We all have our routines. A combination of bad habits and good that we have settled into. It makes life easier, makes life healthier. I firmly believe that a great routine is the best way to succeed in…anything.
The only problem is, it’s tough to give up a routine. I struggle to stop making the same breakfast before work, talking to the same barista at the coffee place, and taking the same path through the forest on my way to the logging camp. I liked that town a lot, even if I’d only known it for a year. It’s predictable, it’s safe and when the sun shines, it’s beautiful - although that is a rarity.
I think I’d take a job outside over a desk job any day, no matter how taxing it is on my body. I will happily become a stronger man for a chance to breathe fresh air and get my blood pumping. I wouldn’t say it’s healthier though. There have been several accidents on sight and a lumberjack did die the year before I arrived. You’d be surprised at the mortality rate in this line of work. It’s not as simple as you think to chop down a tree.
Well, most of the time it is, but still, safety is a primary concern.
Why did I take that job? Like most people who leave the city, I wanted an escape. My personal life got a little too dramatic for me to handle. I started doing things out of character…I just stopped being me. So, instead of hurting people I cared about, I thought a little isolation and reflection was in order. Where better to do that than in the countryside?
I settled in well enough. The guys were pretty quiet, but we just got on with the work. There’s always a lot to do and not much time to do it. Another point to make about this line of work is that nowadays speed and efficiency are necessary factors for staying out of the red. Competition is fierce, some certainly have better machines too. The company I work for keeps their costs cheap by making use of cheap labor over expensive machines and pushing that labor as far as the dollar will make them.
I think the motto of the higher-ups is that no job is too big if you throw enough bodies at it. Looking at the results, I am inclined to agree.
I accepted the bad salary and tough conditions because I didn’t need to. I have money, it’s how I paid for the place I stayed at. Passive income goes a long way. I just wanted a career change and I thought I would live a small boyhood dream during my escape.
As I said, I always took the same path going to work. It wasn’t so far that I needed to take the truck, so I liked to walk through the field, the forest, and along the river, until I reached the logging camp. The whole journey took almost an hour, so I would leave pretty early. It’s usually light enough for a walk, but during the winter months, it was dark as a coal mine - not to mention cold.
One morning, I pulled on my backpack with a groan and was still rubbing the sleeping dust out of my eyes as I locked the door behind me. Sleeping in is easy on cold mornings, especially if your body knows what it is going to endure all day.
Crossing through the field, I listened to the crow’s caws, spotting their dark bodies against the gray sky on the dead tree branches. Even during summer they were around but weren’t so vocal. I didn’t mind them though. I think I’m one of the few people around who thinks they are pretty cool. Next to vultures, they are the most metal birds around.
At the end of the field, I kicked some of the tall grass to watch the morning dew scatter, then took a left into the forest. There was a narrow path that opened up about ten minutes ahead. I liked that wider path the most, as the foliage thinned out and all I saw were tree trunks until I reached the river.
It was shaping up to be another peaceful walk. I could hear the gurgling of the river ahead of me.
The natural silence was then broken by a heavy smack of something hitting the water, then a churning sound of water being splashed. I hesitated for a moment before picking up the pace to see what it was. I saw the white water being kicked up, but not what was in the water. Not until it stopped thrashing around.
A deer, young antlers sprouting out of its head, with wide glass-like eyes. It floated with the current kicking out…but less and less as the blood dribbled from its wounds. I couldn’t see it clearly enough to measure the extent of the damage, but I could see its neck muscles, I saw shredded skin along its side.
It was mutilated, but it didn’t look like it had been naturally mauled by a bear or wolf or…anything. I had seen plenty of dead wildlife throughout the year, but nothing like that. Most importantly, I didn’t see the thing that caused it. It would surely be looking for its prey. If it was fast enough to catch a deer, it sure as hell wouldn’t lose it if it tried to escape. Not with those injuries.
As I looked around, I became a lot more agitated. Fear produced wolves, a bear even, in my imagination. Yet, I was just annoyed that I didn’t see them. The thrashing had stopped. I heard a soft hollow sound of the deer’s antlers hitting a few rocks sticking out the water.
Reaching the logging camp, my mind was still fixated on what I had seen. The sound of the machinery, of axes hitting logs, snapped me out of it. I wasn’t an animal expert, I was a man hired to cut timber and firewood. Mostly firewood, in my case.
So, I sank my teeth into some work. Starting slow to warm up before getting into the swing of things. The sounds of a log being split never get old. When we take breaks at the camp, it’s mostly informal. We all had work to do and as long as we got it done, we could stop for a breather or to eat whenever we wanted. I ended up being stopped by a guy named Isaac.
We’d been having our breaks usually around the same time as each other, so we often ended up eating together. Isaac was the closest friend I had there, really. We were mostly quiet, even eating was a chore at times, but when we did talk, it was about TV. There was no doubt in my mind that Isaac had more interesting things going on in his life than what he saw on TV, but he just found TV a lot more worth his time.
“Bees are dying,” he said.
“Are they now?” I replied.
“Yeap. Won’t be any bees in a few years.”
“How many years?”
“Can’t right well remember, but can you remember the last time you saw a bee?”
“I think I saw a few in Spring.”
“Probably dead now.”
“Mmm, probably,” I hummed. I wanted to change the conversation and only one thing came to mind. “Do you know what else is dead?”
I went on to tell him what I saw on the walkover. I think he was half-listening. Dead deer weren’t anything out of the ordinary. What caught his attention was the fact I didn’t see anything.
“Wolf isn’t going to let it get away,” Isaac said simply, an open-and-shut case as far as he was concerned. “If it got away, it will find it later. It knows when its prey is wounded. It will wash up and the wolf will take care of it.”
“You think it was a wolf?”
“What else? Wolves are the only things around here that can catch deer.”
“Right…it was a lot of damage though. What about a bear?”
“No bears here.”
“What do you mean no bears? Seriously? I thought-”
“No bears.”
I didn’t want to argue with someone who knew more than me, no matter how much I struggled to believe what they were saying. I considered myself lucky I didn’t run into them. I’m not really scared of wolves, I’m usually carrying and even have a flare on the side of my backpack. Wolves can be pretty skittish when you know how to act, not to mention shoot.
I felt comfortable enough to walk back, so I did and got home without incident. I didn’t see the deer.
That evening I settled in to watch one of the channels that Isaac enjoyed - a DIY channel. It’s amazing how quickly you can lose yourself in watching someone assemble a linen chest. I also had enough of nature for the day, so watching an animal documentary wasn’t in the cards. The pains in my left arm were setting in, but they would be gone by the morning.
Good ol’ routine.
Before I went to bed, I got a call from my wife, Lara. She usually called during the day, but reception sucked in the logging camp so I never got them. I also suck because I never bother to check my call log…and sometimes when I do I don’t bother calling them back. I guess even far away I hurt people.
“What is it?” I asked with a little too much attitude.
“Christ, I just wanted to hear your voice,” she snapped. “It’s been three days.”
It was a good point. I didn’t have a comeback, so I ended up saying nothing.
“I say I want to hear your voice and you go quiet on me,” Lara murmured. “How are you? Can you tell me that?”
“I’m fine…I’m alright.”
“Okay.”
More silence. My mouth was hanging open, but my throat felt like it was closed off. Nothing could escape, not even a small squeak. I was scowling at my knees - sawdust and wood fragments still clung to them.
“I miss the hell out of you, you know that?” Lara said. “I even miss massaging your shoulders after work.”
I let out a small exhale of a laugh.
“I bet your shoulders are like stone now,” Lara said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Say something, you stupid bastard.”
She giggled as she said it and I gave a low laugh. I was smiling, I couldn’t help myself. I hated what I was putting her through, but I wasn’t right around her either. I liked her company, but I just felt…like I didn’t belong there. I guess a year of reflection gets you nowhere.
I decided to try, whether I felt like it or not.
“Yeah…whole body is aching actually,” I told her.
“I bet.”
“Pretty weird day too.”
“Tell me about it…I’m listening.”
The next day I walked with some pep in my step. I don’t even remember the field or the crows. I just slipped into the forest, thoughts buzzing in my head, replaying my talk with Lara. The clouds were a little darker, the fog a little thicker, but I could see the trees and the mountains. It was good enough for me.
The path opened up.
I must have walked through a cold snap or something, I felt all the warmth vanish. It could have been a bad wind maybe…or maybe I just didn’t notice. The more I think about it, the less I believe any of those reasons. Soon after I felt that cold, I heard the familiar creaking of wood being pulled, splintering, crashing.
A tree ahead of me fell across the path. The branches snapped into a pile of twigs, the bark peeled apart. It was an old tree, but not so old that it would fall for no reason. As I got closer, I saw that the tree had been cut just above head height, which is far too high and the cut was clean, but not straight.
There was a slight curve to it, which again, was not normal.
Not sure what to do about it, I approached the end of the tree and grabbed beneath it. Lifting with my legs, I was able to crab walk with it to get it off the path. The physical exertion that took without a real warm-up was great…and looking back on it, it was a dumb thing to do. I could have injured my back, even as young as I am.
As I put the tree down, another chill ran through me. It was like a split-second dip in an ice bath. I grabbed my arms and huddled, breathing out with a sudden exhale. As I did, the branches ahead of me on the tree began to come apart, as if severed by a perfectly sharpened blade. I didn’t see anything cut them, but I saw how those cuts appeared and gravity did the rest, trimming strong branches like it was a hedge.
My warmth came back just as quickly, but my heart remained cold. I became painfully aware of my surroundings, feeling that same feeling one feels when someone is looking over one’s shoulder. I looked all around, taking light steps up the path. What was so nerve-wracking was that I couldn’t see anything.
I mentioned that the foliage thinned out in the open area, it was just the ground and the trees. I should have been able to see something, but I didn’t. I was mouth-breathing, my heart pounding in my ears, all the way to the river. I was afraid, but I had no idea what I had to be afraid of. I felt threatened, but what could hurt me? What could have done that to the trees and made me feel so cold before doing it?
The sound of the river filled my ears. I didn’t hear any splashing, but it was loud enough all the same. Another cold chill reached, I feared the worst, then fell backward, landing in the water.
“Holy shit!” I stammered, for a moment thinking I had been pulled in. Thinking on it further, I simply backed into a stiff rock and tripped over it. “Fuck…what the…fuck.”
Drenched from head to toe, I still felt warmer than I did a second before. I looked out into the forest, for some reason feeling safer than I did on dry land. That feeling of being followed, of being closely watched, persisted. I walked slowly up the river, keeping my feet in the water. It was a few feet from the shore and it might have seemed stupid, but I genuinely felt like I wouldn’t be hurt staying in the water.
That anxiety lessened the closer I got to the logging camp to the point where I felt I could step out of the water and be okay. I sensed the threat within the forest, even if I didn’t see it. It took me a while before I felt confident enough to turn my back on it, looking towards the machines and the main tent.
That kind of tension was exhausting. While my mind tried to comprehend the experience, I approached the main tent, considering taking a nap or something before starting work. It was only when I was a foot away that I stopped and noticed how quiet the camp was. I didn’t hear or see anyone. The machines were empty, I didn’t hear a single axe hitting wood - nothing.
When I turned back to the tent, I noticed the wall part as a snout peeked through. Not a snout of something knee or waist high - it was my height. Ragged fur, gleaming teeth, and piercing eyes. My hand dropped to my side, I felt my fingers wrap around the handle of my gun. When I raised it, the entire tent parted as hands jumped towards me.
“Woah, woah, woah!” someone shouted.
“Haha, it’s all good!”
All my coworkers emptied out of the tent, the head of the wolf-like monster hovering there for a moment. Eventually, hands pulled the mask off and a terrified Isaac looked at me. He eventually smiled, but I think his life flashed before his eyes first. There was laughter all around, but it took a while for the joke to hit me.
I doubled over, trying to catch my breath and calm my heart - it was going like a jackhammer. I’m not a bad guy when it comes to pranks, but I was terrified and they could see that. I was asked all sorts of questions, from what took me so long to get to work and why I was soaked. These were questions I knew the answer to, but then Isaac eyed my cheek.
“Where did you score the cut?” he asked. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Touching the left side of my face rewarded me with bloody fingertips. I had cut not just along my cheek, but across my ear as well. I didn’t notice because my face was getting cold, but after drying off, the cut was stinging the whole day, especially around the ear.
While I dealt with that, Isaac told me how he mentioned my encounter with the dead deer to the other guys and one thought up the prank, seeing as he had a werewolf mask.
“The only time he ever gets to use it is for Halloween, so he didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity, you know?” Isaac explained. “I figured I should wear it though…just in case you wanted to punch someone, it might as well be me. Didn’t know you had a concealed carry though! Haha!”
The prank was enough for the others to feel satisfied and get on with their day. I didn’t mind, I barely cared. All I wanted from him was a lift back to my place because I didn’t want to walk back. I was so eager to get home that when work ended, I waited right by the river section closest to his truck, just to be safe.
By the time I walked into my place, I had made a decision.
Anything can happen to you and you don’t know when. If you don’t appreciate what you have, you could lose it. I didn’t want to die with my relationship with Lara on the rocks. Isolating myself, feeding into my insecurities, neglecting her…all I would become is a bad memory, and if anything came after, I would feel nothing but regret.
I’m home now.
We’re better now, I’m better now. I’m trying, day by day. Yet, whenever I’m alone, someplace secluded, I feel it. My knees buckle, ready to duck or to run. It could be here…it cut me, it saw me bleed. Maybe it had my scent. I don’t know, but there are times when I’m just scared.
I can’t stop looking over my shoulder for the thing that followed me.