People weren’t always afraid of the Winstead woods. I grew up in Winstead village. My brother and our group of friends all used to play in these woods as often as we could. We would race our bikes over mud ramps. We would build dens out of fallen branches. When I was a bit older I had my first kiss under the old oak tree. It was a picturesque childhood playground, until my brother died there. Then the woods seemed to become cursed. Over the years it transformed into a neglected, dark and foreboding place. Almost twenty years later, two boys went missing and I returned to the woods to find them. What I found was far worse than I expected.
I am Detective Mark Belton, the investigative lead for the Cambridgeshire police MET hub (Missing, Exploited, and Trafficked persons). It is my job to find people. I have no doubt what happened to my brother shaped my career path. John Belton was only fifteen when he died. I went to meet him in the woods that afternoon, but when I arrived there was no sign of him. I went home, assuming he had done the same. I left him at the bottom of a hidden well he had fallen down while exploring, unconscious and bleeding to death. His body was found a week later.
That was almost twenty years ago. Since my childhood the Winstead woods have become a place to avoid. Wild and treacherous. Over time people have shared stories about strange sightings, unexplained movement amongst the tangled overgrowth, walkers losing their dogs when passing nearby. Locals say that even wildlife dare not enter. No birds are seen perching on the trees. The woods are abandoned and overgrown. It sits silent aside from the faint whisper of wind through the leaves.
The two thirteen year-old boys that went missing, Ben Hammond and Ian North, were known to play in the area of the woods. It is a deprived area with little to do, their best entertainment was to explore and vandalise the various abandoned farm buildings. The company who ran the nearby power plant, the Paragon energy company, had bought the land over a decade ago and forbidden trespassers with a small fence and signs threatening legal action. Nothing that would deter a curious teenager. From our enquiries with their friends the boys were becoming bored with their usual haunts and wanted to go to the woods, which had an unshakeable, morbid appeal my brother was no doubt responsible for.
It was a beautiful cool spring day when the boys went missing. Schools were closed for half term and local kids were kicking their heels for something to do. The boys had asked some friends if they wanted to come to explore the woods, but on this occasion they had declined. One of the friends told me they call it the Whispering woods now. Anyone who dared venture close claimed to hear a voice enticing them in. I dismissed it as a trick of the wind. The brothers went off together and hadn’t been seen or heard from since. They described Ben as a slim boy wearing a thin yellow coat. Ian was wearing a black hoodie and had distinctive ginger hair.
When initial enquiries established the woods as their likely destination I updated my Inspector and requested a team to search the area. This would usually just be a formality. My request was promptly declined. Paragon energy were opposed to police presence on their land and insisted on their own security personnel searching the woods. There were miles between the woods and the actual power plant, but I was told Paragon does significant experimental work and corporate espionage is a serious concern.
Paragon’s security responded later that evening and reported they had found nothing. Unsatisfied with a search by a company using untrained staff, and concerned by the loss of time I insisted on police attendance. My inspector flatly declined, saying the search was done and we needed to focus our enquiries elsewhere. It had been suggested amongst officers that high ranking officials were in the pockets of Paragon, protecting them from scrutiny, this was the first time I had suspected it myself. The lives of two boys was a steep price to pay for corporate privacy.
There were no other lines of enquiry. The boys were either still in the woods, or there could be something there to indicate where they went. For the first time in my career I felt like I had to defy the chain of command. I had a sleepless night wrestling with the decision, but by the morning I had decided to search the woods myself.
Once my shift started I headed out from HQ under the guise of making local CCTV enquiries. Instead I drove up a farm track not far from where I used to live and parked on a bare concrete platform surrounded by derelict sheet metal farm buildings. As I put my hiking boots on I could see the woods beyond the vast flat fenland which had been left as fallow fields. It was smaller than I remembered, just an outcrop of trees on a corner of a field no bigger than half of a football pitch. It could only be accessed by walking across the fields and jumping over the long narrow drainage ditches which carved the landscape.
The journey never seemed to take as long as a kid. The spring weather had turned for the worse, wind whipped across the open fields so hard that at times I had to turn away to catch my breath. The Paragon fence was easily jumped but the rest of the way was heavy going on the soft, uneven ground. Eventually I got close enough to the woods that I could hear the wind whistling through the branches and the wood creaking as it swayed. There were none of the usual game trails or worn footpaths to enter the woods like there used to be. I noticed a small opening in the trees and crouched through, scraped at by the branches like outstretched clawing fingers. I had to crawl for a few metres until I was able to stand upright.
Within the wood the air was still and eerily quiet, sheltered from the wind and the outside world. It had its own surreal atmosphere, heavy and warm, a perpetual twilight in defiance of the morning sun. I loosened my coat and looked around to gain my bearings. Nothing looked familiar. Ahead of me was a small clearing, the ground had a few small weeds sprouting out, but the rest was bare earth. Small scratches swiped across the ground as if it had been swept clean.
I walked on until I saw a large oak tree that I recognised from my childhood. At one time I stood under here, shaking with nerves, puckering up for my first kiss. The tree used to have a rich brown bark and lush green leaves. Now it was faded gray and if it wasn’t already dead it wouldn’t be long until it was. Beyond the old oak was a large glade speckled with small red flowers. The flowers orbited a larger tree quite a distance away which I didn’t remember. The wood used to be much denser than this.
This big tree was pale, almost white, and wide enough that it would take four or five men with outstretched arms to reach around its trunk. Not that anyone could easily get close, the wild roots amassed at the base of the tree were huge and tangled, as if they had been frozen while flailing like a raging Kraken. Looking up I saw this tree dominating the canopy, covering the old oak and beyond, engulfing most of the wood with an umbrella of dark red leaves. The tree had a still menace. Despite the red flowers nothing else dared to grow near it.
It was then I noticed the dead stillness of the woods was in part due to the lack of wildlife. There were no signs of the squirrels of birds darting about. I called out to see if anyone may be nearby, “Ben, Ian, are you here!?”. But my words felt muffled and died in the air.
“John?” I thought, but didn’t call out.
I remembered that day almost twenty years ago when I half-heartedly looked for my brother. Calling out his name as he died, cursing him for wasting my time as he bled to death. The guilt crushed me. I never found out where the well was. I didn’t want to know how close I may have been. I was told it had been filled in after John’s body was taken out. I didn’t care. His life was already lost down there, his blood already soaked into the soil.
As I walked through the glade I noticed my boots were dragging along the ground. I looked down to see the red flowers clinging to the bottom of my trousers like catchweed. The red petals must be tougher than they looked, with rubbery stalks that refused to break. In my peripheral vision I saw movement amongst the overgrowth. I looked up in surprise and stepped backwards, tripping on a root which had hooked my heel. I fell inelegantly on my arse. As I pushed myself up off the floor the red flowers clung to my hands, their petals had barbed edges which ripped at my skin. Small beads of blood emerged from the tiny scratches. I stepped away from the flowers and towards the clearing at the foot of the big pale tree. As I got there I noticed a flash of tattered yellow cloth within the bloated tangle of its roots. Beneath it was Ben.
The roots covered him like a cage. “Ben!” I called out, “Can you hear me?”. His jacket had been twisted and pulled covering his face. I reached in between the roots and pulled at his jacket, partially revealing him. It tore loose and an anguished eye stared back at me. His body heaved with uncomfortable breaths. “I’ll get you out, can you move?” He was silent and made no effort to get free, as if resigned to his position. I reached through another gap in the roots to pull the jacket down and saw the reason for his resignation. One root had worked its way into his mouth forcing it open like a silent scream. Another smaller root had burrowed into the other eye socket, it was swollen and closed around the root, weeping blood.
I grabbed at the roots around him trying to pull them free. Blood from my scratched hands stained the pale wooden cage. As I pulled it felt like the roots pulled back, effortlessly resisting my every move. Then, with a slow and gentle groan, the roots began to slowly contract, pulling Ben deeper inside and dragging him into the dirt. I grabbed his hand as he was dragged under. It was limp, but just for a moment, I felt him try. He grabbed me as hard as he could manage. I pulled. But it was futile against such relentless strength. With an agonising lack of urgency, the tree took him.
I stepped back from the pale tree and took my radio from my coat pocket. I pressed for dispatch but got no response. The woodland canopy must have been blocking out any signal. As a last resort I pressed my ‘state zero’ emergency button to signal an officer was in distress. That would keep transmitting until a signal finally broke through. Then I heard a voice from across the glade.
“Help!” A young male screamed. I ran to them. Kicking through the red flowers. The canopy seemed lower, the whole environment felt enclosed and oppressive.
“Help!” they screamed again. Their cry cut clearly through the woodland.
I shouted back, “I’m coming!” but my words fell dead in my mouth. Unable to penetrate the thick air.
Red flowers clung to my boots and ankles as I ran. Ahead of me, near the end of the glade, I saw a pool of water. It was almost black with an oily sheen on its surface, reflecting the tree canopy and the few glimpses of light it allowed through. The pool was unnaturally circular. Around the pool the red flowers stopped, thick strands of root emerged from the earth and plunged over the side into the water.
“Help.” they shouted again. Sounding weaker. The shout came from directly before me. It came from the pool but the voice wasn’t underwater.
It was only then that I noticed that this circular pool had stone around its edge. When the light was kind I could see large rocks directly under the surface, tangled amongst the plunging roots. This was the well.
“John?” I asked quietly. It came out as barely a whisper.
“Help!” The voice called out with renewed vigour.
It was his voice, clear as a bell. “John!?” I tried to shout.
“Mark?” He replied, “It’s been so long. Where have you been? Why didn’t you come?”
“I did come.” I replied.
“Liar!” John was furious. Above me the branches shuddered. A scattering of dark red leaves floated from the canopy. The ground vibrated softly.
“I did.” I replied, “I couldn’t find you. I thought you went home.”
“I would never have left you.” John replied.
The wood around me stirred and swayed. The light dimmed as the pale tree’s canopy seemed to be closing in. I looked up to see branches lower than before, closing in around me like a vast lowering net.
“Where is the other boy?” I shouted over the rising sound of rustling leaves and groaning wood.
The surface of the pool rippled every time John spoke, “He is joining me.”
My police radio crackled. Someone must have picked up my signal and was trying to get through. If they had got my signal they would have at least a rough GPS location. I got some relief from that, until John spoke again.
“Come with me,” he said. “I will forgive you.”
“This isn’t you.” I said, uncertain. It had his voice. It could be him. Or a part of him.
It was stiflingly warm. I felt tired and couldn’t think straight. Despite what was happening I could have sat down and slept soundly at that moment. I was being lulled into inactivity. Then a shout broke my confusion.
“Help!” A boy cried. But this voice was real, muffled in the stifling atmosphere of the wood, deadened by the veils of red leaves, but real. Unlike the voice before, I don’t want to call it John’s voice. I could hear the gasps for breath between each shout. “Help me! Help!”
The canopy had lowered further around me. Branches slowly reached down at me, gnarled talons poised to grasp their prey. The ground nearby bulged, roots pushing through the surface leaving chaotic furrows across the woodland floor. While the tree had me distracted it had slowly closed in. I ran to break free from my encirclement, making for gaps in the roots and branches that herded me back towards the tree.
I followed the pleas for help and saw a teenage boy at the base of the tree, his black hoodie ripped almost completely off him, he had unmistakable ginger hair. He lay belly down on the earth, his ankle ensnared by an outstretched root. He had been clawing at the dirt to pull himself away. His face was scraped, his thin trousers shredded to expose pale legs streaked with bloody scratches.
The mass of roots that consumed the base of the tree had uncoiled, stretching for me when I was by the well, and lessening their grip on Ian and giving him the chance to break away. I ran to his ankle and pulled with all my force against the root to get him free. The root loosened, the thin end snapped and a thick bloody sap seeped out. I fell amongst the red flowers which sliced at my coat and clinged to me on the ground like velcro. I had to wriggle free of my jacket to get back to my feet and then picked up Ian by the waist. He was weak and I had to drag him along. I looked for Ben, there was no sign of him, he remained underground.
I heard sirens in the distance, quiet and muffled between the shuddering branches. Heavy red leaves rained down, slapping at us as they fell. The wood grew darker with every passing moment. I could barely see the branches and roots moving, but they were moving, slowly closing in on us. The only glimpse of light I could see was a small ‘V’ shaped channel in the ground leading where water flowed beside the woods.
The window of light began to close as we approached. Root and branch slowly reached to block the way. I shoved Ian through and dived after him. We landed in thick muddy water with an oily slick on its surface. The water ran towards us with its rainbow sheen and covered my face at one point, it was sickly sweet to taste and burned my eyes like a bout of hayfever. I picked Ian up under the arms and marched him further down the channel, slowly trudging through the mud, keen to get some ground between us and our pursuers. When I felt we were far enough from the woods we scrambled up the steep bank and onto a field where we could dare to rest. The polluted water came from the direction of the Paragon plant, God knows what was in it. Across the flat fallow fields I saw multiple blue lights flashing, uniformed officers ran towards the woods and I flagged them down.
An ambulance arrived quickly for Ian. He didn’t seem badly hurt but he was in shock and had a lot of small wounds requiring attention. As I was waiting for the next ambulance to arrive Paragon’s security turned up in force. The Police were soon ordered to withdraw from the area by their commanding officers. I was taken to hospital shortly after to be patched up. Once the nurses finished working on me and I had given my statements to the officers, I asked to see Ian, but he had already been discharged. A nurse told me he was taken away in a private ambulance, surprising as he wasn’t from a family wealthy enough to afford it.
My inspector came to visit me, he wished me well and thanked me for finding Ian - he also informed me that I was suspended indefinitely for misconduct due to breaching his orders. He cast doubt on my account of events, suggesting I was having a mental health episode brought on by the past trauma of my brother’s death. He supported this by saying Ian’s statement contradicted my own. Ian claims to have fallen from the tree causing his injuries. He says Ben also fell, but was less injured and went to get help. As far as they were concerned Ben was still missing.
I know this may make me sound even more crazy, but I suspect the Inspector’s opinion on this has already been bought and paid for by Paragon. If Ian is now getting private healthcare I expect he has also been well compensated for what happened. I can’t blame the lad. I’m not one to shout ‘it’s a cover up!’ and ‘it’s a conspiracy’ but… you can see what I’m getting at. If Paragon is so keen to hide what happened, why? What is their involvement in this?
A few colleagues have checked in on me, given the circumstances I didn’t take kindly to them referring to my suspension as ‘gardening leave’. Luckily I don’t have any trees in my garden, but I think I’ll get my lawn astroturfed. I have tried to keep myself busy and distracted with jobs around the house, but events like that leave you with a lot of questions. Questions that consume any moment of quiet.
A few days after the incident I got a letter through the door from Paragon energy. They apologise for any unintended distress that may have been caused by recent events, and would like the opportunity to explain further, subject to a non-disclosure agreement. They want to meet to discuss the possibility of employment with them and suggest I would be in line for a salary far beyond my police pay scale. They are vague about the work, but they are keen on using my investigative experience. The letter sits on my kitchen table now while I deliberate. Paragon is certainly involved in something quite… unusual. Do I want to be a part of it?
What happened doesn’t seem to follow the laws of nature. But it seems those laws have been rewritten.