The Woods: Part One
Page 10
logical brain would never be persuaded of a strange creature lurking in the woods behind his house—not even by his son. James realized his dad wouldn't believe him and gave up the fight immediately. "Right," he said, following him back into the house.
It bothered James for the rest of the evening. He didn't talk much and then spent the rest of the day in his room, which was smaller compared to the openness of the rest of the house. With only one single window, James felt a sense of security in there. He took one of his blankets and hung it over the curtain rod to block the light, then emptied the dresser of all its drawers and clothes before pushing it in front of the window. Flipping the mattress off the bed, he dragged the frame as far from the window as possible to the opposite wall. Nolan walked in to see his son working.
"Hey, what’re you up to?” He looked at the blanket that darkened the room. “What's with the window?"
"Just doing a little rearranging. Uh, it’s really bright in the morning and so I figured moving the bed and the blanket would help it from blinding me," he lied while forcing a smile.
Nolan fell for it. He had no reason to suspect anything weird from his son. His mind was too busy with the thoughts of his upcoming date and work to piece together his son’s strange behavior earlier that day. It wasn't until he turned to leave that some insight flashed across his mind.
If James honestly believed there was a monster in the woods, he might just be afraid. He tried to not be too tough or too soft with his son because all he wanted was to mold him into a dependable and independent human being. "Hey, if you need anything tonight you can come get me, you know."
James wasn't sure what he meant by that. His mind was also busily racing with his own thoughts. "Thanks, Dad," he said, and went back to setting his bed and rearranging his room. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about all the fantastic things he had heard, mostly through the Internet, about creepy things that lurked in the dark or went bump in the night. He remembered his Uncle Fred telling him about his supposed encounter with the elusive Bigfoot. This intrigued him enough to leave his room and ask his dad about it. In his own room, his dad was sitting on his bed and working on his laptop.
"Hey, Dad," he said knocking on the door.
"What's up, bud?" Nolan wasn't surprised his son had come to see him.
"You remember that story that Uncle Fred told us once? About the Bigfoot? Do you remember what happened?"
Nolan took off his glasses and chuckled. He enjoyed being right, which made his success as a doctor quite the ego booster. He knew that he should soothe his son's fears. Smiling, he said, "Oh yeah, I remember that one. Supposedly, when he was a young lad he went on a camping trip with his troop as a Boy Scout. They went to some reservation so they could experience the culture and outdoors of the Native Americans. Honestly, I think it was just an excuse to learn woodsy stuff. But anyway, he said that they camped deep in the forest on the reservation and one of the guides would tell the boys stories about Mountain Devils that would come down into the forests and kill game with hypnosis. They said what the white people were calling Bigfoot was actually an ancient tribe of giant Native Americans called the Seeahtik."
James sat completely absorbed in his dad's words. He didn't remember ever being told this by his uncle. Nolan was getting enthusiastic in his recalling of the details because as fantastic as it was, it was interesting to him. So much so, that he forgot he was supposed to be easing James's fears instead of painting the picture of a terrifying creature in the woods.
“As I said,” Nolan continued, "the Seeahtik would kill game with hypnosis. The guides told the boys that there was even some who could imitate any bird call and whistle. Anyways, Fred said that night they bundled down in their tents to sleep and he woke up because he had to pee. He went to get up when something whistled real loud and started banging on the tent. He jumped out of the tent screaming when one of the chaperones saw him running and stopped him. He told them it was a Bigfoot but no one else heard or saw a thing."
Nolan could see his son didn't feel any better about monsters in the woods and interpreted the look on his face as the wheels turning in his little brain. "But listen," he said, "there are no mountains and those things are all just stories. Make believe. Nothing to worry about. Monsters, Bigfeet and giant super natural Native Americans are all fake, okay?"
Nolan was right about one thing, the wheels in James's head were turning, but he didn't believe that his uncle was scared by a Bigfoot. "Okay, Dad," he said. He was young but he wasn't stupid. He knew kids went out of their way to scare their friends all the time. "Anyways, thanks. I couldn't remember his story."
"Hey, James."
"Yeah?"
"You okay?"
James smiled, "Yes sir." Then he went back to his room to ponder over the new information he had just gathered.
He started thinking about everything that happened over the last couple days and tried to put the pieces together. He wasn't sure about the existence of Bigfoot or the Native American guides' claims of supernatural powers, but one thing that did stick with him was the ability to imitate any bird. James thought about how his dad said the Seeahtik would kill their game with hypnosis, and the noises he was hearing from inside the woods. He knew from school that Ohio had a rich Native American history, but trying to draw parallels left him coming up short. It was a long shot to connect Ohio’s history, ancient Native American Bigfeet, and a monster living in the woods behind his house. But the one conclusion he had made was that there was something eerily similar with all three.
The whistle.
That night, James had another nightmare but this time he wasn't lost in the woods—he was in his room.
He sat up and gasped for breath. It was the sound of pounding that startled him. He could hear it off in the distance, through the walls and out into the field. It pounded like thunder slowly rolling in but in a rhythm. He stood up in the dark and tried to move the blanket covering his window but it wouldn't move. He pressed his ear up against the wall, knowing it was an exterior wall of the house and listened.
Boom boom, he heard.
He started counting three seconds between each set of two booms.
Boom boom.
It was dull like thunder, but it didn't crest or roll down into a low growl.
Boom boom.
The sound was steady and hollow.
Boom boom.
It started getting closer.
Boom boom.
It sounded like it was just outside and it sounded like...drums.
Boom boom.
Immediately Native American drums came to James's mind with their animal skin stretched tops tied around dark wood centers. Suddenly the sound stopped. It was replaced with a faint whistling noise like that of a tea kettle. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of his bedroom door. He walked to the door and pressed his ear against it to hear the whistling sound better. That's when there were two large bangs on the door.
BOOM BOOM!
The door shook from the impact but stayed shut. Banging and howling started coming from the walls, leaving James screaming as he jumped into his bed and pulled the covers over his head.
Day Four
10
James didn't sleep well that night. By the time he woke up, his dad was already gone, and a note on the fridge said he was working at the hospital all day and would be back late that night. These sorts of notes were necessary because Nolan's work schedule was chaotic and James was too young to care about when his dad worked. He poured himself some cereal and sat at the table to eat. In the corner by the door he saw the feed bag which was still half full and had an idea.
Obviously, the deer feeder was attracting deer with what he saw the day before. Without any way to know whether the blood was from a deer the creature had killed or not, having seen the creature along the tree line while a deer was at the deer feeder gave James hope that the previous plan to lure wolves was working with the creature. If monsters are anything like animals th
en this should work, he thought.
He finished his cereal and grabbed a large kitchen knife and the bag of feed. Now half empty, he could easily carry it. The knife was solely for protection—just in case. He carried it down the steps and past the barn, but the distance to the deer feeder at the end of the field was more than he had anticipated. He set the bag down several times to rest before he made it to the feeder, and to his surprise, it was empty. Completely empty. Not a single apple core or grain of feed was left inside. He gripped the kitchen knife in his right hand so tightly his palm ached. He listened but there was nothing except the eerie quiet of the wind.
He left the deer feeder for the tree line. At the edge of the field he stood between the familiar and the unknown. Standing there peering into the impenetrable green of the woods, he couldn't explain the unsettling tingle that caused the hairs on his arms to stand up. It was as if someone was watching him. The feeling seemed to conflict with reality as he looked down the wall of trees that stretched for miles and saw nothing. He peered as deeply into the woods as he could from the edge of safety but saw nothing. It seemed too quiet. No twigs snapping, leaves rustling, or strange echoing whistles. At that moment, it looked like any other stretch of woods in any other place in the world, and James would have felt like a normal boy had he not had been standing there gripping a kitchen knife for dear life with a gnawing