At the Edge of the Forest Page 9

  I'm glad I did this, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel it in the morning. I need to take it easy and build my strength up slowly now that I've completed the most pressing tasks.

  “Adios, asshole,” I mutter, glancing down at the hatch again.

  Stumbling outside, I shut the door to the shack and then look down at my shirt. I'm covered in that bastard's blood, which isn't going to be easy to explain when I get home, although I figure I can just walk through the door in my underwear and tell Alison I got sprayed with gasoline at the station. It's not exactly a likely story, but I doubt she'll argue with me too much. Sighing, I take a step forward, bracing myself for the long walk back to my car, but suddenly I stop when I realize I can see something up ahead.

  About a hundred meters away, there's a silhouetted human figure, watching me from between the trees. I guess I should have known better than to think I was off the hook. She must have been waiting all this time for me to come back.

  III

  “I thought you'd have lost interest in me by now,” I call out, as I wait for the figure to come closer. “It's been two years, don't you have anything better to be doing with your time?”

  The figure doesn't move. Still watching me from thirty or forty feet away, standing between two trees in the dark forest, she seems content to simply observe me. At the same time, she's making no attempt to hide her presence, so I can only assume she means for me to know that I'm being watched. Why return like this, though? Is she shy, or worried? I know her mind can reach out from the forest, but did she understand what had happened to me and why I wasn't able to return until now?

  “Did you take a look while I was gone?” I ask, stepping forward. “Did you hear the poor bitch down in that pit? Even with a gag over her mouth, I'm sure she managed to make some kind of noise in her final hours. I mean, I was basically done getting her ready for you, so couldn't you have stepped in and... I don't know, done something?”

  Again I wait, but again she seems reluctant to come closer.

  “I was in a coma, you know,” I tell her. “I couldn't do a damn thing about it, but you... You could have stepped in and at least saved her from the misery of starving to death. I doubt you gained anything from that, did you?” I take another step, and this time I can just about make out a few dark blue shadows on the figure's face. “Then again, I guess that's not really your style, is it? Helping people, I mean. I just... I hope you understand that I didn't renege on our deal. Circumstances kept me away, but I'm back now.”

  Still the figure makes no attempt to respond. I swear to God, sometimes I wish she'd just say what's on her mind.

  “So are things back to how they were?” I ask. “Business as usual?” I take another step forward. “My wife -”

  Stopping suddenly, I realize that she's vanished. I wait, convinced that she'll reappear at any moment, but there's definitely no sign of her. I'd love to believe that the encounter is over, but of course I know that's not possible. Her appearance was most likely a gentle reminder, maybe even a warning or a hint of something more to come. She wants me to know that I haven't been forgotten. Just as I'm about to turn and make my way back toward the road, however, I stop as I realize I can sense someone standing right behind me. Instead of turning, I wait until finally I hear the tell-tale scraping of razor blades. I don't want to ever see her face again.

  “What do you want?” I ask, my whole body tensing with fear.

  I hold my breath for a moment, as I feel a sharp finger pressing against my shoulder. Is she angry? Does she think I deserve some kind of punishment?

  “I told you,” I continue, “I was away, I was sick. You might not have noticed, but I pretty much got smeared across the tarmac by some drunk-ass idiot in a truck. It happened right at the edge of the forest, you must have been aware, at least until I was taken away in an ambulance. You're lucky I survived at all, it could easily have -” Feeling a little out of breath, I wait for a moment longer, but all I hear is the sound of her dull, heavy breath along with the tell-tale scraping of razor blades as they wriggle against one another. “Listen,” I add, finally losing my patience, “I just -”

  “Nobody came,” a voice whispers.

  “I know, but -”

  “The forest stood empty all that time,” the voice continues, as another finger presses against the back of my arm, almost cutting through the fabric of my shirt. “Without you to bring people here, there was nothing but the space between the trees, and the trees themselves, and me. I could hear the girl whimpering in your little room, but she was no use to me in there. I needed someone to bring her out to me.”

  “Like I said -”

  “And still you did not come.”

  “I was sick!” I say firmly. “I was dying!”

  “You are all dying,” the voice continues. “You're dying even now. Well, not in so many words, not while you're here, but when you go back out there... You'll start dying again.”

  “I was in a coma,” I point out. “It's not as if I could have just decided to get up. I was unconscious until two days ago, and then I came straight here, I had to check on the...” My voice trails off for a moment as I think of Glenda Rabindale down in the bottom of the pit. Even after all the horrors that I've facilitated in this forest, Glenda's death must have been particularly awful. “I dealt with her,” I continue. “She was there for two years, but I dealt with her as soon as I could.”

  “She was wasted.”

  “She died.”

  “She did not die,” the voice continues. “Do you remember nothing of how the forest works? No-one can die here.”

  “Glenda Rabindale died,” I say firmly, tempted to turn and face him but just about managing to hold back. “Trust me, when I opened the hatch -”

  “She didn't die,” she replies, interrupting me. “I just reached into her mind and made her stay very, very still, and I let her body rot. I'm sure she would have liked to have screamed, if I'd given her the chance.”

  “What are you...” My voice trails off for a moment as I stare at the shack. “I used acid to destroy her body.”

  “That must have been very painful for her,” the voice continues. “And for the other man you threw down there today. Maybe I should let them scream, just for a moment.”

  “Why -”

  Suddenly the most ungodly noise erupts from the shack. I take a step back, shocked as I realize that two voices – a woman's and a man's – are screaming for help, twisted in sheer, agonizing pain. Just as I'm about to turn away, however, the noise stops and the forest falls still again.

  “That,” the voice says calmly, “is enough of that. Let their pain be silent.”

  “You're willing to leave them in agony?” I reply, shocked by his callousness.

  “I am not the one,” she continues, “who drenched them in acid.” He runs a finger over my shoulder, onto the back of my neck. “Why does no-one else come? This forest is so large, but everyone stays away.”

  “They've heard stories,” I explain.

  “Of what?”

  “Of you! All but the very dumbest of them are going to keep out of the damn place. Even if they don't actually believe the stories, they don't want to take a risk. People tend to avoid the shadows, especially when there are so many rumors of monsters.”

  “Sometimes I go to the edge of the forest,” she continues. “I see the road, or the vehicles parked nearby with people living inside, or the bright building that was built on my land, and I yearn to step over the threshold and experience that world for myself. I know I can't go out there, though, not ever again, I know I must wait for people to come to me instead. I was good, though. I waited and waited, even though I wasn't sure you'd ever come back.”

  “I had no choice,” I whisper, with tears in my eyes. “Not after what you did for me.”

  “I thought I'd be lonely for so long,” she replies. “You have no idea how glad I was to see you when you returned yesterday. I almost showed myself, but I wanted to wait and s
ee what you were planning. I sense that you're in pain.”

  “It's nothing.”

  “I remember pain.”

  “It's -” I pause, realizing that I don't want to show weakness. “I'll recover,” I add finally. “You can count on it.”

  “But will you bring me what I want?”

  “Of course. I'll just take time, that's all.”

  “I've waited so long already.”

  “I explained -”

  “I heard, but your words don't satisfy my hunger. You need to bring another girl to the forest, and you need to do it soon. The hunger in my soul is starting to eat away at me.”

  “I'll find someone,” I tell him. “You just have to be patient for a little while longer.”

  “I would hate to have to cancel our agreement,” the voice replies. “I could, you know. I could make her -”

  “No,” I say firmly, turning to her, only to catch a glimpse of her hideous face. Shocked, I turn away and take a deep breath, but a moment later I feel a familiar churning sensation in my stomach and I step forward, leaning against a tree as I bring up a little bile in the back of my throat. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter, “you don't have to threaten me. You know full well that I can't cancel the arrangement. I can't ever give back what you gave me, I'd rather die.”

  “I believe you,” the voice continues, “but the fact remains, I am hungry. You are lucky no others passed this way during your absence, or I would have been tempted to transfer my affections. Of course, in doing so I would have had to take back your gift, and I imagine you would have awoken to find that she -”

  “No!” I shout, almost turning to her again but stopping as soon as I catch a hint of her face in the corner of my eye. Turning away again, I manage this time to keep my stomach under control. “You don't need to threaten me,” I continue, once again feeling a little breathless. “It'll be business as usual, I swear. You have to give me some time, I'm still recovering, but I can get someone here in... I don't know exactly how long it'll take, but I can get it done, I just...”

  I pause, feeling a hint of pain in my chest.

  “You are uncertain,” the voice says after a moment. “Something has changed.”

  “I've been having these visions,” I whisper, even though I feel foolish for even saying such a thing. “It's as if I'm suddenly able to see... possible futures.”

  “Does this surprise you?”

  “Is it even possible that the hallucinations are real?”

  “Why do you ask me?”

  “Because it seems like something you might know about,” I reply. “It seems like something that's more from your world than from mine.” I wait for her to say something, but all I hear is the sound of razor blades scratching against one another. “Is it possible,” I ask finally, “or am I just losing my goddamn mind?”

  “What you see is the consequence of your actions,” she says after a moment. “Any time you change the course of your life, you witness your new final destination. It's only natural, all humans possess this ability to some degree but most of them repress such horrors shortly after they're born. After a few months out of the womb, they learn to ignore the hallucinations and to focus instead on the real world around them. You have been lucky enough to regain the ability, although I imagine it has been tormenting you.”

  “So they are real?” I stammer, staring ahead at the dark forest. “I saw a store and a girl, and guns and -”

  “At that time,” the voice replies, “such an outcome was your destiny. Change your actions, and the outcome will change. If it can, anyway.”

  “I'll bring you someone soon,” I continue, realizing that I can't afford to fight against my role, not if it means that I might lose everything. I can still feel her fingers rubbing against my back, and I know her hunger makes her more dangerous than usual. “I'll start immediately,” I tell her, “I'll -”

  Suddenly her fingers slip away and I realize I'm alone. Turning, I find that there's no sign of her, but I'm certain she's still watching me, still waiting for me to deliver on my side of the bargain. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and quickly bring up Alison's number.

  “It's me,” I tell her as soon as she answers, as I set off back toward my car. “Yeah, honey, I'm on my way right now. No, I'm fine. Everything just took a little longer than I expected, that's all.”

  As I head to the edge of the forest, I spot the unsettling sight of Mason's truck being slowly dragged up from the road and taken deeper into the forest. She's tidying up, making sure that no-one thinks to look in here, and I guess that means she's still willing to work with me, at least for now. I glance over my shoulder, barely paying attention to Alison's voice on the phone as I watch the ghostly truck being dragged by unseen forces. Finally, I turn and hurry toward the road.

  “Absolutely, honey,” I tell Alison. “No, I promise, I'm on my way right now!”

  IV

  I let out a gasp as I finish, my whole body shuddering with the anti-climactic waste of a brief, unfulfilling orgasm. Even before I'm completely done, I've already slumped down against Alison's shoulder, and I quickly slip out of her and roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling of the dark bedroom. I'm exhausted just from a few minutes of exertion. Damn it, I feel like an old man.

  “That was good,” she says finally, not sounding particularly enthusiastic. “Was it good for you?”

  “Did you finish?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  “I'm out of practice,” I point out, still trying to get my breath back. “Jesus Christ, I am so out of practice.”

  “Then we'll have to get you back into shape, won't we?” she replies, leaning over and kissing the side of my face. “And there's only one way to do that. Love you, honey, but I just need to go clean up a little in the bathroom.”

  I turn and watch as she climbs out of bed. Cupping her crotch with one hand, she makes her way to the door. I swear, sex with my wife didn't used to be so basic and functional, or maybe I just didn't notice the raw mechanics so much. She leaves the bathroom door open and I watch for a moment as she uses a towel to wipe herself. Where did the mystery go? Why does she not mind letting me see this part?

  “I have to go to the store,” I say suddenly, sitting up.

  She turns to me. “Right now? Don't be silly, honey, it's gone midnight.”

  “I know,” I continue, my brain racing as I try to think of an excuse. “I just really... I need to pick some things up for breakfast. And I'd rather do it now than have to rush off early in the morning. You know what it's like when all the commuters are out and about on the roads, it's like trying to drive through cattle.”

  She stares at me, making no effort to cover up her dropping, late-fortysomething body with its bands of saggy flesh. God, her breasts are down by her elbows. “Brian...”

  “It'll be worth it,” I tell her, leaping out of bed and starting to gather the clothes I tossed aside just a few minutes ago. “Come on, trust me, you're going to love what I cook up. I should have thought to pick the stuff up earlier, but my mind has been all over the place. My thought processes are still a little cockamamie.” Kissing her, I hurry past into the hallway. “Just wait and see!” I call back to her. “This is going to be the best breakfast ever!”

  ***

  The BarraBuy door slides open and I stop for a moment, staring into the overly bright interior. It's exactly how I remember from my hallucinations except that this time, thankfully, there's no sound of gunfire. Stepping forward, I can't help but notice that the place is almost completely empty, with no customers or staff visible anywhere. It's almost like I've arrived on an alien planet.

  Suddenly I hear footsteps, and I look over at a nearby aisle just in time to see a gangly young man hurrying past wearing one of those horrible orange BarraBuy t-shirts. When he turns and smiles at me, I realize that I've seen him before.

  It's Joe, the guy I saw bleeding to death in one of my hallucinations with his intestines spewing out across the
floor. It doesn't just look like him, it is him.

  “Jesus,” I whisper, making my way along one of the aisles. I glance over my shoulder several times, half expecting to find myself being followed by some other element of my hallucinations, but Joe has disappeared into another area of the store and now I'm alone again. I keep walking, feeling as if I'm in some kind of a daze, and when I get to the next junction I look both ways, only to see that there's still no-one else in sight.

  A moment later, I hear footsteps in one of the nearby aisles.

  Hurrying now, I start hunting for someone else, anyone else. Just as I'm about to give up, however, I see another orange-shirted figure halfway along one of the other aisles. I pause for a moment, feeling a tightening sense of anticipation in my chest, and then I slowly start to make my way toward her until I stop again.

  It's her.

  It's Rita, the girl from one of my other hallucinations.

  “Hey,” she says with a faint smile as she spots me watching her. “Can I help you?”

  “I...” Not really knowing what to say, I stare at her for a moment longer. “I just...”

  For a few seconds, all I can think about is the sight of her in my hallucination the other night, when she was curled up on the floor with tears streaming down her face and a rifle across her lap.

  “I'm new here,” she continues, clearly feeling a little uncomfortable, “but if you're looking for something specific, I can help you to find it.” She pauses, and I can tell I'm creeping her out a little. “Well, it was just an offer,” she adds. “Let me know.”

  She turns back to the shelf and continues her work, stocking boxes of washing powder. I know I should turn and walk away, but instead I step closer, feeling certain that I need to understand why this girl ended up playing such a key role in one of my hallucinations. Is some outside force trying to tell me something?