Something of a Kind

chapter 17 | ALYSON

An alternative rock band flowed from the quiet speakers, the silence in their conversation comfortable. Aly watched the mountains for most of the ride, the visor twisted to cover a toobright sun, peaking over the horizon and darting around bends in the road. It couldn’t rise fast enough. An unseasonable chill crept through the heaters, full-blast as they labored to clear the flog beleaguering the windshield.

With heavy moisture in the air, Aly felt alert the moment she walked outside. Between a scalding shower, spicy cinnamon toothpaste, and the post-rain atmosphere, energy flooded her veins, premature adrenaline egging on her nerves.

She held the camcorder with a death grip, the closed fist resting on her knee while her leg tapped beneath. In her free hand, she held Noah’s. Going after the creature made her anxious, doubts weaseling into every other thought. A streamlined subconscious threatened that they wouldn’t find it, or they wouldn’t get a decent shot, or no one would believe her even if she did.

Her leg throbbed as though the wound intended to remind her where it came from. Aly hadn’t considered Rowley’s halfhearted warning about the hazard until they were halfway to the campsite.

She shushed blaring uncertainties as Noah blew past the entrance of the public hiking trails. With a wooden sign disappearing behind them, it was only a moment before he pulled into a turn-off and over the curb. Easing into a sliver of camouflaging brush, the engine hummed to a stop.

“It’s completely invisible from the road,” he informed, reaching across her to pull fingerless gloves from the dashboard. “Usually, it’s not safe for hikers to hide their vehicles, in case they go missing. It’s the first thing the state troopers look for in an investigation. We haven’t packed for a day-trip though, so we should be okay, since we’re being sneaky.”

“Sneaky as in hiding? We’re already jumping ahead to Bonnie and Clyde,” she laughed. Grabbing his hand, she added emphatically, “Thelma and Louise.”

“Or Romeo and Juliet,” he teased, climbing out of the vehicle.

She paused, recalling Greg’s words and wondering if Noah understood the significance of feuding families. Amused, she followed him, teasing, “Well, we should hope it wouldn’t end the same, then.”

Where Noah stood, the trees were parted, dawn bright in his face. Squinting against the glare, he joked, “What? Star-crossed lovers committing double suicides not as exciting as flying off a cliff hand in hand?”

“It’s sexier than Thelma and Louise, I hereby confess,” Aly smirked. “How psychologically fascinating – addicted love, romanticized death, and all that.”

“Cynical, but justified,” he observed, offering a hand as he led her up a path that connected with a familiar trail.

With both hands wrapped around the camera, mastering the inclines that once came easy was a clumsy endeavor. Every once in a while, Aly would straighten herself, realizing she had hunched over in an attempt to keep up without taking her eyes from the trees. As they made their way towards the site of the first incident, she fought to match his stride. He often slowed for her, always prepared to grab her arm or catch her when she tripped, distracted. After the third or fourth near-fall, he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided any calculated maneuvering.

Upon reaching the campfire, with some debate as to which spot was theirs, she realized how unlikely it was that anything would show up. The tree line that seemed dark and impenetrable the first night was airy, vegetation loosely dispersed. Noah sifted through the pit’s ashes. Finding nothing, he kicked a stone before moving to look for footprints in the grass.

In just moments, his mood went from tangible frustration to silent scrutiny. His expression vague, he gathered the loose threads, everything abruptly internalized.

Unsure how to diffuse his agitation, she probed, “Find anything?”

Noah sighed. “Nah. It’s unimpressive, so far. It looks like the grass bounced back, like it filled in with mud from the rain.”

“Rowl -” Aly paused, noting that he would have no idea what she was talking about. Revising, she continued, “Some guy at Greg’s office said that happens a lot… Which reminds me – I really wish I brought something for casting… apparently there’s a special way to do it.”

He nodded, beckoning her to follow him through the trees. After scaling a steep boulder, he helped her over it, repeating the process when they reached a muddy embankment. Weaving through the thickets, Noah said, “Step where I step. There’s some nasty stuff up here. I’m trying to avoid anything poisonous.”

As she nodded, he snaked an arm around her abdomen, jerking her backwards. Slapping her hand across her mouth to muffle a scream, she turned her head back and forth, trying to figure out the cause of his caution. Heart pounding in her chest, she realized there was nothing there– a clearing, grasses knee-high and swaying with the wind.

“Unless this is The Happening,” she whispered, still unsure if they were about to encounter the creature– or even moose or bears. “I’m really not concerned with the attack of the grass.”

With his arms still wrapped around her torso, he pulled her along as he stepped backwards. He rested his chin on her shoulder, explaining, “I didn’t mean to be rough. This field is filled with cow parsnips, and you nearly dove in head first.”

His voice was normal, a queue that she could resume standard volume.

As her breathing slowed, she said, “Sorry. I mean this in the least grotesque way possible, but you scared the living crap out of me.”

He apologized, kissing her cheek before retracting the embrace. Fingertips brushing the sparks on her skin, her eyes caught a flash of motion. As they circled theplants on an unmarked hunter’s path in investigation, a familiar screech ripped through the meadow. Aly flinched, resisting twisting fear, enabling curiosity. Gravitating towards the sound, they stumbled into another clearing, the grass low and pressed down like a footpath.

Adjusting the settlings and removing the cap, Aly had the camera rolling. Along the horizon, a dark smudge moved throughout the trees. In the distance, it looked like a large bird. Nearing the animal, Aly discerned the arms gripping each branch as it propelled itself across, suddenly dropping onto a black mass that ducked to the ground.

Terrified and fascinated, she sprinted towards the creatures. Though Noah yelled after her, she didn’t turn back, hoping whatever it was wasn’t alerted by his voice. Closing in, she spotted something peculiar about the trees. Halting, she allowed him to catch up. As he considered her face with concern, Aly shuddered, rubbing the goosebumps peppering her arms. Realizing he expected an explanation, she pointed ahead, speechless.

The forest doesn’t deforest itself.

Nausea twisted in her stomach. The cedar had capsized. Aly had heard of it before, even seen it on the walls of the tunnel, but neither could prepare her. The tree, at least a thousand pounds, had been ripped from the ground, flipped so the top was stuffed in the hole left by the tear. Her gaze followed the bark to the sky, roots splayed out like branches. It was unnatural. As though her eyes couldn’t register what she saw, she felt herself scrambling to rearrange the image so it made sense.

Wait… where’d they go?

The air prickled with muted electricity. Noah snaked a tense arm around her waist, starting to drag her back the way they came. Her eyes left the alien marker, darting to the backdrop. Though the distance between each varied, the trees were the same – inverted, protruding from high points in the terrain. Amongst the greens and yellows, each shadows seemed to darken. An unshakeable sense of being watched overcame her. With each rustle, it intensified until her lungs quivered in search of breath.

A whistling gasp pulled her attention to Noah. His skin, warm and tan by nature, was ashen – as though it had been drained of blood. Cold to the touch, his guiding movements begged for escape. Anxiety bled from his presence, sending spikes of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Heart racing, she gripped the arm that embraced her. Petrified, he spoke quietly about the dangers of the cedars. Whooping howls followed as they continued to stagger away from the anomaly.

His hand folded into hers as instinct demanded flight. An obscure figure at their sides dashed in and out of view, enforcing territory and igniting a burning desire to disappear. She instantly regretted running for it – wishing she’d considered Rowley’s warnings again, recognized she could be shoving Noah in harm’s way, or at least sensed the obvious.

It seemed so harmless.

As they cut across the brush to the nearest path, a large beast shadowed another as it retreated into the woods. The first was down on its arms, legs bent under as though it was crouching. The other was standing, bi-pedal, at full height.

It looked like something she would have seen on late-night Discovery documentaries from countries below the equator, with people like her father filming from the brush. A primate was strictly unnatural against the wooded North American backdrop.

The thing was at least eight and a half feet tall, even with its back was slumped. Long, disproportioned arms hung low at its sides. With a cone-shaped head, the forehead protruded, separate from the flat nose. Its black lips rolled back, baring yellow teeth packed into pale gums. Its massive size radiated aggression and strength, onyx eyes flashing.

Shivering, Aly froze in place. It was making a sound, but she couldn’t quite hear it. Wedging himself between Aly and the animal, Noah pulled on her hands. Unmoved, her feet seemed to fuse with the earth.

When the creature didn’t respond, he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her down the path until she ran at his side. Trying to keep pace with his athletic gate, hand in hand, was grueling. Aly didn’t dare let go, lest they get separated or one of them fall behind.

Crossing trail after trail, she struggled to avoid sticks and debris from the forest floor. Noah propelled her forward, his grip protective. He constantly looked over his shoulder, but she couldn’t. Her lungs burned, her calves cramping. When it felt like an eternity had befallen, the wood beast finally nowhere in sight, her fight-orflight response gave way to debilitating exhaustion. As though it was unthreatened, it hadn’t followed.

Converging with a main route, Noah steered her though a hoard of shrubs, onto a paved walkway.

Breathless, she offered, “Maybe… we’re out… of its territory.”

He nodded his head, gasping, leading her onto the porch of a cabin. Waterlogged neon papers were stapled to wooden pillars labeled the structure as the Quassitauck Campground Sign In. He let her go for the first time since they’d seen it, summoning the strength to bang on the door. A polite rasp turned into hammering blows before weakening to feeble thumps.

She trembled, immobile as he moved from window to window, peering in. He returned to the doors, testing the locks. Unwilling to descend the porch, Noah backed against the railing, collapsing. Aly dropped into his arms. Sitting between his legs, she drew her knees to her chest, finding safety in his solidity.

She buried her face, taking shelter from the world. Warmed against a throbbing heartbeat, she released a chilled shiver. Noah pulled the sides of his jacket around her with an embrace. He breathed into her hair, gasps calming as she offered hushed apologies. He whispered that it was okay, they were safe, and if not, he’d protect her.

Believing him, Aly closed her eyes to the woods.