The Dark Corner

by Easton Livingston

  His family was in shock, cemented where they stood.

  “Run!” he screamed, pushing them towards the door. His retort seemed to agitate the tentacles, their motion increasing, as well as awake his family who started making their way towards the door.

  What in God's name are these things?

  Hal began to inch backwards. Though the door was only about thirty feet from where he was, it felt like thirty miles. The tentacles appeared to sense what he was trying to do. The sound returned. Heavy breathing, amplified. Turning on his heels, he sprinted towards the cabin. The tentacles responded, power diving into the earth kicking up dirt and gravel like locomotive gophers rocketing towards him. He pressed on, looking over his shoulder.

  Twenty feet.

  They were fast. Real fast. He didn’t have far to go. He could make it. Just had to push it. Run.

  Ten feet.

  The burrowing stopped but he didn’t let that keep him from running. He was almost to the landing and decided to make a jump for the door. The ground erupted afresh in front of the landing, the tentacles renewing their foray. Diving for the entrance through the tentacles, his hands managed to grab the left door jamb.

  Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

  One of the tentacles entwined itself around his right ankle. He looked down in horror as he attempted to pull free from its grasp.

  Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

  Another around the same leg. The last two free tentacles tried to grasp his left leg but he began kicking giving them a harder target.

  “Ahhggh!”

  They were strong. The pain in his shoulders from the tug-of-war was excruciating. Something grabbed his arms and the pain subsided a little. Looking up, Veronica and Sean were pulling with him.

  “Pull!” he screamed.

  Behind them, Donna, crying.

  “Donna! Step back near the couch!” Veronica commanded but to no avail. The weight of terror was too much. All she could muster were tears and loud crying, frozen where she stood.

  “Mommy!”

  Veronica and Sean's help appeared to be working. He made some headroom into the doorway but now pain was coursing through his hip. He had to ignore it. Had to keep on pulling. Had to…

  One tentacle managed to wrap around his left ankle. The strength was enough to yank him off of the door jamb and out of the grasp of Sean and Veronica.

  “Hal!” Veronica screamed as he careened down the walkway, gravel and dirt embedding itself into his hands, arms, and back as he fought to free himself. Being slightly closer to them, he got a better look at what they were. They were gnarled, their surface rugose and uneven. In the dark, he wasn’t able to tell too well but they appeared wri…

  Roots.

  They were dragging him towards the campfire pit where the chairs, wood, and…

  His eyes scanned the ground frantically. Ten feet in front of him to the right was what he was looking for but the roots were dragging him so fast, he didn’t know whether he was going to grab it in time. He was only going one shot.

  “God help me,” he cried. Stretching out, ignoring the pain, his hand barely clasped around the wooden handle of the machete. The roots swiftly lifted him in the air, swinging him from side to side then slamming him to the ground. A knife of pain penetrated his stomach and back. It was difficult to breathe, hard to see straight. Somehow, he managed to hang on to the machete but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold out if he was slammed into the ground again.

  Swinging the blade with all he could, he severed himself part way, cutting through the roots on his right ankle, freeing him from from its grasp. A high pitched screech filled the forest as the roots started flailing wildly. He wasn’t sure what was going on or how a root could screech but he didn’t care. He swung again, connecting with the roots on his left ankle but not quite severing them all the way. Another screech.

  Whump!

  He hit the ground unexpectedly as the root released its hold. Long moments passed as he lay befuddled on his back.

  “Hal!”

  Veronica’s voice woke him out of his lull. The branches were still swaying but cautious, one now lolling to one side from Hal's machete attack. He scooted back a few feet on his butt with the machete in front of him as he got to his feet. The roots darted in and out, targeting his hands. He began swinging in wide arcs to keep them at bay, making his way backwards towards the door. Once he got to the landing, they retreated back underground.

  Hal stumbled back inside of the cabin, locking the door behind him. Veronica ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face.

  “Ach!” he said with a grimace, shrinking away.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just I thought…I didn’t know if…”

  Hal looked at her with a weak smile, kissing her forehead gently.

  “I’ll be O.K. ”

  She nodded silently, relief lightly dabbing her expression.

  “I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

  Part V - Escape

  Hal sat at the dining room table with his shirt off as Veronica cleaned the scrapes and cuts, applying hydrogen peroxide to his back and neck. She had to tweez and pick gravel out before cleaning some of his wounds. A couple she bandaged. Donna sat next to him on one side while Sean sat on the other, Hal’s fresh shirt spread out in front of them on the table.

  “Dad.” Sean said, breaking the silence. “What were those things?”

  Hal heard but didn’t give an immediate response. He’d been trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing. It made little sense, at least not in his mind. He knew they were tree roots, or he had a high confidence they were. But beyond that, he couldn’t create a scenario in reality where something like this was possible. His reality at least. Aliens? Bio-engineered trees? Had they entered another dimension? If so, when? Those kinds of theories represented elements of science-fiction or fantasy stories, not reality.

  “I think they’re tree roots,” he replied. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

  “All done,” Veronica said, gathering up the bloody cotton balls on the table. Hal stood and put on the shirt, careful of the bandages.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “How are we going to get past those things?” Veronica asked, throwing away the cotton balls.

  “I’ll come up with something. But we will get out of here. I want everyone to go gather up your things.”

  Veronica scooted the kids down the hall towards the bedrooms, looking back at Hal with worry. Hal walked to the front and looked out the window. Overturned lawn chairs, scattered charred wood, and small mounds and furrows of dirt were the only evidence that the roots had been there, besides his own injuries. Maybe the machete was enough to get them to the van and drive them out of there.

  Kreesh!

  “Dad!”

  The sound of breaking glass propelled him down the hallway towards Sean’s room. The window shattered, tree branches clawing and raking at Sean who was holding it back with a chair. Hal darted back down the hallway and grabbed the machete. Rushing into the room, he stood on the bed next to the branches.

  “Let him go!”

  He brought down the machete with both arms, the blade sunk in the branch. A screech filled the room which was much louder than the one he’d heard before. Looking out the window, he froze. In the base of the tree trunk were the features of a face. The eyes glowed golden and its mouth filled with razor-sharp, wood teeth. It shrieked again like a wounded eagle when it met his gaze. In that split second, the branches swept Hal to the floor, the machete still stuck in it.

  “Go!” Hal yelled to Sean, who used the tree’s divided attention to bolt out of the room. The branch was retreating out of the window. Hal shot to his feet, grabbing the hilt of the machete and yanking it out of the branch. The momentum of the pull threw him back against the wall. Stumbling to the door, he slammed it shut, heart racing, thumping in his ears.

  “Leave everything. We’re going.”

  Marching
down the hallway, Hal opened the cupboard below the sink where he had placed one container of lighter fluid. His family watched him in silence as he reached in a kitchen drawer, grabbing a grill lighter. Donna cried again and he saw Veronica’s face as she consoled her. She was holding it together by a thread.

  “We will get out of here,” he assured, pausing to look each of them in the eye before resuming his work. Going to the garbage can in the kitchen, he lifted out his torn shirt. Breaking off the sweeps of the broom, he tied it to the tip of the handle and saturated it with lighter fluid.

  “Honey,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’m going to need your help. We’ll light this, put the kids in between us, stay close, and move to the van. I have a feeling they won't like fire.” Veronica nodded in agreement, steeling herself for the task.

  He looked at Sean. “Buddy. I will need you to watch over this bottle of lighter fluid,” he said, handing it to him. “Don't let it go. Can you do that?” Sean nodded his assent through a countenance of weak bravery.

  Gathering at the front door, Hal lit the makeshift torch. The flames embraced the shirt. Opening the door, he looked back at everyone.

  “Stay close.”

  They made their way out the door, Veronica holding the torch off to the side while Hal held the machete with both hands.

  When they stepped onto the landing, the roots responded, springing up out of the ground in front of them, blocking their path to the van. There were smaller ones accompanying them, but his concern was the larger ones. He stopped, solidifying his grip on the machete then looked back at Veronica.

  “Hold that straight up.”

  Veronica raised the torch above their heads. The roots appeared to sense the enmity of the torch and shrunk back. Hal swung in front of him as a warning and the roots retreated further. Emboldened, he stepped towards them, chopping through one of the smaller roots. The bigger ones tried to assist but Veronica jabbed the torch towards them, forcing them to stay back. It was working. The flames frightened them and they recognized the machete as an equal menace. Slow, reluctant, the roots slithered back into the ground,.

  Furtive steps moved across the ground, shuffling their way towards the campfire site. Wooden phalanges sprouted from the ground. Left. Right. Front. Back. Each appearance forced them to confront each manifestation and coerce it back to the dank underground cavern of sediment which it had emerged.

  They made it to the van after what seemed like an eternity. Veronica ushered Sean and Donna inside while Hal exchanged the torch for the lighter fluid, watchful of the threatening roots.

  “Reach into my right, front pocket, get the keys and start the van,” he said, never taking his eyes off of the sentient foliage. The van started on the first turn of the key. Once he heard the engine start, he made his way towards the driver's side of the van. Veronica had the door opened already. He flung the torch at the roots and jumped into the van, slamming the door behind him.

  “Oh my Lord in heaven.”

  “What?” Hal asked as he snapped on his seat belt. Grabbing the gearshift, he looked through the windshield.

  The forest was full of faces. Some trees had dark, hollow eyes and mouths. Others had sinister, toothy grins and narrow eye slits. All malevolent. Menacing. Goosebumps raised all over Hal’s body. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was. His stomach sank into a pit of trepidation.

  In an abrupt chorus, all the trees screeched and howled. Branches swayed and cut through the air. More roots erupted from the ground, showering dirt and nuggets of rocks that pelted the top of the van. Hal slammed the gearshift into reverse and pressed hard on the gas pedal, the clatter of gravel beating the underside.

  “Hold on!”

  He hit the brakes. The tires skidded throwing the van into a quarter turn as Hal threw it into drive and sped down the stretch of driveway. The vehicle was taking a beating, the din of the branches raking and pummeling the sides of the van. He could see the end of the drive a short eighth of a mile. It seemed like miles but also it was also a beacon of hope.

  Kreesh!

  A large branch pierced through the windshield. Hundreds of cracks spidered across the glass. Veronica covered her face. Donna screamed. Sean jumped. Hal slammed on the brakes, the branch scraping the side of his right shoulder. He couldn't see through the glass with the branch lodged in place. It moved back and forth, rocking the van on its rubber feet. Other branches continued to slam into it.

  Hal reached down behind him, feeling on the floor. Everything was happening quick. There was no time to think. Simply react by instinct with adrenaline. His hand clasped around the container of lighter fluid. He flipped open the top and soaked the branch between sways. Fumes filled his nostrils and fluid splattered on the floor, his shirt, and Veronica's blouse.

  The branch shook the van hard. Hal’s head crashed into the driver’s side window. Blood smeared across the cracked glass as the impact opened a gash. He saw double as he dropped the lighter fluid. He felt around on the dash, eyes closed, holding the side of his head.

  “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Donna’s cries shook him. Willing himself to focus, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out the grill lighter. Two clicks later, a flame emitted from its tip. He touched it to the branch. Flames come to life in an instant, pulsating across its dry bark.

  A howl. Screeching. A loud cry rang out in the forest all at once. The branch retracted, waving through the air attempting to quench the flame. Hal looked out the window, glimpsing the tortured face of the tree that owned it.

  “Dad!” Sean said. “Someone's out there!”

  Everyone turned left to look into the forest. Someone was out there. Three figures though they were too far off to make out any details. It looked as if they were fighting the trees. In a moment, there was a flash of white so bright they had to cover their eyes. For Hal, that was their cue. He shifted the car into drive and tore off down the path. Seconds later, they were on the main freeway, headed towards town.

  No trees attacked them on the way there.

  “Everybody okay?”

  All anyone could manage was a nod. Hal’s hands were on the wheel but his body was shaking.

  Part VI - Doorbell

  Hal sat staring at the television. Mac Taylor was interrogating a suspect on CSI: New York but none of it registered with him. It may as well been white noise.

  They had been home for three days. No one had left the house. No one had answered the phone. Few words were exchanged. Everyone had trouble sleeping. Donna had nightmares every night since. Everyone was trying their best to cope and process what had happened.

  A million things ran through his mind. How could it be possible? Did they really experience it or was there some hallucinogen in the water? What was he going to tell the insurance company had happened? He could tell them the truth. A tree fell on them. They would ask did he take any pictures. Then he'd have to inform them he was too busy running for his life as the tree attacked him. That explanation wouldn’t fly.

  The incessant question that nagged at him more than any other was the identity of the strangers fighting the forest. Had they left them to die? He had to take care of his family. That was not in question. That was his priority. Yet was it at the expense of someone else's life?

  As a result, they decided and agreed no one would say anything to anyone about what had happened. They were going to take until the end of the week to adjust to the reality of it and keep it among themselves.

  His mind filled with the instrumental rock guitar and arpeggiated synthesizer rhythms of The Who’s Baba O’Riley, signaling the end of the show, snapping him from the grasp of his thoughts. Raising the remote control setting under his hand on the arm of the chair, he pointed it with listless resolve at the television when the doorbell rang. The sound startled him. They weren’t expecting anyone to come over. He stared at the door, unmoving. If they kept quiet, they may just go away. He didn’t feel like being around anyone outside of his fam
ily.

  Veronica walked into the room, glancing at the front door.

  “You going to get that?”

  Hal rubbed his forehead sighing as the doorbell rang again.

  “Hal. We can’t stay in here without con…”

  “I know. I know,” he said. Perturbed with clear reluctance, he opened the door just as the doorbell rang the third time.

  “Can I help you?” he said, irritation lathering his tone. Before him were three people. A middle-aged man with short salt and peppered hair with a stubble beard and a mustache to match. Handsome features which increased Hal's irritation. Next to him was a young woman, jet black hair just past the shoulders, an innocent looking face with big, round, dark eyes. Behind them was a tall young man with a mustache and full beard, glasses, with short, cropped auburn hair.

  “Mr. Baker?” said the older man. “Mr. Hal Baker?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  The man paused, fixing him with his grayish-blue eyes.

  “My name is Sebastian Kane. I’m here to talk about the forest attack you and your family experienced.”

  Part I - Enter the Monster's Lair

  Jason Meechum sat at his front row desk eager to learn. He loved school and was smart for his age which meant in the eyes his peers; he was a nerd. Not in the good way. This made him somewhat of a social outcast. He had no fondness for that particular part of his reality. It was just the way it was. His peers would tease him, call him all kinds of cruel names which he tried to ignore but seldom could. Given a choice, there were many times he would have rather they punched him instead of being subjected to their verbal flaying. They were relentless in their ostracizing and upbraiding. Whoever said names will never hurt you was a liar. They hurt more often than not and he couldn't escape it.

  Not everyone viewed him in that light. His teachers' view of him was quite different.

  “He's a good kid,” he'd heard them say.