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His headlights were lighting up the fog of dirt and debris, and enough settled for him to see the new mountain of rocks blocking the road. People were yelling, someone was screaming in pain, and Duncan realized…
If he hadn’t stopped, his car would be underneath those rocks right now.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
Duncan threw his car in reverse so fast that he almost hit the car behind him. He pulled forward, alternating between reverse and drive until he was able to turn around. He had to get the fuck out of here. He ignored the police officer screaming at him as he zoomed by, driving back up the road until he hit the highway again.
He knew where he was going now.
Right back to the cabin so he could hike back into that damn valley.
He had to find Malt.
Right now.
After all, Malt had saved his life…
Duncan really wanted to thank him.
Oh, and he definitely wanted to find out what the hell those two big hard things were.
Duncan didn’t feel confident enough to explore the woods at night, no matter how eager he was to see Malt again. He decided the best thing he could do was wait until the morning. He needed a clear head, a hot shower, and getting something to eat wouldn’t hurt either.
Now back at the cabin, Duncan dragged his bags inside and then headed to the bathroom. He stopped, turned around to turn the oven on, and tried again to go to the bathroom. He took a deep breath, paused again to get some clean clothes out of his suitcase, and then finally made it into the shower.
He was surprised to find he didn’t have a scratch on him from his little tumble down the mountain, and he wondered if Malt had anything to do with that. He was certainly sore, but he couldn’t find a single bump or bruise. It honestly made him question if what he had experienced was real…
Then he remembered feeling those two very hard whatever they were and he knew it was real.
The fall, the strange cave, Malt’s prophecy that had saved his life—and yes, those two things, whatever the hell they were.
He couldn’t wait to find out.
Just thinking about the many possibilities turned him on, but he was too jittery to take care of himself. When he thought about it, he had almost died twice today, between the fall and the rock slide, and Malt had saved him both times.
Duncan hoped he’d have a chance to thank him.
In more ways than one, he thought to himself.
God help him.
He’d finally had a paranormal experience and he couldn’t stop thinking about fucking it.
He grumbled as he dried off, and he did his best to keep his mind on a professional track. He had been waiting for a fantastic experience like this all of his life, and he’d just had one that exceeded any possible expectations. He would have been happy with seeing an apparition or hearing a disembodied voice, but instead he’d had an intense cuddle session with Mothman.
As Duncan got dressed, his mind continued to reel with ideas of how he could possibly document this. That was his job, after all, to capture proof of the paranormal and show the world these incredible phenomena were real.
But Malt wasn’t just an old ghost or some sort of mysterious entity. He was a real living and breathing creature, and Duncan found himself at a crossroads as to what he should do.
Getting any evidence of Malt would only drive more people here, maybe the wrong kind of people. The kind who might hurt him. Duncan had seen enough episodes of theX-Filesto know what would happen if the government got wind of something as amazing as Malt.
They’d stick him in a lab, run cruel experiments, try to figure out how they could harness his prophetic ability, and—no.
Duncan couldn’t let that happen.
Once he was dressed, he first went to the kitchen to throw a frozen pizza in the oven. He’d left some beer in the fridge too, and he grabbed one of those. Then he hurried to his suitcase and pulled out his files and laptop.
He had to destroy all the research he’d already gathered so far and declare the Mothman sightings here a bust. He didn’t want to risk any other paranormal investigators coming out here looking for Malt. Though Duncan was confident Malt probably had his own ways for avoiding detection, he didn’t want to make Malt’s existence any more difficult than it likely already was.
