The Trees Have Eyes

by Tobias Wade

  Tonight, right now, that changed. Even though she couldn’t see Ahanu’s face, there was something about him that frightened her. She couldn’t say why. All she knew was that something had changed in the man she loved.

  “Did you catch it?” she asked. Her voice came out as a whisper that sounded too loud to her own ears.

  Ahanu didn’t respond. He stalked to the bed and stood looming over his wife and child.

  “Ahanu,” Sakima slowly said, “Say something. Please.”

  As if sensing the tension in her sleep, the baby woke. Her cries filled the makeshift hut, piercing through Ahanu’s head and sending him flying from their home. Sakima didn’t call after him or try to follow. She tried to comfort the baby in the best way possible—breastfeeding.

  The baby drifted off mid-nurse. Sakima wished it were that easy for her. Sounds of Ahanu prowling around their home kept her awake all night.

  When she exited the hut the next morning Ahanu had a fire crackling in the stone-lined pit. His back was to her, his shoulders set in a straight line, his spine as erect as a tree. She knew him well enough by now to know something was deeply wrong. Even without seeing his face she knew it. It wasn’t just in his rigid posture; it was also in the air around him. The vibe he was putting off screamed of wrongness.

  Sakima gave him a wide berth as she walked to the small crackling fire. She sat opposite him and watched the flames, not wanting to look into his eyes. She didn’t want to see the madness that had taken over her husband.

  “The trees are so loud,” Ahanu shouted. Sakima nearly fell off her perch on the log. “They talked all night. They say it is always watching me. That it is waiting for me to turn my back. That is when it will strike. It will take me out first. Then it will come for you and the baby.”

  Sakima had no idea what he was talking about; she was scared to ask. She glanced uneasily around at the trees encasing them. They were as silent as they ever were.

  There hadn’t been a wind last night, but that must be what Ahanu meant. Sometimes it wasn’t hard to imagine a voice in the wind that ruffled the trees. But she hadn’t heard anything during the night, except his angry steps.

  “I think we should try to find the others,” Sakima said after a while. “There must be others that escaped. We can’t be the only ones left.”

  Ahanu didn’t seem to hear her. His attention was on a tree directly to his left. His head was cocked as if he was listening to someone else speaking, and he looked confused by what they were saying.

  He listened for a long time. Sakima lost track of the minutes as she watched him, his expression changing from confusion to rage to wariness, until finally all expression melted away. He had come to understand and accept whatever he was hearing. Sakima didn’t know if that was a good thing.

  “It will leave us alone.”

  Sakima started. She felt like it had been at least an entire day since either of them had spoken.

  “It will leave us alone,” Ahanu repeated. “If we give it a sacrifice.”

  “A sacrifice?” Sakima asked when his head turned and his gaze slid to hers. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to creep down her back at the look in his eyes. His gaze was hard. She could see the madness lurking inside that had taken hold of his brain. She knew the man before her was no longer her husband. The hard weeks and lack of food had driven him to become something else.

  Ahanu stood, his eyes never leaving hers as he skirted the fire and headed toward her. She jumped to her feet before he could get too close and began to back away. Her eyes darted around the small clearing, looking for an opening to run. As Ahanu stalked toward her, she noticed how much weight he had lost. Where his clothes had fit him perfectly before, they now hung off his bony frame. He looked like a child who had yet to grow into his clothes.

  Sakima’s eyes darted to the hand at his belt. His fist closed around the hilt of his knife. She stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Was he really going to kill her? His eyes flicked to the bundle in her arms. Her baby. He wasn’t going to kill Sakima. He was going to kill her baby. Without a backward glance to see if he gave pursuit, she turned and fled into the forest. The loud crashes behind told her he was chasing after her.

  There was only one thought on her mind as she ran: she had to get her baby to safety. She couldn’t let him have the baby, no matter what.

  Clutching the infant to her chest, Sakima crashed through the trees. Her footsteps were too loud. She needed to be quieter if she had any hope of getting away, but how was it possible to run full out without making noise?

  The baby began to cry. She glanced down at the girl. Tears fell on the black-haired head. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. A tree branch slapped her face, but she kept moving. Warm blood trickled down her cheek, mixing with the flowing stream of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the baby. “I’m so sorry.” She had no idea what had happened to Ahanu. Life had been difficult since coming to the forest. Food had been scarce and it was lonely with just the three of them. But she thought they had been managing just fine. How had this madness been able to take hold of her husband?

  The sound of pursuit suddenly stopped. Sakima continued to run a few paces before slowing to a walk. She strained to hear over the sound of her own ragged breathing. A sound to her right made her jump. She whirled to face it with one hand raised to protect her baby.

  There was nothing but trees.

  Someone whispered behind her. She whirled again, frantically searching between the trunks. There were no signs of life, nothing to indicate she wasn’t alone.

  “Ahanu.” Her voice cracked as she tried to speak his name. It came out as a hoarse whisper; she couldn’t manage anything else. “Don’t… Don’t do this.”

  A twig snapped to her left and she broke into a sprint before she could see if it was Ahanu or an animal.

  About twenty seconds into her run, she noticed a dark shape keeping pace with her off to her right. When she turned her head to look at it the thing disappeared. She didn’t stop running. The thing soon returned when she looked forward again. Without turning her head, she glanced at it. It disappeared again and reappeared when she looked away. She studied it out of the corner of her eye. As long as she didn’t look at it directly, it stayed in her peripheral vision. It didn’t look like Ahanu; it didn’t look like anything she had seen before.

  Whatever it was, it was the same shape as a man. Black arms and legs pumped in time with hers. Clothes were indistinguishable from flesh. Every part of the thing was black, as if it were a shadow of a man and not an actual man. Was Ahanu right? Was there something in the forest? That would explain the madness. A monster of some sort driving him insane made more sense to her than Ahanu losing his mind on his own. He had always been so strong. Or was she losing her mind too?

  She was still watching the strange shape when something plowed into her, knocking both her and the baby to the ground. She managed to hold the baby and twist her body so she landed on her back, keeping the baby safely in her arms. She fought with her assailant and managed to knee the creature. She heard the air rush out of its lungs and it rolled off her. Her heart raced as she scrambled back against a tree.

  “Ahanu?”

  He glared at her, one hand clutching his stomach, and desperately trying to get his breath back. If he was here with her, then what was the shape she had seen in the trees? Was he working with the creature? The thing must have been the distraction so Ahanu could make his move against her and the baby.

  Ahanu advanced on her, still clutching his stomach. His small knife was hanging by his side in his other hand.

  “Why are you doing this?” she screamed. She held the baby so tightly against her chest that it began to wail, but she didn’t lessen her hold. She wouldn’t let him have her child.

  “Hungry,” Ahanu moaned. His eyes flicked to the baby then back to her. His gaunt face held no emotion but his black eyes burned with an i
ntensity she had never seen in him. If she hadn’t realized it before, she now knew without a doubt that he intended to do her and the baby harm.

  “Give her to me,” Ahanu growled, the hand that had been on his stomach now outstretched toward the baby. “Give her to me!”

  Sakima flinched. Spittle fell from his mouth onto her bloody cheek. He was too close. At any moment, he would reach for the baby and snatch her away. How could she stop him when he was so much stronger than her?

  “Please don’t do this,” Sakima pleaded. It was all she could do, the only thing left to do. “We’re your family, your tribe. We’re supposed to keep each other safe.”

  “No one’s safe. Not out here,” Ahanu growled. “Least of all, you.”

  He lunged for the baby. Sakima tried to fight him off. She held the baby with one arm and scratched his face with the other. It had no effect on him. He kept coming. She bit his ear as they wrestled. Warm blood gushed down her chin and into her mouth. Sakima accidentally swallowed a mouthful. It tasted bitter and strange.

  Ahanu jerked his head back in pain. The blood splattered across Sakima’s face and blinded her to his attacks. She cried out as Ahanu’s strong hands wrapped around the baby and wrenched her free. Even though she couldn’t see him, she lunged for the space he had been. Her nails raked down his face. Ahanu howled and plunged his knife into his wife’s stomach. She fell back against the tree, hands clutching the wound.

  Too much. There was too much blood. She could see again and what she saw as she looked down at her abdomen scared her. Ahanu had wrenched the knife up and to the side before pulling it out. Her insides threatened to spill out when she pulled a hand away to inspect the wound.

  “Ahanu,” she whispered. Too much blood had poured from the gash. She was feeling faint. Black spots dotted her vision.

  Ahanu looked down at her, his chest heaving with the deep breaths he took. Every trace of her husband was gone. The madness had taken him completely. She knew there would be no talking him down. He was lost to her, and soon she would be dead.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, not to her husband, but to her baby.

  The child was strangely quiet. Sakima thought with all the commotion the baby would be screaming her lungs out, but she quietly watched her father as he lowered his face to her arm and sunk his teeth into her flesh.

  That’s when the screaming started.

  Tears flowed from Sakima’s eyes. She tried to stand, to attempt to save her baby one last time. Blackness took over and she fell against the tree. She had lost too much blood to be of any use. She could only watch in horror as her husband devoured their child.

  “Jesus Christ!” I yell. All eyes around the fire turn to me. “What the hell kind of story is that?”

  “Wendigo crave human flesh,” Max says in a low voice. “They eat nothing else. The hunger drives them mad, until they become something else, something more. According to the stories, Ahanu still haunts these woods.”

  Shudders run through the rest of us. We glance uneasily at the forest that surrounds us.

  “I know I’m not going to get any sleep tonight,” Emma murmurs. Syd nods and tries to scoot closer to his girlfriend. They’re practically one person already with how close they’re sitting to each other.

  “Me either,” Julie says, her wide and unblinking eyes not straying from the fire, which is now burning at half its former ferocity. “I’m going to have nightmares about being eaten alive.”

  Max wraps her arm around Julie’s shoulders and holds her close. “I’ll keep you safe,” she says and kisses the top of Julie’s head.

  “Your ancestors were messed up,” I say. Max shoots me a look. “No offense. It’s just, that’s a fucked up story. What kind of deranged mind would come up with something like that?”

  “It’s not a story,” Max insists. “Ahanu was real. Wendigos are real.”

  “Bullshit!” I protest. “Cannibals may exist, but wend—“ A twig snaps in the forest behind me. Emma chokes out a scream. I spin around. “What was that?”

  “Ahanu,” Julie whispers, clutching Max’s hand so tight I can see pain flare in her eyes.

  “Not funny,” I say to Max. “Who’d you get to hide in the forest to scare us after you told that stupid story?”

  Max’s eyes briefly widen.

  “It’s probably a raccoon or something,” Syd says. Another twig snaps behind him and Emma. The two whip around to stare at the black forest. Syd stands and takes a few steps toward the trees before Emma snatches at his hand and pulls him back. He looks down at her.

  “Don’t,” she whispers.

  Julie yelps as a twig breaks behind her and Max. The pair turn but they can’t see anything either.

  “Stop it, Max!” I growl. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I—“ Max starts to retort. She has to stop and swallow. “It’s not me.”

  I glare at her, not believing her. She’s always pulling stunts to scare us. I know her scared act is just that—an act. She’s pretending to be scared to make us believe she hadn’t paid someone to walk around and scare us.

  A scream rents the air. Max spins to find the spot on the log she had vacated moments before is empty.

  “Where’s Julie?” she shouts. Everyone goggles at the empty log. No one moves until another scream pierces the night. We jump from our logs as one and huddle together with our backs to the fire.

  “Max,” I warn. She glances helplessly around at the forest. She stands apart from the rest of us, one foot planted toward the trees, the other facing the group.

  Fear ripples through me as I realize her terror is real. She hadn’t planned anything. The story may have been to frighten us but that’s where it ended. This—whatever is happening—hadn’t been planned.

  “What the hell is going on?” Emma whimpers. “What happened to Julie?”

  “Max!” Julie screams, her voice sounding pained and terror-stricken. Before anyone can say or do anything, Max dashes for the tree line. She disappears into the blackness, calling Julie’s name over and over.

  “We’re dead,” Emma mutters. “We’re all dead.”

  “Shut up!” I yell. “Just shut up!”

  “Hey,” Syd says, jostling me with his shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something else but no one gets to hear what it is.

  A creature steps out of the forest in front of us. It looks similar to a man, like its creator had seen a man and had tried to make something like it. The thing stands upright on two legs. Its arms are longer than any man’s should be, like a gorilla’s. Long, dark claws brush against its knees as it takes three steps toward us. Shoulder length black hair hangs in limp tangles around its face so we can’t see if it has a human visage. Tattered clothes cover its body. The clothes have long since turned black with dirt and age.

  “What the fuck is that?” Syd whispers. Emma is shaking with fright next to him but he doesn’t notice.

  “Wendigo,” I say just as quietly.

  “We’re dead,” Emma says again.

  Silence stretches as the wendigo watches us and we watch it back. No one moves. We hardly breathe.

  “There’s four of us and only one of it,” Syd finally says, his voice low so the creature won’t hear. “If we split up and run in different directions, it can’t catch us.”

  “It’ll catch the person it goes after,” I say. I haven’t blinked since the wendigo stepped out of the forest. My eyes burn and itch, but I don’t want to blink and miss anything.

  “We’ll go in pairs. Two can fight it off,” Syd says.

  Before we can plan anymore, the creature roars and charges us. We scatter in all directions. I end up alone. I don’t see if Emma and Syd stay together. Only one thought crosses my mind: get to the cars at the bottom of the mountain. If I can get there, I’ll be okay. I can only hope I’m headed in the right direction. There hadn’t been time to orient myself and as I crash through the trees, I can’t decipher which directi
on I’m running in.

  I’ve only been running a minute or two when screams rise up all around the forest. First it’s a single scream, then one by one my friends’ death cries tear through me. I run faster with each one until I’m running blind, tree branches slapping at my face. Pain doesn’t register. I barely feel the whips slashing my skin. Blood seeps from a dozen or more gashes, oozing down my raw face. Some slips into my mouth, the sweet tang an assault on my taste buds. But I don’t care. I keep running, knowing the cars are my only salvation.

  Syd screams somewhere to my right; I jump in response. My foot catches on something. I go flying, landing in a jumbled heap on the forest floor. I scramble to my feet. When I try to keep running pain lances up my left leg. Sparks pop in my vision. As I fall back down, I think I momentarily lose consciousness. It’s too dark to see anything. Gingerly, I reach down to feel my ankle. My fingers catch on something sharp and hard protruding from my skin. More pain cascades through me at the touch. I retch and sag against the ground as oblivion briefly overtakes me once more.

  “Dammit!” My voice comes out as a breathless whisper. I’ll get nowhere with a broken ankle. The wendigo will catch me and devour me just like the baby in Max’s story.

  Something moves in the forest to my left. Without waiting to find out what it is, I flop onto my stomach and begin to pull myself across the ground with my arms. I refuse to give up. Giving up means death. As long as some of my limbs still work, I will try to escape.

  Someone collides with me without warning. My breath whooshes out as a foot sinks into my side. The person sprawls over me. A whimper escapes through my clenched teeth as my foot knocks against a rock.

  “Alex?” a female voice calls. “Is that you?”

  “Max? What’s going on? Where is everyone?” I whisper.

  Max crawls to me and blindly feels for my hands. She holds tight, shudders rolling through her and into me. I start when I realize she’s crying. I’ve never seen Max cry before.