by Dylan Peters
I was wrong. The Nullwood was alive.
The forest was thick with dark growth. There were places Anna’s wheelchair didn’t fit through easily, and where she had to be carried while one of us fought to pull the wheelchair through the trees. It was in those moments of close proximity to the trees that I realized how alive they were. Between the cracks of the hard black surface were colors, almost like veins in the tree flesh. They were not always bright, but they waxed and waned like a tide, slowly revealing iridescent pinks, blues, yellows, and greens. Curiosity made me want to break a branch or rip away some bark for a closer look at the marvel underneath the surface, but caution won over, and I refrained from defiling the woods needlessly.
These trees didn’t show life on the outside as normal trees did with leaves, pine needles, cones, nuts, flowers, or fruit. Yet the flow of life was there, hiding inside. I regarded that fact as both encouraging and foreboding. The Nullwood might not have been the shroud of death I had imagined, but if it behaved differently from everything I had known, then there would be no past experiences I could use to guide me. Each of us would be like a newborn child in the Nullwood. What if we needed to run when we hadn’t yet learned to crawl?
The ground was hard and dry, and we were thankful for that. Where the mist thinned we could see black rocks spotted with pale pink lichen. Again, the presence of color was shocking and made the woods seem all the more alien. It all gave the impression of being in a dream; a nightmare dreamscape flecked with neon color and besieged by mist. What did we think we were doing in this place?
It took four hours of careful plodding over roots and rocks and ducking carefully under and around gnarled black branches before we reached a place where the Nullwood thinned and we could spread ourselves out a bit. Anna returned to her wheelchair and gave a few measured thrusts on the handrims. Luckily the ground remained firm and she was able to move. Yet the mists remained, and the forest floor now sloped slightly downward. Jim cautioned Anna to be careful, and she returned his comment with an eye-roll.
“So where should we go from here?” Kay asked.
“Wisket says the dog wants to continue west,” Anna answered.
Wisket and the wild dog had been more present since entering the Nullwood. I realized they might have been more comfortable further away from the world of humans. Again, my mind asked questions normal people don’t ask. Why do animals feel more comfortable away from groups of humans? I always felt more comfortable away from groups of humans. What does that say about animals? What does that say about me? What does that say about humans?
Through Wisket and the wild dog, Anna continued to lead us west through the Nullwood. The day bore on uneventfully, and after another three hours of walking, Jim called for a break. He plopped down on a black tree that bent horizontally at the trunk to make a seat and brought his backpack around to grab some food. He tossed us protein bars, and we shared a large bottle of water. The cool air and shade of the Nullwood had kept us dry despite hours of walking. Still, we each found a place to sit and were thankful and ready to enjoy our rest.
“The mist hasn’t gone away,” Kay said as she sat down on the tree next to Jim.
She was right; in fact, it seemed as though the mist was thicker where we were sitting.
“I think it’s because we’re headed downhill,” Jim said. “We may be headed into a shallow valley or something.” He stared at the sky and shrugged. “I suppose we shouldn’t assume the land will be exactly like it used to be.” He bit into his protein bar and spoke while chewing. “We really shouldn’t assume anything.”
I followed Jim’s gaze to the sky and stared at the pale gray clouds hanging overhead. There had been no clear skies since entering the Nullwood, and regardless of what Jim thought, it might have been safe to assume there wouldn’t be. The Nullwood held a certain amount of its own mysticism. The laws of nature wouldn’t apply consistently… they might not apply at all.
“Here, Creepy,” Jim said and tossed me the water bottle we were sharing.
I caught it, unscrewed the cap, and tipped the water into my mouth gratefully. It had already been an arduous day, and as I looked around I saw the others were also thankful for the break. Even Wisket had jumped into Anna’s lap to curl up, and the wild dog was laying at Kay’s feet. Yet, the dog’s ears were held high, and he seemed unsettled. His gaze was fixed unblinkingly into the mist. It made me uncomfortable and as I screwed the cap back onto the bottle, I fumbled and dropped it.
“Damn it, Creepy,” Jim said.
I quickly picked the water back up, and luckily the cap was still secured.
“Nothing spilled,” I said. “Cap’s still on.”
Jim just shook his head and glared at me.
“Why do you have to be so hard on him?” Anna asked Jim.
Jim scoffed. “I’m not hard on him.”
“You are,” Anna argued.
“I bet I’m not half as hard on him as his dad was,” Jim said with another mouthful of protein bar. “Eh, Creepy?”
“I never had a dad,” I said and walked over to hand the water bottle to Anna. “I mean… I never knew him.”
Jim nodded as if my comment had confirmed something in his mind. “Dads are tough. If I had dropped a bottle of water out here, my dad would have backhanded me.”
For once, what Anna said to Jim was laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry your dad was like that.”
“Don’t be,” Jim said defensively. “I’ll handle this world better because of the discipline he taught me. He taught me strength.”
“He taught you cruelty,” Anna said. Yet, she didn’t say it with force as she usually did when arguing with Jim. Anna looked down and mumbled the words as if she were ashamed of them.
“You know what—,” Jim said and stood up. I could see that he was angry but holding it back. “I think Kay and I are gonna go up ahead for a bit and scout out the woods. It might be hard for you if the decline gets steeper, Anna, and it would be good to know what we’re up against. Stay here with Creepy and the animals. Rest up. We’ll be back.”
“I don’t think we should split up,” Kay said.
“We’re going,” Jim said to her harshly. “C’mon.”
Kay didn’t protest again. She stood up and followed Jim as he stalked off into the mist.
I was a little shocked that Jim had left us, and as I looked at Anna it seemed that she was too. I suppose her words had stung him more than she had thought they would.
“I guess it’s good we have Wisket and the dog, huh?” Anna said.
“Yeah,” I said stupidly, wishing I had come up with something wittier to say.
Wisket stood from Anna’s lap and stretched, extending each of his back legs in turn. Then he shook his head so rapidly you could hear the clapping of his ears. I looked over to the wild dog who was still staring into the mist. I don’t know why he was making me so uncomfortable, but he was.
“So you never knew your dad, huh?” Anna asked.
“Nope,” I said, glad to have my attention drawn away from the dog. “He left before I was old enough to remember, and I guess that’s kinda why I’m a little different, but… I had a good mom.”
“You have a good mom,” Anna corrected.
“Yeah,” I said with a weak voice, as I realized I had just spoken of my mother like she were already dead.
“Don’t lose hope, Arthur,” Anna said. “If I still believe, you can too.” Anna smiled, hoping her comment would at least make me grin.
It did. But it wasn’t because what she said was true. It was because she was the one who said it; it was because she cared. I wanted to tell Anna that she had shown more bravery and hope then I ever had. I wanted to finally say to her what I was thinking; what she deserved to hear.
“Anna, I—”
“Arthur, don’t move,” Anna said suddenly with wide eyes.
I turned to look at the wild dog as he stared back at me, teeth bared and growling. He was closer than he had been before,
and he was still getting closer, taking one cautious step at a time.
“W-What is it doing?” I asked. I thought the dog was on our side. Had we all been duped? Did the Nullwood change him?
“Don’t move,” Anna repeated. “I can feel that Wisket trusts the dog.”
Just then, something tightened hard and fast around my ankle. I was ripped to the ground, and my arm smacked against a rock. Anna yelled my name, the dog barked, and then the mist swelled with light, just like that night at Esteban’s. Before I knew it, my ankle was free from whatever had held it. It all happened so fast.
I sat up and grabbed my arm, just as a warm tongue met my face. It was the wild dog, licking me. He pawed my chest gently and whimpered.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I said dismissively as the dog continued to lick and paw at me. “What was that?” I asked Anna.
“I don’t know what it was,” Anna said, “but I saw it running away after the dog attacked it. It looked like a cat with a really long tail.”
“A cat?” I asked. “You mean like a panther?”
“No,” Anna said. “Smaller, like a bobcat, but it had—I don’t know—maybe like a ten-foot tail.”
“It grabbed me by the leg and brought me down,” I said.
I pulled my pant leg up to see if I had any marks around my ankle, but there were none, so I stood up and continued rubbing my elbow.
“Is your arm okay?” Anna asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be fine. I just landed on it hard.” Then I looked back down at the dog. “Thanks, buddy. I guess you were just watching out for me.”
I looked around at the black trees and the mist, and a shiver ripped up my spine. The Nullwood did not want us here. It wasn’t safe. We were like deer that had wandered into a suburban neighborhood, never knowing if the next street might bring the headlights of a car, or the blast of a shotgun, or the sting of poison, or any number of things that delivered the same message: this is not your home. Wisket and the wild dog were our only saviors in this place. They were the creatures that did belong here, and their willingness to protect us was all we had.
Immediately after I had that thought, I thought of Jim and Kay. I looked to Anna, wide-eyed, and she returned my concerned gaze as if she had been thinking the exact same thing. We had to get back to them before—
Somewhere in the distance, a scream rent the air. Then Anna and I could hear Jim yelling Kay’s name over and over, somewhere deep in the mist, like an echo coming from far away.
I don’t know what came over me, but I sprang into action.
“Hold on,” I said to Anna as I leaped behind her wheelchair and grabbed the handles.
She nodded and gripped the arms of her chair tight.
I took off running, pushing the chair in front of me. Terrible thoughts of what might happen to Kay were rifling through my mind and motivating my legs to fly across the forest floor. The wheelchair was not moving smoothly over the ground as I ran, and I was sorry for the bumps Anna had to endure, but there was no time to worry about that. I don’t know why, but I was convinced the cat that had grabbed me around the ankle now had Kay.
I ran onward and cursed myself for my pessimistic thoughts. Maybe she would be fine, and maybe Jim would find her shortly, but no, that’s not where my thoughts were. My thoughts were always dark. As I ran, I envisioned Kay being dragged over the rough floor of the Nullwood. The cat would bring her into its den where there would be other cats waiting. Imaginary screams thundered in my mind and I badly wanted to stop thinking, but I couldn’t. I had to press on, and I had to follow Jim’s calls. I had to make myself believe we would save Kay. I forced myself to find hope.
Then, I could see Jim ahead, at first like an apparition in the mist. He was spinning around slowly, hands cupped to his mouth, shouting Kay’s name over and over. When we came closer, the panic on his face was jarring. His eyes were red and watery. His shoulders were trembling. He looked at us like a child who had accidentally set a dangerous fire. I’m sorry, his face said. Please make it stop.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” he said in earnest as we reached him.
“Wisket,” Anna said, “please help us find Kay.”
Just like that, we were off running again with the winged fox gliding in front of us. Wisket soared roughly five feet off the ground where we could clearly see him, smoothly dodging trees. Jim kept shouting for Kay as we ran, and Anna joined him. If there was something in the Nullwood that wanted to hurt us, we were making enough noise that it would know exactly where to find us.
The mist grew even thicker as we ran, and the sky grew darker. There was now no doubt we were traveling downhill, and I worried I might accidentally pitch Anna out of the chair. Suddenly, my worry turned to panic as the forest floor grew even steeper and I lost my footing. I fell and slid on my backside until I came through the mist and into a gully. Jim did the same, but luckily he caught the wheelchair as he slid and was able to keep it upright until we all came to a stop.
As we gathered ourselves and looked around the gully, we realized the mist was now above us.
“Are you all right?” Jim asked Anna.
She nodded, but never looked at Jim. Instead, Anna stared out into the gully with wide eyes. As Jim and I followed Anna’s gaze, we were shocked to find Kay standing alone in the crisp clear air.
“Kay?” Jim called to her.
She didn’t move.
We stood up slowly, watching Kay waver as if she were in a trance. The cat was gone, but we could tell Kay had been dragged across the forest floor. She was filthy, scraped up, and bruised. Jim took one step forward, and as he did Kay extended her arm and waved him closer.
“Come here,” she said in a slow drawl.
Jim and I looked at each other, immediately understanding that Kay wasn’t acting normal, but Jim’s compulsion to protect his girlfriend overpowered any sense of self-preservation. He looked back to Kay and slowly walked toward where she stood.
“Jim,” Anna said, trying to stop him, but it was no use.
Jim took step after careful step toward where Kay stood, all the while looking around the gully for any impending danger.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Kay,” Jim said. “What did that thing do to you?”
“Come closer,” Kay said languidly. “I need you.”
Jim stopped once he reached Kay. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a shaking voice.
I was only about fifteen feet away, and from where I stood it looked like Kay was staring through Jim, not at him. Then, suddenly, something long and dark flitted behind Kay’s leg.
“Jim, stop,” I said.
“I need you, Jim,” Kay said weakly. “Pleeeease hold me.”
Jim reached for her and leaned in. “I’m here, baby. Don’t worry.”
“No!” I shouted and ran toward Jim.
I barreled into Jim and knocked him over. As he fell, he bumped Kay and spun her to the side. That was when we saw exactly what had happened. The cat was on Kay, latched to her back, and its teeth were sunk deep into the base of her neck. It was using her like a parasite uses its host, luring us closer so it could attack.
I grabbed Kay by the shoulders and spun her back toward Wisket.
“Wisket, help!” I shouted, but it was the dog that heeded the call first.
The wild dog leaped into the air and sunk its teeth into the cat’s leg. It howled and released Kay immediately. Then the dog bit the cat again and threw it, shrieking, to the ground. In a frenzy, the cat scrambled over to the gully’s embankment and quickly disappeared into the mist.
No longer under the cat’s control, Kay gasped and fell to her knees. Jim crouched down next to her and held her tight.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I never should have made us leave them. I’m so sorry.”
Kay cried as Jim held her. Blood trickled out of the deep bite mark on her neck.
“Creepy, there’s a first aid kit in my backpack,” Jim said, and I could hear his voic
e was strained with panic.
I went around to Jim’s backpack and unzipped the top, but as I did the dog walked over to Kay and licked her wounds.
“Get the dog away from her,” Jim yelled, still holding Kay tight.
“No, wait,” Anna said.
She had wheeled closer and was now staring at the dog licking Kay’s neck. I came back around to look and was amazed. The dog was licking Kay’s wounds and they were slowly disappearing. Just like magic.
“He’s healing her,” Anna said in amazement, but Kay didn’t need to be told. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she could feel it.
Once the wild dog backed away, Kay spun out of Jim’s embrace and threw her arms around the dog. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, thank you… Reego?” Kay lifted her head from the dog and looked at him quizzically. “Your name is Reego?”
The dog barked and licked her face.
We all looked at one another and smiled. Anna hugged Wisket to her chest. We were in a bad place, and this surely wouldn’t be the last time we crossed danger’s path, but we had a couple guardian angels at our sides, and we had each other.
“We stay together now,” Anna said, and everyone nodded immediately. “No matter what.”
8
We set up camp in the gully directly after our ordeal with the strange cat. Kay had been through a lot and needed sleep. The rest of us were exhausted too. We weren’t used to this level of physical exertion, and on top of that our nerves were shot. The Nullwood had beaten us, at least for the day. We had to regroup.
While none of us were particularly excited to be setting up camp in the gully with the cat still out there, other options seemed less palatable. Here, the mist wasn’t obstructing our view. Also, we had no idea what could lay ahead of us. Things could get worse as we continued on. It was the devil you know versus the devil you don’t know, and we chose what we already knew.