Trees

It came again.

I wouldn’t make it through another night up here. A shudder ripped through my torn-up body. The now cold blood staining my clothes and skin felt tight and constricting.

The moon was full. A burning spotlight on me. Illuminating my position for everything in these woods to see. Including him. I could see his eyes. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing them. Glowing red, hungry in the deep void of the night.

The low growls started, like usual. But he waited. He was hesitant, like the pause of a Broadway performer before staging the final scene of the final act on the final night. Savoring the moment.

This was the finale. This was the end…

~~~~~~~~~

Days Earlier

-Granola

-Bottled water

-Biodegradable sanitary wipes

-Toothpaste

-Lighter

-Deodorant

-Vaseline

“You know how much trouble I can get into,” he said with a playful bounce in his voice, “if anyone ever found out I’ve been supplying you?”

“Then stop,” I responded, “I don’t need you. I can do this all by myself.”

“Right, right,” he said, eying the list. “Deodorant? Vaseline?”

“What?”

“Thought folks like you didn’t do deodorant.”

“Hold on, ‘folks like me’?” I chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he said, folding the paper and shooting a glance over his shoulder, then returning his sharp gaze on me, a grin plastered to his face, “treehuggers.”

He knew how to rile me up in all the best ways.

The development proposed a track of homes. A hundred nineteen of them. All starting in the “Low Low Millions”. The development map showed a grey scab cutting through the valley of green with a promise to scar it over with concrete and asphalt.

These trees deserved better. They were worth more than any 5-bedroom 4-bath house ever could.

They meant something to the people who grew up here for over four generations. This particular tree was one of the oldest living things in this valley. It deserved preservation. To be kept safe, advocated for.

The sound of distant chainsaws and cracking, splitting wood echoed in the valley.

It had been one hundred eight days since the demolition began. Marcus started work about a month and a half ago.

I didn’t believe in divine intervention, but there was definitely something heavenly about him.

“Watch it now,” I responded flirtatiously, “Or I’ll have to tell your superiors about you using your…” I gestured to the device Marcus used to hoist himself up to my platform perched in the ancient tree, “whatever this thing is.”

Marcus chuckled, “It’s a cherry picker. And go ahead, by all means, bite the hand that’s so graciously feeding you.”

I smiled.

“But the vaseline?”

I lifted my pant leg, revealing the cuff chaining me to the tree. “This thing is chafing pretty badly.”

“Oh,” he grimaced, “yeah, that’s not looking so good. Here, let me take a look at it.”

“What are you now, some kind of doctor?”

He shook his head, playfully dismissing me. “Suit yourself, Tarzan.” He pressed the lever that retracted the metal arm, lowering the bucket.

“Wait,” I said, reaching out and touching his shoulder. I held out my hand for him to return the list.

He handed it back, and I added:

-Cherries = )

“And I prefer, Jane.”

~~~~~~~~~

“How long?” I asked, grabbing supplies from Marcus as he handed them up. I let them down with a thud. He made it seem so light.

“How long, what?”

“Till they’re here?”

He paused, turned to face the valley. “Couple weeks or so, I’m guessing.” He reached out a calloused hand and pointed, “See that ridge over there?”

I nodded.

“Well, just on the other side of that’s today’s agenda. Then,” he shifted his gaze about forty-five degrees to the left, “That’s next.”

“Then after that?” I asked, knowing the answer already, just didn’t mind hearing the words spoken by him. His voice was becoming something of a necessity out here in this lonely tree.

“Well,” Marcus said, fidgeting with his hard hat, a small trace of hesitancy in his voice, “That’s—”

CRACK!

THUD!

HRUUUUUUARGH!!!

A guttural scream so primal and raw followed the sound of the tree falling. It was filled with agonized pain that couldn’t be described, only felt. The cry was so intimate, yet somehow so easily heard from so far away.

“What was that?” I muttered, looking out at the ridge.

“I don’t know,” Marcus responded, equally stunned by the sound.

Wait… When did he grab my hand?

Just as the realization hit, he pulled it back, placing it on the control lever. “I'd better go check it out.”

“Right,” I answered, and added before I understood what I was saying, “Be careful.”

He nodded and flashed a reassuring smile. “Always am.”

~~~~~~~~~

That night, the wind seemed to howl more than usual, despite the branches and leaves remaining unmoved—oddly human, like voices calling out…almost intelligible.

~~~~~~~~~

The following morning lacked its usual mechanical hum. The roar of the diesels replaced by the return of morning song birds.

After a handful of granola and a sip of tea I brewed above my Sterno, the silence became deafening.

I walked over to the side of the platform and peered down. I saw nothing unusual. Marcus’s cherry picker pulled off to the side, parked, and retracted. He hadn’t returned to retrieve it.

I looked out toward the ridge, the one Marcus had pointed out the day before. I listened, training my ear in that direction, trying to detect any sound of their presence.

Maybe they were getting a late start… maybe some of the machinery needed maintenance… maybe I won…

Maybe, it’s over.

I raced over to my walkie-talkie, quickly tuning it to the logger’s frequency.

Nothing.

My heart raced, and a thought came to mind: even if I had won and the logging was done, Marcus would have still come. He would have congratulated me. Asked me on a real date—something.

This felt wrong.

I pressed the call button on the walkie. “Marcus? Come in, Marcus. Over.”

Silence.

A little louder this time. “Marcus, do you read me? Come in, Marcus. This is Jane, over.”

CREAK! CRACK! THUDDDD!!!!!!

The familiar sound of a tree splitting and falling over should have felt safe, a return to normalcy. The loggers just doing their job. But that wasn’t the case. They weren’t out here anymore. I was alone—at least I thought I was.

BANG!

The sound of something, blunt, solid, maybe wood, hitting metal rang out through the valley.

I sprang to my feet and ran to the edge of the platform, the chain pulling on the cuff digging into my raw ankle. I glanced up the tree trunk. Found a small reflecting glint of light. A piece of metal in the tree trunk.

BANG! BANG! BAAAAANG!!!

The ridge. It was coming from just over the ridge, where Marcus said the crew was currently located.

“Marcus?” I whispered into the radio. “Are you there?”

BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!!!!!!!!

I slowly backed away from the edge, suddenly feeling uneasy. Lightheaded, I crumbled into the center of the platform. “Hello? Is there anyone out there? Please—”

Then something cut through on the other end of the radio. Not words. Rustling. Static-like. Then, breathing. Heavy, labored. Deep gurgling breaths.

“Hello?” I frantically called. “Hello! I’m here! HELLO!!”

Silence cut through.

HRUUUU[Ahhhhhhhh]UUARGH!!!

A mixed cry bled over the valley.

I held the radio to my chest, rocking back and forth. My breath heaved in giant sobs as I continued to call out for anyone to respond. This went on until a fog so thick it looked like a slug slithering down the valley, covering everything. I lost sight of the valley. I lost sight of anything beyond my perch in the tree. I glanced up at the glint of metal in the tree and watched as it disappeared in the opaque fog.

Then the cry from before rang out.

HRUUUUUUARGH!!!

I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded closer this time. A lot closer.

~~~~~~~~~

The first thing I see that night is red.

At first, it looked like only one, but as the night went on and it drew closer, I could clearly see two. Like hot coals, glowing in the heart of the fog. Fixed. Glaring. Watching me.

I tracked them for a while, not saying a word. Not moving a muscle, hoping it would just pass, disappear into the fog from which it came. It didn’t disappear until it was at the base of the tree.

By the time I crawled to peer down, I could no longer see them. I stumbled from edge to edge, leaning over in search of the glowing red…eyes?

I quieted the shuffling of my legs against the platform and listened. The soft sound of bark splitting crept up the trunk of the tree. By the time I scanned the entire perimeter of the platform, the eyes were there. Glowing mere feet away from me. In the place, Marcus had consistently popped up to greet me every morning since his involvement.

The fog kept hidden the rest of the thing, until it laid a clawed paw onto the platform. Then another. It crept forward, the wood of the platform groaned and creaked under the weight of the thing. Its body narrow, lengthy limbs hung from its frame, ending in large talon-sized claws.

I crawled away from its advance until the cuff pulled into the raw flesh of my ankle.

The creature let out a gravelly purr. Then started licking my ankle. It’s tongue a rough sandpaper against my exposed underflesh.

I instinctively shook my foot, the pain too excruciating to withstand in silent compliance.

The creature produced a growl that split my hairs. It laid a heavy paw on my leg, pressing its claws into my thigh—enough to hurt but not enough to break skin.

I had no choice. I endured. For hours, until the creature grew tired of me and turned, climbing over the edge of the platform, disappearing back into the fog.

The moonlight slipped through the cracks forming in the retreating fog. I first caught a glimpse of it in the reflective pool of my blood, slowly oozing from the fresh wound opened by the creature's incessant licking. I drifted off to sleep, staring up at the metal in the tree trunk.

Tomorrow. I’ll get it tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~

One hundred ten days ago, I climbed this tree. One hundred ten days ago, I constructed this platform from repurposed pallet boards. One hundred ten days ago, I climbed up the trunk as far as the chain would allow and hammered the chain’s key into the trunk. For emergencies. For an escape. For freedom. For today.

I took a trembling handful of granola and limped over to where the trunk jutted out from the platform. I look over my shoulder, out onto the valley—to the ridge. A shudder rose through me. I wrapped my hand around a branch. Gripped it as tight as my shaky hand could, and pulled. Found footing for my right foot. Then my left. Grabbed another reachable branch and pulled.

As I climbed higher, and the metal shape became clearer, I felt the chain grow taut, and by the time I could make out the words “Do not duplicate” on the pressed metal, the chain ran out of slack. The cuff gripped the most sensitive areas, and I couldn’t help but let out a painful gasp. A pair of birds took flight on a branch just above the key.

I reached, pressing myself up against the trunk. My fingers touched the groove just below the key.

“Come on.”

I stretched my body’s length, as well as its threshold for pain. The cuff shifted lower, deeper. I rolled my shoulder, allowing the double joint to shift, affording me another millimeter of length or so.

I felt—

Metal!

I reached and stretched until my fingers were able to pinch the metal between them. I gripped as hard as my weak fingers would allow. Pulling the key felt like pulling out a nail.

“Come on,” I exasperated. “Please. Just—”

The sudden release of the key jolted my foothold. My left foot slipped, and the branch in my other hand snapped. The key fell from my fingers, followed by my tumbling body. The chain caught on a branch as I fell, jolting my body violently. The fleshy groove in my ankle cradled the cuff—metal on bone, sending a spike of pain through my nervous system. By the time I reached the platform, I was sideways. My hip hit hard, splitting the pallet plank, its splintered edge slicing into my side.

I opened my clenched, shut eyes just in time to see the key bounce on the edge before tumbling over and down, down, down.

I pulled myself to the edge. A small shimmer of silver broke the monotony of brown undergrowth.

“No…”

Then all the pain, the loss of the key, my ankle wound, the cut on my hip, the creature stalking me—all screamed at me. A cacophony of anger, rage, fear, and despair sent prickly chills coating my body.

I cradled my side, where a throbbing pain grew in intensity every heartbeat.

I didn’t know how much time had passed before I accepted the fact that I had lost the key.

My only means of escape, aside from cutting…

I poured the last of my disinfectant on my ankle and my freshly cut side, blooming a crimson stain on my white undershirt. After the stinging subsided, I carefully layered the vaseline, completely covering the wounds.

I lay back for the rest of the daylight, alternating between calling out on the radio and listening for a response. Anything at all. But there was nothing. No one called back on the radio.

The calls I received came bellowing over the ridges, cascading terror down the valley.

HRUUUUUUARGH!!!

“No, no, no, no…Please, no…”

HRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUARGH!!!

The sun slid behind the ridge. Abandoning me to the slaughter.

I frantically scanned my surroundings in search of the eyes. The glowing red eyes.

This time, I heard him before I saw him.

A low, rumbly growl to my left. I turned to see the eyes drifting toward the tree. I backed away from the edge, and by the time the cuff pulled back, the red orbs were eye level.

“Please,” I sobbed, falling backward. “Please, leave me alone. Go away…GO! AWAAAY!”

The creature rose onto its back feet and slowly walked across the platform toward me.

A rattling sound emitted from its throat as it leaned over and sniffed my ankle. Its breath, hot against my wound. My calf sizzled, and it made me squirm. It blew out through its nostrils and came closer, avoiding my ankle altogether.

Did it not like the vaseline?

The creature quickly sniffed out the wound on my hip and again blew a plume of hot air in disgust. Its head rose, its eyes locked onto mine. It pressed forward, preying on the space between us. It lifted its claws as if to show them to me. Extended its claws and sank them into my gut.

Aaaaarghhhhhhh!!!!!!

AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRGH!

A painful howl escaped my lungs, and the creature mocked.

It lapped at my stomach until the wound turned numb from the repeated sensation.

It left, chased away by the rising sun.

~~~~~~~~~

The bleeding wouldn’t stop until I clogged it with a torn-up sweater.

The radio lost battery sometime during the night, and I used the sterno to heat up only half a can of beans, wanting to save the rest for later.

I screamed until my lungs burned. I attempted to lower myself over the edge of the platform when the claw marks on my stomach opened up. I piled some bark from the tree, burning it to create a smoke signal, and when the only thing that approached was nightfall, I covered myself from head to toe with the last of the vaseline.

“Let’s see how you think I taste now…”

I smeared the ethanol from the sterno all over the leftover bark I pulled off for the smoke signal. I rubbed the last of it off on the trunk itself.

Then—

It came again.

I wouldn’t make it through another night up here. A shudder ripped through my torn-up body. The now cold blood staining my clothes and skin felt tight and constricting.

The moon was full. A burning spotlight on me. Illuminating my position for everything in these woods to see. Including him. I could see his eyes. I’ve grown accustomed to seeing them. Glowing red, hungry in the deep void of the night.

The low growls started, like usual. But he waited. He was hesitant, like the pause of a Broadway performer before staging the final scene of the final act on the final night. Savoring the moment.

This was the finale. This was the end…

As soon as the creature came into view, it pounced on me, pinning me against the platform. Its claws protracted deep into my shoulders.

HRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUARGH!!!

Its spit coiled in rivulets, wetting my face.

“AAAAAAAAAARGHHH!!!!!!” I yelled back, throwing my hand to the side and grabbing the lighter. I clicked the trigger twice before—

WHOOOOSH!!

The ethanol-covered bark immediately went up in flames, along with the side of the tree trunk.

The flames grew, licking at the creature’s underbelly.

It yelped and howled in pain, stumbling back, pulling its claws from my body in a spray of arterial blood.

The creature’s body lit up instantly, as if its skin were made of some kind of excelerant.

As the ethanol burned off, the wood quickly caught on, and soon the fire had a life of its own. Consuming. Destroying. Returning to dust what had once lived, breathed, and called this place its home. It was one of the oldest things in this valley, and as my eyelids closed for the last time, I watched the flames consume it whole.