Dark Woods

by Steve Voake

  ‘Not really, no.’

  He stared at the ivy again, fascinated by the thought of all that pain hidden beneath its innocent green leaves.

  ‘Are you feeling OK?’ asked Eden as they carried on up the trail. ‘I mean, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seemed kind of miserable earlier on.’

  ‘Most people are pretty miserable at six in the morning,’ said Cal, wondering if all Americans were this direct.

  ‘There’s miserable and there’s miserable,’ said Eden. ‘Did you have an argument with your parents or something?’

  ‘They aren’t my parents,’ said Cal.

  The forest hummed with insects, like an electric generator.

  ‘OK,’ said Eden. ‘Now that is interesting.’

  Cal could tell that she was intrigued, but he didn’t feel like going into it. So he just pointed at a smaller path that branched off into the trees and said, ‘Where do you reckon that goes?’

  Eden followed his gaze, then pointed with her stick.

  ‘How about we find out?’

  Eight

  Eden gestured for Cal to go first and, after checking for poison ivy, he squeezed through the bushes into the forest. It was incredible really, the difference a few metres could make. While the path had been in the full heat of the sun, the air beneath the trees was cooler and heavier, laden with the scent of pines.

  ‘Are you sure this is the way to McDonald’s?’ asked Eden.

  Cal was still trying to think of a witty reply when he heard a voice calling through the trees.

  ‘Tansy? Tansy, where are you? Come on now, stop messing around, will ya?’

  Cal leaned against a tree and waited for Eden to catch up with him. Together they stood and listened to the sound of the man’s voice, somewhere up ahead.

  After a few moments, the voice stopped. Cal heard the snap of a branch breaking and turned to see a man standing in dappled sunlight beneath the pines. He looked to be somewhere in his mid-forties and was dressed in a check shirt and combat trousers. Draped around his neck was a pair of binoculars and on his back was a canvas rucksack with a sleeping bag tied underneath. He had brown, shoulder-length hair which looked as if it hadn’t been washed in a while, and as he ran a hand through it his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.

  ‘My dog,’ he said. ‘Have you seen her?’

  Cal shook his head.

  ‘Sorry. We only just got here.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ The man frowned and scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘She came this way less than two minutes ago.’

  Cal was surprised at how softly spoken the man was. From his appearance he had expected something harder, less educated. But he knew from the poison ivy that appearances could be deceptive.

  ‘What kind of dog is he?’ asked Eden.

  ‘She,’ the man corrected her. ‘I said that already, didn’t I?’

  There was an awkward silence for a moment or two, but Eden was quick to fill it.

  ‘We could help you look for her, if you like,’ she offered, throwing a sidelong glance at Cal. ‘I mean, it’s not like we’ve got anything else to do, right, Cal?’

  ‘Right,’ said Cal. There was something about the man which made him uneasy. Something about the way he kept running his fingers through his hair, like he was nervous about something. But then he had just lost his dog, Cal reasoned. And Cal knew that losing something you cared about could do all kinds to a person.

  ‘Listen,’ the man said. ‘I think that’s her. Did you hear it?’

  Cal listened, but all he could hear was the hum of insects and the whisper of the breeze.

  ‘I think I hear it too,’ said Eden, and Cal could see that she was enjoying the new direction the morning was taking. ‘Come on. Let’s go find her.’

  She set off through the trees with the man beside her and Cal followed. After a while the path disappeared and Cal found himself pushing through thick branches as he tried to keep up. The muscles in his legs ached and he realised that instead of walking around the base of the mountain as they had been, they were now heading upwards, leaving the path further and further behind.

  ‘You all right back there?’ called the man’s voice.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Cal.

  Although they were now in the shadow of the pines, the sun was higher and the air warm and humid. Cal pulled his sweatshirt over his head and tied it around his waist. He leaned against a tree, smelling the fragrance of pine needles and watching a line of ants march up the trunk. He wondered what time it was and whether he should be getting back. Maybe he should have left a note. But then, what did it matter? Sarah might want to be his mother, but the truth was she was just one more stop along a very long road. He would move on and forget about her and Michael, same as he always did, and these few weeks would be no more than a distant dream.

  ‘I’m coming,’ he said.

  When he caught up with them they were waiting on a plateau where the trees thinned out to give a view all the way across the valley to the mountains beyond. A buzzard circled high above them, its jagged calls scratching the sky.

  ‘It’s beautiful, don’t you think?’ said the man. ‘The kind of thing dreams are made of.’

  Cal thought it was a strange thing to say, but then he guessed he was a strange guy, walking around with his sleeping bag and binoculars.

  ‘Any sign of the dog?’

  The man shook his head. ‘All I can think is she must have made her way back to the van. Reckon she picked up the scent of a buck rabbit and couldn’t resist going after it. But I appreciate you helping me out like this, I really do.’

  He scratched his chin and looked down toward the Bitterroot river, silver in the morning light.

  ‘Tell you what. I’ve got a flask of lemonade in the van just crying out to be drunk. Why don’t you come along and help me finish it? That way we can see if old Tansy’s found her way home. What do you say?’

  This time it was Eden’s turn to hesitate.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘We should probably be getting back.’

  ‘Of course you should,’ agreed the man. ‘Only problem is, I’ve kind of taken you off the trail a bit. These woods can get real confusing if you don’t know your way around. But there’s a mountain track no more than ten minutes from here, and my van’s parked at the end of it. Why don’t we walk along there, have ourselves a drink and then I can drive you back to the campground?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m sure we can find our way,’ said Eden. ‘We don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be any trouble,’ said the man. ‘You’ve been more than kind, helping me search for my dog, and it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘OK,’ said Cal, picturing ice cubes bumping around in a glass. ‘That’d be great.’

  He looked at Eden and could tell straight away that she wasn’t so sure. But she was the one who’d suggested a walk, the one who had wanted to trek all the way up here to look for a dog. She was the one who had made all the decisions. Now he wanted to show her that he could make a decision too.

  ‘You coming, Eden?’

  Eden nodded.

  ‘Yeah, all right,’ she said. ‘I’m coming.’

  Nine

  The van was parked at the top of a narrow dirt track. It was a white Ford delivery van and the doors at the back had their windows painted out so you couldn’t see inside. Cal noticed it was covered in a layer of dust, as if it had been there for days.

  ‘So,’ said the man, unlocking the driver’s door and pulling it open. ‘Who’s thirsty?’

  ‘Me,’ said Eden, wiping sweat from her brow. ‘Hope you’ve got a coupla hundred gallons stuffed away in there.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve got plenty,’ said the man. He reached into the glove compartment and took out a silver flask. Cal watched him unscrew the top and heard the clink of ice cubes as he poured some of the contents into it.

  ‘Only got the one cup, I’m afraid,’ he said, handing it to Eden
. ‘Guess we’ll have to pass it around.’

  He leaned against the side of the van and Cal thought it strange that he hadn’t mentioned the dog.

  ‘Still no sign of her, then?’ he asked.

  The man looked puzzled for a moment before seeming to remember.

  ‘Tansy? Oh, she’ll find her way back, by and by. I mean, you’ve got to believe that, right? You’ve got to believe that when you lose something you’ll find it again.’

  He stared at Cal with such intensity that Cal looked away.

  ‘Because if you don’t, then it just doesn’t bear thinking about. I mean, what would be the point of anything, then?’

  Cal saw Eden looking at him and realised she felt as uncomfortable as he did. But she tried not to let on.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she told the man. ‘I’m sure he’ll come back.’

  ‘She,’ said the man. ‘It’s she, goddammit!’

  He glared at Eden as she passed Cal the cup and then seemed to check himself, as if realising that he had overstepped the mark.

  ‘Hey, listen, I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that,’ he said. ‘It’s just, you know …’ he stared at the ground as if there was something in the dirt that no one else could see. ‘I just want her back. I want my Tansy to come home.’

  Cal sipped the lemonade and felt it cool his throat. Beneath the chill, he thought he could taste something metallic, medicinal almost. But then this was America, where even the chocolate bars tasted weird. He took another sip and offered it to the man, who smiled and shook his head.

  ‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a bottle of water to keep me going.’

  Cal thought how strange it was to go to all that trouble of making yourself a flask of chilled lemonade and then not bother to drink it. But he guessed the man was just being kind and tried to remind himself that not everyone was out to get him. Maybe he just had to start believing that there were good people in this world after all.

  ‘I’m forgetting my manners,’ said the man, pushing himself away from the van and offering his hand to Eden. ‘My name’s Jefferson.’

  Eden seemed to hesitate for a moment, then took his hand and smiled.

  ‘I’m Eden,’ she said. ‘And this is Cal. I’m …’

  She staggered forward a little and put her other hand on Jefferson’s arm to steady herself. ‘I don’t feel so good,’ she said.

  Cal put down the cup and got to his feet.

  ‘Is she OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Probably just the sun,’ said Jefferson as Eden rested her head against his shoulder. ‘It can do that to a person sometimes. Here, help me get her to the van.’

  Cal was about to say that they had hardly been in the sun at all when Eden slumped forward and Jefferson had to use both his arms to support her.

  Cal helped him take her weight and together they walked her to the back of the van. Taking the keys from his pocket, Jefferson unlocked the door and pulled it open. Inside, Cal saw that there was an old mattress and next to the mattress was a wheel brace, a shotgun and a box of cartridges.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, taking a step backwards. ‘What’s going on?’

  But Jefferson didn’t take any notice, just held Eden beneath the arms and pushed her back until she was lying on the mattress.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Cal. But his head hurt and the words floated away from him, up through the trees and away across the valley.

  ‘You look tired,’ Jefferson said. ‘Do you want to lie down too?’

  ‘I want to go home,’ said Cal. He tried walking back towards the trees but his legs seemed full of concrete. ‘Please,’ he whispered. ‘Take me home.’

  He felt himself being dragged backwards, his heels bumping over stony ground.

  Somewhere, a door slammed.

  Then there was only silence.

  Ten

  Cal felt as though someone had lit a gallon of petrol in his brain and cracked him over the head with the empty container. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a wooden ceiling, rough planks of pine nailed together to form a pitched roof. He was lying on a bare mattress, a thin pillow beneath his head. Gingerly rolling onto his side, he saw that the floor was also made from pine and the walls were constructed from rows of sawn timber. Although he found it hard to think straight, it was obvious that he was in some kind of log cabin.

  He tried to sit up but immediately lay down again as his body gave the distinct impression that it was trying to slide up the wall, across the ceiling and back down the other side.

  He moaned into the pillow and closed his eyes again. His temples felt tender, as though something had been rubbing against his skin.

  ‘Are you OK there, buddy?’ said a voice. Cal opened one eye to see a man in check shirt and combat pants leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room. As Cal searched through the wreckage of his mind he remembered that there had been some woods, a girl, and something about a dog. The man unstuck himself from the wall and poured some water into a glass.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Drink this.’

  Cal remembered something else then; the odd-tasting lemonade, the sky sliding away and the man opening the doors of the van.

  ‘Get away from me!’ he spat, flinging his arm out and hitting the glass so that it slipped from the man’s grasp and rolled across the floor. He watched the man calmly bend down and pick it up again, the wood soaking up the spilled water as though it was as thirsty as he was.

  The man set the glass back on the bedside table and poured some more water as though nothing had happened.

  ‘You should really drink something,’ he said. ‘This heat’ll dry a body right out.’

  Cal looked at the man standing innocently by his bed like a doctor on his rounds, and remembered that his name was Jefferson. He tried to retrieve some memories from the fire that was raging in his head.

  ‘Where’s Eden?’ he asked, sitting up and rubbing his temples. ‘What have you done with her?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything with her. She’s sleeping, is all.’

  Cal glared at him. ‘You put something in the drinks, didn’t you?’

  Jefferson shrugged.

  ‘I needed your help.’

  ‘So you drugged us?’

  ‘You wouldn’t have come otherwise.’

  Behind the pain in his head, Cal felt a stirring of fear. A man who could drug two people just to get help was undoubtedly capable of worse. He looked around for possible escape routes and saw that the windows were single-glazed without locks. Through the one next to his bed he could see a small clearing with a bench-table in the middle, surrounded by the pale circles of a dozen tree trunks, sawn down to ground level. Cal guessed that Jefferson must have used the trees to build the cabin. Beyond the clearing, partially hidden by trees, was what appeared to be a much larger building, constructed from concrete blocks with solar panels on the roof. Apart from that there was nothing but a dense wall of trees, shadows hiding behind pine-needle skirts.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Jefferson, as though everything was perfectly normal.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’

  ‘Yes you were. You were wondering how to get away from here, weren’t you?’

  ‘Can you blame me?’ said Cal. He saw no point in trying to deny it. He guessed the longer he kept the guy talking, the longer it might postpone any unpleasantness he had planned.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just need your help with something, that’s all. And when you’ve helped me, you can go.’

  ‘What if I want to go now?’

  Jefferson shrugged again.

  ‘Well, then, I guess I can’t stop you. I never lock the doors anyhow. But you should know that this place is a long way from anywhere. I decided a while back I needed a place where folks wouldn’t bother me. A person walking through these woods who didn’t know their way around could get pretty darn lost, in my opinion.’

  Cal looked
at Jefferson, standing with his arms folded, discussing the situation in such a calm, matter-of-fact manner, and his heart sank. If what he said was true, then the chances of anyone finding them were remote.

  If he could just find Eden, maybe they could figure out a way of getting back to the campground before the guy took an axe to them or whatever else he had planned. But for now it was just a case of keeping him sweet while trying to survive the mother of all headaches.

  ‘Come with me,’ said Jefferson, getting up from his chair. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  Eleven

  Cal tried to stand and immediately sat down again, still weak from whatever it was Jefferson had put in his drink. But he didn’t want to appear unwilling, so he took a deep breath and got to his feet.

  ‘Yeah, it’ll do that to you.’ Jefferson nodded and smiled. ‘Should wear off in an hour or so.’

  He opened the door and led Cal through what appeared to be a living-cum-dining area. To one side there was a hardwood table with four chairs around it, although Cal guessed that three of the chairs probably never got used. On the table were piles of paper and a number of unwashed coffee cups, together with a jar of honey and half a loaf of bread.

  In the centre of the room was a faded blue sofa with a crocheted blanket thrown over it, of the kind you might expect to see in a home belonging to an older person. There was a small kitchen at the far end, separated from the main room by a breakfast bar. On the top of the breakfast bar were more papers and a mug containing half a dozen pencils.

  Jefferson liked to keep himself busy, that was for sure.

  But busy doing what?

  ‘As you can see,’ said Jefferson who had noticed Cal looking around, ‘I like to live a simple life. But,’ he added, his eyes flashing defensively, ‘don’t go mistaking me for some backwoods hicky-boy with a brain in my backside. I went to college, you know.’

  ‘OK,’ said Cal, not knowing why Jefferson felt it important to tell him this.

  ‘And not just any college, either. I was at Harvard. You know what they wrote in my high-school yearbook?’

  Cal shook his head and looked at the black and white photographs on the wall of a boy with his mother, a boy with his dog. ‘No. What did they write?’