by B. V. Larson
“Yes!” roared Brigman. “Burn you bastard!”
“More gas!” I shouted and grabbed up one of the extra buckets, I wasn’t sure whose it was and I didn’t care as I heaved it up into the center of the inferno. The ladies did their work better now, emboldened, and tossed their buckets deep into the flames despite the choking black smoke and searing heat.
The tree lurched into gear again, over its initial shock, and kept on its original path. Behind it the white pickup dragged, the front wheels must have been in park because we all heard the tires as they were hauled squealing over the pavement. Some of us naturally moved behind it now, not wanting to be in its path, and we threw more buckets of gas on its back. The pickup’s tires caught and the white painted fenders turned black.
Then that massive arm flexed and the pickup went up and over in an arc. We all watched with our mouths forming perfect O’s of surprise. Flaming, screeching, tortured metal, the tree wielded the pickup like a club and smashed it down with fantastic force on the small peaked roof over the entryway. The old wood and bricks exploded and crashed to rubble. The door to the lobby disappeared.
Someone was screaming. Several someones, in fact. I looked this way and that, taking in multiple disasters at once. Carlene’s arm was on fire somehow, Mrs. Hatchell was trying to bat the flames out. There were legs sticking up from under the burning pickup and the smashed entry way roof—I recognized Brigman’s shoes. And near me, running to me in fact, was Monika with one of the flying things on her back, trying to sink in its fangs.
I grabbed her and slashed at the thing and cut it away. Then I felt fangs in my own neck and howled. I struggled, went to my knees, clutching at the fleshy leaf of meat. I could feel a fluttering sensation in the wound, it must have had a tongue or something like it to lap up my blood.
The tree was still in the game, too. It lifted the pickup a second time, and I could see right then that it was going to destroy the entire building and kill us all. The flames had only enraged it, only blackened its skin and filled it with a terrible resolve. Soon, the gasoline would probably burn off and the green wood beneath wouldn’t burn.
There was a strange, tremendous ripping sound that at first I couldn’t identify. Then it sounded again, and I saw the tree’s arm crack open. Bright orange-white wood-flesh appeared in stark contrast to the blackened bark. That dark sappy alien blood sprayed out and bubbled in the flames. The ripping sound came again and I saw the arm completely come off and drop the white pickup back into the rubble. I looked for the source of the noise and saw it was the Captain, walking toward us across the parking lot, carrying an M4 rifle. Set for full-auto, he had emptied a clip into its elbow and the tree’s only arm had torn off under the weight of the pickup. He was messing with it now, no doubt it had misfired or jammed or needed more ammo.
The tree seemed to give up then. It shuddered one last time as the flames built up to a roaring height, scorching the full length of its trunk and even the antler-like upper branches. It toppled over, flattening an imported SUV in a handicapped parking spot. A shower of cinders and choking black smoke rolled out over everyone as we fled.
Vance and Monika worked on the thing that had my neck. They pulled it off after breaking their nails and roaring with exertion. Someone put a dirty rag on my neck. I knew I would live. I found myself on my knees beside the dying tree, which still occasionally heaved or shook its roots spasmodically.
We had won the day.
Nineteen
“Thanks for coming,” I told the Captain. My voice was hoarse, the air was full of smoke and I almost choked on my words.
“Better late than never,” agreed the Captain.
“What brought you now?” I asked.
He eyed me and said, “I wasn’t going to come. But I got curious, so after the storm, I went scouting. Somehow, I was in the neighborhood when you guys went for this tree. I saw the flames and came running from a few blocks off.”
“Good thing.”
He nodded appreciatively at the tree’s death throes and whistled. “I don’t think even my place would stand up to that thing.”
“What did you see on the way over here? Anything new?” We both knew what kind of new things I was talking about.
“No other trees gone bad, not like this one. But stay away from vines. If you see some big bushy vine growing up someone’s abandoned house on a trellis, just keep away.”
I nodded, and tried to digest the news. It was very good that every tree in town hadn’t awakened, but then again, why had this particular one come to life? It suggested something other than randomness, and I did not like the sound of that.
Monika came over to me and gave me a water bottle. The rest of the group were tending to the wounded and beating down the last of the flames. Once the gasoline had burned off, the fire had died down in intensity. I saw Vance prying open a window to get into the lobby. We’d have to build a new entrance.
The Captain was looking over Monika. “Maybe you were right about us banding up together.”
“There are advantages,” I said.
The Captain’s demeanor changed and he went down on one knee next to where I was sitting on a bumper. I still had that dirty rag pressed against my neck. The bleeding had stopped.
“I’ve decided I’m going to have to get involved,” he said to me quietly.
I just looked at him.
“Before,” he said, and it sounded like he was a bit apologetic, an impression I’ve never gotten from him about anything. “Before, I thought I could just ride this out. Life often takes wrong turns, Gannon. There are bad spots in many people’s lives. Genocides, plagues, famines. People in this country have no knowledge of things like that, but I’ve seen chaos and destruction many times.
“Usually, I just ride these things out. I go to ground, wait until the storm passes, and then come out when it’s safe. But now, after these last weeks, and after seeing this thing here…” he trailed off for a moment, staring at the tree. “What I’m saying is that I don’t think this particular bout with chaos is going to get better by itself. I think it’s getting worse, not better. I think we are going to have to fix it, before it fixes us.”
“What do you have in mind?”
He leaned forward, but before he could tell me, Monika showed up again and put her hand on my back.
“He’s done enough. He’s done today,” she told the Captain coldly.
He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. “Indeed. I see how it is. Well, we’ll talk again later, Gannon.”
He walked off to help the others with the wreckage.
“I don’t like that one,” said Monika.
“He’s okay,” I told her. But quietly, to myself, I wondered if she was right. And I wondered what he had in mind.
* * *
We had a long day of digging out the entrance. At the bottom of the mess Brigman waited with the infinite patience of the dead. The strange thing was that the day turned out to be beautiful, in a cold, blustery way. The sun burned off the last of the haze and there was nothing like those red bolts of alien lightning in the sky. The air off the lake was crisp and fresh, this was especially welcome as it blew the stink of the smoldering tree away to the south as we worked.
Eventually, we got Brigman out of there and got the body onto a tarp for easy transportation. Holly Nelson was with us when we pulled him out, watching closely. Her brow was deeply furrowed, but she didn’t cry, unlike a lot of the adults. I wondered again how she was going to grow up, if we got that far with life.
We dug two parallel graves for Brigman and Erik Foti. We dug the graves in the atrium that was in the center of the dentist rooms. It had always been there, a small, enclosed area surrounded with windows for the patients to gaze out into. It had been meant to look peaceful and to take one’s mind off the sound of the drill and the scratching of steel on your teeth. It doubled well as a cemetery. In Erik’s grave, all we had to drop in was some strips of bloody cloth and a set of broken headphone
s.
Doc Wilton mumbled a few words and then Mrs. H. told us a story or two she knew about the victims. She finished up with an ominous note.
“We lost two citizens to a single bedeviled tree, yet we are surrounded by countless thousands of trees. We must be stronger of spirit and wiser of mind to survive this trial as our ancestors survived such dark times before us. May they both rest in peace.”
We mumbled Amen, and filled in the shallow holes.
* * *
The Captain slid into a chair next to me in the cafeteria. It had been more of a break station, but we’d set up some propane stoves and a store of supplies and tables, making it the eatery we all shared. Monika was gone, and I immediately suspected that he’d waited until I was alone to come talk to me.
I sighed for a moment and nodded to him over my cup of coffee. It was all the greeting I could muster.
“Nothing takes it out of you like burying a friend,” he said in the tone of someone quoting a proverb.
I nodded again.
“Burned out?” he asked.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Going to spend another night in these walls?”
I looked at him. He seemed tense, which was normal for him. “What’d you have in mind?”
He leaned forward, close, a bit too close. I tolerated it with difficulty.
“I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” I demanded, annoyed with him. I had almost said, “Well, go then.”
“You’ve got a traitor in your midst.”
I sucked in a heavy breath and let it out. I blinked, almost rolled my eyes. Imagine that, the Captain had a conspiracy theory. Suddenly, I found I couldn’t take this guy anymore. Today had been too much, I was beyond humoring this nut. I leaned up to his ear. “I know,” I said, “I know that little girl Holly is really one of them.”
He pulled back from me and gave me a strange look. I enjoyed it. For just a second, I was the nut with the crazy theory upsetting him. It didn’t last.
He jumped up angrily and stomped out.
“Ah, come on,” I called after him. “You’ve got to hang on to a sense of humor, man.” Even as I said it, I realized I wasn’t sure that the Captain even had a sense of humor. There had never been any evidence of it.
I watched him go and sat there a few seconds, sipping my coffee. Screw him, I thought. But after a few more moments, a sense of urgency came over me. What if he really did know something? Muttering curses, I followed him.
I found him outside, standing beside the fallen tree. I realized he had been waiting for me. He’d known I would follow. The sun had already dropped down low in the horizon, it must have been late afternoon. He poked at the tree gingerly with his M4. Wisps of smoke still rose from the trunk.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me.”
He cocked his head and stared at me for a moment. “Gannon, you and your little tribe here are doomed.”
I just stared at him, waiting for more.
“All you are doing is reacting, playing defense. It is a losing strategy in the long run. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but I don’t think I can make it through this alone.”
“So we are marginally useful to you. That’s nice. So what else should we be doing?”
He ignored my barb. “You can’t win a war without an offense. And you can’t mount an offense without intel. I’m suggesting we need to go scouting. You and me.”
I nodded. “The Preacher had the same thing in mind. We’ve been a bit busy these last few days, however. What about the other thing?”
“The traitor?” he said, nodding. “Yes…”
He walked around the tree to the midsection. He tapped the tree with the muzzle of his rifle. “I talked to a few people about what happened here, and about what else has been happening. You had three riflemen on the flyers, right? Two shots hit, one missed. They fired again, and all three shots hit, but one of them hit the tree right in the face, essentially.”
I examined the spot he was tapping at. There was a grooved streak across the blackened trunk. I suppose it could have been the spot the bullet that had awakened the creature had hit.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” I demanded. “You are suggesting it was done on purpose? Look, someone just panicked or just plain screwed the pooch and shot the tree. We aren’t pros here.”
He nodded. “I thought about that. It’s a plausible cover. But there’s something much more damning.”
“What?” I demanded.
“Have you checked out the good Doctor Wilton’s foot, lately?”
My face fell. I knew right then and there that he had me. I knew too, that no matter how this played out, it could not be good for anyone.
Twenty
I didn’t want to do it, that’s what it came down to. It was like firing your favorite Auntie, but far, far worse than that. I felt like the traitor, not Wilton. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t true, that somehow, the good lady had just been hurt, that’s why she limped. I told myself that anyone could have been depressed by the latest events, and that we shouldn’t give in to the witch-burning mentality. Then, of course, I had to wonder… Had they been burning real witches in Salem? Had they done it all not out of hysteria, but out of reasoned desperation? History had always been unkind to people in our situation. We were brutes, performing great evils by misplacing our fears.
The Captain was watching me coldly. I’m sure he knew my thoughts, but seemed to have no compassion for them. What had he done in his own dark past to be so cool now? Had he dragged half-sleeping men out of their tents in the night and executed them in the blowing sands of some forsaken desert? Had all feelings of guilt been burned out of his soul long since? I didn’t know, but I did know, as he watched me, that nothing I did would surprise him.
“Why aren’t you urging me to drag her out here and yank her boots off and cut her down if she’s hiding something in there?”
The Captain shrugged. “This is your show. You invited me here. It’s your play, kid.”
I looked at him, not sure if I should feel better or worse. “What if I decide to do nothing?”
He shook his head. “You won’t be able to do that. You’re a man of action. It will drive you nuts.”
That was true enough. Just thinking about it for five minutes had left me torn up inside and I couldn’t imagine trying to sleep without resolving this. Without knowing.
“What do you think the others will do?”
The Captain lit a cigarette. As far as I knew, he was the last smoker in Indiana, unless you counted Monika, who had only smoked once since I’d met her. “I don’t know. Most of them will follow your lead, whatever you do. But some, they might just go for her. Like that Mrs. Hatchell. There’s cold steel in that woman’s eyes.”
“What should we do with her, assuming it’s true? We should know ahead of time how we are going to handle it.”
He nodded. “Good thinking. As I see it there are three choices. You put a bullet in her head, or you exile her, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or, maybe, since most of her is human, you chop off the offending piece.”
I snorted and shook my head. “I’m not going to start chopping parts off of people.”
“Well, from our point of view, it’s the best way.”
“And why is that?” I demanded.
“We need her. She’s our medical personnel, all of them wrapped in one package. The only way the others will accept her—and this is a maybe—is if she’s minus whatever is in that boot of hers.”
I actually thought about it for a minute before shaking my head. “I just can’t see it. It’s insane.”
He shrugged. “So which of the other two choices do you prefer?”
“We aren’t sure that she’s done anything. So we can’t just kill her.”
The Captain nodded. “Banishment then. Like I said, it’s your show.” He tossed his cigarette down and crushed it with his boot into the parking lot,
making a tiny fresh black spot.
I realized then that it was time to go inside and actually do this crazy thing. I wondered if she would show us willingly, or if we would have to grab her. I turned to the Captain before we went in and stopped him.
“What would you choose?”
He looked at me for a second. “You really want to know?
“Yeah.”
“I’d chain her to her office chair, lop her foot off with that saber of yours and then let it ride, to see if she returned to normal. If nothing else, we’d learn something.”
I shook my head and forced open our makeshift door. We’d cut it out of plywood and it didn’t really fit the half-demolished entry way.
Grim-faced, I entered the lobby. The Captain followed me like a headsman following his lord. I wondered which of us was the wise man and which of us was mad.
* * *
We did it privately, in her office. She had a drowned-cat look on her face when we both marched in there, looking very serious. I think she knew right away, but she played it straight.
“What’s the matter, boys? Not another storm.”
“No Doc,” I said quietly. I put my saber on the conference table between us. The Captain closed the door quietly behind us and stood there. Wilton’s eyes flicked over each of these significant elements of the scene.
“Well, something is up. Just tell me,” she said, and she almost snapped it, suddenly irritable.
I gestured brusquely toward her leg. “What happened to your foot, Doc? Some kind of accident?”
She crossed her arms, but otherwise didn’t move. She glared at both of us. “Yes, obviously.”
I nodded and took a step closer. “Been noticing that limp of yours.”
