It was a perfect weekend to get out of town. My wife was busy with a friend’s bridal shower and my buddies were all going to be stuck at work. I packed my truck with camping supplies, spent an entire day’s wages on a single tank of gas, and drove four hours east from Nashville to Cherokee National Forest.
Cherokee National Forest is next door to the Great Smokey Mountains, land of beautiful blue ridge mountains and, unfortunately, 14 million visitors a year. The National Forest, however, is far less trafficked than the Park.
I wanted to have some trails to myself, and more than that I wanted to disperse camp. Meaning I’d wander off the trail at some point with my compass to set up camp.
I had just settled in for the night when this story begins. About 100 yards from the trail, I found a flat clearing underneath some hickory trees and got to splitting what firewood I’d gathered. When I had a neat pile for the night I stretched out on my pad beneath the stars and stoked a small fire to life.
I didn’t pack in much food. I didn’t want to deal with dishes and the area was known for its abundance of black bears, but I’d found some chanterelles and roasted the fungus over the fire.
I had a protein bar for desert and when I was finished, I drenched my arms in DEET, rested my head against the log pile, and stared at the stars.
I was nearly asleep when I noticed that something wasn’t quite right with the night sky. I frowned as I stared at Ursa Major. Inside the spoon of the Big Dipper was a set of stars.
Or were they planets? They glowed too red to be stars and besides, they didn’t twinkle. I stood up with my neck still strained to the sky. “What the hell?” I said aloud.
The two stars looked like angry eyes, and I was about to curse Elon Musk, or perhaps the Chinese government for putting more satellite pollutants into space when I froze.
They vanished simultaneously for a second before returning to their steady staring glow.
They had blinked, I realized.
I was seeing things, surely. Lights don’t blink, at least not like eyes do. But then sure enough, after another several seconds the stars blinked again. Now they seemed to be staring into my soul.
“Ok,” I sighed. “Fuck this.”
I looked down from the sky and shook my head as if to clear it.
Tent camping alone in the woods is scary enough. There are some people who are one with nature and whose minds don’t leap to murderers at so much as the sound of a snapping twig, however, I’m not one of them. I love sitting by the fire and waking in the morning light, but as for the night itself I just pray I sleep soundly through its entirety.
Tonight, wasn’t going to be one of those head hits the pillow and it’s all Z’s kind of nights. My confusion alone was enough to keep me questing till dawn and that wasn’t counting my pounding pulse.
I thought about just packing out but knew it was hardly an option. The trail would be dangerous in the dark and I had more than 7 miles of black woods between me and my truck. I sat back down, keeping my gaze fixed on the fire.
Would I rather those staring stars be gone the next time I looked up? No. The idea of them vanishing completely was almost more terrifying than seeing them there again.
I simply pretended they weren’t there. I was sure Google would have an explanation when I had service again and even if it didn’t, I was being ridiculous. A couple stars in the sky shouldn’t ruin my entire camping trip.
About twenty minutes later I let the fire die down and crawled into my tent. Before I zipped the screen, I took one last look, and shuddered as the pair of stars stared back at me.
I deluded myself into thinking I’d sleep. I went through the motions of preparing for eight hours of slumber. I rolled my socks up, adjusted my head as best I could on the tiny camping pillow, and started to take deep relaxing breaths. In the back of my head, I knew it would be no use.
There was no way sleep was coming any time soon that night.
Some small mammal chittered and snapped a branch somewhere in the black. I sighed and threw open the tent fly.
I had brought a paperback and decided a better plan of attack was to read until some drowsiness hit me, but when I stood fully after exiting the tent there was something else in the sky.
Above the hickories, something was sailing gently towards the earth. It was close, only a few hundred yards away or so, and in the moonlight, I could see it well.
It wasn’t much bigger than a small car. It looked like a pod made of thick pipes, sort of like the shape of your hand if you were to press your fingertips together.
I watched it fall, and although it wasn’t going fast, I still expected a large crash when it disappeared into the trees. But there was only silence.
The two staring eyes were still bright as ever above, and I wish I realized it then, but at the moment that thing fell they were staring with a feverishness. With excitement.
I swear I’m not stupid, but I’m an adventurous type and something was pulling me to go investigate whatever that thing was that dropped from the sky. Sleep wasn’t to be had anyway so I grabbed my backpack, donned my head lamp and set out east towards where it had landed.
I trudged through the brush, but something was wrong. Every few minutes I was passing exactly the same scenery. Same logs. Same trees. Same boulders.
This couldn’t be right, even if I was veering in a circle it takes hours to complete a lost man’s loop. I tried not to panic but my breathing betrayed me. I was hyperventilating. Even when I used my compass, two minutes would pass, and I’d be right where I was before.
I paused to reassess. Fuck finding that thing. My only goal now was to get back to camp and pack out, dark trail be damned.
As I caught my breath there was a long groan of wood not far away in the trees. Then a splintering pop. I frowned thinking at first it was a tree falling but then the sound repeated itself. Only closer. Faster.
Something was coming towards me. Something large enough to break the logs that littered the forest floor as it walked.
With a shaking finger I turned off my headlamp and suddenly the sound stopped.
Even without light directly over my face I was certain my heavy breath and heartbeat were both plenty loud enough to be found by any predator.
I don’t remember thinking I was going to do it; I just remember doing it and I bolted. The second I leapt off my planted foot the sound resumed, and the chase was on. I crashed through the woods, catching cobwebs and slicing my face on branches.
The sound of cracking and snapping branches was just about at my back when I broke through the thicket and fell face first into the grass. I crawled forward panting on my knees, but the sound was gone.
I stayed hidden in the tall grass, waiting to hear the grass hiss as it parted in the wake of this beast but there was nothing but a chorus of crickets.
I thought about just laying still until morning. The grass cover was cozy to my hunted mind. But as the silence stayed and my heart rate settled, I kneeled so I could see.
I was in a very large clearing thronged with hundreds of hardwood trees. Back the way I’d came the tree line was intact. Nothing giant had barreled through.
I laid back down. There was no way I was going back into the thick woods until morning. I grew tired from the come down of the cortisol and was closing my eyes just as the wind picked up.
I had a great sensation of falling just as I was about to sleep and perked up with a start.
Something was whispering to me.
“Are you there?”
I stayed perfectly still, petrified.
“It’s ok. I can see you,” whispered the wind.
I rolled and rose slowly to my knees.
“Over here.” The sound came from an ancient oak tree just through the grass.
I stood. I was spotted anyway. “Who are you?”
“I am not anybody.” I flinched as it felt like the sound came from inside my head.
“Come closer. I want to see you.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m flattered, but I understand I’m not all that thin. Right here.” The sound was coming from the oak tree.
“The tree?”
“That’s me.”
Fuck, I thought. Maybe those weren’t chanterelles. I looked at my hands, but unfortunately, I felt acutely sober.
The tree only spoke when the wind whistled through its leaves, and for a moment I thought almost foolish. How ignorant had I been to think that something so large and so ancient couldn’t communicate? That such old trees simply stood stoically until death.
I stepped forward skeptically. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Hmm,” the tree considered. “It could be. Knock knock?”
“Uh,” I paused. “Who’s there?”
“Good luck.”
“Good luck who?”
“Good luck to you.”
“What?”
“I’m a tree you see. Knock on wood?”
“Oh.”
“Ah. Jokes are never funny when they need explanation.”
“Yeah. Speaking of explanations…” I said. “Where’s the speaker?”
“What? You think us trees aren’t capable of communication? You’re a talking monkey. I for one was just as stupefied when your kind first crawled through the brush blabbering.”
I said nothing.
“Of course,” the speech paused as the wind did too. “We need the wind to speak. It needs to bleed through our leaves.”
“And all your buddies here,” I gestured at the other hardwoods. “They speak too?”
“Oh, not to you. I’m a kind tree you see. Most of us hate you. But figure your species will be gone soon enough anyway.”
“Hm.”
“You meet a talking tree and all you have to say is hm?”
“Sorry, I think I’m high.”
“Oh, I’m afraid not.”
I looked back towards the tree line. “Something chased me here.”
“Ah, yes. I saw him.”
“Who?”
“Your purser. Furry fellow. Big black bear.”
It had sounded too large to be a bear but then again, the woods at night play tricks on the mind. I sighed in relief.
“Have you been wondering about those stars?”
“What?” I said in sudden alarm.
“Those two stars. You see them, don’t you?” said the tree. “Staring like eyes?”
I looked up and there they were staring back at me. “Do you know what they are?”
“No. But we’ve seen them before. Once every few decades or so. They bring bad things, and you should leave these woods.”
“I’m planning on it.”
“We’ve seen them long before your kind took flight.”
“Are you saying they’re comets?”
“Hmm, no. Although we’ve seen comets often bring bad things, too.”
“So, what are they,” I looked at the lights. “Aliens?”
“Do you want to know something, child?”
“What?”
“One of the most comforting thoughts is that all sentience is similar no matter where it forms in the universe. That all consciousness at its peak is kind and curious and humorous. Like the very best in humanity.”
“Sure,” I looked at the stars and smiled. “It’s a nice thought.”
“But how horrifying is the alternative? That not all sentience sees things the same. That beings far smarter than you, beings with the power to cross galaxies don’t choose to explore the wonder in the worlds but stalk the stars instead. Like sharks in search of blood.”
I watched the two lights blink in tandem. “Is that what you think these things are?”
“And looking down at Earth,” the wind was weakening. “What might your species look like to them? Seven billion hares,” the tree hummed. “Caught in a single snare.”
The wind ceased and the clearing quieted. “Are you saying you know this?” The tree couldn’t respond, there was no wind to rattle the leaves. “Hello?!”
I waited anxiously for a breeze but just as suddenly as the gusts had come, they stopped.
Silence in the grass. I bed down, still afraid of the dark and after several hours, I slept.
When I woke it almost dawn, a few crickets were still calling, and the wind was calm. Confident with the coming light I stood and started for the thick woods. Talking trees, I shook my head, what happened to me last night?
Suddenly I stopped in my tracks. The hue of light was budding the sky in the west.
It wasn’t dawn, it was dusk. I had slept sixteen hours. My heart began to race again. How could this be? I started to run in a panic, hoping that the last of the light would be enough to find my camp site.
I bounded through the woods, another hour past and I was even more lost than before, nothing familiar.
“Fuck!” I shouted hopelessly and suddenly my cry was returned. There was yelling. People were yelling my name. Of course, a search party. My wife would’ve been in a panic since I was supposed to text her when I packed out.
“Over here!” I yelled into the night. “Over here!”
I started to run towards their calls, stumbling through the dark woods like a drunk. At some point I tripped, and my brain went as black as the world around me.
____
“Michael! Michael, can you talk to me?”
I woke to a blinding light and the crackle of radios comms.
“Yes,” I said weakly.
“Michael, do you know what day it is?” A man in an orange vest was leaning over me.
“Saturday.”
“Good,” he shined his light into my pupils and spoke over his shoulder. “Mildly concussed. Get the stretcher.”
A stretcher the same color as the man’s vest appeared and I was gently rolled onto it.
“Is Katie there?” I said as they strapped me in.
“Your wife is nearby, she’s with another search party. We’re gonna let her know you’re safe. Just sit tight, Michael.”
My head was strapped in tight alright. I could only see the woods by rolling my eyes to the side.
Soon I was lifted, and each member of the search party came by and patted me on the shoulder. My mind had been elsewhere, thankful to be rescued from these woods, but after several minutes of quiet the conversation that the men who carried the stretcher were having brought me out of my own head.
“I’m telling you that can’t be Mars and Venus. They’re way too close.”
“Well, those aren’t satellites.”
“They have to be.”
I was lying supine to the stars, and watched as the two lights vanished slowly, as if closing their eyes only to sleep.
“Hey,” one of the men said. “They’re gone.”
“See,” said the other. “Satellites.”
We came to a clearing where the sky was much more visible. It was the clearing with the hardwoods. With the talking tree. I must’ve run in a circle again before I tripped. I thought I’d be able to laugh about that speaking oak now that I was safe, but the encounter only made me more unsettled.
A mile or so up a ridge, I could see the flashlights of one of the other search parties bobbing in the trees but just above them something else caught my eye.
Dozens of those pods were sailing gently from the sky. Hundreds. Thick as locusts. I struggled against my restraints. Those things that came from the stars, what had the tree thought they were?
“Do you see that?” I tried to get the men’s attention, but I was too weak.
“Take it easy, Michael. It won’t be long now.”
The pods disappeared into the ridge and my heart leapt as we passed the same oak tree I thought had talked. I rolled my eyes to the side to look at it. Slithering down its spine was a creature. It was one of those pods with long, pipe-like limbs. It moved a few of them aside like a spider to reveal a smile of daggers.
I heard the horrific screams of the other searchers up the ridge. The men carrying me stopped walking. Our entire search party stopped and stared, all too startled by the screams to even speak.
The creature on the oak leapt off and bounded up the ridge towards where its friends had fallen. A deafening crash of timber and brush sounded in its wake.
My search party began to clamor and run. I jostled on the stretcher crying for my wife yet wondering why that thing was letting us live. Wondering why it had chased me through the woods the night before only to speak to me.
I know now it’s because it wanted me to tell this story.
That it wants us to know there are creatures with the entire universe before them that choose to stalk the stars. Feeding on fear. Like sharks, it had said. Like sharks in search of blood.
And all I could do was cry at how foolish I was.
How foolish I was to think trees could talk.