I start the engine, hit the gas pedal, and my car flies into reverse, but the exact moment my tires hit pavement is the exact moment a raging storm swoops down, unleashing a wrath like I’ve never before seen. Wrath that, with each passing second, gathers furious intensity.
An angry clap of thunder explodes that could shatter bone. On its heels, a volcanic flash of lightning fractures the sky and sets it afire. Night turns to day, and ahead in the distance, my enemy again reveals itself. The tree speaks directly to me as if all along it’s been waiting for this precise moment to deliver the message, one that couldn’t be clearer.
This is where it all started, and this is where it all will end.
More wind, more rain, more thunder, then another pop of lightning falls over the tree, and I catch something at the base of its trunk, but through the shielding rain, can’t tell what it is. I fling open the car door, leap out, and take off running, eyes focused on the one spot, wind belligerently shoving me forward.
And then I see him, and then my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. A sob escapes my lips, but a sharp gasp sucks it back in. “NO! NO, NO, NO . . . NOOOOOO!”
I fight my way through a thick wall of rain, feet stumbling into an unsteady zigzag.
I reach my son, my Devon, muddy and rain-soaked, lying across the trunk’s base like a tossed-aside rag doll. I collapse beside him, reach around his cold and lifeless body. As I lift him up, he arches away from me, head falling back, arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“NO, BABY, PLEASE!” I press his face against mine and rock him. “PLEASE! NO!”
But I know that there is nothing left of my son. That my world has collapsed around me, and that the only thing that held it together is now gone.
I lower him to the ground. I study his sweet, wonderful face.
“My baby boy . . . ,” I say, body shaking with the kind of grief that, before now, I never knew was humanly possible. I lean down, press my lips against his cold forehead, and a feeble whimper escapes me.
It’s that sleep of death, Christopher.
At last, the meaning is revealed, because I know that this world is worth nothing without my son in it.
I don’t belong here anymore.
I aim my gaze skyward. Rain mercilessly falls over me, battering my face and beating away the tears, but it’s nothing compared to the immeasurable torture my mind is only beginning to comprehend.
“I’m going with you,” I say through a defeated whisper.
I gather Devon up in my arms and carry him to the car.
With tenderness and care, I lay his body across the seat, then take one last look at my broken and beautiful son.
Tonight, I just want to save you.
But I couldn’t save him.
It was just an accident, Daddy.
This one won’t be.
I get behind the wheel, gun the engine, slam the car into reverse.
At fifty feet back, anger replaces pain, disgust overpowers regret, because I know that standing before me is the reason why my life has been so irreparably destroyed. My foot lands on the gas pedal. I hit the gearshift, hit the accelerator, and the car responds instantly, firing me forward at vicious momentum.
“C’MON, YOU BASTARD!” I shout with tears streaming down my face. “BRING IT ON! GIVE ME EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!”
Just as we’re about to collide, a flash of light goes off between us.
And the last thing I hear is shattering glass.
83
The light fades, and I realize I’m . . .
What?
I’m back on the road again, driving the same path as before, rain pounding my windshield, wind sweeping up. I turn my head to the right and see that Devon is . . .
Alive?
Jake barks.
What’s happening?
Jake barks again, this time with more insistence. I look over my shoulder at him.
Devon yells, “Daddy! Watch out!”
Plonk.
Something hits the windshield. I whip around and catch the rubber ball on a trajectory toward the road. But before it has a chance to meet ground, the boy in the red hoodie appears from out of nowhere and goes chasing after it.
The ball bounces on the asphalt, bounces again, then lands and begins to roll. The boy dashes after it, putting himself directly into my path.
I slam on the brakes. The car swerves. Devon cries out. Jake yelps.
We miss the boy.
But the car wheels into a monstrous spin, then careens off the road. A muddy skid propels us even faster, and now we’re headed straight for the Evil Tree.
Headlight beams mix with rain and obscure my vision. We are about to hit the tree when an explosion of white light blinds me.
I wake up seconds later, rub my eyes.
Wait. Seconds? Or is it weeks? Months?
I don’t know. I don’t know . . . Oh, God, I don’t know.
Everything is tilted.
I look out my side window, see the tree a few feet away, and realize we narrowly escaped the collision by landing in a ditch.
My son lets out a whispery moan.
“Devon!”
His eyes are half open, his shirt quickly darkening with blood that runs from the gash across his neck. So much blood.
Jake lets out a frightened howl from the backseat.
I reach for an old T-shirt, a roll of tape from the glove compartment. I wrap both around Devon’s neck, hoping to stem the flow of blood.
But it’s too much blood, coming out way too fast. I scramble for my cell, try dialing out, but the signal keeps dropping. I crank down the window, extend my phone outside. The effort proves useless.
“Daddy, I’m scared,” Devon says, voice so frail that I can barely hear it.
I crank the ignition key, slam the gearshift, punch the pedal. My car thrusts forward and the tires whine as we move out of the ditch and back toward the road.
But halfway up, it becomes clear we won’t make it. There’s not enough traction in the mud. And there is still no cell signal.
The wind howls, the rain picks up, and I’m so scared of losing my son.
“Daddy . . . please . . . help me . . . ” His eyes are almost half closed, body swaying weakly, swaying sickly, the blood now pooling in his lap.