“This is the only thing you've painted all year?” “I haven’t really built up the courage since my mom got sick again. It sounds stupid, but that was our thing. The way she talked about them… like she was proud and horrified at the same time. It was the strangest situation.” She spoke with absence, quietly laughing at memories she didn’t offer to share. Balancing without struggle to slide on a pair of boots, she retrieved a coat from the closet, adding, “I sketched the lake back home a lot, since I knew I was moving. A few things that struck me about Ashland ended up in a notebook somewhere.”
"That's a start, right?"
“Sure. What have you got there?” she asked, nodding towards his fists with a smile. Noah grimaced with guilt. He apologized, placing it in her hands. “I am so sorry. I promise I’ll replace it. I know it cracked, but I don’t think the picture was scratched.”
Aly bit her lip, accepting the frame – porcelain, etched with butterflies – with reluctance. Shaking her head, she waved off another apology. “You know what? It’s not a problem.”
He frowned. “Aly-” “Noah. I said it was fine.” She put a hands on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. “This was broken long before it cracked. Don’t even worry about it.”
She listened for a response. Noah nodded. Tucking it in a drawer, Aly stretched her arms above her head. Walking to the window, she stood against a surreal background. The black curtains against the largest wall were parted, revealing the haze of an Alaskan sunrise.
She draped a bag across her torso and lifted a camera from its depths, the strap wound around her wrist. Moving to her side, Noah stared at the equipment before meeting her eyes.
For the last time, Alyson asked, “Are you sure you are willing to do this?” He knew his father would have him murdered. It was possible he'd be hung, drawn, and quartered with sold out backwoods-townie spectator tickets – or at least, beaten into seventy shades of purple and grounded for life.
His fingertips brushed her lips, rousing a smile. He exhaled as she pressed against him, burrowing into his embrace. Waiting for her to meet his gaze, Noah grinned as she rested a palm against his cheek. Aly murmured, “Can I take that as a yes?”
Lee is going to kill me. He's going to wax the floors with blood and have my head mounted over table five.
He said, “Always.”
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.
CHAPTER 18 | NOAH Noah stared into the shadows of the tree canopies. With ache crawling up his spine, it felt like they had been hiding forever, though he knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour. They were both still alert, but his nerves had calmed enough to hear things besides his own heartbeat. He could feel her shaking in his arms. They didn’t speak, but Aly clutched his shirt like her life depended on it.
On the land of humanized territory, he felt secure enough to try to put her at ease. As an arm rose with the intent to brush her cheek, he hissed, a gasp of pain sucked in through his teeth. Aly jumped as he clutched his shoulder. Panicked, she blurted, “Did that thing hurt you?”
Before he could protest, she was edging his jacket down his arm. Pulling his free arm through one hole, she removed his tee shirt with as much clearance to the wound as possible. Aside from peppered scrapes and a torn sleeve, it wasn’t bleeding. The relief was momentary.
A faint yellowed line stretched from his ribs to his neck, dark violet pooling around the clavicle and across his shoulder. It was visibly deformed, the ball of the joint protruding from a sickening angle. It had swollen, generally red and puffy, edges ending in discolored splotches. His neck tingled, the area beyond his elbow numb, even his hand feeling like deadweight. In between, intense pain seemed to shoot in every direction, dense and pounding in the center. The sight was nauseating, triggering a painful shutter. Noah stuttered, “I-I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aly whispered, eyes wide. Though she sounded horrified, her voice held no accusation. “I guess,” he paused, queasy and baffled, “I don’t think I noticed.” Miraculously, she managed to wedge more concern into her expression. “Noah, your shoulder looks completely dislocated. You don’t just not noticesomething like that.”
“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, aware his perplexed inflection was unconvincing.
She offered an incredulous stare. “You need to see a doctor.” He hesitated, evaluating the discomfort before nodding. Noah watched as she stood, careful not to bump him. Aly stared at her hands, as if seeing the camera for the first time, and muttered something about a dying battery. Shoving it into the bag at her side, she retrieved her phone, holding it into the air for a signal. Reluctant, she ran down the steps, looking back and forth for persons unknown. Having recovered nothing, she disappeared around the sides, possibly looking for a way into the building.
When she resurfaced, Noah said, “I think we’re only a little wa
ys down the road from my truck. We don’t have a hospital or anything, but there’s a clinic in town. They can reset it, I guess. The only thing I can think of is that wewere so freaked…”
With a loose arm around his waist, Aly helped him to the curb. From there, she grabbed his keys and disappeared down the road. He waited, eyes closed, until she drove his truck up.
“Yeah,” Aly agreed, “It must have been shock or something.”
~
Noah had offered various directions to the clinic. It wasn’t until they reached one of the few four-ways in Ashland that he decided to brave the main road, directly through town. Neither spoke under the pressure of tension, but her silence never felt aggressive. He often felt her blue eyes fleeting to the side, analyzing with concern.
The pain came and went, intense on both ends. Despite arduous efforts to appear alert and otherwise unscathed, Noah found himself distracted. He had difficulty concentrating on one thing or another. Though indecipherable, his thoughts raced. Worst-case scenarios and panic plagued his subconscious. He didn’t even want to know what Aly would expect him to testify for or against over whatever that thing was they saw – or worse, how Lee or Greg could prevent them from ever seeing each other again, nonetheless be together.
Images erected beneath his eyelids every time he blinked – of Lee’s inevitable freak out, Sarah’s guilt trip, the repercussions of disobeying the elders. The price of medical care was an entire other issue, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about the damage done to his arm. It pulsed, his discomforting getting worse with the wait, but he felt detached.
As they passed Yazzie’s, Noah expected to see Lee standing outside with the look of death on his face. It was like the man had a radar that specialized in always being in the wrong place at the worst time. He was always over Noah’s shoulder, waiting for the slightest antagonism for all hell to break loose.
The flashing attachment on the public safety officer’s Ford, he didn’t anticipate. From what Noah could remember, there’d never been so many locals mulling around the area. They looked on to a scene he couldn’t see. With sobered expressions, they crossed their arms as though it was ten degrees below zero.
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