Of course it had to be raining when I came back to the tree. What started out as a light drizzle eventually turned into a downpour as I got closer, my feet nearly slipping out from under me several times as I stepped over the mossy roots of the redwoods. It would seem I had stirred up some invisible force, possibly Miss Practical, trying to warn me away. But Miss Chaos forced me all the way to the opening of the dead tree.
The black hole stared back at me, not making a sound, telling me to come in and make myself at home. I switched on my flashlight and armed myself, gun and light held close together, before stepping inside.
The outside noise vanished, with the exception of the rain drumming over the tree. Great, I thought. Good luck hearing anything approaching with all this noise.
I promised myself not to look back at the opening this time, allowing my courage to flourish just a little bit longer than before. However, it was already painfully obvious I reached past the point of no return, as I was now having to crouch down with the tunnel narrowing. Being only 5’5”, I knew this meant I must have made it pretty far. Terence, being the giant that he was, would have had to have been dragged up to this point.
I stopped once I spotted a trail of dried blood. Turn around, I thought, just turn around and let sleeping dogs lie. I couldn’t tell you if this was Practical or Chaos speaking. But the unknown has always haunted me, even more so than the ugly truth, so I followed the trail, leading me to Terence’s body.
I didn’t need to check a pulse to know he was dead, the sight of his mouth, gums raw and bloody from the teeth being pulled out, and the frozen grimace on his face so severe it distorted his features, made him appear ghost-like. I kneeled down to see his hands clasped together. No matter how hard I tried to pry them apart they wouldn’t budge.
Oh shit! His fingers! The tips were contorted in every direction, each fingernail pulled out at the root, not a single trace of it left behind.
All I could do now was stare. I mean, what else was there to do?
“You could try crying,” Miss Practical suggested.
“Yes, why aren’t you crying?” Miss Chaos chimed in.
Because I’m in shock! My husband is dead and my life is most likely in danger, so the crying will obviously come later, but for now I’ve got to think about getting out of here alive.
“When you realize you’re alone, then the tears will come,” Practical said, trying to wash away the guilt.
“You need to get out while you still can, but you have to take him with you. He needs a proper burial.”
But Chaos had more to say. “He’ll rot down into the Earth. The best burial he’ll get. It’s time to think about yourself now that it’s just you.”
There’ll be time to mourn, I thought. None of this Jekyll/Hyde nonsense. I’ll alert the real authorities when the time comes and they’ll be the ones to remove his body for a proper burial.
As I made the trek back to the other end, I quickly realized something was wrong. I was standing up straight now, which meant I was close to the opening, except it was still pitch black somehow. The panic began to set in, my feet now recklessly pushing me forward without any concern of what came next in front of me. Sure enough, I stubbed my foot into a trench and landed hard on the ground, the flashlight flying out of my hand and rolling several feet. It was when the light settled directly ahead of me that I got my answer to the endless darkness.
I had been trapped! The opening to the trunk had been blocked off by what appeared to be a giant rock, only slivers of light piercing the few spots the jagged edges couldn’t quite cover. I rushed forward, planting my hands on the rock and putting my entire weight into it, but the whole damn thing wouldn’t move an inch. I screamed as I backed off, my insides turning raw as that survival instinct kicked in and nearly prompted me to tear away at the bark until the tips of my fingers were bloody.
Something then wrapped around my wrist – long, slender, powerful fingers, and that was all I could gather before my whole body was ripped backwards and slammed onto the ground. The force of it all was so fierce that I wasn’t even sure if I had an arm anymore, my entire shoulder feeling as if it were on fire, but that didn’t compare to the throbbing in my head from hitting the ground so hard.
Being lucky enough to still have hold of the gun, I managed to squeeze off a few shots, but the darkness combined with the stars in my vision made my aim useless. Each shot lit up the dark, providing me with glimpses of a creature ricocheting off the walls until it landed on top of me and swiped away the weapon. It happened faster than I could have imagined. The powerful fingers cupped my jaw, and in spite of my efforts to keep my mouth closed, he wrenched it apart effortlessly. I then felt what must have been its thumb and forefinger clinch down on my incisor. I groaned, louder and louder, hoping some humanity within it would make it stop, my legs kicking and stomping to break free. But it was too powerful.
My foot managed to kick the flashlight, causing it to spin around and settle on the figure above me, projecting onto its face at an angle, draping it in a raw illumination with drops of shadow. The head came to a point at the crown, ape-like, eyes black, and the pointed, oversized teeth completely bared. It let out a shriek that cut through the air, razor sharp and deafening, somehow a hybrid between human and animal.
What felt like a pair of pliers clasp onto my tooth were its immensely powerful fingers. My breath left me as I felt the thunderbolts of pain run through my jaw once the tooth was ripped from my gums, my neck muscles straining as my vision blurred. I coughed up warm blood that tried draining down my throat but instead dribbled down my chin. I may have been close to passing out, but I still had enough energy to scream and claw at its face and neck.
It then swung its body underneath me in one smooth motion, wrapping its long arms and legs around my torso, snake-like, further immobilizing me. Its fingers, in spite of its thickness, clinched down on my fingernail, and I knew what was coming next.
To my side was the pepper spray, which had landed just within arms-reach of my free hand when I was forced backwards. I grabbed onto it, wriggling my fingers into place and clenching tightly, doing my best to ignore the shock of my fingernail peeling off. I held up my hand and sprayed in a giant circle behind me, not sure if I was getting anywhere near its eyes. It was when I heard the horrific shriek and its limbs loosened that I knew I had blinded the creature.
I sprang to my feet, giving the little bastard a firm kick in the face before grabbing the gun and running back toward the rock blocking the entrance. There was a sliver of an opening that I hoped I could manage to squeeze through.
Before I could even try, though, I was stopped by the sound of a child crying. I whipped around, picking up my light to see if the sick creature had kidnapped a child. But when I fixed the light on the source of the noise, I instead saw the misshapen creature covering its face, crying and whimpering like a five-year old who had just scraped their knee.
“No fair!” It screamed. “You cheat.”
So it speaks and cries like a child. From apex predator to innocent youth, lulling people into a false sense of security. But there was no time for curiosity. As it was, I was granted a miracle when I managed to squeeze through the side of the rock and the opening of the tree, back out into safety.
***
The trek back to the cabin didn’t seem real at all, the adrenaline pushing me forward while blotting out all my surroundings. Sounds, smells, nothing registered. By the time I reached the front door I had no idea how I made it there.
The emergency trip to the dentist didn’t make it any easier. I wasn’t sure whether to tell them I took a bad fall down a steep path or was mauled by an animal. The fall required the least amount of explaining, so I went with that, which was met initially with some skepticism, but they weren’t interested in pushing it any further. After cleaning it up, they gave me the wonderful news I would need to follow up with them for the dental implant. Until then I had to live with the smile of a second grader and a swollen jaw that felt like it had paperweight attached to it.
The cleaning by the dentist gave me plenty of time to think, except all that came up were flashes of the monster’s hand in my mouth. After my eyes turned sharp and I clenched the arms of the chair, the dentist took the hint, prompting him to go a little more gently, even with a double dose of Lidocaine.
And then I went back to the cabin, alone. Somehow, I still wasn’t crying. After bandaging up my finger and washing down a couple pain killers with a glass of vodka, I had sat on the couch for several hours, staring at the wall, waiting for the tears to come. But they didn’t. Even through the haze of alcohol, which in most circumstances made me intensely maudlin, I was only left with a dizzying headache. The real tears would probably come once I had to rip off the rest of my fingernail.
My attention was fixed on the shadow of the tree outside dancing around the wall, calculating the passage of time as the branches extended slowly to the kitchen.
But none of this was normal. I mean, Terence didn’t die in a car accident and my dog didn’t run away, but instead were horribly mutilated by this wicked creature hidden away inside a tree. I was almost next.
My last words to him were, “Don’t be stupid.” It was so absurd it almost made me laugh. Was I the last person he thought of before he died? Except that was a stupid, selfish thought. He was getting his teeth ripped out one by one, so I doubt his focus was on anything but the impending explosive pain.
What made even less sense was this lack of motivation to track down Layla. She gave an unconditional love, a love that would help guide me through this dark hole in my life, so surely I should be tearing apart the entire forest and driving down every road, knocking on every door, until I found her. Except, she never came back to the cabin. Why not? I remember when Terence would take her out for a walk in the mornings, she would usually race ahead to get back long before he reached the front door. So where the hell was she?
“Dead,” Miss Chaos answered. “She was badly injured. Possibly wandered onto the road, unaware, and got hit by a truck. You know how fast they drive out here.”
You’re not helping me right now.
”You need to stop ignoring me. You’re always avoiding the uncomfortable truths.”
And what truths are those?
“Terence. His entire person and your relationship to him is one uncomfortable truth.”
Please don’t speak about him like that. He just died. And I’m in mourning.
“You may not like me, missy, but I’m your passion. My voice can be pure pleasure when everything in life is in its right place with the right people. And when it isn’t, I’m the one who burns it down and rebuilds it.”
Miss Practical might have something to say about that.
“You gave her way too much power over me. Tell me this, did you ever scream at Terence? Did anything I ever say about him get through your lips?”
You’re cruel. Why would I say cruel things to my husband?
“Child, when there’s passion between two people then there’re scars. But you don’t bother fighting with strangers.”
We weren’t strangers! I spent 20 years with the man.
“20 years of not being alone is all you accomplished.”
I could feel my eyes getting watery. She always had a way with words.
So that was the uncomfortable truth – loneliness didn’t suit me. So now what?
I suppose the only proper closure would be to kill off the little monster, or horribly injure him. Otherwise, all that was left was for me to sit with this anger, and, as I said earlier, I can’t let unfinished business haunt me.
I kept thinking of the half-eaten raccoon just outside the tree. So I decided to search in the fridge for our anniversary steak.
***
The skies had cleared up by the next morning, the landscape now wide open and much less intimidating with every corner visible. I had no flashlight this time because there was no need for one since I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to walk into its home. Not again. All I had with me was the gun and a raw steak in my backpack. Simple. Just what I needed to lure the little fucker out to blow its head off.
After dropping the steak down in front of the opening to the tree, I took my position about 10 feet away with the gun aimed, trying to keep it level with where I hoped its head would be when it came out. Realizing I might be too far off to get a clean shot, I inched my way closer, hoping it would be enough. My experience with firearms was minimal, and I knew point blank range was probably the best method for ensuring I didn’t get eaten alive, but there was no way I would get in arms reach of the monster again. If, at the very least, I could injure it, let it bleed out and suffer, then that would get the job done.
That familiar sniff from the tree awakened my senses, setting off that adrenaline rush within, my whole body tightening as I fixed into a stand-off posture.
Its head protruded from the shadows, revealing itself for the first time in broad daylight. Although I had seen its face when it attacked me, it was only for a brief moment right as I was fighting for my life, and seeing it now had a different effect. The expression leaned more towards curiosity than a rage-filled animal. The shape and the features appeared to be a hybrid of human and ape, the skin bone-white. For some strange reason, I couldn’t help but think of it crying after I had pepper-sprayed it.
It was in this moment of distraction that the creature quickly shrank back inside, spooked by the gun. I considered firing off a round, hoping to land a lucky shot, but that might cause it to retreat farther back inside. So I lowered the weapon to my side, and waited.
It cautiously creeped out of the tree, watching me carefully as it grabbed the meat with its powerful hands. There was no point in trying to aim the weapon at it since that would just scare it off. The thing scurried back inside, meat in hand, and I watched its shape just inside devour the food, the powerful teeth shredding it to pieces, mixed in with slurping and growls. Being slightly visible now, I fixed my aim on it. My only concern, though, was if a body shot would be enough to kill it. This thing, whatever it may be, was clearly durable enough to survive the dangers of the forest, its hide probably thick enough to weather a few gunshots. If only I had brought a flamethrower with me! And he was too far away to successfully pull off a headshot. One blast from the gun could send him into an uncontrollable frenzy.
The sight of it feasting triggered a memory for me, back when Terence and I had first owned a dog. Little Lenny. He was a troublemaker from the start, lunging for every dog that came into view, sometimes snapping unpredictably at strangers that passed, and we were soon at a loss for how to deal with the little terror. But when he landed a bite on Terence’s chin one morning when he was petting him, it had been the final straw. For Terence, at least. Terence spent several weeks convincing me that this dog was an untamable beast, a lost cause, and I did everything I could to quiet Miss Chaos and all of her commentary. So we gave him up. And I cried harder than ever, since that was all I could do. And maybe I was grateful not to have the responsibility anymore of dealing with Little Lenny’s antics, but it still felt like I had lost a child. Something I had also experienced several years earlier, thanks to Terence convincing me to get rid of a pregnancy so that he could get a head start on his career, which never went anywhere. Of course, he thought he had absolved himself of all guilt once he had adopted Layla a few years back. “This one’s a better fit for us,” he said. I had done my best to take charge of her up until now, just to ensure no other mishap occurred that would force me to give up another dog.
An animal needed to trust you first. So I would get it to trust me, feed it daily until I was no longer an enemy, and then do what was necessary. However long it took.
***
When I came back the next day, I had placed the food farther outside of the tree opening with the hopes that it would make it an easy target. But it was smart enough to understand the danger, and in one smooth motion it snatched up the meat and retreated back into safety, out of view. During the brief moment it came out in full view for the first time, I was taken aback by its shape. It had the long arms and stubby legs of an ape, yet its skin, stark white, was that of a human. The hands were oversized, appearing to carry with it the force of a hammer that could obliterate concrete in one blow. I could feel the pain in my jaw just from thinking of those brutish fingers.
I stood staring at the opening, listening to the slurping and chewing sounds of it devouring the meat, waiting for it to finish. It poked its head out briefly in what felt like an acknowledgement of some kind, its mouth dripping with juice, before it made its retreat.
***
I went back to the cabin, realizing that the smartest and safest approach would simply be to poison the meat. It gave me a sick pleasure thinking of the creature’s stomach getting twisted in knots and vomiting up its guts, maybe even being able to watch it all happen before my eyes. He’d most likely be too weak to attack by then, too.
By late morning, I quickly went to work on a soup seasoned with an insecticide from the cabinet, doing my best to balance it out with a strong dose of spices to disguise any taste that may seem off-putting.
But the thing was much smarter than I gave it credit for: all it took was a few sniffs for it to pick up on the ingredients and it tossed the bowl back at my feet.
I considered coming back later in the evening, but it was too dangerous to attempt a face-off with it in the dark.
I spent the rest of the evening sitting on the couch, staring at the wall and waiting for the sunlight to disappear again, defeated. It felt like there was something holding me back and I didn’t know what. What if it was my own child the thing had killed? I suppose I would have just burned the whole fucking forest down, every last redwood, until I heard that childish cry from it again.
Practical then spoke up. “What does Terence mean to you then?”
Everything. In spite of what Chaos may lead you to believe, he was everything to me, and I wish more than anything he was sitting with me right now, celebrating our 20th anniversary with Layla.
“So what’s stopping you from setting every last redwood on fire? There’s a can of gasoline in the garage and matches in the kitchen drawer,” Chaos said.
I can’t destroy an entire forest for my husband. Terence would hate me for that.
”Isn’t love irrational? 20 years and the best you can come up with is poison soup?”
“There are cleaner ways of handling this,” Practical said. “The boy was beginning to trust you. If you keep feeding him, he’ll eventually feel safe enough to leave the tree.”
Boy. I never thought of him as a boy. What was the name again?
”Isaac,” Practical answered.
That name didn’t suit him at all, I thought. Maybe if he wore spectacles and had a bad comb-over. What sort of name could you associate with a hideous brute?
“That’s not important now,” Chaos interrupted, “the boy knows where you live. What’s to stop him from getting in here and tearing out more of your precious teeth? You’ll need to move mountains to gain his trust, but one false move will destroy any goodwill between you two. He’s not much different than Little Lenny. He can sniff out those who are enemies or friends.”
You don’t have to bring up Lenny, Miss Chaos. Not now.
“She’s right, though,” Practical said. “Isaac may not be as difficult to tame as you might think.”
Taming him didn’t interest me. But if I was going to follow through on this, then it meant I needed to be patient.
Strangely enough, I dreamt that night of a child crying.
***
I didn’t bring the gun this time. Killing him properly required patience, so I would win his trust until he knew no better and then surprise him, just like he surprised Terence.
It made me wonder what sort of existence this boy led, whether it was a constant state of misery, the world tinged in a red haze of fury, or a blind ignorance that was focused purely on survival. Was his animosity merely an act to ensure he remained at the top of the food chain, intimidating any would-be apex predator? But I don’t know why I kept wasting time on these thoughts. As far as I could tell, this boy’s life was nothing but misery and pain, so this was an act of mercy, to say the least.
It didn’t take long for him to creep out into the open after I set down the chicken. He stopped, though, taking notice of the distance between me and the food, so I held up my hands to show him there was nothing to fear. I kneeled down in front of the plate to take a few bites, staring at him as I did it – nothing poisonous here. I then backed away and he made his way to the plate, eyes on me the whole time, and began to carefully feast. He was obviously hungry, because his body slowly relaxed as he devoured what must have been a much needed meal. Sometimes I forget the power food can hold over those who are dependent on others, like when Layla or Little Lenny would prance around anxiously as I poured food into their bowl, unable to contain themselves for when I put it on the floor. Or when the hysterical child suctions their mouth onto the breast for mother’s milk. There’s a strange power and satisfaction that came with that responsibility.
His posture was animal-like, however, there were times where he would moan in satisfaction, a sound that was very human, and the tension of his whole body evaporating with it. He appeared very human, for just a moment, until he finished.
He looked at me momentarily, and there seemed to be some recognition in his eyes that I couldn’t quite explain.
“Isaac?” I said, not sure what to expect.
He cringed slightly, baring his teeth, as if the name was a threat of some kind. Yet, it seemed to trigger a memory. For a brief second, I worried I might have upset him and now here I was, completely defenseless. He instead rushed back into hiding.
Don’t worry, I thought. I’ll be back.
Isaac.
***
That morning when I woke and opened the door, holding a Tupperware container of chicken under my arm, I found what I couldn’t be sure how to interpret.
A set of twin figures molded and tied together from twigs. There was an eeriness to the two figures being attached at the arm, the implication being obvious, but what struck me most is that he could somehow be intelligent enough to understand that connection and illustrate it with this sort of… Artistry. I picked it up, analyzing and marveling at the way he managed to carefully weave together the twigs to form the binding parts of the limbs, especially with those ape-like fingers. How could he be capable of something so delicate?
Tragic, I guess. Probably capable of so much before he was abandoned.
***
My idea of revenge hadn’t softened, but perhaps had evolved instead; a horrible, painful death wasn’t what Isaac needed. I began to think of all the animals and people who had crossed his path, and all the others that would encounter him in the future, and realized that he needed to be taken out of his element somehow. Gray wolves and the Eastern Wildcat had been domesticated, shrinking down their ferocious warrior instinct to a member of the human family. We, as humans, now have the power to declaw, neuter, discipline them, and they obey. And so will he. Anything can be tamed.
I came armed this time with the essential tools of discipline: a collar and a leash. Even though I knew well enough that I could end up being left toothless, I felt a strange sense of confidence in a clearly defined purpose.
He was already there when I showed up to the tree, our routine firmly established, except his face cringed at the sight of the leash and collar. So I set it down on the ground next to the food I made him and backed away, seated myself in a cross-legged position and waited. There was no need for me to take shelter or prepare for an attack because he was now starting to understand the concept of “master,” even if I wasn’t quite there yet. Food has always been a powerful indicator of who to respect. Layla would always jump on the couch next to me after I fed her, resting her head on my lap with a paw hooked around my leg, letting me know that I was worshipped. I never really understood that power until now, watching this lost boy who could easily crush my skull without hesitation now devour a piece of steak while I simply sat and watched.
But now came the real challenge. He was done, and routinely he would make his way back to his home. Not this time. I quickly stood up, approaching him, slowly. Although he watched me carefully, he did not appear to tense up, that animal-like posturing absent. I pointed down to the collar. His eyes registered it. So I kneeled down, eyes on him the whole time, picked up the collar and demonstrated for him how it worked, wrapping it around my neck. I then pointed to him and nodded. He didn’t react, which I figured meant he was okay with it. I reached out with the open collar, the closest I had been to him since our first encounter, and set it against his neck. It was when I began to hook the latch that he suddenly let out a sharp scream and jumped back several feet, growling, sending my heart rate skyrocketing.
But I wouldn’t let this boy get the best of me. So, I let the adrenaline settle, and then approached him again, this time slowly placing my hand over his head and petting him. He sucked in several short breaths, and I couldn’t help but picture his jaws snapping down on my fingers. Thankfully, it seemed to calm him. I wrapped the collar around his neck, set the latch, and then hooked the leash onto it.
Although he didn’t resist, he also didn’t move when I tried to pull him forward on the leash. But I had been prepared for this, and pulled out a small piece of chocolate – one of several I had in my pocket – and held it out to him. After carefully sniffing it, he quickly swallowed it, and then looked up at me, a look of what could be derived as pleasure on his face. I then spent the next 20 minutes leading him back to the cabin on the leash, luring him with the rest of the chocolate in my pocket. He didn’t resist.
***
Once inside the cabin, he began to sniff around, straining the leash as he lunged for anything in sight that interested him. At one point, his sights settled on a picture of myself and Terence on our wedding day, turning back and forth between me and the picture, something registering on his face. I couldn’t tell exactly what.
I led him into a guest room that I had transformed overnight into what I hoped would be a suitable environment for him. It was an attempt to recreate some familiarity while also introducing him to the human side of living: A TV, bed, radio, children’s books, paper with pencil and crayons in the hopes he might be able to communicate more properly, all mixed in with potted plants on the windowsill, a faux dracaena tree in the center of the room, and a container full of meal worms. I assumed he wasn’t above eating these.
First thing I did was turn on the radio to a classical station, the emotionally charged strings of The Swan of Tuonela immediately drawing him in. He violently grabbed hold of the radio, turning it over in his hands to understand the sorcery of the box.
“It’s okay,” I said calmly, “It’s just music. It’s good. Let it play.”
I put my hand over his and gently lowered it back on the night stand. There was a grunt, what sounded like a protest, his eyes sharply watching me the whole time. Thankfully, he obeyed.
“That’s very good, Isaac. Very good.”
His lips began to part, and I could see his throat muscles contract as he tried to vocalize. It came out, sounding once again like dying words. “Iii… Zzickk?”
“Yes. Isaac,” I repeated back, pointing at him. “You’re Isaac. I’m Sarah.”
“Saa…Rah.”
“That’s right. Very good.”
Then, something extraordinary happened – he smiled.
I’d like to say that from here it was a painless journey, but it was not without its challenges. I had taken a good punch from those hammer fists one evening when he had gone stir-crazy in this new contained environment after a strange sound triggered him. But I survived, and so did he.
After the first few weeks, I was no stranger to bite marks along my hands and arms, but they healed. He took comfort in eating the worms the first few days, however, my cooking eventually won out and he started eating like a regular human being. The bathroom, of course, was another challenge.
I was about two months into it when I had observed him mouth out the words to a children’s book himself, sitting upright in a chair in regular clothes, that I witnessed a human being instead of an animal. His black eyes had even started to fade, filled in with what appeared to be the beginnings of an iris, speckled with a light brown. Proof that anything can be tamed.
A basic vocabulary was filled in during this time, along with a comprehension of storytelling through pictures, which he demonstrated by drawing a series of crude images detailing his childhood before the forest. He occupied each drawing. Him in a cage. Him surrounded by angry animals. A mother in tears. An armed father looming over him. And a doctor with a needle. On the night he finished this series, I hugged him, and he hugged me back.
The only close call we had was when the authorities had rolled around to follow up on my husband’s whereabouts, with Isaac in the next room, ready to attack. If the Deputy had tried crossing the threshold, I don’t think I could have held him back from destroying the deputy. Thankfully, I had a decent enough cover story – made from a suspicion that lingered for years – of me discovering an affair Terence had with one of his students and I had ordered him to leave. And that was the last I heard of him. It would be enough for now.
Miss Chaos and Practical were a duet now, in perfect harmony with one another.
Later that night, I heard Isaac muttering in his sleep. It might have been my imagination, but I think I heard him say “mom.”