The Hunting Tree

by Ike Hamill

  “Well, there’s the situational clumsiness—as you mentioned,” he ticked off one finger. “He has extraordinary eyesight, hearing, short-term memory, intelligence, and concentration,” said the doctor.

  “You got all that from the past half-hour?” asked Melanie.

  “Well, some,” said the doctor. “I tested his hearing and eyesight, just to verify the results from the neurologist. I asked Davey to read this page of numbers and words when we began today’s examination, and you were here at the end when he was able to recall ninety percent of this list,” he held up the page.

  “Is that unusual?” asked Melanie.

  “My key only goes up to the ninety-eighth percentile,” said Dr. Chisholm. “So, yes, that would make Davey about the most unusual boy I’ve examined.”

  “Hmmm,” Melanie pursed her lips, not sure what to do with this information. She always knew Davey to be bright, but nothing from his school had ever indicated any superiority.

  “The notes from the radiologist were very interesting, too,” said the doctor. He flipped open Davey’s chart to the appropriate page and handed Melanie the document.

  He pointed to one passage and then read it aloud for her—“When prompted to ‘sit tight,’ Davey sat ABSOLUTELY motionless. We had never seen anything like it—he looked like a statue. We read from his chart that he has exhibited clumsiness and uncoordinated motor control. This is hard for us to believe based on our experience.”

  “I called this operator,” the doctor tapped the page. “These notes are not what I expect to find in a professional communication. I didn’t understand what he meant until I told Davey the same thing earlier. He has the ability to turn his body to stone—you wouldn’t know something was alive in there. That’s what I mean about his extraordinary concentration.”

  Melanie squirmed in her seat, she was ready to get home and forget about how extraordinary her son had become. “So, you said something about more tests?” she prompted.

  “There’s one more thing,” said Dr. Chisholm. “Davey’s extremely developed for a boy his age.”

  “Pardon?”

  “We call it ‘precocious puberty,’” explained the doctor. “The absolute earliest we expect to see any signs of puberty in a boy is about nine. Any earlier and we’re looking for the cause. Now, personally, I’ve seen boys growing up in a house without a father can sometimes begin a little earlier. Davey is unusually early.”

  “He’s just about to turn nine—he’s just a boy,” argued Melanie.

  “Not for long,” said the doctor. “I think we just need to do some more tests to see if we can pin down the cause, but I’d say he started puberty months ago, at least. We’ve ruled out brain tumor, but I’d like to get him one more CT scan to look for any testicular tumors. I’ve already got the blood and urine samples, but I’ll send those out for hormone tests as well.”

  “What does this mean? What do I do?” asked Melanie.

  “I’d like to try to figure out the cause before we start to suggest a course of action. If there’s an underlying cause, we’ll treat that and hope the puberty slows. If there’s not, then we may decide he needs hormone therapy to counteract the environmental or genetic influences.”

  “Genetic?”

  “In about five percent of cases in boys it comes from the father or maternal grandfather,” explained Dr. Chisholm. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’ll get all these tests and you can schedule a follow-up with reception.”

  “Okay,” said Melanie, rising tentatively.

  “We’ll figure this all out, Ms. Hunter. Please remember, we haven’t found anything really wrong with Davey. If anything, he seems to be an outstanding specimen.”

  Dr. Chisholm smiled again; Melanie felt a chill.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mike

  THEY SAT IN A BOOTH at a steakhouse. Mike and Gary took up one side and Katie had the other to herself. Gary kept reaching out to touch the dusty oar affixed to the wall. Each time he did, he wiped his fingers clean again on his napkin.

  “I’m just saying: I don’t know why we’re not going back to the river again,” said Gary.

  “We’ve been trying that for weeks, and we’ve seen nothing since that first night,” said Mike. He gripped his temples and then smoothed his hair back.

  “But that was the best evidence we’ve ever collected,” said Gary. “I think we have to keep plugging away at that until we can reproduce those results. Have you ever seen anything like that?”

  “You know I haven’t,” admitted Mike. “But how long are we going to beat that dead horse before we allow ourselves to branch out?”

  “I know a place,” said Katie. “And if it doesn’t work out,” she continued, “we can always go back to the river. Maybe we’ll learn something by going somewhere new.”

  “Good point,” said Gary.

  “Where?” asked Mike.

  “It’s not exactly a haunting. Well, maybe it is, I’m not sure,” said Katie. “I met these guys who come from New Hampshire. South though, close to you,” she pointed to Gary. “They think they have a line on a Loogaroo.”

  “A what?” asked Gary.

  Mike smiled and asked—“May I?" Katie nodded her consent, and Mike explained. “It’s a Caribbean word, but you find the same myth in many cultures. It’s a woman who’s in league with the devil. As part of her bargain she gets magical abilities, but she has to give blood to the devil each night. If she can’t get blood from an animal, she’ll have to give her own blood and she’ll eventually die.”

  “So like a vampire?” asked Gary.

  “Yeah, it would be like a vampire in a lot of ways,” said Katie.

  “A lot of similarities. In fact, they’ve got the same compulsive myth,” confirmed Mike. “A common defense is to leave a pile of sand or rice by your door. She’ll have to count the grains before coming in, so you’ll be safe until morning. I’ve got to say, that legend probably hasn’t been prevalent in New Hampshire since the Pennacook Indians.”

  “These guys are part Abenaki, I think,” said Katie.

  “I don’t get it,” said Gary. “Even if they have found something, why would our process help? We’re trying to test the ability to amplify paranormal activity so it can be measured. What’s that have to do with this Loogaroo?”

  “Don’t be hasty,” said Mike. “What if there’s a paranormal energy connection? It would certainly support our theory of why paranormal activity has declined in the past century. Maybe this creature does exist, but it has been weakened by the decrease in energy.”

  “I guess we can’t rule it out,” said Gary. He touched the pack of cigarettes in his front pocket.

  “So what have they seen?” Mike asked Katie.

  “They had a dog tied outside, near their house. Every Saturday they’d have their relatives over to the house to hang out, and in the morning, the dog would always be sick. They took the dog to the vet and discovered that he was severely anemic. They looked into all kinds of causes, but the vet kept coming back to severe blood loss.”

  “Hardly definitive,” said Mike.

  “Well, then, after the dog died, they saw other animals being affected. Always on a Saturday, after the relatives,” said Katie. “They’d go out in the morning and find dead birds, or a raccoon, or squirrels. One of their uncles was like the Shaman or whatever, and he suggested those animals had been drained of blood. Sure enough, they started opening the dead animals and they never had a drop of blood left. Their uncle told them about the idea of the Loogaroo; said their ancestors learned about it from the French, who said it was part wolf.”

  “Is this still going on?” asked Mike.

  “No,” said Katie. “The uncle died last year, and the family doesn’t convene at the house anymore. So these guys, Roland and Merritt, they said that after their uncle died the activity just trailed off.”

  “So it was him,” suggested Gary. “Seems like the most plausible explanation. The uncle had a thing for blood an
d was killing the animals.”

  “Or maybe he was unknowingly helping it,” Mike said, gazing up towards the ceiling. “Maybe the thing was drawing energy from him, and now it doesn’t have enough energy to manifest.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” said Katie. “He was a sensitive, or catalyst, and his presence was required for the activity.”

  “That’s good,” said Mike. “You’ve presented a hypothesis that we can corroborate or disprove. In the worst-case scenario we’ll just record the woods for an evening.”

  “I wish the uncle was still around so we could test him,” said Gary.

  “Good point,” said Mike. “Katie, can you follow up with Roland and…”

  “Merritt,” Katie filled in.

  “Right, and ask them if anyone else in their family has experienced anything. Also—who is going to replace the uncle as Shaman, and is he a blood relation as well?” asked Mike.

  “You think this type of thing is inherited?” asked Katie.

  “Might as well be,” said Mike. “Worth checking out. So, Saturday then?”

  “I’ll send you the details,” said Katie.

  * * * * *

  “YOU SAID THEY USED TO HAVE the family conferences here? Where did they gather?” Mike whispered, looking around the small trailer.

  “They used to put up a meeting tent outside every spring. Now that the family doesn’t meet, they don’t need it,” said Katie.

  Katie, Mike, and Gary stood in the living room of the trailer, waiting for Roland to return from his bedroom. None of them wanted to sit. The wooden chairs looked like they might break under any load, and the sofa was criss-crossed with silver tape holding together the upholstery. Gary clasped his hands behind his back and studied a painting of a deer hung over the sofa.

  “Here it is,” said Roland. He walked back in holding up a necklace.

  “Thank you.” Mike took the object. Decorated with teeth, beads, and feathers, the necklace was strung on a thin strand of woven leather.

  “You test that,” said Roland. “You’ll find something.”

  “We will,” said Mike. “So far, we’ve only found the right energy from minerals or even some metals, but we’ll be thorough.”

  Roland nodded.

  “Can we tap into your electricity, or should I set up our generator?” asked Gary.

  “Our power is really bad,” said Roland. “But you’re welcome to it. There’s an outside outlet near the steps.”

  “Thanks,” said Gary, heading outside.

  “Katherine says you will make this thing into flesh, so we can catch it,” stated Roland. He stood close to Mike and towered over him, easily ten inches taller. His features were kind but his face was stolid and Mike found Roland’s gaze unnerving.

  “Well,” said Mike, glancing at Katie, “we’ve never actually tried to catch something. We have witnessed physical interaction, so I guess it’s not out of the question.”

  “We want this Loogaroo gone,” said Roland.

  “I was, um,” Mike stammered, “under the impression that it was already gone. Katie?”

  Katie smiled at Roland and he smiled back—“Didn’t you say you hadn’t seen the Loogaroo since Gus died?”

  “Uncle Gus helped us see,” Roland explained. “That doesn’t mean it’s gone; just that we can’t see it. She can shed her skin and move around invisible. Uncle made her keep her skin on, but since he’s been gone, she’s had it off.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Mike. “Have you ever seen any balls of light?”

  Roland shook his head and stared at Mike.

  “Okay,” said Mike, “I’ll go help Gary get set up.”

  Outside, Gary paced out a rough semicircle around a rusted steel pole protruding from the ground at a low angle. Mike walked forward to inspect the pipe and found the top mushroomed from when it had been hammered into the rocky soil.

  Attached to a ring in the pole, a short length of rope led to a dirty pony halter.

  As Mike watched, Merritt appeared from the back of the trailer pulling a large buck by the antlers. As he passed Mike, the buck tried to resist moving towards the center of the circle. Merritt pulled the animal with one hand as he bent to retrieve the halter. He brought the two together and quickly tied the snorting buck.

  “Watch out for those horns,” Merritt told Mike. “Those fuckers are sharp.”

  Mike put up his hands and took another step backwards.

  “We’re gonna kill him in the morning anyway,” explained Merritt.

  Mike watched the tethered buck puff a few breaths. He crossed back to the van to talk to Gary.

  “How’s it looking?” asked Mike.

  “I’ve got all the angles covered,” said Gary. “Ready to calibrate?”

  “Sure,” said Mike.

  The two men took their positions at the controls and adjusted dials. They called numbers back and forth to each other as they set their baselines and prepared the equipment for the experiment. Halfway through the procedure, Katie exited the trailer and arrived at Mike’s side.

  “Looks different,” she said. Katie pointed to a radial display which showed the ambient noise with respect to the compass direction. “How come?”

  “The angle?” asked Mike. “Who knows. Probably the time of day, or maybe even the season.”

  “Seems like it should still be west if it’s the sun causing the baseline,” said Katie.

  “No worries,” said Mike. “We’ll account for the offset either way. Can you get rid of Roland and Merritt?”

  “You worried they’ll contaminate the results?” Katie asked.

  “I think if we do see something, they’ll try to shoot it,” said Mike.

  Mike and Gary wrapped up their preparations. When Katie returned from talking to the brothers she shook her head—“They’re staying.”

  “Shit,” said Mike.

  “What’s the big deal?” asked Gary. “If we do see something, let them shoot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Packed inside the van, Roland and Merritt insisted on joining the researchers once they found out that no visible lights would be trained on the deer. Without the aide of the night-vision cameras, the deer was invisible against the tree line.

  Eventually, the buck curled his legs under his body and sat at the edge of his tether, exhausted from pulling against the rope. In the green-tinted monitor, the buck’s eyes reflected the infrared light and glowed bright. The thermal displays added very little information, showing only the signature of the buck and the occasional passing rodent.

  Mike shifted in his chair. Roland was pressed against his left arm and Gary his right. He was being assaulted by unwelcome noises and odors from sharing close quarters inside the van.

  “I’ve got to get a cigarette,” said Gary.

  “I’ll go with you,” said Merritt.

  The van rocked and groaned as the two men squeezed past the equipment and people to get out the back door. Mike took a deep gulp of fresh air and relaxed with the additional space. The buck’s head whipped around and Mike heard it snort through his headphones.

  Mike pressed his hands over his ears to focus on the sounds relayed by the various microphones. He checked the energy levels, both transmitted and received, looking for paranormal activity. He saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then noticed a slight bump in a different frequency range. Mike considered fetching Gary so he could run a diagnostic while he adjusted the transmitter, but didn’t want to risk missing the phenomenon.

  He adjusted a small dial clockwise until his transmitted frequency matched the small bump on the sensor. The spike was immediate. The bump doubled and tripled in magnitude within a few seconds. Mike dialed down the power to the transmitter, but the spike increased further. When the power dial would decrease no further, Mike held his breath. He turned the frequency dial, moving back to the normal position and then panicked. His left hand shot out and killed the power to the amplifier. Mike exhaled and focuse
d on the receiver where the spike had finally leveled out.

  “Gary?” Mike called. He heard his own voice faintly in the headphones.

  “Mike?” whispered Katie from the far end of the van. She had her hands raised to her ears, and pointed at her headphones when Mike looked over. It took Mike a second to realize what she was referring to, but then he heard it too—footsteps from woods.

  “Gary, we need you,” Mike called again.

  The footsteps paused.

  Mike looked up at the deer and studied the image for any change. The buck stiffened and turned its head to the side, stretching the rope hanging from the halter. Suddenly the buck tried to stand, but as it straightened its front legs, its head was pulled by the rope and it nearly toppled. With its legs spread wide for stability, the buck thrashed and huffed, trying to shake loose from the halter.

  “It’s here,” said Roland.

  Mike glanced back to the meter and noted that the energy spike was holding.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Mike. “Maybe it doesn’t show up on IR and thermal." He spun away from the instruments and shuffled to the door of the van. Before opening the door, he turned to Katie. “Keep an eye on that deer. If you see anything, yell to me.”

  Mike threw open the door and slipped out of his chair. Light spilled from the back of the van, and when Mike’s eyes registered what was going on outside, the left side of his body instantly went numb from shock. He crashed to the floor of the van. Roland looked down at Mike, but Mike’s gaze was locked on what he saw just outside the van. He opened his mouth to yell, but instead he choked on a gulp of vomit cast up from his shocked stomach.

  Gary lay on his side, ten feet from the van, with blood smeared over his shirt and face. Upright but sagging, next to Gary, Merritt stood with his arms wrapped around a tiny shriveled naked thing. It looked vaguely amphibian, with a giant head and thin exposed ribs covered by translucent skin. Its back was to the van and its tiny feet hung a foot over the ground. It was suspended from Merritt’s big frame. The thing’s head rose to the level of Merritt’s neck, and the tall man appeared to be holding it up with his tight embrace.