The Coalition of Confused Criminals

Sometimes good people do bad things. Elise Cunningham threw the door open and stomped inside the research lab. The wind howled as she took off her hat and coat, throwing them in the corner. Oscar Marcos followed directly behind her, deciding to retain his light jacket for the time being. The door slammed shut behind them, startling the other researchers and assistants, but causing Elise and Oscar no alarm whatsoever. The pair walked over to the lab table in the center of the room, making as much noise as possible. Oscar threw a thick manila folder on the desk, defiantly. The others in the room stopped what they were doing and watched him for a moment. His tall, well-built frame tended to get people’s attention. He adjusted his glasses and smiled at the ladies in the room, who secretly swooned over his olive skin and devilish grin. It was to the women’s advantage that Elise did not notice them watching him. She most certainly would have been fuming. “Okay, weather drones,” Elise announced. “Time’s up. The lab is ours.” Oscar loved it when she was uncouth to other people. He couldn’t explain it, but he looked forward to it every time. Everyone began packing their things, grumbling under their breath as they did so. It wouldn’t do them any good to complain aloud. They were scientists and researchers who used this lab, set on top of an isolated Colorado mountain, to study weather patterns and conditions. The university that financed the weather project had agreed to share the research center with Elise and Oscar, thanks to a large amount of grant money and an almost obscene donation by a privatized agency that was hoping to become a viable, profitable replacement for federal weather programs that were facing extinction. This meant that every 48 hours the weather researchers had to abandon the lab and give complete privacy to Elise and Oscar, who would return the favor after another 48 hours. The scientists hated giving up their space, but particularly to these two, who they considered to be jokes; insults to science. Elise and Oscar were cryptozoologists. Their chosen profession was an attempt to find proof of things that most people doubted ever existed. All over the world, there were always photos of the unexplained, footprints that couldn’t be identified, or an eyewitness who was simply convinced he had seen something bizarre and cryptic. It was a cryptozoologist’s job to prove that these things were real by examining the evidence and interviewing the witnesses. Because of its reputation as being a pseudoscience, it wasn’t exactly easy to find people to finance such research. So, Elise and Oscar had applied for, and received, money that paid them to study the existence of sasquatch, most commonly referred to as Bigfoot. Research grants aren’t especially difficult things for which to gain approval. They are taxpayer dollars, for one thing, and so the standards for spending them are fairly lax. Secondly, the process is so covered up in bureaucracy that almost no one who reads the grants pays any attention to what the money is actually being spent on. It seemed to Elise that the federal government was simply dying to hand over money to them. In her mind, it was a wonderful system. And so, the weather researchers found themselves being forced to give up their lab every two days whether they liked it or not. The organization that retained its status as the fiscal agent for their grant was intrigued by what the cryptozoologists did and seemed to be unable to say no to Elise. She was a master negotiator, and her feminine wiles didn’t hurt much either. Furthermore, grants often allow for strange things, and this arrangement was just a part of it. You can get away with much more when you are using government money, sometimes things that private industry would never allow. Realizing the weather group was taking too long by her standards, Elise became impatient. “Let’s go, let’s go! The clock is ticking, and don’t think I won’t remember this when you come back. For every minute you take from us, I can assure you I will take from your little weather project.” “You know, Cunningham, some of us are actually trying to study science,” a female scientist blurted out. “No more than we are,” Elise bit back. “And if the mysteries of the fucking snowflake continue to elude you, then I doubt our presence here is really your biggest problem.” As usual, Elise had won this round. No one argued with her much, because it was apparent to everyone that she rather enjoyed it. She was a fiery woman, although not particularly physically intimidating. She was thin, but the last few years of being out in the wilderness for her job had given her sufficient muscle tone and a mental toughness that many people her size would not have possessed. Today, as usual, she pulled her shoulder-length brown hair into a ponytail, which flailed around wildly as she dashed around the lab hurrying everyone along. The weather researchers grabbed their things and left, leaving Elise and Oscar to prepare for their rotation. Usually they watched surveillance tape, looking for movement of an unknown creature that they might be able to prove was Bigfoot. They also went through dozens of emails, photos, videos, and eyewitness accounts, trying to determine whether or not any validity existed among them. So far, it had not.