As quickly as it came, the pain disappeared.
Jules stayed frozen in place, panting and horrified. Then he curled up until he was able to move. He crawled to his knees, staring at the ax stuck in the tree, the seven-inch wound he had made to the trunk.
Jules was shattered by the pain and fear he had felt, but something even worse. Betrayal.
He gazed shamefully at the crowd of trees surrounding him.
My God, the implications!
Violent images swirled through his head. Fields of ryegrass blowing in the wind, thousands of fields, with plows running day and night. Blades slicing through stalks, millions crying out at once. A buzzing chainsaw cutting through forest, sawdust splattering the dirt like blood. A magnificent maple hitting the ground like a heavy corpse.
Jules raised his sweaty face. The mauled tree was more than he could bear and he grasped the ax handle and tugged the blade free. He threw it to the ground. He grabbed his phone and flashlight off the table, hugging them to his chest.
Then he was running. The flashlight shook in his hands and he crashed into one tree and then another, vines slapping his arms, rocks tripping his feet. The thick scent of pine smelled like blood in a butcher shop, assaulting his senses.
How they must feel, all these years. My God!
As he ran, frightening scenarios flashed in his mind. His own body buried in cement up to his knees, unable to move, while a demented figure, who looked remarkably like himself, swung an ax into his arms and legs, laughing and heedlessly slicing off pieces here and there. The thought shook his bones.
By the time Jules reached the house he was in a frenzy, and unable to go inside for fear of running into anyone. He stood on the patio trying to recall the feeling. Shock, fear, anger, and betrayal. He had made his first real connection. He knew what they felt.
So this is what it’s like to be tormented and betrayed by the very guardians sworn to protect you!
(Lather!)
The lies and deception, and oh! The loss of innocence with that first blow!
(Rinse!)
A sudden realization that humans are not here to protect, but only to kill! Over and over and over!
(Repeat! Repeat! Repeat!)
Jules pulled himself together. At least he had the proof he needed. His shaking hands fumbled with the phone, tapping the screen until the video started to play. There was a loud whistle of wind from the mic. The image was dark but clearly showed Jules stepping into the spotlight. He turned to look at the camera once and then back to the tree. He swung the ax. Then Jules was screaming and writhing on the ground, all alone by himself in the woods.
From watching the video, anyone would think he was insane.
Jules exhaled deeply. Only he understood just how sane he really was. It was the rest of the world that was crazy.
CHAPTER 20
LUKE HAD SHOWERED and changed into pajamas, although it was only a few minutes past eight. Getting out of his clothes was a small but comforting gesture that meant he wasn’t going outside. The shower would hopefully revive his senses and put an end to the hallucinations.
Luke didn’t tell Isabelle what had happened in the woods. Lately he found his mother annoying and intrusive, yet at the same time she was still timid and weak, unable to stick up for herself. Besides, she already had one son who was damaged, as his father so often reminded them. But mostly he didn’t mention the incident to his mother because he wanted to forget about the woods and Ginny.
He quietly hoped Monica would knock on his door. Perhaps they could search the house again. Maybe they could start with his room. He checked under the bed for the bottle of wine he stole from the kitchen. He hoped she liked merlot, whatever that was. The mirror caught his eye and he stared at his reflection trying to decide—T-shirt on or off? He pulled off the shirt and flexed his pecs.
There was a knock on the door and his heart fluttered like a bird.
“Coming,” he said, and vaulted from the bed to the door.
Isabelle held out a bowl of potato soup. “You didn’t come down.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She looked at the room and noticed a couple of biscuits on his nightstand with a glass of water.
“May I come in for a minute? I want to talk to you.”
Luke opened the door wider, but frowned as she passed. Then he took a quick check of the hallway.
His mother sat on the edge of the bed and patted a spot beside her.
Luke rolled his eyes and sat in an overstuffed armchair. He put his shirt back on.
“Have you seen Monica?”
“No,” he said curtly.
“I went in her room and there was an empty bottle of vodka on the dresser.”
“Why are you snooping around in her stuff?”
“I wasn’t snooping. She left the door open and the bottle right out in the open.” She lifted her chin. “I’m responsible for her while she’s with us.”
“And you’re doing a great job with all the fun activities and dead bodies lying around.”
“That’s not fair, Luke. She’s sixteen years old.”
“So? It’s not like teenagers don’t drink sometimes. She was pretty shook up over that dead guy.” His voice dropped with his gaze. “Of course you’d never think of that. You’re too concerned with your kids being perfect. Perfect at school, perfect at home. Now you want to make her into one of your perfect robots too.”
“Luke, where is this coming from? I hope you aren’t picking up her disrespectful manner, and I certainly hope you aren’t drinking alcohol with this girl.”
Luke glared at her.
“Look, we can discuss my turning you into a robot later, as well as the drinking, but for now I’d like to know what you saw in the woods.”
His expression melted. “I … didn’t…”
“Ginny said you thought you saw her in the woods.”
“I don’t know what I saw. I mean, she was sitting on the ground right in front of me as sure as you’re sitting on that bed right now.”
“What was she doing on the ground?”
“She was digging. Her head was bleeding.”
“Bleeding? You mean like she fell?”
He hesitated, staring at the biscuit on the plate. “No, it was more like there was an ax in her head. A giant ax, sticking right out of her skull.”
Isabelle opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. She cleared her throat and finally said, “We’re getting out of here. I don’t know how, but Wednesday is too far off.”
He looked at her. “It’s those woods. They give me the creeps.”
“Dr. Beecher told me the same thing. He thinks something strange is going on.”
“Like what?”
“He’s not sure.”
“Maybe I should talk to him.”
“Please don’t, Luke. He doesn’t sound rational. He thinks the plants in the woods are, I don’t know, controlling his mind.”
“Did he say that?”
She swiped the air in frustration. “He believes George did something to the plants.”
“Did he?”
“Of course not. There’s an explanation to what you saw, but certainly not telepathic plants. I shouldn’t have even told you about it.”
“I’m glad you did. I don’t feel so weird.”
“I don’t want you near him. He’s acting odd, almost as if he’s on some drug.” She turned slightly pale and glanced at the biscuits on the plate. “Have you been eating those every day?”
“I think so.”
“So has Dr. Beecher, and Sean too. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Who knows what’s in those biscuits if my father made them.”
He nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “That makes sense. I won’t eat any more.”
“We’ll throw them all out.”
“You still want to leave?”
She exhaled deeply. “I’m sure everyone is anxious to get out of here.”
“Not Monica, now that
the diamond is worth fifty grand.”
“Ginny told me. It’s ridiculous. No amount of money is worth risking your sanity.”
“Monica’s had it hard. Fifty grand could change her life.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Money doesn’t change people.”
“Why do you do that?” he blurted out. “Make that face, like you don’t approve of her? She just needs a chance to straighten out.” He shook his head, disgusted. “She’s the nicest person I ever met. She really cares about me and listens to me and we have everything in common. She’s my girlfriend.”
For a moment, Isabelle was speechless. “I’d rather you keep your distance.”
“How can you be so judgmental?” he hollered. “You always said your mom was so horrible and mean, and we’re all supposed to feel sorry for you. Well, her mom is a prostitute. Give her a break.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Isabelle stood to leave, but paused at the door. Without turning around, she spoke quietly over her shoulder. “Are you two having sex?”
“Jesus,” he cried. “No!”
“Good night, Luke.”
Isabelle walked out and closed the door, hearing a glass hit the wall.
* * *
Isabelle sat rigid in bed. The tears were coming and she choked down sobs so no one would hear. The sound of Luke breaking a glass played in her head and she slid down the mattress, curling her body around the pillow.
What was happening? All she wanted was to relive a few happy moments from her childhood and share a special place with her children. This was a nightmare that kept getting worse. Her father might have murdered a man and the corpse lay buried on the island. Luke practically hated her. Sean was angry too. There were too many problems to tackle at once, and for now she just wanted to sleep.
Never felt so tired in my life, she thought, and it was true. Isabelle let her mind settle from the day’s events.
She started to doze, but got a sudden chill that made her shiver under the covers. It felt like a band was tightening around her head, and she shut her eyes because it seemed to help. Then things became strange. She had the sensation of something cold and delicate, like fingers, creeping across the front of her brain, actually touching her brain. The featherlight strokes made her relax and the weight of her worries melted away. She could feel it quickly probing several different areas, searching in quiet desperation.
Isabelle didn’t remember opening her eyes, but suddenly she was standing in a park on a warm sunny day. Vaguely, she remembered something bad had happened. That morning Colin had slapped her, and she touched the bruise on her cheek. Sean was climbing a tree, a small boy of six, and she tried to focus her mind only on him, but Colin’s angry face kept peeking through the cracks.
She should have been worried about Sean, but instead she felt a sense of hope. We all take chances and learn from our mistakes. As he reached for each branch, she was rooting for him. You can do it, go as high as you want, my baby boy. You’ll be stronger than me and I’ll never have to worry about you.
Then she realized that she was stuck, and it was because of Sean and Luke that she could never leave her husband. She looked down at her hands and they were tied at the wrists with thorny vines, growing out of the park bench. Then her father appeared in front of her, wearing a white lab coat and holding a pair of hedge clippers.
“Shall I cut them?” he said, holding up the shears. He blocked Isabelle’s view of the tree. She tried to look around him, but her father snapped the blades of the clippers. “Hold out your hands.” The vines were tight around her wrists and she held them up to George.
Then there was a thud and the piercing cry of a child that stopped Isabelle’s heart.
Sean was sprawled on the ground, blood pooling at his head. She wanted to run to her son but the vines held fast.
George stood over Sean, shaking his head. He looked at Isabelle and smiled. “All better.”
Sean slowly rose to his feet, blood dripping down his face. “You wanted me to die.” His voice was small and childlike. “You were hoping I’d fall!”
Isabelle couldn’t speak. She stared in mute horror.
Sean was gone but somewhere he was singing. “Went to bed, cracked my head, couldn’t get up in the morning…”
George was still smiling, waving. “There you go. Bye-bye.”
Isabelle awoke with a start, soaked in sweat and barely able to catch her breath. She held a hand to her heart and inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. In the quiet, a door clicked open in the hallway and footsteps padded down the stairs. Isabelle kicked off the covers.
She gazed over the railing at the first floor. All was still and she checked both ends of the hall. Sean’s door was open. Jules had the next room and his door was open too. She started down the stairs, gaining strength in her legs, and proceeded to the kitchen. From the window she could see the bobbing flashlight being carried down the path. Isabelle threw on her coat.
Outside, the air was blustery cold. It sharpened her senses but the wind burned her cheeks. There was just enough moonlight to make out the path and she stepped hastily across the pebbly ground, hoping she wouldn’t fall.
“Sean, wait!” The wind howled over her cries, and she had no idea if the figure was even her son. But the flashlight moved slowly and in no time she caught up to him. It was Sean and she heaved a sigh of relief. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Sean, come back to the house.”
He pulled free from her grip. Isabelle leapt quickly to block his path.
His eyes were vacant, a masked expression. He didn’t look at her, but straight ahead, over her shoulder, as if he couldn’t see her at all.
“Come back to the house,” she insisted louder. When she tugged his arm, Sean fell into a fit, fighting and squirming until they both fell on the ground. He bit her shoulder, but her coat was thick. Still, it hurt when his teeth clamped down.
“Ow! Stop it, Sean. Wake up!” she cried and shook him hard.
At once, Sean snapped to attention. He stared at his mother and then looked around, dazed. He started to whimper and Isabelle helped him to his feet. She rushed him back to the house, into the kitchen where it was warm.
She sat him down, still feeling the effects of the dream, her son’s tantrum, and the teeth marks on her skin.
“I’ve had enough of this island.” She flipped on the radio.
There was only static.
CHAPTER 21
ISABELLE STOOD BY THE KITCHEN window sipping a steaming cup of coffee and watching the night sky turn into an orange sunrise. She’d barely slept all night. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked unkempt, pale with no makeup and her hair pulled back in a loose bun, wearing a navy sweater too large for her small frame.
At dawn, she’d gone to Jules’s empty bedroom and found his suitcase missing and his belongings gone. Her first thought was that a boat had arrived and it buoyed her spirits. She had hurried downstairs, but her heart fell when she saw Jules from the window, pushing a wheelbarrow full of lab equipment, blankets, and his suitcase down the path to the woods. He was moving out, but where? Perhaps he was making the campsite his new home.
It’s for the best, she thought, but felt a pang of loss. The house felt a little emptier.
She remembered the biscuits and went to the freezer, but they were gone. She sighed and walked back to the window, taking small sips of coffee. Jules was coming back up the path and she put the mug down. He was unshaven, disheveled, and seemed just plain dirty. Isabelle smoothed back a wisp of hair and felt an overwhelming urge to take a shower.
When he came through the door, he looked genuinely panicked, bug-eyed and rubbing a nervous hand over his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I made contact again. The trees in the woods.”
Isabelle exhaled, disgusted. At the same time she felt a twinge of fear. She considered telling him about the biscuits, that they were probably drugged, but r
econsidered. Maybe it was better to humor him, until whatever drug was in his system wore off. “You had a bad dream. I’ve been having nightmares myself.”
“It wasn’t a dream.” His eye twitched. “They’re trying to send us a warning.”
She feigned an expression of interest. “I see. Warning about what?”
“Do you know what’s happening to trees all over the world? They’re dying.” Jules spewed on about climate change and deforestation, conversion and subsistence farming, logging and urbanization. His eyelids blinked rapidly, as though trying to keep up with his streaming thoughts.
“The trees told you all this?” Isabelle asked warily.
“No, they…” He bit his fingernail, his voice a whisper. “Words are useless things. I’ve seen the future, Isabelle. Brown and white with lots of blue. But no green. No life.”
“Jules, did you sleep last night?”
“We screwed up!” he shouted, frightening her. “The contract has been violated!”
Isabelle had a flashback of her father, when he came down with something. That’s what her mother would say. Strung out and hallucinating. This time she couldn’t hide in her room with a pillow over her head. It was best to play along.
“They’ve been reduced to nothing more than food for consumption, kindling for fires, lumber for houses. They’ve been cultivated and enslaved on millions of acres for the sole purpose of slaughter.” He spun around, pointing a menacing finger. “What if it were your children? Imagine a place where human bones are used to build shelter, flesh and blood to nourish offspring.”
Isabelle thought his behavior was becoming ridiculous; at the same time, deadly serious. She couldn’t run out the door. Her gaze shifted to a knife resting on the sink behind him.
“Jules, sit down.”
He didn’t move.
She forced eye contact. “Listen to me. I think you’re being drugged.”
“What?”
“Those biscuits you’ve been eating. I think they’re laced with some kind of drug.”
“That’s preposterous. I know what I heard. It’s a war.”
“Jules, please calm down.”
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