The Trees Have Eyes

by Tobias Wade

  I threw up.

  I scrambled to my feet, I needed to get out of this tomb. I steadied myself on the upper bunk, and jumped back in shock when I saw Jon, just as still as Peter, in his bunk. I stretched a shaking arm, I had to make sure. I shuddered as my fingers met his skin; he was as cold and dead as Peter.

  Slowly, I turned around. I screamed as I looked right into Jacob’s open eyes. His dead, cold, stare burrowed into me, and I backed away. I hit the bunk behind me, and the force made Jon’s arm fall over the edge. It hung there, swinging.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the arm as I backed out into the corridor. I slammed the door shut, and continued my desperate retreat until I crashed against the door across the hallway. My knees grew weak again, and I started sliding down the door. My arm connected with the handle, and the door swung open behind me. I staggered backwards, overbalanced, and fell, hard, on my back.

  The fall knocked the air out of me. As I gasped for breath, I spotted an arm out of the corner of my eye. Still trying to swallow air, I turned my head. Lisa, beautiful, blonde, Lisa, lay there, not moving. I poked her arm. It swung in the air just like Jacob’s had, and I stared at it, hypnotized. I turned my head. The girl in the other bottom bunk had rolled up against the wall. I steadied myself with my arm, and pushed myself up. On my feet, I saw two more bunks. Two more corpses.

  I stumbled back into the hallway, looked side to side, and froze.

  So many doors.

  I only remember bits and pieces from what happened next. Running wildly down the hallway, pushing desperately at locked doors, slamming the doors that opened closed after revealing another tomb.

  They were all dead.

  I collapsed in a heap outside Nils’ room. My throat was aching from the screaming or the vomiting; I couldn’t say which. Tears rolled down my face, and my body shook convulsively. I curled up in a little ball, face on the rough carpet, sobbing like a baby.

  Eventually the part of my brain that was still running some sort of script managed to take over.

  Can’t stay here. I peeled myself off the floor, and sat up, leaning against the door. I should probably get out of here, I thought in a detached manner. The fear was gone, in its place numb coldness. After all, if I were in danger I’d be dead already.

  Call the police, I thought, pulling my phone out of my pocket. It had 16% battery, and no signal. I pushed myself to my feet, leaning my back against the door. I needed to find a high point, but would the battery last?

  I scrunched my eyes up, took a deep breath, and walked back into Nils’ room. His phone was right there, next to the bed. I picked it up, pressed the button on the side, and watched it as nothing happened. I held the button for ten seconds before I released it. Still nothing. The phone was as dead as everyone else. I forced myself to go into the next room. Kristian, Thomas, Kristoffer, Lars. Three phones lay on the little table by the window, all plugged into their chargers. First phone? Dead. Second phone? I sent a little prayer to a god I had never believed in as I pressed the button as hard as I could. Dead. Third phone? Nothing. I threw it angrily at the wall, making a satisfyingly loud bang as it hit the wooden panel.

  Gotta start hiking and praying, then. When I pushed open the front doors, it felt like I was emerging from a grave. I took a deep breath, and walked towards the hill behind the cabin at a fresh pace. A path revealed itself, and I marched resolutely along it; it twisted up the hill, and would—it had to!—lead me to a signal.

  At first I checked the phone every five meters, but as the battery level fell, I forced myself to wait longer and longer between my checks.

  The path twisted between small pine trees, back and forth across the hill. My face burned with exhaustion and frustration. Every time I checked the phone, the battery was a little bit lower. 10%, and the phone sent an angry message. Do you want to turn on battery saving? Fuck yes! 9%. 7%. 5% and the screen dimmed the lights. A raindrop fell on the screen—or was it sweat? 4%.

  3%. 2%. A single bar blinked, and I shrieked. With shaking hands, I pressed 1-1-2, and waited, praying.

  “Police, what’s your—”

  “No battery! Need police at the—goddamn, the B—cabin, they’re dead, they’re all dead, I need help, please!”

  The line went oddly quiet, and I lowered my hand to see a black screen. I hovered my thumb over the power button for a moment before I pressed it. That stupid opening graphic flashed across the screen, I frantically typed in my pin, pressed the phone icon, and watched in disbelief as the screen turned black again. I stared at it until the cold wind made me shudder. I was soaked with sweat, exhausted, and freezing.

  Only then did it occur to me to wonder why they were all dead.

  You’d think that would be the first thing on my mind, but it wasn’t. Up there, on the narrow path between the dark fir trees, my last avenue of communication gone, was the first time my mind asked the question that would haunt me for the rest of my life: What happened?

  Serial killer? No, why would I be alive. Poisoned food? Again, why would I be alive. They looked like they had died peacefully in their sleep. Airborne poison? Carbon monoxide! That made sense. You hear these horror stories: busted heater, family dead. Why not school class? And I had spent hours outside, in the fresh air last night.

  Relieved, I turned around to hike back down. In front of me, a gap in the pine trees revealed a perfect view of the field and the cabin below, and what I saw there shattered my rational explanation. Down there, on the ground surrounding the cabin, was a perfect circle of brown dead heather and yellow grass. The main building sat at the edge, the spot where I had been standing last night was right outside it.

  The police was there when I got back down. Later, the deaths were ruled accidental carbon monoxide poisoning—I was told to let it go when I asked about the circle.

  And the northern lights? They hadn’t been visible anywhere over mainland Norway for weeks.

  The Last Bus

  When Brittany decided to twist her ankle less than an hour before the last shuttle left from the trailhead, we were sure we’d be stuck in the woods overnight. Brittany refused to give up hope, claiming that sometimes buses are late, so we pressed on. And lo and behold, when we got to the trailhead the bus was there, seemingly waiting for us.

  I wriggled out of the straps and dropped my backpack on the dirt next to the bus. I pulled at my T-shirt to unstick it from my sweaty back, and delighted as the cool night air touched my bare skin. There was no bus driver in sight, but the bus was open so I tossed my pack into the gaping luggage compartment. I took a last long look at the hulking fir trees that surrounded us, breathed in that earthy smell of warm, wet woods, and climbed onto the bus.

  “Oh hey, we’re the only people on here!” Lisa said from behind me. “Nice!”

  I chuckled, plopping down on a seat near the front, while Lisa grabbed one across the aisle, stretching her long legs over the seat next to her.

  The stuffy smell on the bus made me wrinkle my nose; I already missed the fresh air of the trail. Lisa nodded in agreement, before casting a longing glance outside. A shower and a bed was going to be nice, but if we could we’d have stayed on the trail forever.

  “Uh, girls? Could one of you help me?” Brittany called from outside.

  I looked at Lisa, who rolled her eyes. She had been doing that a lot since Brittany had latched herself onto our little hiking duo two days earlier, and I couldn’t blame her.

  “Can I hike with you girls for a bit?” Brittany had asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, all puppy eyes, when we ran into her standing in the middle of the path. She was wearing old hiking boots, jean shorts and a T-shirt, and her little backpack did not look like it contained sufficient gear for a multi-day solo hike.

  “Ran into a weird dude, got a super non-chill vibe from him, and I was like, not down with that, like, at all!” Thus she invoked the unbreakable girl-code: you must help other girls escape from creeps. We w
ere stuck with her.

  “Sure,” Lisa called out. “I’m coming.”

  It was only fair, I thought, I had practically carried Brit the last hour, ever since her alleged injury. It was Lisa’s turn. She took three slow steps towards the front, and sighed before she jumped down the steps.

  “Here,” I heard Lisa say, “I gotcha.”

  She managed to pull Brittany up the steps, and they walked down the aisle, Brit following with one hand on Lisa’s shoulder the other on the seats she passed. Lisa slumped down on the double seat next to mine, no doubt hoping that Brit would take another double seat so we could all lounge. Brit, however, happily plopped down next to Lisa, tossing her small backpack on the seat in front of them. Lisa sent me a wide eyed look, and I snorted at her annoyance, not quite able to hide my amusement.

  “Ohmigod, you’re so nice, Lisa. Isn’t she Mary? Isn’t she the best? Like, she’s so nice, right?”

  “Yeah, sure, Lisa’s the best,” I chuckled.

  “Ohmigod, I know right!” Brit said, while Lisa turned to face the darkening window, no doubt trying to conceal the fact that she was trying not to laugh. “And you’re, like, so pretty Lisa.”

  Brit picked out a strand of Lisa’s hair, and let it run through her fingers. I could see Lisa try to suppress a shudder—Lisa liked her personal space, and Brittany seemed to have no knowledge of the concept.

  “Mary, don’t you agree?” Brit turned to me. “Isn’t she like so pretty?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, feeling the corner of my mouth curl upwards even as I fought the urge to smile. “She’s pretty pretty, that one!”

  Brit wasn’t wrong. Lisa’s long blond hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, her long, tan legs muscled by hiking and climbing. She looked like a model with her soft red lips, high cheek bones, and strong jawline, all of which had contributed to me realizing I was gay when we met in middle school.

  “God, I wish I had your face, Lisa, literally. Like, literally I want your face. But, like, you too Mary. Like you’re pretty too.”

  I nodded, still trying not to laugh. I’m not bad looking by any means, but next to the Amazonian Lisa, I looked like a hobbit. It had bothered me back in high school, but these days I not only accepted it, I had grown quite fond of my freckled face and unruly curls. Besides, my girlfriend thought I was hot, and Lisa’s succession of shitty boyfriends had left me thinking that maybe I was better off being slightly less breathtaking. Ann never seemed to like Lisa, though I never understood why. Lisa really was so nice. As Brittany kept gushing over Lisa, I thought I should get her to talk to Ann—maybe she’d manage to convince her that Lisa really was, like, so nice.

  “And you’re like the nicest person.” Brit continued. “Like, you’re just like, helping a total stranger you don’t even know. Like, that’s so nice. Like, I think you might be the nicest person I’ve ever met, like, really, you’re so nice!”

  I made eye contact with Lisa, who was trying to keep herself occupied with picking at what remained of her red nail polish, and lifted an eyebrow. Lisa immediately turned away, coughing unconvincingly to cover her laughter.

  “Thank you.” I chuckled.

  The bus driver climbed up the stairs, briefly glancing back at the three of us. His eyes lingered a little too long on Lisa—eyes often did that—nodded at Brittany, and ignored me. The bus sputtered to life, and we were on our way home.

  “Bee tee double-u, girls, I totally got your water bottles for you!” Brittany said, leaning around the seatback in front of her to pull them out of her backpack. “I was like, maybe they’ll be thirsty on the bus, and like, it’s so important to stay hydrated, right? Right?”

  “Uh, ok, thanks,” I said, glancing over at Lisa. Lisa rolled her eyes again.

  “Here, Lisa!” Brit said.

  “Yeah, thanks, I guess.” Lisa said.

  “Don’t you want water? Like, it’s important to hydrate!” Brit said, wide eyed. She turned to me, adding: “Dehydration is bad, right?”

  “Right,” I said, taking a deep sip from the bottle. “Hear that Lisa?”

  “Shut up, Mary.”

  “But you gotta, like, hydrate!” I teased, adding a slight valley girl inflection to my tone, stopping short of blatantly imitating Brittany.

  “Shut up, Mary, you know I don’t like peeing on buses.” Lisa snapped. Brit looked heartbroken, and I felt like a dick. Was my imitation too much? Did she realize we were making fun of her?

  “I’m like, so happy I met you girls,” Brit continued unfazed. Lisa closed her eyes, mhm’ing as Brit continued showering her with compliments. The bus bounced down the gravel road, and I soon started to feel drowsy. I never could keep my eyes open on long bus rides; I used to love closing my eyes just to wake up at the destination what felt like moments later.

  “I’m gonna go nap in the back, girls.” I said, getting to my feet. Lisa shot me look, clearly trying to tell me that I couldn’t just abandon her with Brittany. I shrugged.

  “’Kay! Night night!” Brit said cheerily, no doubt ecstatic about two hours of uninterrupted one on one time with Lisa. I made my way to the back, already half asleep, as Brittany prattled on.

  I curled up on the seats in the back, checked my phone—confirming we were still outside cell range—and promptly fell asleep.

  When I woke up, it took me a moment to realize where I was. I looked around. Oh right, the bus. It wasn’t moving, and the engine was off. Were we at the terminal already? Nice!

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the window, turned into a mirror by the contrast between the darkness outside and the lights on the bus. I chuckled at my messy hair. Even Brittany wouldn’t be able find something nice to say about it in this condition. The bus was dead silent; Lisa had finally shut her up. I sat up, stretching my stiff body, letting out a groan. My neck cracked as I rolled my head, looking around. Something was off. I froze mid neck crack.

  The bus was empty.

  I got to my feet, and walked slowly down the aisle, checking all the seats on my way to the front. Nope, the girls weren’t hiding, they were definitely not on here. I looked around again, a vague feeling of dread building. Silly, I told myself. Nothing scary about an empty bus. We were probably at the bus terminal, where Lisa had gotten annoyed that she couldn’t wake me up, and left me. She’d probably texted me.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket, rolling my eyes at the empty triangle where the bars indicating a connection should have been. I shook it, trying to convince it that it should have service by now, but nothing happened. Piece of shit.

  I walked to the door, and pushed lamely at it; it didn’t budge. For a moment, my claustrophobia reared its ugly head. I took a deep breath and walked resolutely over to the driver’s seat, where I quickly found a lever that looked promising. I pulled it, and the door slid open with a jarring screech.

  The weak light spilled outside and down on the grass outside.

  Grass?

  I shuffled down the two steps, and peered outside. The smell of wet earth and rotting undergrowth hit me before my eyes adjusted.

  I was still in the woods.

  My stomach squirmed, and I swallowed to push my pounding heart back down into my chest.

  I took a hesitant step backwards, retreating into the safety of the bus. The spinning wheels in my head ran through a million horrifying scenarios before arriving at a plausible one: The bus must have had engine problems, the others had gone for help, leaving me to sleep.

  I looked around, trying to think while my heart started beating faster, my confused face staring back at me from every window. Just like two way mirrors, I thought, if someone is outside in the darkness, they’d see me perfectly. Don’t think about stuff like that! I scolded myself. Nobody’s out there watching, that’s crazy talk!

  A strong feeling of déjà vu washed over me; I had said the exact same thing before.

  It was right after Brittany had joined us, and we were sitting aroun
d our fire. Lisa had been staring into the dark, and I asked if something bothered her.

  “No, nothing,” she had said. “Just, I thought I heard something, and then I started thinking about how someone could totally be watching us right now. If they just stay outside the light from the fire, we wouldn’t see them, you know?”

  Brittany had looked around wildly, anger or anxiety flashing across her face.

  “Don’t talk about stuff like that!” I had scolded. “Nobody’s out there watching, that’s crazy talk!”

  I repeated the line in my head as I retreated further into the bus. I wanted to go find the girls, but I had no idea where they’d gotten off to; the only sensible choice was sit here and wait for them to come back, no matter how little I liked it.

  I plopped down on the seat where Brit had been sitting; Lisa’s seat had a nasty brown stain on it. For all her beauty, she sure wasn’t overly concerned with hygiene.

  Idly, I let my eyes trace the pattern on the seat back in front of me. The coarse, woolen material was worn, and I noticed that there was something that looked like scratch marks across it. Aimless vandalism, probably. I looked closer, more to distract myself from the mounting fear and loneliness than any real interest. Something was stuck in it. I leaned in, trying to get a better look. My head cast a shadow over the seat, so I moved a bit, trying to get the right angle. I picked at the thing, and it came off in my hand.

  A fingernail.

  A whole, bloody fingernail, ripped out of a finger desperately clinging to the seatback.

  Nausea rose in my throat, and I jumped to my feet, shaking my hand desperately. The nail landed on the seat. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The chipped red nail polish was unmistakable. It was Lisa’s fingernail.

  My whole body went cold with panic. I gasped, frozen to the spot. Three heartbeats, and something clicked. The brown spot was blood.

  I got my phone out with shaking hands, and took a picture. Still numb with disbelief, I didn’t move, I just stood there, phone in my shaking hand.