The Lark Taps Twice

Chapter 3: Recognized By a Stranger and a Mysterious Quest

I'm glad the day is almost over, Miriam thought as she shuffled toward her Jeep hours later. Her exhaustion distracted her even from the brilliant sunset, her mind too numb to process anything more than basic ideas, like how quickly she could climb back into her comfortable bed and sleep the weekend away.

Not only had she been late for the meeting, but her colleagues disagreed with her theory about why the local crested lark had abruptly shifted its nesting grounds from the thick woods near the city to an area with fewer trees but more ground plants that was farther from the center of the county. She argued that tourist hunters had been especially active in the previous winter, eager to bring home a rare golden deer, and the increased traffic aroused the protective instincts of the mated pairs, inciting the move to a more exposed location that offered increased privacy for raising their young.

Everyone else on the project, including a sneering Angela, insisted that the hunters had no effect on the bird's environment, as they were not the target of the hunters, and that the relocation must be due to pollution altering some aspect of their favorite winter treat: the seeds dropped from the rare longleaf pine, a species that was notorious for becoming sickly near urban centers. They refused to listen to her research that supported her theory, and in the end Angela assigned her to spend the day looking up information about the longleaf pine in the center's private library in the basement, each book more dust covered than the last.

At last, Angela herself came down to see her progress and released her to leave, with strict admonitions to consider what she learned when she revised her report to present again on Tuesday. Angela reminded her that the center was closed Monday for maintenance on the plumbing as she pranced back up the stairs and out to her own Tesla SUV. Angela reminded herself that it was a felony to run someone off the road, no matter how high-handed they acted with their employees as she dragged herself out to her own vehicle.

Just as her fingertips brushed the handle on her trusty ride, an indistinct figure stepped into the circle of light cast by the lone overhead light in the parking lot, a light she purposefully parked under due to her poor night vision. She blinked her eyes in a usually futile attempt to bring the stranger into focus. To her surprise, it worked, and she could make out the figure appeared vague in shape because he/she was wearing a long black hooded cloak that concealed any details of the person beneath. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the casual flip back of the figure's hood.

Miriam could not stop her instinctual step back and to the side, pinning herself against her vehicle's rear door. The crone before her (surely a woman displaying so many marks of advanced age must be one) possessed wild wavy white-blond hair that stood away from her head in a horrifying halo, an effect only amplified by the deep wrinkles carved into her face.

For all that, the truly terrifying part of the stranger's appearance was that she did not appear to be entirely a stranger. Something about her cheekbones, her chin, and her hairline reminded Miriam of her mother, or at least what her mother might look like in another fifty (or one hundred) years. The resemblance was shocking. So too was the woman's voice; when she broke the silence between them, if Miriam had closed her eyes, she would swear her mother stood before her.

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

How do I answer her? 'Yes, you look like my mother's twin who has the gift of time-travel and has come to see me in the past to prevent me from committing some horrible crime that changes the future of the world?' No, that's ridiculous...isn't it?

"Of course you don't." The woman shook her head, and in a heartbeat, she stood inches in front of Miriam, close enough to touch. Touch she did, stretching out a gnarled hand and grasping Miriam's chin. A tug forced Miriam to meet the piercing dark eyes of the old woman.

"Never mind that; you'll figure it out, if you have enough time, smart girl." A smile spread over her face for a moment, and the expression took 40 years off; Miriam fought to keep her own expression neutral as the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Now, listen well, child. I know what you need to do. You must drive to the Folk Art Museum in Fort Fillmore as soon as possible. Be prepared to stay for a few days, but pack light. There is a great evil afoot, and all sorts of nefarious events have already been set in motion. Only you can return everything to the way it is supposed to be. Do you understand what must be done?"

The dark eyes half obscured by wrinkled lids stared intently into Miriam's own drooping brown ones, and Miriam hesitated, having only understood the part about going to a museum in a tiny town a full day's drive away, with a couple of spare outfits, to boot.

"For heaven's sake, girl! I didn't think you would be this thick! Do you know where Fort Fillmore is?"

The hag's question emerged from her lips one word at a time, and Miriam fought the surge of indignation flooding her veins. She was the youngest person to achieve a PhD in her field! Just because she did not immediately comprehend the madness spouting from this stranger gave her no right to treat Miriam like an imbecile! She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly to steady her emotions before answering the woman.

"Yes, I know where Fort Fillmore is, and I know where the museum is, before you ask. What I don't understand is the rest of what you said. Stay a few days? The Fort is a postage stamp town; the rare history buffs who visit would be hard-pressed to find a quality meal, let alone overnight lodging! And that bit about 'only you can fix everything' makes no sense whatsoever. Is this some kind of joke? One last jab from one of my coworkers before a long weekend off? Who paid you?"

The dark eyes held her gaze a moment longer, and then the woman stepped back, withdrawing her hand and allowing a ghost of a smile to tilt her lips at the same time. "This is no joke, my dear, but I suppose you will have to figure that out for yourself. For now, don't forget about the Museum; make all haste to get there, and your path forward from there will become clear."

She turned away from Miriam as though to leave, but her step faltered, and she looked over her shoulder to add, "Whatever you do, be sure to bring the lark's bounty with you, including the still wrapped packet in your pocket. Without them, your quest will be far more difficult; indeed, the lack of even one could mean disaster for us all. Good night, and good luck."

With that final blast of information, the old lady spun, cloak swirling about her form as she paced back the way she had come - and vanished. One moment she was there, tottering far too quickly for a woman her age, and the next, Miriam stood alone, not even a puff of smoke or dust drifting in the overhead light to mark the crone's disappearance. Mind whirling as it attempted to process the last few minutes, Miriam knew only one fact for certain: she wasn't going to get answers to her blossoming number of questions about the old woman's words standing in front of the Institute for Native Avian Studies.

She needed to go home and pack.