leave it a message?" Dexter asked.
"Why not? If it can arrange deer bones, it can understand that we're trying to make contact. We set up a meeting point. Somewhere neutral. We leave something that shows peaceful intent—"
"Like what, a gift basket?" Jesse said sarcastically.
"Actually..." Martin sat up straighter. "In a lot of indigenous traditions, you leave offerings when you want to communicate with spirits. Food, tools, things of value."
"It's not a spirit," Isabel said. "It's an animal. An intelligent one, maybe, but still an animal. What do animals want?"
"Food," Jesse said.
"Safety," Dexter added. "Territory."
"Companionship?" Martin suggested.
They all looked at him.
"What? Some animals are social. Maybe it's lonely."
"It's been alone for decades," Isabel pointed out.
"Exactly! Maybe that's the problem. Maybe it appears every twenty years because that's when it's looking for... I don't know. Validation? Connection?"
"That's incredibly anthropomorphic," Dexter said.
"So is assuming it can understand gift baskets," Martin shot back.
Despite the tension, Dexter smiled. "Okay. We try it. Tomorrow night, we go back to the clearing Dr. Marsh showed us. We leave something—food, maybe some kind of marker that shows we were there deliberately. We set up cameras at a distance and see what happens."
"And if the Trophy Trackers show up?" Jesse asked.
"Then we make sure they don't find what they're looking for." Dexter felt a surge of determination. "This is our discovery. Our responsibility. And we're not going to let anyone hurt it."
They spent the next hour planning, organizing equipment, and making lists. By the time everyone left around midnight, Dexter felt more purposeful than he had in years.
But as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, doubt crept in.
What if they were wrong? What if the Shadow was dangerous? What if by protecting it, they were putting people at risk?
And underneath all of that, a more personal fear: what if this was his one chance to prove he wasn't just a joke, and he failed?
His phone buzzed. A text from Isabel.
*"You okay? You got quiet after everyone left."*
Dexter stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he typed: *"Just thinking about what we're doing. High stakes."*
*"Yeah. But we're doing the right thing. I think."*
*"You think?"*
*"I don't know anymore. 48 hours ago I was covering city council meetings. Now I'm planning to leave a gift basket for a cryptid. My life got weird fast."*
Dexter smiled in the darkness. *"Welcome to cryptozoology. It's always weird."*
*"Is it always this terrifying?"*
*"Usually it's more boring. Lots of sitting in the dark waiting for nothing to happen."*
*"So this is special."*
*"This is very special."*
There was a long pause. Then: *"Get some sleep, Dexter. Tomorrow's a big day."*
*"You too."*
Another pause. Then: *"Hey, Dexter?"*
*"Yeah?"*
*"Thanks for letting me be part of this. Whatever happens, it's been the most interesting week of my life."*
Dexter read the message three times, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the cryptid hunt.
*"Thanks for believing me. Or at least pretending to."*
*"Who says I'm pretending? Goodnight, Dexter."*
*"Goodnight, Isabel."*
He set his phone down and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, they would make contact. Tomorrow, everything would change.
He just hoped they were ready for it.
---
The next morning, Dexter woke to seventeen missed calls.
His first groggy thought was that something terrible had happened. His second thought, as he scrolled through the notifications, was that something had happened, but whether it was terrible or not remained to be seen.
Thirteen of the calls were from Martin. Three from Jesse. One from a number he didn't recognize.
There were also about thirty text messages in the group chat they'd created last night.
**Martin (5:47 AM):** *GUYS*
**Martin (5:47 AM):** *GUYS WAKE UP*
**Martin (5:48 AM):** *THIS IS NOT A DRILL*
**Jesse (6:02 AM):** *what's happening*
**Martin (6:03 AM):** *CHECK THE MILLBROOK COMMUNITY FACEBOOK PAGE*
**Jesse (6:03 AM):** *why are you awake at 5am*
**Martin (6:04 AM):** *I FELL ASLEEP RESEARCHING AND WOKE UP TO MY PHONE EXPLODING*
**Isabel (6:15 AM):** *Everyone calm down. I'm looking at the page now.*
**Isabel (6:16 AM):** *Oh.*
**Isabel (6:16 AM):** *Dexter, you need to see this.*
With a growing sense of dread, Dexter opened Facebook.
The Millbrook Community page had exploded overnight. The top post, shared over two hundred times, was from someone named Bradley Hutchins. It was a video, time-stamped 11:47 PM the previous night.
Dexter clicked play.
The footage was shaky, clearly shot on a phone, but the audio was clear. Bradley's voice: *"Okay, so, Sarah and I are walking back from Moretti's, and we hear this sound from the park, right? Like this weird humming or whatever. Sarah wanted to leave but I'm like, let's check it out..."*
The camera swung toward Millbrook Park. At first, there was nothing but darkness. Then, in the distance, a shape moved. Large. Quadrupedal. And unmistakably *there*.
The video zoomed in, becoming even grainier, but for about three seconds, the shape was clearly visible in the streetlight's glow. Too tall to be a bear. Moving wrong for a deer. Something else entirely.
Then it vanished into the shadows.
*"Holy shit,"* Bradley's voice said. *"Did you see that? Sarah, did you see—"*
The video ended.
The comments section was chaos. Hundreds of people weighing in—some claiming it was fake, some sharing their own sighting stories, some demanding the city do something.
And near the bottom, posted twenty minutes ago:
**Trophy Trackers Official:** *We've seen the footage. Our team is heading to Millbrook Park today to investigate. Whatever's out there, we'll find it. Stay tuned for updates. #BigGameHunting #TrophyTrackers*
"Shit," Dexter said aloud.
His phone rang. Isabel.
"You saw?" she asked without preamble.
"I saw. They're going today. We need to—"
"I'm already on my way to your place. Jesse's coming too. We move up the timeline."
"What about Martin?"
"He's been awake since five AM. He's probably already at the park."
She was right. A new text appeared: **Martin:** *I'm at the north entrance. Meet me ASAP. I think I found something.*
Twenty minutes later, Dexter was in his car, breaking at least three traffic laws on his way to the park. Isabel and Jesse arrived simultaneously. Martin was pacing near the trailhead, looking like he'd had about eight espressos.
"What did you find?" Dexter asked.
"More stone circles. Three of them. All appeared overnight." Martin led them down the trail at a near-jog. "I came here early because I couldn't sleep, and I found the first one near the playground. Then another near the pond. And then this one."
They emerged into the clearing where Dr. Marsh had photographed the first circle. Except now there weren't just stones. In the center was something new: a small pile of objects. Shiny things. Bottle caps. A broken watch. Pieces of colored glass. And centered among them, deliberately placed: a child's toy car.
"It's collecting things," Jesse breathed.
"Not just collecting," Isabel said, photographing everything. "Curating. Look at the arrangement. That's intentional."
"Like a bower bird," Martin said excitedly. "They collect colorful objects to attract mates. Or maybe like ravens—they're attracted to shiny things. But this is more purposeful. This is... artistic."
Dexter knelt beside the circle, careful not to disturb anything. The toy car looked old, weathered. It could have been lying in the woods for years, or it could have been deliberately chosen.
"It's trying to communicate," he said quietly. "But what is it trying to say?"
"Maybe it's showing us what it values?" Isabel suggested. "Bright colors. Human objects. Things from our world."
"Or it's showing us what it's found," Jesse countered. "Proving it knows we're here."
A branch snapped in the distance.
They all froze.
Voices. Multiple people. Coming closer.
"Into the trees," Dexter hissed. "Now."
They scrambled into the underbrush just as a group of five men emerged into the clearing. All of them carried equipment—rifles, cameras, tracking gear. Trophy Trackers patches on their jackets.
The leader was a large man in his forties, beard, expensive-looking hunting gear. He surveyed the stone circle with interest.
"Well, would you look at that," he said. "Told you boys something weird was going on."
"Think the creature made this?" one of the others asked.
"Or some kids messing around. Either way, we set up cameras here. If it comes back, we'll know."
They started unpacking equipment. Dexter watched from his hiding spot, heart pounding. They were too close. If the Shadow appeared now, these men would be ready.
Isabel tapped his shoulder and pointed. Through the trees, barely visible, another shape was watching the hunters.
It was huge. And it was absolutely still.
The Shadow had arrived.