The Evil Within the Woods

by Kevin J. Fitzgerald

  The more Sivic looked at Watershine, he realized the Teinche was not fleeing in fear of the dogs. The dogs were only something tangible—for now. Watershine fled from something else; something hidden, something intangible, something faceless and nameless, something unseen, something . . .

  Something has come, Sivic recalled Watershine’s ghostly words from the estaclah earlier.

  What was the elusive ‘something’ Watershine sensed?

  Why did it haunt him so?

  Sivic looked to see a few of the other bucks now, the milpas of Firhouse warenne. They ran mechanically, faces to the ground. One word described what Sivic observed: survival.

  Where on earth are the trees?! his mind screamed.

  Surely they had not come this far down the slope!

  Then a horrible thought occurred to him: What if they were running in circles? What if – in the noise and confusion – they had gotten turned around inside this blasted mist! As if to mock his thoughts, from all around the horrid siren droned on and on. Sivic glanced over his shoulder. He saw only white mist behind them. But he knew the dogs were there, somewhere, lurking like sharks below the surface of calm waters. Suddenly, Sivic knew what he had to do. A kind of sadness welled up inside him. The same kind of sadness he had felt when he and Watershine said goodbye at Tanglewood so long ago.

  Between gasping breaths, he struggled out, “It’s been . . . good to run . . . beside you again, Teinche . . . But now,” Sivic panted, trying to think of the right thing to say.

  Watershine looked at him. “Sivic?”

  “Run on!” Sivic shouted and stopped short.

  The mist swallowed Watershine and the other bucks until Sivic was alone in the field. His heart hammered wildly in his chest. From somewhere ahead – out of the mist into which the others disappeared – his name came back: “Sivic!” It sent chills up his spine. Then, it came again, this time from further away: “Siviiiiic!!!”

  Slowly, hesitantly, Sivic turned from the sound of his own name to where he knew the dogs would be coming. He crouched, ready to run. The dogs appeared, emerging like hideous phantoms from another realm into our own. Pink tongues lolled from their hungry mouths—mouths which hung open in evil grins. Their pace accelerated; something which seemed impossible. As soon as Sivic saw them, he questioned his wisdom. He did not have time to figure out if what he had done was right. He could only live with the reality that it had been done. Now, he must fulfill the act which – just a few moments ago – had seemed so noble . . . but now seemed so foolish.

  So he ran—ran with everything he had!

  The dogs barreled after him like greedy boulders. Their paws ripped and tore at the heather behind him. He could feel their warm breath on his haunches, could sense their yellow eyes boring into his back. Sivic turned sharply to the left, away from the direction the others had gone. Within moments, he had made it to the woods. The glaring mist and roaring siren abruptly seemed things of memory or nightmare. Sivic thought he might have a chance!

  But it only got worse.

  Rabbits are not forest-dwellers. They typically live in fields. His progress was slowed as he entered the wood. He did his best to fight along through the cold, and darkness, and wet. He entered the woods in a different place than where they had emerged earlier that night. Sharp things pierced tender paws. Something large and prickly struck him in the eye, causing it to water. Still he ran. Before long he had reached the dirt road, crossing it quickly. Then, he was splashing through a shallow brook. All the time the monsters kept steadily behind him.

  “We see you, rabbit!” one of them snarled. “We’re coming for you!”

  They laughed.

  Sivic realized with morbid fascination that the dogs were not trying to catch him. They were merely wearing him down so that, when he gave up, he would not resist. He darted through a hollow log and out the other side, drawing a certain sense of satisfaction when one of the dogs ran headlong into the log itself, cursing loudly.

  How long had they been running?

  Were the others safe?

  Where was he going?

  Would he ever see Jola and his young ‘un again?

  Sivic’s legs quivered. His lungs split with cold. At last, the trees released him, and he was in an open field again. It was the field with the ctiansu they’d crossed earlier that night. He knew where he was! Overhead, Sivic could see the ghostly silhouette of an owl against the full moon, drifting lazily upon the breeze. For a moment, he was angry. Why didn’t the owl help him? He wondered at the words of Watershine earlier: that a time would come when all chendrith would unite. Watching the owl now, Sivic questioned that possibility, and frustration gave way to calm resignation. Perhaps it was the lazy movements of the owl having some kind of effect on him, but Sivic felt too exhausted to go any further.

  This would be his end, of that he was certain.

  The world began to slow.

  Then he heard a sound, huge and heavy, from somewhere up ahead. There were voices. Not the voices of the chendrith, but Man-voices, elahs slah. The pungent smell of the black strip invaded his nose.

  He was almost home!

  Sivic glanced over his shoulder and saw the dogs lagging behind. Had they also reached a place of resignation with this pursuit? He could hope! The ground sloped up toward the black strip. With his heart firing like a jack-hammer in his chest, Sivic pushed on. His brain screamed commands to his legs, but they refused to obey. Behind him, the dogs found new energy, and gained on him with ridiculous ease. Sivic heard their voices again: no longer taunting, but chanting something foreign. It was not the common language of the chendrith. Their voices threatened to call up wild, obscene things with their words. Their voices seemed to rush past him and turn upon him, driving him back like a strong headwind, refusing his escape. His body tensed with fear. The world spun. Sounds crashed. And as he neared the black strip – straining every fiber of his being – Sivic did not realize he was screaming.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Fear in the Night”

  A high-pitched noise woke him.

  He sat up and listened, ears cocked. At first, all he heard were the same sounds of the elahs working at the black strip. His nose worked methodically. He waited, and then lowered himself again, assuming it must have been the far-off cry of a kestrel or some other night hunter.

  Then, the sound came again: a thin, warbling cry, filled with raw emotion.

  His throat went dry.

  It was the scream of a trapped rabbit.

  Somehow, he knew.

  “Da!” he cried, and took off from where he had kept watch on the elahs.

  Time had obviously passed. The night had come on full. The elahs were working with huge, bright lights now. He ran blindly through the darkness of deep dusk, save for those lights, allowing them to guide him to the black strips. The screaming became louder and louder.

  What was happening?!

  He had never heard his da scream before and panic seized him. He chanted over and over as he ran: “Da… Da… Da…”

  The young ‘un tore through the tall grass and made his way to the edge of the black strip, poking his head through the brambles there. As he did, his da emerged through the small hole in the bottom of the rock wall on the far side of the black strip. His da looked frightened and confused. As the young ‘un watched, his da did the impossible and rushed unthinkingly onto the black strips—right into a circle of elahs!

  The young ‘un’s heart rose in his throat. The elahs took no notice of his da. They slaved away like drones, with singular focus on the black strip. The whole scene was hot with smells, black smoke, shadows and light, all swirled together in a sickening headache of pollution and noise. The young ‘un never lost sight of his da. Sivic dodged skillfully through obstacles, masterfully evading discovery.

  He’s going to make it! the young ‘un thought.

  But Sivic’s feet became hung up in the hot, steaming black stuff that covered the black strip. He ripped and pulled,
and stumbled and fell, wallowing in the tar. The young ‘un watched as Sivic’s fur became dark and matted with thick, black patches. His Father was stuck, but kept fighting. This was so unlike his da. Normally, Sivic would have slowed down, and worked himself out of such a situation calmly. Instead, he seemed gripped by an unseen panic and fear.

  What made his da charge so blindly onto the black strip, without even thinking about injury or capture?

  As if to answer, from behind the rock wall on the opposite side of the black strip, two black shapes appeared; two heads, panting.

  Grinning.

  With something like dread, the young ‘un saw a large, black bird land upon the wall between those shapes. The three shadowy figures watched with mad glee as Sivic struggled in the freshly-poured tarmac of Route 29. But amid the terror of watching his da struggle, the young rabbit’s attention was arrested by something else. For a brief moment, he thought the large black bird had a single red eye. Then it was gone – forgotten in an instant – and the young ‘un focused on his da again. “Da!” he cried. As his panic grew, he screamed it again: “Da!”

  Sivic heard the young ‘un and looked up, still fighting to free himself from the dreaded black strip. As he did, a large black shadow lumbered out of the steam and heat nearby; something huge and heavy. An elahs-peilo – a “man-thing” – was lurching toward him, belching terrible smoke as it came. Sivic screamed. His voice was swallowed in a high-pitched work whistle.

  With a final burst of energy, Sivic scrambled around to see the young ‘un staring at him from the brambles along the side of the road. Beyond him lay Jola and their home.

  Things slowed down.

  We never know the last time we will see the things that have become so familiar.

  We always find ourselves wishing we had more time.

  Sivic wanted the opportunity to teach the young ‘un how to be a proper buck, the rules of the chendray, and the way of all chendrith. He wanted to speak of how to choose the right doe, to properly dig a run, and so many other things.

  But Sivic knew he was never going to have that chance.

  At least he had gotten to see this young nuad – his son – one last time.

  Sivic’s eyes met the young ‘un’s in a long, final gaze. His heart swelled with pride and love. Though his eyes were filled with terror and tears, the corners of Sivic’s mouth turned up slightly. The moment seemed to last forever. As before – when they’d parted ways earlier on that fateful night – something passed between them. Both of them knew. Yet neither of them had the chance to say anything.

  For seconds later, Sivic whirled and screamed and everything went black.

  The young ‘un saw something in his da’s eyes, but couldn’t quite place it. Something seemed… big… or weighty. As though his da had come into a secret of some kind that he knew was too monumental to express in mere words. But in that moment, when – not the thing itself – but still the knowing of the thing was conveyed from Father to son without words, the young ‘un resolved that – someday, no matter what – he would discover the secret!

  The young ‘un watched in horror, wanting to call to his da.

  A huge elahs-peilo roared between them, eclipsing their view. Mechanical sounds swallowed all others. Warm air smelled artificial and poisonous. An eternity passed; a time during which so many thoughts collided in his mind. A time during which he noticed huge black swoops and lines emblazoned upon the nondescript white side of the huge elahs-peilo. The young ‘un did not know what those marks meant (nor that they were human letters), but he knew they were important.

  He focused on them; memorized the way they looked.

  Those letters did not leave his mind for some time.

  The young ‘un strained to see around the elahs-peilo, as though swaying this way or that would somehow force the thing out of his way! When at last the steamroller was gone, there was no trace of his da anywhere. The area of black strip where, just seconds ago, Sivic had fought to free himself was nothing more than a smooth hot patch of steaming tar.

  The young ‘un stared disbelievingly, and waited.

  Perhaps he wasn’t seeing correctly. Perhaps his da had freed himself at the last possible second and would come crashing through the brambles any second now. The young ‘un swallowed the heat rising in his throat and blinked away the tears threatening his sight. He waited, and waited, and waited. His da was not there. Sivic had simply been there one minute but now, he was gone.

  The young ‘un hung his head and whimpered.

  A mechanical wail made him look up.

  The elahs droned on.

  Peering over the rock wall on the other side of Route 29 through the black smoke, he saw the cold, insipid gaze of the shadowy figures haunting the scene. He had forgotten about them.

  “What do you want?!” he screamed. “Go away!”

  The two dogs grinned. The young ‘un saw for certain now a single red glow where the large bird’s one eye should have been. It burned like a cold ember in the unforgiving grey of night. The young ‘un knew he should run, but something held him. Whether from morbid fascination or quiet, sleeping resolve, the young ‘un stayed and stared right back at the bird.

  “You finished what you came for!” he whispered.

  Or had they?

  The crow tilted back its head and let out a cry like the conquering laugh of a madman. The young rabbit wished the demons away, whoever they were. He collapsed to the ground and curled up in a ball, pulling his ears tightly over his face, perhaps to wipe the memory clean of all he had seen this night.

  He wept.

  His da was not gone. They were safe at home with Ma.

  The shadowy figures were nothing more than the night playing tricks on his weary mind.

  The black strips were a nightmare; and the elahs—his imagination!

  He was playing in Tanglewood with friends.

  All was well.

  The young ‘un let the thoughts cascade over him like a baptism. He hoped his tears would somehow water these dreams into the fruits of a forgotten reality. A cold rain began to fall.

  Sometime later – as though sensing it from far away – something seemed to lift him. The young ‘un wondered if he might be dying. He did not fight. In his mind, his legs ran, but in reality, he lay utterly still, unable to move.

  He couldn’t do anything.

  Cold, wet, alone, and afraid, the young ‘un had been reduced to nothing more than an inactive lump of matted fur.

  And the cold rain fell on—harsh and unforgiving.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Found”

  “Look, Father.”

  “What is it, son?”

  Their voices raised above the lashing rain.

  The son bent down and looked at the small shape huddled within the nettles by the side of the road. Carefully, he parted them and saw the rain had matted the poor animal’s fur. Unless one was examining – as he was – one would not have been able to tell just what the animal was or even if it was an animal. The creature was gaunt, and shivering.

  “It’s a rabbit,” the son whispered.

  The father worked to get the tire back in place now. The puncture happened about fifty yards back. Normally his driver would have changed the tire. But the driver wasn’t with them tonight.

  It was just him and Joshua: father and son.

  When they’d set out on the evening drive, the rain hadn’t even been a suggestion. It had been a lovely evening. But as was so often the case in these parts, the weather changed dramatically and quickly.

  It had been a while since Theo changed a tire. So long, in fact, he had almost forgotten how to do it! As he got out to reacquaint himself with the process, he had instructed Joshua to stay in the car. Now, the boy was standing off to the side of the road, just within the throw of the car’s headlights, stooping and looking at something.

  “What’s that?” the father asked loudly. Rain ricocheted off the freshly-paved tarmac into his face. He bent forw
ard, working the jack. A few pylons and other D.O.T. paraphernalia still lay about the area. No doubt it had been one of their discarded implements that had found its mark in their front left tire.

  “Rabbit!” the son shouted.

  Theo nodded.

  The son looked back and reached for the rabbit. It made no attempt to shrink from his hands or move at all, which was strange for these animals. Joshua had seen other rabbits in the fields at dusk. Whenever they heard him coming, they would bolt. But this one stayed motionless; even its eyes were closed. The only indication the poor creature was even alive was the rapid in-and-out rhythm of its sides. It looked as though it were in shock.

  What could have happened to the poor thing?

  Carefully, Joshua lifted the poor creature out of the mire and into his arms.

  §

  Theo shook himself off and squeezed behind the steering wheel. He pulled the hood of his slicker back from his face, and noticed that Joshua was sitting somewhat hunched in the seat beside him, holding something.

  “What have you got there, son?” Theo wiped the rain from his face, breathing a bit heavy.

  “It’s a rabbit, Father,” the son said, looking up to meet his father’s gaze. The son lifted the dripping, wet rabbit for his father to see. “I think it must be . . . lost,” the boy concluded.

  Upon getting a better view of the pitiful shape in the son’s hands, the father was unable to fend off the familiar flood of compassion typical for him. He had been in the pet store business for almost twenty-five years now, and still he had a soft spot for them. It was why he did what he did. After all, wasn’t that what “The Kingdom” was all about?

  The father looked from the rabbit to Joshua, and sighed. Together, they smiled. Nothing needed to be said. Joshua lowered the rabbit to his lap. Theo turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Windshield wipers jumped to action revealing the black strip of Route 29 before them. The heater thrust warm air into their faces.

  Theo remembered a time when all this land around them had been just that: land. As was often the case for him, he wondered absently about what so many referred to as “progress”. Theo had his doubts. He wiped his face again. “Not to worry, son,” he said and pulled the car off the shoulder onto Route 29. “We’ll get him home and get him fixed up. You’ve found him now.”