At the Edge of the Forest Page 17

  “Just me,” I reply. “And the guy who ran.”

  “Pretty weird, huh?” he continues, turning to me. “Seeing as no-one really goes out there, wouldn't you have thought the place'd be crawling with animals? Almost like a sanctuary?”

  “Instead it's dead,” I mutter. “Almost, anyway.”

  He pauses, before handing the notebook back to me. “Tell me you're not gonna go traipsing about in there again, okay? There's probably nothing bad going on, but I wouldn't like to wake up one morning and find that you've gone the same way as your -” He catches himself just in time, but I know what he was about to say. “Well, just...”

  “The same way as my sister?” I ask, feeling a shiver pass through my chest. “You really think the forest had something to do with her disappearance, don't you?”

  He stares at me for a moment. “No,” he says firmly, even though I can tell he's lying. “That forest has got nothing to do with anything, so keep the hell out of it.” He waits for me to reply. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You promise?”

  I nod.

  He sighs, and I can tell he's not convinced. “You don't want to go tempting fate too much,” he mutters, glancing toward the forest again. “Keep out of there from now on, okay? If you wanna find your sister, I don't reckon she's in there.”

  ***

  “I'm glad you came back,” Enola says as she leads me into her trailer. “I've been thinking about you a lot, and I dug out some old books that I think might be of interest.” She turns to me. “Would you like -”

  Stopping suddenly, she sees the crumpled dollar bills in my hand.

  “What on earth is that for?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I owe you, remember?” I tell her. “For last time...”

  “Oh, put it away,” she mutters, limping around the table and heading to the kitchen counter. “I'll make tea. Everyone likes tea, don't they? I hope you like a nice cup, I'd hate to think I'd over-estimated you. Tea is a window into the soul, you know. Without tea, your empire will fall.”

  I frown. “What empire?”

  “Your empire,” she continues with a faint smile. “That's how you must see yourself, you know. You're an empire of your own citizens. Never let anyone tell you you're just this one thing, this single blob of being, because nothing could be further from the truth. We're each of us a lot of different people, and the face we put on to the world is just the face of our own personal empire.”

  “I need your help,” I reply, hoping to change the subject.

  She busies herself with the cups for a moment, but it's clear that she's trying to delay her response. “I dare say you do,” she mutters finally, before glancing at me. “You seem different. You smell different.”

  “I didn't know I smelled at all,” I reply with a frown.

  “Your eyes are different too.” She stares at me for a few seconds, as if she's trying to read something in my expression. “You've been out there, haven't you?”

  “The forest? No, I -”

  “Don't lie to me,” she continues, with a sudden sense of irritation in her voice. “The first time you came to me, you were lost and confused but you were also innocent, untouched. Now you're none of those things, now you've walked through that forest and it has begun to contaminate you. I doubt you're even aware of the change, but I can see it, there's no doubt at all.”

  “No,” I tell her, shocked by her accusations, “I mean... Okay, I did walk through the forest last night, but only because -”

  She starts shaking her head.

  “Only because I found out Shannon went in there,” I continue. “Apparently she used to walk through on her way home from work, so I thought I'd try to do the same. I know it sounds dumb, but I figured maybe I could find out more about what it's like out there and that way I could, I don't know, get into her head more or...” My voice trails off for a moment as I realize that not only does the plan sound dumb, it's actually positively moronic. “I didn't find much,” I tell her. “Just a hut and a book, I think there was some kind of scientific project going on out there once, but whatever it is it's gone now.”

  She stares at me as the water boiler starts to whistle.

  “Why do you think I'm here?” she asks finally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you think I'm here?” she asks again, sounding more annoyed this time. “I'm an old woman, I have no ties, no roots, so why do you think I'm here in the middle of nowhere, camped out in a trailer on the edge of a goddamn forest that no-one gives a damn about?”

  “I don't know,” I reply. “I mean... I figured you just... ended up here.”

  “I've been looking for this place all my life,” she continues. “Ever since I heard about its existence, or its possible existence, I knew I had to find it. I've dedicated half my years to tracking it down.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “It's just a forest.”

  “There's so much you don't understand,” she replies, setting teabags into two cups before limping to the window and peering out for a moment. “What happens to old things, Rita? Come on, I know you're not stupid, you know the answer.”

  “Old things?” I watch her for a moment, seeing the fear in her eyes as she stares out at the forest. “They... I guess they die.”

  “But not here,” she continues. “Not in this forest. Do you read fairytales?”

  “Not since I was a kid.”

  “A dead father and a drunk for a mother, and a sister who's not around. Who raised you?”

  “I don't know. I guess I raised myself.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why are you being like this?” I ask, starting to wonder if it was a mistake to come back. “I just wanted to see whether -”

  “There was a story hundreds of years ago,” she continues, interrupting me. “It was about a forest that managed to lock death out. All things in that forest would live forever. Sounds like paradise, doesn't it? Sounds like the kind of thing people have been searching for throughout history.”

  “It sounds like a story,” I reply.

  “Some stories are real.” She limps to the table and picks up an old book, as the water boiler starts to whistle. “Nothing lasts forever,” she continues, “not even good things. You can't have life without death, just as you can't have death without life. So what do you think happened to this miraculous forest over the years?”

  “I think it never existed in the first place,” I tell her. “It can't have.”

  “It rotted,” she whispers, staring down at the book in her trembling, arthritic hands. “It was taken advantage of. Abused. Things slipped in that didn't want to die, and they didn't die, but didn't stay the same either. Fairytales are all well and good for a while, but over the centuries they become twisted and perverted.” Opening the book, she flips through its tattered old pages. “Do you know what happens to children who don't grow up, Rita?”

  “They... Move to Hollywood?” I wait for a reply. “They just... stay as children?”

  “Impossible,” she mutters. “They mutate. They become something they should never be. Adulthood isn't the only possible destination for a child, you know. It's preferable, and the natural world tries to ensure that all children grow up, because if a child doesn't become an adult, it becomes...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Something terrible,” she adds finally. “Something that is hidden within each of us, but which thankfully almost never gets a chance to grow.”

  Staring at her, I start to realize that she's absolutely out of her mind.

  Reaching the back of the book, she pulls out a newspaper cutting and sets it on the table for me to see. “Over half a century ago, a little boy by the name of Henry Cuthers went missing at the edge of the forest. There was a car crash, the vehicle was terribly mangled and her parents were killed instantly. There was a fire, and the authorities assumed that poor little Henry was burned to ash, but I don't believe that for a moment. I be
lieve he was hurt, but the force of the impact threw him across the road toward the edge of the forest. Either he landed beyond the boundary itself, or something reached out and dragged him in. His corpse was found several years later, not far from here. Just at the edge of the forest.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.

  “I believe the creature in the forest has become twisted and cruel, and I believe Henry was just the first of a new line of victims. I think Alice took him, and I think she's been taking people ever since.”

  “Alice?” I reply. “Who's Alice?”

  “If you believe the old stories, Alice is the little girl who started all of this many hundreds of years ago. The stories say she was on the verge of death when the forest was changed to keep her alive, and I think she's been there ever since. Not growing up, but still changing, becoming that other thing that lurks in each of us. I doubt she's even recognizable now. I've seen her once or twice since I got here, or at least I think I have. Looking out at the forest at night, I sometimes spot a figure moving between the trees. I've been researching this place, there have been other strange happenings. A few years ago a researcher named Edward Collins was found dead just beyond the forest's border. His body had been torn apart and then it was as if he'd been spat out onto the road, his death was put down to some kind of wild animal attack but...”

  I wait for her to continue, and it's clear that she believes all this stuff.

  “That's why you must never go into the forest, Rita. If Alice is still in there somewhere, she needs to draw people in. While she stays within the forest's boundaries she'll never die. She never grew up, she never became an adult, so instead she became something else, something worse. Maybe the forest was a simple place once, but not anymore. Its rules have become twisted, the lack of death has turned it into a nightmare. Can't you tell just from looking at it from outside? There's no life in there, not really. No birds, no animals. They sensed what was happening long ago and fled. Anyone who goes into that place now is at the mercy of whatever that little girl has become.”

  Heading over to join her at the window, I look out at the forest for a moment.

  “I did see someone,” I tell her finally. “Only for a second, and they ran as soon as I saw them.”

  “That must have been her. Did you get a good look?”

  “No, but...” My voice trails off as I try, just for a few seconds, to imagine what it would be like if Enola is right about all of this. “My sister,” I add, trying to keep control of the sense of hope in my chest. “She went into the forest too.”

  “Rita, please...”

  “What if that's what happened to her?” I continue, unable to keep ignore the sense of hope any longer. I know the idea is insane, but if it means there's a chance Shannon is still alive, it has to be worth considering. “What if Shannon's still in that forest?”

  “You must listen to me. Last time you were here, I sensed you might become curious about the forest so I tried to steer you away.”

  “I should have kept looking for her,” I whisper, suddenly feeling as if I let my sister down. “She's been out there all this time.”

  “No,” Enola replies, grabbing my shoulders and holding me firmly. “Listen to me, you mustn't let your desire to find your sister cloud your judgment. The odds of her having wandered into that forest and then somehow having chosen to stay are... It's just not possible. I'd have sensed her presence by now if she was in there, and she's not!”

  “Why are you saying that?” I ask, frustrated by her refusal to accept the obvious truth. “I have to at least try!”

  She shakes her head.

  “You don't understand,” I continue, pulling free from her grip. “I have to go and look for her!”

  “No,” she replies, “you must grow up, Rita. You can't go rushing into that forest based on some desire to find a fairytale ending for your sister's disappearance. She's not there -”

  “You don't know that!” I shout.

  Before I can turn to leave, Enola steps closer and slaps me hard across the face. I step back, too shocked to even register the stinging pain on my cheek.

  “You're infuriating,” she says firmly. “You're not a child anymore, so you have to stop acting like one. I told you about the forest as a warning, because I thought you were old enough and mature enough to process the information like an adult and make the right decision. You were extremely fortunate to make it out the other night, but that doesn't mean you can risk going back in there, do you understand? If your sister was in there, I would have sensed her the other day when I tried to help you.”

  “You sensed someone with her I.D. at a diner,” I reply. “She swapped I.D. with a friend, so really... You're not such an expert, are you?”

  “She's not in there,” she says firmly. “You'll only be risking your life if you go looking for her in the forest. Focus your efforts on the real world, Rita. Don't give in to the easy answers of some rotten, decrepit old fairytale world that should have died off a long time ago. Don't let forces from the forest try to lure you in.”

  “No-one's -”

  “They are!” she hisses, holding me tight. “Can't you feel it in your chest, Rita? They're filling with you hope, they're making you ignore all your normal concerns. Don't let your love for your sister blind you to the truth!”

  “But...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that she might be right. There's no way Shannon would have just wandered into the forest and then hung about for all these years. The idea is ludicrous, even if it seemed tantalizing for one brief moment. All that hope that briefly flooded my soul is now draining away as quickly as it arrived. “Isn't there any chance that she's in there?” I ask with tears in my eyes. “Isn't there even a slight chance?”

  “You must look elsewhere,” she says calmly, “and above all, you must keep out of the forest. Promise me, Rita. Promise me you're mature enough to understand my warning. You have to grow up just a little, right here and now.”

  Staring out the window for a moment, I finally turn to her. “I promise,” I whisper, taking a deep breath. “I will find her, though. Wherever she is, I'll get to her eventually.”

  II

  As soon as I open the door to the trailer, I realize Mom has a visitor. I freeze for a moment, listening to the sound of heavy breathing, and a couple of seconds later I hear her telling some guy to do “it” harder and faster.

  Taking a step back, I carefully close the door and try to work out what I'm supposed to do now. I want to leave, of course, to get the hell out of here and never come back, but at the same time I have nowhere to go and no money. The plan was to earn enough at the store to eventually get out of here, but of course Mom has started demanding a cut of my pay-check for rent and I've barely managed to save more than a few dollars. I should stick it out, of course, and give myself six months or a year to really get a stash sorted, but right now I feel as if I'm going to explode if I have to spend another night in this dead-end place.

  Sighing, I open the door again and step inside, telling myself I can ignore the sounds coming from Mom's room and just stick paper towels in my ears. As Mom says something to the guy about “turning around” and “going from behind”, I make my way as quietly as possible to the other end of the trailer and crawl onto my bed. It's getting late and frankly I wish I had a shift at the store tonight, but as things stand I need to sleep and hope tomorrow is better. That brief rush of hope about Shannon was exhausting, it was almost as if something lit a fuse in my chest and gave me hope for a few precious minutes, but deep down I know Enola was right. I need to be grown-up about this and not fill my head with childish fantasies.

  Shannon's out there somewhere, but not in the forest. She could never be so close, and yet not come back to me.

  After screwing up some pieces of paper and shoving them into my ears, I settle down on my bed and realize I can still hear Mom's headboard being rammed against the far wall. I roll onto my back and then onto my other side, tryi
ng various positions in the hope that I might be able to sleep, and finally I settle with my face to the wall. My brain is still buzzing with thoughts about Shannon, and for the next hour or so I simply stare at the wall and try to think of some way I can track my sister down. I guess at the back of my mind I'm worried that something really bad might have happened to her, but I have to cling to the hope that she'll come back one day.

  Or do I?

  Maybe that 'hope' is actually just childish nonsense. Maybe it's hope that keeps me from feeling like I've truly grown up. If I want to become an adult, I have to accept that my sister is gone forever.

  Closing my tear-filled eyes, I try to think of something else, and eventually my mind drifts back to that shack I found in the forest. I still have no idea who was writing all that stuff in the notebook, but I guess he's long gone and, besides, it's not really any of my business. I just need to focus on what's important right now and stop letting my energy get drained by superfluous matters. As I start drifting off to sleep, I tell myself that tomorrow is another day, and that things always seem much better when the sun is up.

  I sleep, or at least I think I drift along for a while, before finally I open my eyes again. There's a faint scratching sound coming from nearby, and when I turn and look down at the floor I see that the notebook from the shack seems to have moved slightly, as if it has edged into a patch of moonlight that has fallen through the window. I frown, telling myself that I'm imagining things, before realizing that the scratching sound really is coming from the book. Reaching down, I pick it up and hold it up, only to feel a faint trembling sound from within, as if the book is somehow...

  “Writing in itself?” I whisper.

  I wait for a moment, and finally the book falls still.