The Hunting Tree

by Ike Hamill

  “Nope,” said Mike. “Look. I think it’s here." He held his map right in Bill’s face, so the engineer couldn’t ignore him.

  “Huh,” said Bill. “Sewage?”

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “All the town’s sewage comes down to this treatment plant. It’s just far enough away so the smell isn’t a nuisance.”

  “That’s great,” said Bill. “Where would this thing hide in a sewage treatment plant?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mike. “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight left. Let’s go find out.”

  Bill nodded and handed the detector back to Mike so he could find a good place to park. They had to settle for a wide shoulder on the other side of the road about a tenth of a mile north. Mike gathered up the two maps he found most suitable and climbed out of the car. He stretched while Bill collected the detector and several other things from the back seat.

  “Wait a second,” said Mike, “how are we supposed to use the detector? It hooks up to the car.”

  “Ah,” said Bill. “I have another surprise.” He flashed a smug smile at Mike and bent over to pull the trunk lever. Mike met him around the back of the car and looked on as Bill hoisted open the trunk.

  “That’s got to weigh a ton,” said Mike, pointing at the extra car battery in Bill’s trunk.

  “It does,” Bill admitted, “but I’ve got a backpack for it.”

  After wiring the device to the spare battery, Bill loaded the heavy power supply into a small backpack and held up it to Mike.

  “Help me on with this, would you?” asked Bill.

  “As long as you’re carrying it,” said Mike. He took the heavy load from Bill and helped him thread his arms through the straps.

  “Not bad,” said Bill, adjusting his shoulders. “Wouldn’t want to sprint or anything.” He fed the wires under his arm and held the device with one hand.

  “How long will it last on battery?” asked Mike.

  “I think about an hour, but I’m not too sure,” said Bill. “I know how much current it draws, but not how long this particular battery will go between charges.”

  “Leave it off for a while then,” said Mike. “We can spot check it later, but I think I have a good idea where we should start.”

  They crossed the road and plunged into the woods quickly, leaving the road behind and getting enough foliage between them and it for good cover. Even though it was slower going, they didn’t want to risk being seen trespassing. Mike led the way. He kept his head up most of the time, keeping an eye on the position of the sun. The map’s contour lines provided him enough information to keep them on track.

  “Let’s get a fix,” Mike said after twenty minutes of walking.

  Bill powered on the detector and ran a sweep. His big arc showed the strongest signal in the direction they had been walking. “Good job so far,” he said. “Right on target.”

  “Good,” said Mike. “We’ve got one more small hill before we should see something.”

  “I can smell something already,” said Bill.

  “Yeah,” agreed Mike.

  As they crested the small hill, Mike had his head buried in the map as he shuffled along. Bill caught him by the collar and stopped him. On the other side of the bush, just past where Mike would have pushed through the branches, the hill was cleared all the way to the sewage facility.

  “Thanks,” said Mike.

  “Let’s circle it,” suggested Bill.

  Mike nodded.

  Bill powered up the device and the two men headed south, staying in the woods and skirting the clearing. By sweeping a narrow arc every few steps, Bill was able to point accurately at the origin of the signal. They crouched and had a decent look at the buildings and pools.

  “Is this place manned?” asked Bill.

  “I don’t know,” said Mike. “Wait—yeah. Look at the cars.” He pointed towards a small parking lot sticking out from the other side of a low building. They could see the hoods of three cars.

  “Maybe we could pretend to be inspectors or something. Get inside the place?” asked Bill.

  “I don’t think that would work,” said Mike. “These guys are going to know who’s supposed to be here. We’ll never be able to bullshit our way through that. I wonder where he’s hiding?”

  “Must be some underground part of the place,” said Bill. “Maybe where the pipeline comes in from the town?”

  “I guess,” said Mike. “We could wait and see if everyone goes home, but it’s already after five. Maybe they run multiple shifts here?”

  “I don’t think we can afford to wait here,” said Bill. “Assuming that thing’s in there, we don’t have of the ropes and stuff. We’ll have to go back for those at least, and it’s too far to carry them. I mean, what are we going to do—knock on the door with a bag full of ropes and straps and ask to search the place?”

  Mike laid out the map on the leaves and roots. The two men crouched down in front of it.

  “Looks like this road must have the entrance to the place,” he said. “Why don’t we move the car over here and wait to see if everyone leaves at eight?” he asked.

  “Yeah, okay,” said Bill. “But what if they don’t?”

  Mike thought for a few seconds—“Well, if they don’t leave then he might have a hard time getting away undetected. He’s been keeping a low profile lately. Perhaps we can catch him while he’s trying to sneak away.”

  “Or maybe he’ll decide to kill everyone in the place,” said Bill.

  The two men started to crawl backwards away from the clearing. Without resolving the discussion, they headed through the woods in the direction of the car.

  “So we’ll just wait,” said Mike. “We’ll be able to tell if he’s moving from the device.”

  “You’re saying we might have to just follow him tonight and go after him tomorrow when he rests again?” asked Bill.

  “Could be,” said Mike.

  * * * * *

  BILL PULLED OFF on the shoulder again. From their position, they could just make out the entrance to the sewage treatment plant, marked by a weathered wooden sign. Not long after they took their position, several cars pulled out of the plant.

  “Eight,” said Mike, checking the clock. “Must be the end of the shift. Sunset should be in about twenty minutes—should we go see if we can get in?”

  “It’s too late,” said Bill. “I’m starting to think we should just use this opportunity to find out if the theory is right. We’re making a lot of assumptions here.”

  “So you think there’s some other source of strange energy in the sewage treatment plant?” asked Mike.

  “No, I don’t, but you’re the scientist. Come on—is breaking into a municipal facility warranted by what we know so far?”

  “Yes,” said Mike. “I thought that’s why we were here.”

  Another vehicle pulled out from the driveway and exited the plant.

  “See there,” said Bill. “If we had gone in we would have been busted by that guy. Who knows how many others are still coming. Hell, we could have missed a shift change while we were driving over here. There could be dozens of workers in there.”

  Mike only half paid attention to Bill’s words of caution. He studied his watch and made an announcement when Bill had finished—“Sunset. Right now.”

  “Seems too light out. Are you sure?” asked Bill.

  “Yeah, but it will still be light out for some time,” said Mike. “I don’t know precisely when it will move.” Mike shifted around in his seat with the detector on his lap. He angled his head against the window, as he had earlier when he slept.

  “Are you still tired?” asked Bill. “You slept most of the way up here.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all last night,” said Mike. “I was waiting for this thing.”

  “Well you can’t sleep now,” said Bill. “We have to be alert in case we see movement.”

  “Fine,” said Mike, shifting upright.

  Within five minutes, Mike leaned his head b
ack against the seat and struggled to keep his eyes open.

  “Tell me when you were most frightened,” said Bill.

  “What? Why?” asked Mike.

  “It’s a great way to stay awake. We used to use it on road trips in college. Just describe when you were most afraid and it will help you wake up,” said Bill.

  “I can’t think of anything,” said Mike.

  “Are you kidding? What about what happened at my house? Didn’t that scare the shit out of you?” he asked.

  “The first time, maybe. The second time was just tragic,” said Mike. “I guess there were a few moments when I was a kid.” Mike thought about his brother.

  “I figured you paranormal investigators were all fear junkies,” said Bill. “You know—living for that rush.”

  “I know what it was,” said Mike. He sat up straight in his seat and looked down the road as he spoke. “It was when I was in my twenties.” He collected his thoughts for a second. “I was living with my grandparents. My parents both died before I was a teenager, so I lived with my grandparents and we were really close. Actually, the story really starts when I was in my teens.”

  “Yeah?” prompted Bill.

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “My grandfather was a really proud man—former Air Force Colonel. We saw this disabled vet in Augusta and he pulled the car into a parking spot and nodded at the guy. He said ‘Mikey, if I ever get that way, I want you to help me end it.’ I didn’t know what to say. My dad always told me that being handicapped or disabled didn’t mean you couldn’t live a good life.”

  “How old were you when this happened?” asked Bill.

  “I don’t know, maybe sixteen or so,” said Mike.

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway,” continued Mike. “Ten years later, he was in pretty bad shape. He wasn’t in a wheelchair, but he might as well have been. He had a catheter, had to use a walker, and he had this terrible skin condition to go along with all his other problems. These big, painful blisters of pus and blood would form all over his skin and then burst if they came in contact with anything.” Mike circled his thumb and forefinger and demonstrated the size of the lesions on his own forearm.

  “Oh, man,” said Bill.

  “It’s called bullous pemphigoid,” said Mike slowly. “Pretty rare.” Mike swallowed and stared down the road. “He was in terrible shape: helpless, completely dependent on healthcare workers, in pain all the time. My grandmother wanted him to move to a nursing home, but he just wanted to die at home. That’s when he asked me.”

  “To help him?” asked Bill.

  “Not directly,” said Mike. “Maybe if he had asked me directly it would have changed what happened.” Mike took a second to collect his thoughts before he continued. “He sent me upstairs to the nightstand beside his old bed. By that point he was living in a hospital bed installed in his old den. Grandpa said something like ‘Run upstairs and get me that gun from my nightstand.’ So I did.”

  “Did you ask him why he wanted it?” asked Bill.

  “You didn’t ask him why he wanted anything,” said Mike, shaking his head. “Even in that state, he had a really strong personality. At least to me,” he added. “Anyway,” Mike continued, “that’s when I was most scared. I walked up those stairs knowing that by the end of the day I would be consoling my grandmother and talking to the police. I’ve had some experience with suicide. Once it happens, you just have a series of numb decisions to make. People will guide you by the shoulders and move you through it. But knowing it’s going to happen before it happens—that’s scary.”

  Mike exhaled.

  Bill waited for a few seconds before asking—“So what did you do?”

  “I got the gun,” said Mike. “But before I took it downstairs I took out the clip and unloaded the chamber. He was careful with firearms. I knew that was the only loaded gun in the house, and the ammo was locked up. I left the bullets upstairs in the back of a drawer in the guest room, and took the gun down to him. He was beyond pissed,” Mike continued. “I just stood there and let him yell at me and just lied. I told him I had no idea what happened to the clip. He sent me back upstairs three more times to look for it again; telling me different places to look. After that he seemed to give up on me.”

  “What happened to him?” Bill asked softly.

  “He died a few months later in a nursing home,” said Mike, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “It was easier on my grandmother that way, and she lived several more years. I’m glad she didn’t have to live those years remembering the sound of a gunshot.”

  “It was the right thing,” said Bill.

  “Well, it worked,” said Mike.

  “How do you mean?” asked Bill.

  “I’m not tired anymore.” Mike smiled. “A little sad, but not tired at all. You want to go see if anyone’s in there? We could just go up the drive and see if there are any cars in the lot. No harm in that.”

  “Yeah,” said Bill. “But hold up that detector. Maybe we can get a more precise fix on its position as we drive up.”

  Bill steered and drove slowly as they rolled into the entrance of the facility. He split his attention between the road and watching the device in Mike’s hand. Sweeping gently from side-to-side, Mike pinpointed the direction of the strongest signal.

  “No cars,” Bill announced. “Place looks empty.”

  “That’s odd,” said Mike.

  “Why’s that?”

  “No, I mean the device.” He pointed. Bill brought the slow-moving car to a stop to see what Mike referred to. “Even though we’re not moving anymore, I’m not getting a consistent signal,” Mike explained. He swung the device off to the left.

  “That’s because it’s moving,” said Bill. He whipped around in his seat and pressed his face against his window, searching in the direction of the signal.

  “We’ll turn the car around, jackass,” said Mike. “It’s almost behind us.” Mike pointed the device with one had and reached down for the map with the other.

  “Shit,” Bill whispered under his breath as he made a three point turn on the narrow drive. Halfway through the maneuver, he realized that he should have backed up to the road to save time, but by then it was too late. Mike held up the device but dodged and ducked his head to try to see out the window.

  “See anything?” asked Bill.

  “I can’t see much in the woods,” said Mike. “It’s getting too dark out there.”

  With the car turned around, Bill raced to the end of the drive and slowed. “Which way?” he asked.

  “Hold on,” said Mike, alternating between scanning with the device and looking down at his map.

  “Hurry up,” said Bill, “just make a decision. To the right? It looks like it’s moving south.” Bill reached up and turned on the passenger’s light, mounted under the rear-view mirror.

  “Yeah, but that road curves back west. Yeah, go. Right! Go!” urged Mike.

  Bill sent gravel flying from his rear tires as he bolted out onto the road. Laying the map down on his lap, Mike reached up and angled the GPS towards himself, so he could compare its display to the map. He had the detector pointed off to the left of their current direction of travel, following the creature.

  “You’re gonna take a left in about a quarter mile,” Mike told Bill.

  “How fast is it going?” asked Bill. “Any idea?”

  “Not yet,” said Mike. “We should get a better idea once we’re going east, but right now the signal hasn’t decreased much, so I’d say it doesn’t have a huge lead.”

  Bill stabbed the brakes and then released, preparing for the sharp left. He accelerated down the winding narrow road and the two men bounced over rough pavement. Mike struggled to get a lock on the direction, but the twists in the road made the task nearly impossible.

  “Talk to me,” said Bill. “Am I going to fast, too slow, what?”

  “I can’t tell,” Mike replied. “Wait, slow down. You’re about to cross another road.”

  Whe
n the road straightened out and Bill decreased their speed, Mike was able to get a better idea of the creature’s path.

  “Which way?” asked Bill, stopping at the intersection.

  “Straight. Straight.” Mike pointed. “I think we’re almost caught up, but we’re right on the edge of this page.” He flipped back and forth.

  The road widened and featured a dotted yellow line.

  “Slow down,” ordered Mike. He pointed the detector past Bill and out his window. “It’s right through those woods, moving the same direction as we are.”

  “Let’s get ahead of it,” said Bill, accelerating once again.

  “Yeah, good,” said Mike. He shifted in his seat, twisting around to the left as Bill pulled ahead of the signal. Soon Mike had to point the device out the back window to track the strongest signal. “Take your next left,” he said. “I want to get a look at this thing.”

  “Can do,” said Bill. He glanced at the GPS for a cue and then took a left turn, moving them in the path of the creature.

  “Okay,” said Mike. “Stop here and it should pass by us.”

  Bill pulled off the road where a dirt track ran underneath cross-country power lines. He killed the engine so they could hear and Mike climbed out, stretching the detector’s power cord through the car window. Bill pushed his door open, but sat in the seat with his hand on the key.

  “Signal’s stronger,” said Mike. “Don’t know the distance…”

  “Shhh,” ordered Bill. “I can hear something.”

  Mike held his breath and listened. At first, all he could hear were crickets and buzzing insects. The deep blue sky showed the first stars of the evening. Streaks of black painted the dome as bats swooped for mosquitoes. Mike opened his mouth to say that he couldn’t hear anything, but then he heard the first pounding footsteps. He thought it must be same sound that early mammals had heard when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and the sound elicited the same response: he wanted to find a nice deep hole to crawl into.

  The pounding drew closer until it approached the opposite side of the road. The footfalls were spaced evenly, but too far apart, as if the creature bounced along in low gravity. Suddenly the footsteps stopped, and Mike counted the seconds reflexively. He made it almost to three Mississippi when the car exploded.