by Gina Ranalli
Taking a few slow steps in its direction, Karen stooped and made low cooing sounds, holding one hand out straight, inviting the dog to come sniff her.
The dog lowered her head, nostrils flaring, trying to catch Karen’s scent from a distance of twenty feet. She seemed tense, ready to spring away if anyone made any sudden movements.
“Dusty,” Karen said softly. “Come here, girl.”
She didn’t know why making friends with the local stray seemed important to her all of a sudden, but it did. Maybe because the dog was real, something solid and incapable of feeding her a line of bullshit. Behind her, she sensed the men backing up, perhaps to give the dog a more secure feeling about coming forward. Karen remembered Saul saying how Dusty didn’t seem to be too crazy about men.
“It’s okay,” Karen told her. “I won’t hurt you.”
Then it occurred to her the dog was almost definitely hungry. Despite a thick, fluffy coat of fur, Karen could still clearly make out the dog’s ribs and hip bones.
“Do we have anything to give her?” she called gently over her shoulder.
There was a moment as Rory considered it. “I guess we could give her some hot dogs. I don’t know what else she’d like.”
“She’d probably like anything at this point,” Saul said. “I’ll go see what I can find.”
“It’s freezing out here,” Rory said. “I’m gonna go get something to clean up that mess.”
Karen knew without turning that he was referring to the pile of still smoldering ashes.
“Do you want me to bring you a sweater or something?” Rory asked.
“Sure,” she replied without taking her eyes off the skittish dog. She heard the men’s footsteps as they climbed the porch steps, still watching the dog for any hint of trust.
“Aw, fuck,” Saul said. “God dammit. We’re locked out.”
Rory let out an annoyed groan of disgust. “You’re shitting me. That’s impossible.”
“See for yourself,” Saul replied.
Karen straightened up and finally looked away from Dusty to see Rory and Saul taking turns with the doorknob.
“Fuck me,” Rory said angrily. “How could this have happened? It’s a fucking deadbolt.”
Feeling the now familiar sinking feeling in her stomach, Karen didn’t want to give voice to how she thought it may have happened, but couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out. “Someone locked us out on purpose.”
Both men turned to look at her. Rory rolled his eyes, but Saul seemed genuinely worried that she might be right. At least, that’s what Karen was hoping his expression meant. She supposed, realistically, he was probably just worried about how the hell they were going to get back inside.
“Come on,” Rory said to Saul. “Let’s start looking for an open window or something.” They clomped back down the porch steps and disappeared around the far side of the house.
Karen turned back to the forest line only to discover, with a large amount of disappointment, that Dusty had vanished back into the woods.
She stood there, uncertain of what her next move should be. Follow the men or follow the dog, try to get Dusty to trust her. A chilly breeze stirred her hair and rather than make her want to go back in the house, it made her all the more worried for the dog. “You’re being insane,” she muttered to herself as she began walking into the woods.
Somehow, the further in she went, the warmer the temperature seemed to become and she found she wasn’t shivering quite as much.
Stepping carefully around trees, exposed roots, brush, and the occasional stone, she called out to the dog, saying her name repeatedly. It was dark in the woods and getting darker as the distance between herself and the house increased. Her eyes adjusted as she traveled and she felt a sense of peace come over her.
Had Sean known these woods well? Had he walked past these very trees, stepped over this very rock? Was he still in here somewhere, held by the soft earth like a mother holding a child? She didn’t want to think about that but couldn’t help it.
Would it be so bad, she wondered, to have your final resting place be somewhere like this, rather than a sterile cemetery surrounded by complete strangers for all eternity?
She had heard of “green” funerals, where the deceased is wrapped in canvas and buried in a place very much like this, though designated by the state as an official burial ground. It would be nice, she thought. To recycle yourself that way. Feed the earth and the roots of the tree you were buried beneath and in turn, the insects, the worms, who would then feed the birds and so on. Would that not, in its own way, make a person truly part of the universe, some little speck of self flying off into the sky to live another day and continue to nurture a world so badly in need of care? The idea made her smile and she thought when this was all over she would look into having a green burial herself. She’d always thought she would prefer to be cremated but now she knew her body would be serving a purpose by returning to the earth from which it came.
“Dusty,” she called softly. “Come here, girl.”
She stopped, listening for any sounds of rustling in the woods. There was nothing, not even bird song.
Strange.
Walking again, her feet crunched over pine needles and moss grown frosty with the cold. She didn’t think the dog would have gone far, but who knew? Maybe that hollow log Saul had told her about was somewhere nearby and Dusty was hiding inside it, hoping the strange woman calling out to her would go away.
Karen had the sudden uneasy feeling that, if Dusty felt her territory was being invaded, she might actually attack her. Given the dog was so shy and skittish, Karen doubted anything like that would actually happen, but you could never be sure. For all she knew, the dog had had another litter and could be protecting it as she had done in the past.
For probably the hundredth time in her life, Karen wished she wore a watch. How much time had passed since she’d entered the woods? The light seemed to have dwindled somewhat, but not enough to make her think she had been wandering the forest for more than, say, twenty minutes or so. Regardless, though, she knew she should turn back. She, like everyone else, had heard countless stories of people becoming lost in the woods, even though they had just barely veered off the designated path. But she was smarter than that. She’d made sure she had kept walking in a relatively straight line, steering herself around the various blockades only to continue on in a western direction once she was on the other side of them.
Still, she knew it could happen to people much more familiar with their surroundings than she currently was and she had no desire to end up like them: cold, scared, hungry, alone.
Lost.
Reluctantly, she stopped walking again, looking around for anything that could be a fallen tree, a log in which a frightened abused dog might take a tiny bit of solace. She saw nothing. Just ferns and tall pines, their boughs hanging low and heavy, their trunks and branches covered in moss an almost magical shade of brilliant emerald green. She studied the green, taking a mental picture of it, storing it away so she could later recall it and do her best to describe it with words, though she already knew words would prove woefully lacking when it came to such wild beauty.
“Okay, Dusty,” she called out. “You win. We won’t make friends today, but I’ve got my eye on you.” Despite feeling foolish, she smiled. She had no idea why she was even interested in the dog. She remembered her previous thought about how animals, even worse than people, would inevitably break a human heart just by the simple act of loving and leaving. Of course, unlike people, they made no promises to stay either. They simply were, always living in the moment, giving no thought to the future beyond hoping for a tossed French fry or a good scratch behind the ear. She envied their simplicity, their constant state of Zen.
She turned around, intending to head back in the direction she’d come, only to find a tree directly behind her. She’d almost walked into it.
“What the…” She looked up at the tree, into its highest branches
and then down, seeing its thick roots digging into the ground at her feet.
She shook her head slightly, stepping around the tree and continuing on her way. It wasn’t long before she came to a cluster of trees, so thick and close together she knew for certain she hadn’t passed this way before. Frowning, she looked behind her, double checking to see if the sun was now at her back.
It was.
“Okay,” she said aloud. “I guess I wasn’t staying in as straight of a line as I thought I was.” But still…she couldn’t have veered one way or the other that much, could she? She thought she’d been being very careful.
The air around her was growing chilly once again and she began to wonder if the chill was actually coming from within rather than without. She was getting that sleepy, disconnected feeling again and considered finding a rock to sit on for a while. That sounded nice.
She looked off to her left and saw a ragged maroon loveseat, off-white stuffing poking out of the cushion seams and various tears in the armrests.
Karen smiled, wondering how on earth she had missed seeing that. It looked so cozy and soft, like the worn furniture in her college dorm. Perfectly broken in.
And she was so sleepy. She walked to the loveseat like a woman in a trance, eyes narrowed to drowsy slits. Her nose and ears felt very cold—much colder than a Washington November had any right to be—but she could curl up on the loveseat, warming herself with her own body heat.
She reached the loveseat and immediately lay down on it, her hands beneath her cheek making an adequate pillow, her butt pressed into the back of the loveseat and instantly warming it to her body temperature.
This must have been put here by someone who knew people would eventually come along, tired and in need of a quick catnap. A wise and thoughtful person. And the mysterious Samaritan—whoever it was—also maintained the loveseat well enough to at least keep the pine needles and fallen leaves off it. It was conveniently free of any kind of bird droppings as well, which Karen was quite happy about as she closed her eyes, snuggling down deeper into the soft, velvety cushions.
Just a quick nap and then she’d be back on her way, back to the house and the guys. She just needed a little rest and to warm herself up a bit…
She knew, as she’d always known, that she and sleep were intimate friends, lovers almost, and it could soothe her when nothing else could and so she welcomed it almost as eagerly as it welcomed her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
She didn’t quite make it though.
There was some distant noise distracting her from surfing beneath the waves of sleep, drowning in a comforting curl.
She refused to acknowledge the sound at first, stubbornly squeezing her eyes shut as if the act would somehow squeeze her ears shut as well.
Bizarre rustling sounds, as though someone—or something her deep mind screamed from some distant and undiscovered planet—were kicking their way through deep drifts of dead leaves. Crackling, snapping noises, but she would not give in to her curiosity. Her exhaustion was too heavy a burden and needed to be taken care of first. After her nap, she would look. She would open her eyes and see what the strange sounds were all about. She buried her face into the crook of her elbow, feeling her own warmth there…and darkness. So sweetly dark and warm…
But then another noise attacked her with such ferocity she jerked up, eyes wide.
The ground beneath her body was cold—nearly frozen—and the trees were almost upon her, crowding in close, some of them mere inches from her body. Five trees in all, surrounding her as though they were the fat bars of a very small cage. Beyond them, Dusty the dog barked shrilly at her…or at them, Karen couldn’t tell which. She saw the dog clearly, about twenty feet away and not daring to come any closer.
The trees were…were what? Alive? Of course they were. All trees are alive. But these trees, she thought…they’re malevolent. Evil. And alive in a way no other trees were.
She was somewhat grateful for her dulled senses now. She was sure if she had had all her wits about her, she would have run screaming into the descending night to disappear forever. Besides the grogginess, the only thing keeping her relatively calm was the dog. The dog was real. It saw what she saw and sensed what she sensed.
Something more than just evil. Something ancient and sleepy, but waking up and waking up hungry.
Slowly, Karen first sat, then stood, ignoring the dead leaves and pine needles in her hair, the dirt covering the side of her body that had lain against the cold ground. Some instinct was telling her to move slowly, slip past the trees surrounding her. Step carefully, do not touch them, do not step on any exposed roots. Do not wake them further.
Insanity, she thought. It’s the only explanation.
The dog continued to bark, apparently unaware her protests could cause the trees to become more aware of the presence of “outsiders”, which is what Karen assumed she was to whatever entity ruled these woods.
She stared hard at the dog, trying to will her to silence, but Dusty only took a step back and barked louder, more urgently.
Karen judged the distance between the trees directly in front of her. The space between them was wide enough for her to fit through, but barely. She took a deep breath, held it and slipped between them like a soaped up convict escaping naked from between the bars of his prison cell.
Once she was on the other side of the tree cage, she bolted through the forest as fast as she could, racing past the dog who spun, startled, barking hysterically before breaking into its own run, keeping pace with Karen for a moment before darting ahead, a reddish blur in the faltering light. Follow the dog, Karen told herself. Follow her, she knows the way.
Dusty easily leapt over and around low shrubs, logs and rocks, weaving her way around trees Karen was positive had not been there when she’d first ventured into the woods.
Stupid, she thought, breathing hard, legs and arms pumping, praying she wouldn’t fall. If she fell, she knew it would be over. There were things moving behind her; she could sense them. Behind her and to either side as well.
Karen ran, sometimes with only a flash of the dog’s bushy tail to lead the way.
There was movement above her now, flashes of shadows crossing the ground just before her feet pounded down on it, dark figures moving up there, but she didn’t dare look up, didn’t take her eyes off the fleeing dog for more than just fear of tripping. For fear of seeing.
And then they broke through, coming out of the edge of the woods slightly north of where she’d gone in.
Dusty skidded to a stop just short of the walkway, whirled and barked at Karen as if urging her forward, warning her she wasn’t quite clear yet, just a little further, and Karen, eyes on the dog, forgot her balance just long enough for the toes of her left foot to catch something and the next thing she knew, she was sailing though the air, perpendicular to the ground for what seemed like a long, long time and then crashing down hard, knees and elbows colliding with the ground a mere instant before her chin hit. Her teeth clacked together hard as her back was bent into a U shape—impossible, she thought through the intense and immediate pain—backs are not supposed to do this. She groaned in pain, tasting dirt in her mouth, but thankfully, no blood and she hadn’t heard anything snap. She did however hear a distinct shuffling sound near her face and when she looked up, Dusty was there, sniffing cautiously.
“I think I’m okay,” she told the dog, rolling onto her back with a grimace. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.” Trying to move made her lower back shriek with rage. “Fuck!” she hissed and instantly regretted it as it caused the dog to fall back a little ways. Breathing hard, Karen turned her head to look at Dusty. “Don’t like cussing, huh? I don’t blame you. It’s a terrible habit.”
She knew she must be in some kind of shock—knew it because she wasn’t leaping to her feet and taking off again, screaming bloody murder that the woods were alive and trying to eat her. Which, she was convinced, was exactly what had happened.
Karen
raised her hand to the dog. “I think we’ve already proven that you’re a faster runner than I am,” she said. “If I try anything iffy you can always take off like a bolt of lightning.”
The dog tilted her head to one side and Karen had the impression Dusty was truly trying to understand what was being said to her, listening carefully for even a single word she might recognize.
“It’s okay,” Karen said reassuringly. “I promise.”
Dusty came forward only as far as she needed to, stretching out her neck until her cold damp nose touched the tips of Karen’s fingers, sniffing intently.
Karen couldn’t help but smile. “Good girl,” she said and meant it, suddenly realizing the dog had almost certainly saved her, leading the way to safety. Well, as safe as she could be, she supposed.
“I think we’re gonna be friends after all,” Karen said. “I’m not so bad. You’ll see.”
The dog seemed to consider this for a moment, wet brown eyes watching Karen with what she hoped was now more interest than fear. “You’re a good girl,” Karen said before taking in a gulp of brisk November air and forcing herself to sit up, wincing at the pain in her lower back. She realized it wasn’t only her back that hurt now. It felt like every part of her had been hit repeatedly with a hammer. Even her eyes were sore. “This place is kicking my ass,” she muttered.
“Karen?”
It was Saul, rounding the near side of the house.
At the sound of his voice, Dusty began to bark frantically but surprised Karen by not running away. Instead, she took a step closer to Karen, as if to protect her from the approaching man.
Karen held up her hand to Saul, giving him a STOP gesture. He froze, his eyes on the dog.
With a slow tentative hand, Karen reached out and touched the dog’s flank. Dusty barely looked around, still barking at Saul.
“It’s alright,” Karen told the animal, stroking her matted fur. “He’s a friend.”
Dusty remained unconvinced, but the barking slowed down and soon stopped when she saw Saul was coming no closer.