Where the Cats Will Not Follow

by Stephen Stromp

  Phillip pivoted mechanically toward the woods. “C’mon,” he murmured.

  I followed Phillip toward the trees. After emerging from the corn, we made our way across the narrow strip of high weeds that lay between the cornfield and the woods. As we approached the trees, the smell of suffocating leaves sweetened the air. Their colors painted the outer shell of the woods vibrant shades of reds, oranges, and yellows. Just before entering, we heard a guttural bellow echo in the distance. I turned to the cornfield. Despite Everett’s clear instruction, I wanted to know what had happened. But Phillip wouldn’t allow it. He gripped the back of my neck and ushered me into the forest.

  17

  Owl in the Treetop

  Phillip escorted me well into the woods. He stopped when we reached a massive oak that had toppled the previous summer during a violent windstorm. Its roots were exposed, yet it refused to fully surrender. Its leafless branches pressed against the ground, arching like giant fingers keeping the trunk suspended. We boosted ourselves onto the floating trunk, our feet dangling over the forest floor. All around us, multicolored leaves dropped intermittently. They landed with gentle taps as they mixed with the forest’s other discarded jewels that lay decomposing.

  Phillip eyed the nearby mound that marked one of the Indian graves. “We were only supposed to scare him,” he began solemnly. “It was only supposed to be a prank. We weren’t supposed to hurt anyone. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  It was true. We hadn’t discussed lining the bottom of the pit with jagged metal. Everett claimed he didn’t know how the metal had gotten there. But it had to have been him. I didn’t put it there. Phillip certainly hadn’t either. “Everett changed the plan. That’s all,” I offered. “And you heard him; Ian got what he deserved.”

  “Just because Everett says something doesn’t make it true! Or right!” Phillip exploded. I turned from him, feeling as though I had just been scolded. I began peeling bark from the trunk. “Ayden?” he asked, switching his tone to apologetic.

  I looked into his blue eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Do you think murder is wrong?”

  “Yes,” I responded without hesitation. I watched a bird fly through the woods and sit on a nearby branch. It rode the bobbing branch for a moment before darting into a cluster of maples. “Last spring, I saw Mrs. Newberry drowning baby blackbirds in a bucket of water. She said they fight with the other birds, so she didn’t want them in her yard. Can you believe that? I could never do something like that.”

  “I’m not talking about birds. I’m talking about murder. I’m talking about killing—a person.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I think it’s wrong.” I thought of the satisfaction I felt holding Ian and Todd the Toad at knifepoint. They deserved to feel as vulnerable as they had made me feel. Yet I knew I couldn’t have stabbed them. Not really.

  “Do you think it’s wrong for Everett to murder someone?” he asked.

  I figured Everett had good reason for whatever he did. I’d seen him kill dozens of demons in the cornfield. Maybe there wasn’t much of a difference between them and Ian. I brushed away the loose bits of bark and watched them land on top of the blanket of dead leaves.

  Frustrated by my hesitation, Phillip jumped from the trunk. “This is serious!” He grabbed a twig and snapped it in half. “OK. So let’s assume it’s not wrong for Everett to kill someone. That he suffers no consequences. That God himself gives Everett permission to do whatever the hell he wants, murder included. Fine. But where does that leave you?”

  I didn’t understand. “Everett protects me. He makes sure nothing will happen to me.”

  He broke the twig in half again. “Did anyone else see you scratch Ian’s truck?”

  “No. I was real careful about that.”

  “OK. How fast were you going in Everett’s car when they chased you?”

  “As fast as I could. They were on my ass the whole way.”

  “Were any other cars around?”

  “A bunch of really pissed-off semi drivers. They were honking like crazy.”

  “Because, Ayden, Ian Stein is probably going to die. He could be dead already. He’s lying in the cornfield beside your house. And you’re saying there are truck drivers—and from all the honking, I’m guessing other drivers too—who saw Ian’s bright red truck chasing Everett’s white Grand Am—with you driving. And right now, that same truck and that same car are parked on your road near your house. Anyone driving by will see them. All this will fit with the story Todd will be more than happy to tell the police—if Everett doesn’t kill him too.” Phillip flung the broken bits of the twig across the woods. He ran his hand over his face, through his hair, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh God. What’s happening? I should be in the cornfield stopping him.”

  “But you’re not in the cornfield. You’re here in the woods. With me.” I smiled. “He asked you to wait here with me. And here you are. See. You’re trusting Everett too.” I reached for his shoulders. I used his sturdy frame to keep balanced as I tucked my knees under my chin. I perched like a bird on the trunk. “It’ll be OK. Everett’ll take care of everything just like he said he would. Even in my dreams—” I stopped short.

  “Even in your dreams—what?”

  “Even in my dreams, Everett comes to rescue me,” I revealed. “The other night, I was lost in an apple orchard. There were monsters in the fog. Everett rode a bike straight into my dream and saved me with one of his tricks.”

  “He told you that it was him? In your dream?”

  I nodded. “He leaves his own dreams to come find me.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Sure I do. Because he’s there. He tells me he’ll be there. And he is.” Phillip let out a deep sigh and stepped back from me. Without his shoulders, I dipped forward precariously before grabbing the back of the trunk to regain my balance. He turned from me and faced the collage of mostly bare branches. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was so tormented.

  I peered over his shoulder into the same scenery. The way the branches were hooked together, overlapping and intersecting, they resembled a mangled collection of deer antlers. It was beautiful really. It was nature—naked. I became lost in the branches’ intricacies, the twisting and winding, until it appeared as if they were actually moving. Soon I began hearing what I saw: the clack of branches gently tapping each other. At first, I thought it was a deer, a buck moving amid the perfect camouflage of faux antlers. Phillip heard it too. He slowly stepped backward and turned to me with a look of paranoia. “What if it’s that old guy!” he whispered. “We’re not supposed to be out here.” He crouched down. “Get down from there!”

  Despite Phillip’s command, I remained contentedly perched on the floating tree. I was not afraid. In fact, as the figure came forward, it brought with it an overwhelming sense of much needed peace. “It’s only nature,” I whispered.

  The overlapping branches created the illusion of an ever-changing wardrobe. Although the branches clothed her for moments at a time, glimpses of her bare skin could be seen between them. The closer she came, the more the branches gave way, slowly revealing her naked figure. Apart from her pink nipples and dark mound of pubic hair, she was as pale as powder. Her face was the purest white, aside from her cheeks, which were flushed with a pigment of red that complemented the rich leaves that fell around her.

  It was as though she carried forward the backdrop of the woods with her as she emerged apart from it. She did not have hair. Instead, thin, intertwining branches sprouted from the top of her head. They extended almost a foot, making her quite statuesque. Her steps were precise, yet she did not look to the ground. She knew by instinct when to step over a log and where the earth was soft enough for her bare, delicate feet. As she stepped into the red light of the setting sun, it filtered through the trees, painting her skin in a kaleidoscope of crimson shapes. The shapes seemed to morph into flames that flickered in slow motion over her body. She sauntered up to Phillip, and he was captured i
n her glow.

  “What the hell?” he uttered under his breath. Her brown eyes locked on him, and he was simply mesmerized by the beautiful creature. They studied each other’s peculiarities. She touched his sweater, examining it as if it were the oddest thing on the planet. She ran her hands over his chest and down to his stomach. Upon determining the material was only a covering, she lifted the sweater with much curiosity. When she saw the skin of his torso, her eyes widened in surprise. She ran her hands under his sweater, across his chest, and up to his shoulders. Phillip willingly lifted his arms and pulled the sweater over his head. Static caused his blond hair to mold into several wisps. Following her lead, Phillip ran his hands across the back of her smooth shoulders while she caressed his chest.

  Although Phillip may have been thinking it, it was the woman from the trees who softly placed her lips on his. When their lips parted, she took a half step away to further examine the creature she had just kissed. Phillip quickly reclosed the gap. Clearly, for him their brief kiss wasn’t enough. She answered his advancement by grasping his shoulders and leaning in to him. She kissed him again, more powerfully. So powerfully he lost his balance and teetered backward. Still locked in their kiss, he took her with him as he fell onto the delicate bed of leaves. With her palms resting on either side of his head, a wave of movement started from the small of her back. It ran up her spine and to her shoulders, causing her back to arch. When the wave reached her neck, her lips finally parted from Phillip’s.

  She peeled down his khaki pants and underwear and pushed them to his ankles. He pulled her back to him, his strong hands pressing into the delicate skin of her back. He held her in position as he ran his open mouth over her breasts. She sat on top of him with her eyes closed, concentrating on Phillip’s movements, absorbing his touch. Their bodies moved in a rhythm only the two of them could follow. Phillip let out subtle moans as they increased their tempo. He gently touched her face, feeling where the roots of her branches protruded from her scalp.

  By the way Phillip writhed in pleasure beneath her, I knew he had forgotten all about Ian in the pit. And about Everett’s fight with the Toad. He was even unaware of my presence in the tree above. All his fears and frustrations were gone. To him, in those moments, all that existed was the naked tree woman. With her soft skin and hair of dried branches, she alleviated Phillip’s angst.

  It was OK, what was happening, I reasoned. She came straight from nature. Innocent. Beautiful like a deer. Delicate like the leaves. And I was the owl, the silent bird watching from the treetop. And gentle Phillip, wrapped in her presence, had become infused with nature too. It surrounded us. Was a part of us. Took us over. I dug my fingers beneath the bark and felt the naked layer of moist skin. Orange and red leaves showered their bodies as Phillip neared the peak of his pleasure.

  When it was over, he turned his head my way and blinked slowly as if he were awakening from a drug-induced haze. He looked to his hands, his fingers resting between her mesh of branches. I was so sure he had been utterly contented. But the transposing worlds of the tree woman’s beauty and the reality he knew hit him like a bucket of ice water. He stared at her as if she were a character in a dream, as if she was suddenly as obscure as his surroundings had been moments earlier. He jerked his hands from her head, digging his elbows into the leaves. The sudden movement caused her eyes to spring open. He slid from under her in a panic.

  She knelt before him as he stood exposed. She did not show him her face again. She held her head low as she rose, only allowing him to see the tips of her branches. No longer able to entice him with her beauty, she slowly stepped out of their bed of leaves. It was mournful to watch her turn away from us. She kept her head hung low as she headed back into the collage of trees from which she came. We watched her slow, somber departure—until her body began to mesh with the branches in the distance and the final rays of red light from the nearly sunken sun.

  Phillip hurriedly pulled his pants to his hips. With the sun just about set, it was difficult to make him out, standing just feet in front of me, let alone make out a new creature that staggered through the woods. It wasn’t the delicate tree woman. That was for sure. It stumbled over fallen branches and trampled patches of mayapple. This time, it was I who was tempted to warn we ought to hide. The brash steps could’ve very likely belonged to Mr. Peterson. Or worse—Todd the Toad. I jumped from the floating tree. “Get down!” I whispered to Phillip. Yet despite the approaching figure, Phillip continued to stare into the distance, attempting to use the faint, diffused light to trace the outline of her image among the shadowed branches. As it turned out, even after his stunned awakening, Phillip was still enamored by the naked tree woman.

  “What’s going on?” Everett’s voice boomed. He came through the darkness to find Phillip, leaves stuck to his clothes and hair, pulling his sweater over his head. Neither of us dared answer. We instead gazed sheepishly to the forest floor.

  I could tell by the way Everett spoke that his jaw throbbed, and I had a good idea that at least a couple of his teeth had been knocked loose. He spit. Even in near darkness, I could see blood gushing from his nose, over his lips, and down his chin. His hands too were covered in blood. He wiped them on his jeans, but the caked-on blood had stained his skin. He was completely spent. “What happened?” I asked.

  He ignored my question just as we had ignored his. “Go home,” he ordered. “Use the side door. Go down to the basement. Wait a half hour. Then, go upstairs. If you see Mom, tell her you’ve been in the basement since you got home from school. Tell her I’m with Phillip. Tell her we had to clean blades tonight and will be home extra late. OK?”

  “Got it,” I confirmed.

  “Phillip?” Everett called his name, but Phillip still wasn’t entirely on the same planet as us. “Phillip!”

  “Yeah? What?” he asked, finally snapping to attention.

  “I need your help, all right? You’re going to help, aren’t you?”

  If Everett had pressed him earlier, Phillip surely would’ve protested. Yet after his surreal encounter, he simply looked at Everett in a state of bewilderment and replied, “All right.”

  That’s when I knew everything was going to work out. Everything was going to be OK. I ran to the house like I was told as Phillip followed Everett without question.

  18

  Clever Vignettes

  My hands were freezing. My index finger ached from holding down the nozzle for so long. I let up and shook the can, listening to the metal ball clanking inside. For the second night in a row, Everett, Phillip, and I worked to transform the white car into a deep shade of blue—by using the cheapest spray paint available.

  Everett had parked the Grand Am in the far corner of the field to keep it hidden from the road. It worked, somewhat, on account of the tall weeds, which had turned a crispy brown. But the woods had become a skeleton of itself. The looming winter had taken most of its leaves. As we worked, the occasional car traveling down Johnston Street clear on the other side of the trees could be seen. The camouflage we enjoyed had been lifted, our secret world exposed.

  The work was silent. And awkward. Phillip and Everett didn’t speak. Judging by the mood, I figured it best to keep my mouth shut as well. So it was with much relief and delight when I noticed a black cat poke its head through the weeds. Easily distracted and unable to resist petting him, I set down my can and followed as he tunneled away from me. He bounded into the cornfield. He didn’t startle as I stepped beside him. In fact, he curled around my legs while I rubbed his chin and the top of his head.

  Just like the woods, the cornfield too had become a shell of its former self. It was hard to imagine the desolate land was the same that held the maze in which we battled ferocious demons. The corn had been harvested. Every bit of it. Even the stalks. All that remained were their cut bases jutting from the earth. Revealed were the subtle hills and slopes we had dashed up and down during dramatic ambushes and retreats. Since the corn had been cut, I’d walk back and fo
rth over the barren field searching for arrowheads—and for something else. But I never could find the pit. I imagined Everett had gone to great lengths to make it look as though it had never existed.

  The disappearance of Ian Stein and Todd the Toad was all anyone at school could talk about. Letters had been sent home asking parents for any information that might lead to their whereabouts. No one knew where they were. Even I didn’t know where they were. All I knew was what had happened to Ian in the pit. But the pit was no longer there. Ian’s truck was gone. And I had no idea what happened to Todd after Phillip and I had entered the woods. Everett didn’t volunteer any information. And when I asked, I was told to forget about that day and never speak of it again. It was Everett’s way of protecting me, I figured, sheltering me just in case the attention turned our way. It was smart. The less I knew, the safer I’d be. If I was ever asked, I could truly say I didn’t know what had become of Ian Stein and Todd Snelling.

  And then there was Phillip. It was hard telling exactly what he knew. Ever since that night, he had been stuck in a kind of catatonic state. He barely spoke. Had become withdrawn. He came over when Everett asked him to, yet he wasn’t the same. As he spray-painted on autopilot, I wondered just where his mind truly was.

  Although Everett wouldn’t speak to me about Ian and Todd, he eagerly plugged himself into the school’s gossip chain. And soon, several theories began to sprout. One rumor had the pair driving to Mexico, with the plan being to purchase cheap drugs to resell at school. There were several variations as to why they hadn’t returned. In one of the more upbeat versions, the pair had decided to skip high school altogether and stay in sunny Mexico. In one of the darker versions, they were kidnapped for ransom by a drug dealer, the value of their ransom proving more lucrative than the proposed deal. In a third version, Ian died of an overdose while sampling their would-be product, leaving Todd too ashamed to return and face Ian’s family as well as his own.