At the Edge of the Forest Page 15

  Stepping forward, I find that the place is pretty barren, although there's a desk against the far wall and a small sign screwed into the wood, with some faint lettering that I'm only able to read when I get closer:

  Observation Station No. 5

  Looking down at the top of the desk, I see a tattered old notebook with the same words handwritten on the front, and I open it to find that it's filled with dates and what appear to be recorded observations. It quickly becomes apparent that someone was using this shack so they could make notes about the forest, including the wildlife and the trees, and I start flicking through the book's damp pages while skim-reading some of the entries.

  “January 4th 2010,” I read out loud. “Rabbits, none. Birds, none. Insect life, none. Soil analysis penetration down to 1.4 meters before first signs of organic matter.”

  Pretty much all the entries are the same, with the only real difference being that the 'soil analysis penetration' reading, whatever that means, gradually becomes a higher number, rising to two meters and then, a few months later, to three and eventually to four. I keep flicking through the book, noting the consistency of the handwriting, until I suddenly reach a blank page and find that, whoever was filling this thing out, they stopped a couple of years ago.

  “Rabbits, none,” I read. “Birds, none. Insect life, none. Soil analysis penetration down to 4.5 meters before first signs of organic matter.”

  I pause for a moment, before noticing the date of the final entry.

  “June 3rd,” I whisper, as a faint shiver runs through my chest. The book's very last entry was made on the exact same night that Shannon disappeared.

  Trying not to panic, I flick through the rest of the pages but find nothing until I get to the inside of the back cover, where I see what appears to be a crude map of the forest. Sure enough, the trailer park has been marked, as has the road, and even the store has been drawn along with its parking lot. The forest itself is mostly a large blank shape in the very center, although a few red dots have been noted along with numbers, and I realize pretty quickly that someone has marked the locations of five of these observation stations, which I guess means that there are a few more shacks spread throughout the forest. I turn back to the notebook's first page, but there's really nothing to indicate who wrote this or what they were trying to achieve.

  Still...

  “June 3rd,” I whisper again. “What happened on June 3rd?”

  Pulling open the drawer on the front of the desk, I find that it's empty apart from a few pencil shavings and an old rubber band. I push the drawer shut again and take a look around the shack, just in case there's anything I've missed, before heading over to the door and realizing that the rest of the place has been cleaned out. I still have the book in my hand, and although I know I should put it back where I found it, I figure that the shack has been abandoned so it's not like anyone is going to come along and get annoyed. Slipping the book into my pocket, I pull the door open and flick the light off before stepping back out into the forest and finding that a faint glow of morning sunlight is starting to spread through the forest, allowing me to see a lot more of the trees all around. There's a faint orange glow in the distance, and I feel I'll have much better luck finding my way to the trailer park now, especially now that I have the map in the back of the notebook.

  I pull the shack's door shut and then set off, walking faster than before as I make my way between the trees and -

  Suddenly I come to a stop as I see a figure standing up ahead, silhouetted against the trees and clearly watching me. I freeze, filled with panic but not knowing what to do, and then I take a step back as I tense every muscle in my body, ready to run.

  Before I can do that, however, the figure bolts. I watch in stunned silence as it turns and runs away, racing back between the trees until it disappears from sight.

  “Never go into the forest,” Shannon whispers in my ear.

  “But -”

  A moment later I feel something bumping against my arm, and I turn just in time to see Shannon racing past me. She disappears after a moment, fading into the morning light, but my heart is pounding and I can't help thinking that she's trying to send me a message.

  “Run!” her voice hisses.

  I know better than to argue with her. Turning, I hurry past the shack and race between the trees, desperately hoping that I'm going in the right direction. I glance over my shoulder several times, convinced that I'll see someone chasing me, but fortunately there's no sign of the figure and eventually I stop to catch my breath, leaning against a tree and turning to make sure I'm not about to be ambushed.

  Looking all around, I see nothing but the slowly-lightening forest.

  Whoever that was, it seemed just as scared of me as I was of it.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, pulling the notebook from my pocket and rifling through with fumbling hands until I reach the map at the back. Glancing around, I can't spot any landmarks at all but from the haze of the sun I figure I can more or less work out which way is west.

  Still worried about that figure coming back, I start walking again, keeping the notebook in my right hand in case I need to refer to the map again. I can't help but look over my shoulder every few steps, just in case I've got company, but gradually I start to realize that the figure really did turn and run when it saw me. My heart is still pounding, but as I wait and listen to the silence of the forest I'm finally able to convince myself that I'm not being watched. Setting off on my way again, I glance at the map a few times in the hope that I might be able to work out the best route out of here.

  And then suddenly, as if by some miracle, I stumble out of the forest and find myself by the side of the road, only half a mile from the trailer park. Glancing back into the forest, I can't help but feel a little proud of myself for making it through, although I still don't know what happened to Shannon. I have the notebook, however, and as I set off on the short walk back home, I start flipping through the pages again.

  Maybe I shouldn't have run away from whoever was in the forest. Maybe I should have run after it and tried to ask about my sister.

  Part Seven

  EDWARD

  I

  Two years ago

  “That's not the issue, Ed,” he replies with a sigh. “Everyone knows the work out there is valuable, the problem is that there's no money to pay for it. Don't take this the wrong way, but surveys of wildlife just don't get the blood pumping, and more importantly they don't really make anyone any cash.”

  “I know,” I tell him, realizing that he still doesn't understand the point I was trying to make, “but that forest offers a unique habitat that I honestly believe can be found nowhere else in the country. The city planners promised to wait for a full survey to be completed before -”

  “They promise a lot of things,” John continues, with the air of a man who doesn't think it's worth putting up a fight, “but when it comes time to deliver...” He slides the documents toward me across the table. “The decision's already been made. Funding's been cut and the survey is over, period. I wish I didn't have to be the one to tell you, I know you've really put your heart and soul into this project, but there'll be other projects. We'll reassign you to something else, we'll send you of to Alaska or Hawaii or somewhere else that's kind of extreme, and soon you'll forget all about that dumb little forest in the middle of Nowheresville.”

  Staring at the documents, I realize I'll only be wasting my breath if I try to argue with him.

  “Well,” I mutter, adjusting my tie, “I suppose one can't argue with the wisdom of the corporation, can one? One must simply be grateful for the opportunities one was afforded.” Even though I feel sick to my stomach, I get to my feet and force a smile. “If you'll excuse me, John, I think I should go and start planning how to wind this down. The funding runs until the end of the month, so I still have a couple of weeks to try to find a little more valuable data. And then I have a report to put together.”

  ***

  “
I knew the writing was on the wall when they sold that plot of land to BarraBuy,” I mutter, staring into the beer I still haven't touched, “but I thought they'd at least let the survey run to the end. I was so close to...”

  My voice trails off for a moment.

  “You know your problem?” Max asks.

  I turn to him.

  “You believe people.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It's a terrible thing,” he continues. “Look, sure, some people tell the truth occasionally, but for the most part you've gotta assume that the average person is lying their ass off.”

  “That strikes me as a rather cynical approach to life,” I tell him.

  “It's a realistic approach,” he says with a sigh. “Lying is what separates us from animals, and from children. If you don't know how to lie properly, Eddie, you haven't grown up yet.”

  “But there was a contract for this work,” I point out. “It was signed and sealed -”

  “With opt-out provisions.”

  “Sure, but -”

  “And that just proves what I was saying. If people didn't lie, why would you need to sign a contract? You'd just agree something and get started.”

  As the song on the jukebox changes, I struggle for a moment to wrap my head around Max's circular logic. Either what he told me makes perfect sense, or it's complete gibberish, and I'm really not quite in the right state of mind to distinguish between the two possibilities.

  “Here's what you do,” he continues, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You drink that beer, then you drink another beer, then you drink five or six more beers, and then we'll get out of this dump and go find a real bar, and then we'll start drinking some actual fucking heavy-duty liquor. Deal?”

  “I don't think I'm in the mood for that,” I reply. “Max -”

  “I don't give a crap what you're in the mood for,” he continues, slapping his arm around me with enough force to almost knock me off my stool. “It's what you need, buddy. You've spent the past eleven months out in that fucking forest, counting bunny rabbits and whatever the hell else gets your blood pumping. You've forgotten how to really live.” He waits for a reply. “Maybe it's a good thing the study's coming to an end. I don't mind telling you, I've started to worry about you lately. You're becoming withdrawn and fixated. I mean, hell, that forest is just a forest. There's a billion just like it all over the place.”

  As he takes another sip of his beer, I look down at my trembling hands and try to decide whether I can tell him the truth.

  “It's not just a forest,” I say finally, “and I haven't been counting bunny rabbits.”

  “Oh no?” he asks with a grin. “What've you been counting, then? Lost friends?”

  I pause, before turning to him. “You're going to think that I've lost my mind.”

  “I thought that years ago. Come on, what's up?”

  “You know me,” I continue. “We've been friends since college, right?”

  “Right, but -”

  “And in all that time, have you ever heard me say one thing that isn't rooted in logic, order and reality?”

  He frowns. “Buddy, what are you on about now?”

  “Have you ever heard me go off on a flight of fancy, or overreact to some... spurious, inexplicable data-set?”

  “No, but -”

  “So you trust me?”

  He sighs. “I trust you, Ed, that's not the problem. You're the most straight-talking dude I ever met in my life.”

  “There's something else out there in that forest,” I tell him.

  “Come again?”

  “There's something alive out there,” I continue. “I don't know what it is, I don't know what it wants, but there's a kind of... There's a presence there, it's so powerful, it has to be something real, something strong and -”

  “Hang on,” he replies, interrupting me, “wait a moment. Are we still talking about bunny rabbits?”

  “We're talking about a presence that I don't believe has been studied before,” I tell him. “It's not human, but it's not just some kind of wild animal either. It's intelligent...”

  He puts his head in his hands.

  “It's highly intelligent,” I continue. “I sit out there day after day, night after night, in those observation huts, and I study the wildlife in that forest. And gradually, over the past few months, I've become aware of something else out there, something that I truly believe has been studying me. It held back at first, almost as if it was nervous, but lately it seems to be getting more confident. I'm convinced that with just a little more time, I can encourage it to make itself known.”

  “Oh yeah?” he replies, his voice muffled slightly by his hands. After a moment he sits up and stares at me. “Oh Lordy, you really mean all this garbage, don't you?”

  “I haven't seen it yet.”

  “Of course you haven't.”

  “And it hasn't spoken to me.”

  “Well, I'm glad to know you're not hearing voices.”

  “But it's there, as sure as I'm here right now talking to you.” I wait for him to reply, but I guess I should have known that Max is the last person in the world who'd be able to open his mind to this kind of phenomenon. “I've been trying to find a way to communicate with it,” I continue, “or to let it know that I'm intelligent enough for it to bother communicating with me. Whatever this thing is, I get the feeling that...” I pause again, trying to work out how to explain the sensation I've encountered several times now. “It's something vast,” I say finally, “and something powerful, and something that seems to fill the air with a sense of its own strength. I can't even explain how I know that it exists, only that there have been times when I've looked out at the forest and felt that I was being watched from all sides. I can't let this observation program end without somehow breaking through and establishing contact.”

  Staring at my beer, I finally realize that Max hasn't spoken for a while. When I turn to him, I find that he's shaking his head.

  “What?” I ask cautiously.

  “You're insane.”

  “I assure you -”

  “You've gone native,” he continues. “Jesus Christ, you've spent so long alone out there in the wilderness, you've started to imagine all this gobbledegook. I mean, what are you suggesting, that you've somehow made contact with the spirit of the forest? Is it Gaia who's suddenly burst up from behind a mud-bank and decided to say hello?”

  “It's nothing like that,” I reply. “This is something real. I'm not even saying it's necessarily a benign entity, or that contact would be a positive step, just that there's an intelligence there that seems vaster than anything I've ever encountered before. If I have to shut the project down and leave the forest before I establish contact, this opportunity might be lost forever. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to trust me, this presence is just...”

  My voice trails off as he sighs and finishes his beer.

  “I knew you wouldn't understand,” I mutter. “I wouldn't understand either, not if I hadn't experienced it first-hand. That's why I need to make it speak to me, so I can try to learn more about it. I can't just walk away from this project when I'm on the verge of something so profound. I've been waiting for the presence to make a move, but maybe I have to force the issue somehow.”

  “Drink up,” he says, patting me on the back again. “I think I need a hell of a drink if I'm gonna catch up to where your mind is right now, my friend.”

  II

  “You're going to have a very sore head when you wake up,” I mutter, pulling the blanket over Max's sleeping body and then taking a step back. “Good luck with that.”

  It's early morning now and the sun began to rise a couple of minutes ago. Having spent the night out with Max until 2am, I somehow managed to keep pouring my shots of alcohol away without him noticing. The result was that he got progressively more drunk until finally I had to shepherd him home, and now he's sleeping it all off while I'm clear-headed and sober. I can't afford to get drunk,
not when it would mean losing precious opportunities.

  The truth is, all I can think about is the forest. If the project is going to end, I have to use my remaining time out there to contact this thing, whatever it is, and get some answers.

  ***

  I'm always at my happiest out here. Trudging through the forest, miles from civilization and with only the sound of my own footsteps for company, I feel as if my soul is truly at rest. No fears, no concerns, no worries, just an absolute sensation of pure calm and happiness.

  And it's all being taken away from me at the end of the month. The original idea was for me to conduct an environmental impact study, to determine whether state laws would need to be amended in order to protect the forest from development. I've been out here for almost a year now, but instead of cataloging an abundance of life in all its forms, I've instead found myself observing a marked decline. Living creatures seem to have been abandoning the forest of late, and I haven't been able to work out why.

  When I reach the first observation hut, I pull the door open and step inside. The only equipment is a battered old laptop linked to the camera on the south-facing external wall, but I immediately see that the trigger mechanism shows no sign of a new recording, which means that no motion was detected during the night. I bring up the report screen anyway, just to be certain, but once again it seems that a night passed without any kind of life coming close to the hut. That's despite several bait trays being left out. Taking a moment to mark yet another zero on the chart, and to note down June 3rd as today's date, I can't help feeling a shudder in my chest at the realization that it has now been several months since the forest seemed truly alive.

  Whatever's happening out here, it's still spreading.

  I stow the boxes of supplies I brought with me: some spare cards to record video footage; some tape for covering the gaps in the huts' walls; a packet of fresh razor-blades to use for sharpening the sticks I usually set out in the traps. The whole thing feels faintly pointless now, but I have to keep pushing on. I feel as if I'm on the verge of a great discovery.