Something of a Kind - By Miranda Wheeler Page 0,66
noting that he would have no idea what she was talking about. Revising, she continued, “Some guy at Greg’s office said that happens a lot… Which reminds me – I really wish I brought something for casting… apparently there’s a special way to do it.”
He nodded, beckoning her to follow him through the trees. After scaling a steep boulder, he helped her over it, repeating the process when they reached a muddy embankment. Weaving through the thickets, Noah said, “Step where I step. There’s some nasty stuff up here. I’m trying to avoid anything poisonous.”
As she nodded, he snaked an arm around her abdomen, jerking her backwards. Slapping her hand across her mouth to muffle a scream, she turned her head back and forth, trying to figure out the cause of his caution. Heart pounding in her chest, she realized there was nothing there– a clearing, grasses knee-high and swaying with the wind.
“Unless this is The Happening,” she whispered, still unsure if they were about to encounter the creature– or even moose or bears. “I’m really not concerned with the attack of the grass.”
With his arms still wrapped around her torso, he pulled her along as he stepped backwards. He rested his chin on her shoulder, explaining, “I didn’t mean to be rough. This field is filled with cow parsnips, and you nearly dove in head first.”
His voice was normal, a queue that she could resume standard volume.
As her breathing slowed, she said, “Sorry. I mean this in the least grotesque way possible, but you scared the living crap out of me.”
He apologized, kissing her cheek before retracting the embrace. Fingertips brushing the sparks on her skin, her eyes caught a flash of motion. As they circled theplants on an unmarked hunter’s path in investigation, a familiar screech ripped through the meadow. Aly flinched, resisting twisting fear, enabling curiosity. Gravitating towards the sound, they stumbled into another clearing, the grass low and pressed down like a footpath.
Adjusting the settlings and removing the cap, Aly had the camera rolling. Along the horizon, a dark smudge moved throughout the trees. In the distance, it looked like a large bird. Nearing the animal, Aly discerned the arms gripping each branch as it propelled itself across, suddenly dropping onto a black mass that ducked to the ground.
Terrified and fascinated, she sprinted towards the creatures. Though Noah yelled after her, she didn’t turn back, hoping whatever it was wasn’t alerted by his voice. Closing in, she spotted something peculiar about the trees. Halting, she allowed him to catch up. As he considered her face with concern, Aly shuddered, rubbing the goosebumps peppering her arms. Realizing he expected an explanation, she pointed ahead, speechless.
The forest doesn’t deforest itself.
Nausea twisted in her stomach. The cedar had capsized. Aly had heard of it before, even seen it on the walls of the tunnel, but neither could prepare her. The tree, at least a thousand pounds, had been ripped from the ground, flipped so the top was stuffed in the hole left by the tear. Her gaze followed the bark to the sky, roots splayed out like branches. It was unnatural. As though her eyes couldn’t register what she saw, she felt herself scrambling to rearrange the image so it made sense.
Wait… where’d they go?
The air prickled with muted electricity. Noah snaked a tense arm around her waist, starting to drag her back the way they came. Her eyes left the alien marker, darting to the backdrop. Though the distance between each varied, the trees were the same – inverted, protruding from high points in the terrain. Amongst the greens and yellows, each shadows seemed to darken. An unshakeable sense of being watched overcame her. With each rustle, it intensified until her lungs quivered in search of breath.
A whistling gasp pulled her attention to Noah. His skin, warm and tan by nature, was ashen – as though it had been drained of blood. Cold to the touch, his guiding movements begged for escape. Anxiety bled from his presence, sending spikes of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Heart racing, she gripped the arm that embraced her. Petrified, he spoke quietly about the dangers of the cedars. Whooping howls followed as they continued to stagger away from the anomaly.
His hand folded into hers as instinct demanded flight. An obscure figure at their sides dashed in and out of view, enforcing territory and igniting a burning desire to disappear. She instantly regretted running for it – wishing she’d considered Rowley’s warnings again, recognized