by Jack Lewis
It defied physics. It gave a middle finger to what should have been possible. On and on it went, running straight for long straights of a kilometer or more and then twisting left, straight again, turning again, and again, and again…
It was as her calves burned and her head throbbed and she felt despair bubbling in her chest, that she saw it.
Ahead of her, five kilometers away, perhaps, she saw something green.
What it was, she had no idea, but at least it was something different.
No matter how long she walked toward it, it never got any closer. Yet, when she turned around, the twists of the passageway that she’d already taken were gone. Now, it was just one long, straight tunnel, with darkness behind her, the green end of the tunnel way, way ahead.
She started running toward the green but the faster she went toward it, the further away it seemed to get. Every step made the tunnel longer, straighter, until she knew that she was trapped in the middle and that every effort she made to escape it made things worse. It felt like she was trapped in the middle of a giant Chinese finger trap.
How could she get out of this?
Going forward just made things worse. Looking around, there were no other turnings in the tunnel, no hint of secret doors or alcoves. She even found herself wishing that the girl would visit her again. That she’d hear the rattle of chains.
Using her keys, she chipped away at a few of the stones on both sides, but there was nothing wrong with the masonry in the tunnel. Her oil-lamp flickered every so often, and bringing it to her eye level, she could see that it was low.
Gulping, she twisted the nob to make the light dimmer without turning it off completely. It made the tunnel darker, but at least it was a darkness she could control. If she let the lamp drain fully, then she’d have no choice about it.
Turning back around, she began walking toward the green end of the tunnel. She went purposefully slower this time, testing to see if it was the act of running that had made the tunnel stretch out.
The experiment was a success and a failure. A success in that she learned that her own pace did affect how the tunnel changed. A failure because the tunnel still lengthened when she walked, but at a slower rate.
Heading in that direction was useless, then.
Lacking any other option, she turned around. She began walking back on herself, along the tunnel that had brought her here, with no idea what she would do if she ended up back in the study with the presence, but knowing it was better than dying in the tunnel.
After what she judged was maybe ten minutes of walking, she heard a noise ahead of her. Soft thuds, like the patter of feet trying to disguise their sound. Or perhaps the tread of someone still far away. The sound was coming from the direction of the book room.
Was it him? Had the presence escaped the room, and was it stalking through the labyrinth darkness coming for her?
That put all ideas of going back on herself out of her head.
She turned around, only to hold her breath in shock.
The green end of the tunnel was closer than it had been. Not much, perhaps a quarter of a kilometer, but it was noticeably nearer.
That was it, then. Walking toward it made it go further away, but if she walked back on herself, it would get closer.
Then again, walking back meant heading toward the noise.
She ran her hand over her forehead and through her hair. Her skin was cold, her hair oily. The black of the tunnel seemed to press in on her, as though the walls were shrinking. She had to reach out and touch them to reassure herself that they weren’t.
It was fear worming its way inside her. It was Him waking in her mind. Deciding that now was the perfect time to rise from his slumber and mess with her.
No. Not today, Clive.
Knowing that there was only one possible option, Loe began running down the tunnel, toward the noise.
It grew louder. Footsteps coming toward her, echoing through the passageway. She kept heading toward them until they got louder and louder. She held her nerve, kept running.
And then they were so close to her that she could sense their presence.
She sensed it reaching toward her.
Now!
She turned around.
With incredible relief, she saw that she was right. By running away from it, the tunnel had changed so that the green end was right there in front of her. She darted into it, leaving the stone labyrinth behind.
Chapter Sixteen
The passageway brought her into a building that had the same old, decrepit decorative style as Harrow Hall, except it was a single room with four doors in it. Faded green paint did its best to cover the wooden walls, but it had been a long time since its last coat, and it was obvious the room had been abandoned.
She listened for noises from the tunnel while letting her pulse settle. A minute went by, two minutes, and she heard nothing. Sure that she wasn’t being followed, she investigated her new surroundings.
Opening each door in turn, she was amazed to see that they each seemed to lead not into other parts of Harrow Hall, but another place entirely. One that she could barely comprehend, even though the evidence was clear as day.
She blinked as if that tiny movement would give reality time to reset itself and show something normal, but nothing changed. The doors led into different parts of the forest, parts of it that she and the others had looked for in what seemed like weeks ago now.
One opened onto a giant pond, another near a felled tree lying on the ground like a giant’s arm. Another to a stone well, and the last showed an oak tree with a rope swing tied to its biggest overhanging branch.
Putting her hand through the pond doorway, she felt the tickle of the breeze on her fingertips. Standing on the threshold, she smelled pinecones. A fresh scent, a wholesome one and not the rotting smell she’d been treated to the last time she was in the forest.
So the doors would take her into the parts of the forest that they couldn’t get to before, the ones that she, Jay, Mag, and Alt had tried to find, only to loop back to Harrow Hall. This could be a way out!
All that remained was deciding which door to go through. All four showed landmarks that she’d seen on the hand-drawn map, but they hadn’t been able to get to them because of the loop. Other than that, she had nothing to base her decision on.
As she thought about it, she noticed something. In the doorway to her left, she saw a figure. It was an old woman in a gown hobbling over to the stone well. She seemed to be looking in Loe’s direction, fixated on Loe as she walked.
The woman stopped at the well. Although she stared at Loe, she made no indication she had really seen her. She didn’t wave, didn’t speak, didn’t move any closer.
“Hello?” said Loe.
The old woman didn’t move.
Loe saw movement in her peripheral vision.
She turned toward the felled tree doorway, and for a moment, the surprise made her heart palpitate.
There was another person in the area beyond this second door. A man. Late thirties, maybe early forties. Thin, reedy, and standing uneasily, as though the mere act of staying on his feet painted him.
He, too, was staring at Loe.
Had her voice spooked him or something? Could he see her standing there in the doorway, or was he looking beyond her?
But while the old woman never turned her gaze away from Loe, the man did. He began walking away.
They can’t see me.
Carefully, Loe approached this door and she watched him, and she saw him walk toward a bear trap, where he crouched for a while, and then moved on.
Her choice was made. This man must have been the one setting the traps. He had to be. This could be Loe’s only chance to get answers to so many things, and it gave her no other choice. Committed to it, she stepped through the doorway.
She found herself in the forest again, wholly submerged in it so that the doorway had disappeared as if it had never been there. To her left was the old tree, lying
on the ground, full of holes that might have been home to forest squirrels, rabbits, voles.
The man was way ahead of her, limping through the forest. She didn’t need much time to decide that a man who set beartraps in the woods wasn’t likely to be friendly. She couldn’t just approach him and say hello.
So she stalked him through the forest, getting closer and closer to him as fast as she dared, all the while looking down to make sure she didn’t step on pinecones or twigs or anything else that might give her away. She followed him away from the felled tree and deeper into the forest.
The deeper she went, the further she followed his trail, the more the atmosphere began to change. Slowly, at first, like the temperature falling in such tiny increments that hot weather turns cold without you registering it. The change was there all the same, and Loe began to notice it.
Something’s wrong here.
When she turned around, the felled tree that had been behind her was gone, and the air changed, smelling worse, heavier to breathe. She was back in the loop; she had to be.
Forget it, and keep going. No turning back now.
Focusing on the man, she carried on after him.
She got to within ten meters from him.
Five.
She was close enough to make one last dart toward him, when he stopped walking.
Holding her breath, Loe stayed as still and quiet as she could.
The man kneeled, swung a bag from his shoulder so that it was in front of him, and took out a rusted bear trap.
It was him, then. No doubting it now.
Not only was he laying more traps in Harrow Forest, but he must have been able to get in and out of it freely.
He was her only way out of this, but she knew he wasn’t to be trusted. So, she decided she wouldn’t give him the slightest option of betraying her.
She waited for him to set the trap. When it was done, she ran at him. He barely had time to react to the sound she made, when she reached him and pushed him. He fell back, flailing with his right hand as if that would stop him falling.
There was a sickening snap as the bear trap snapped shut on his wrist.
It took a whole five minutes for him to stop screaming, but eventually, he did. Loe stood over him, forcing herself not to feel any kind of pity when she looked at his arm. It looked nasty as hell, but that wasn’t her fault. Well, it was, but it wasn’t her problem.
“Having a nice walk through the forest?” she asked him.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me!”
“Who are you?”
“You crazy bitch.”
She stood on his forearm, just above his wrist. The chain attached to the trap clanged, and the man screamed.
“I…was…going…for a walk!”
She pressed down harder. His cries of pain made her chest tighten. She instinctively looked around, as if someone might be watching.
“Who are you?”
“A walker! Nobody!”
Now she put her full weight on his arm, just above where the trap had snapped shut. The cry he gave was loud enough to send a crow flapping from a tree close by.
“I’m…” he said, choking down sobs. “I’m Emory.”
“You know who I am, don’t you?”
“How? I don’t recognize you, and I don’t know you. How would I?”
She lifted her foot and tensed, as though she was ready to stomp on his battered arm.
His face changed, became venomous. “You’re a Harrow. That’s all I know. All I needed to know.”
“Fine. Now that we’re acquainted, Emory, you can tell me about this place. I want to know everything.”
“My arm…”
“Quit whining about your arm.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
She sighed. “Fine. Be quick about it.”
“Please…just give me a second…”
A flicker of guilt hit her then. It was his face, mainly. How pathetic he looked. This wasn’t her. Whatever the hell this was, torturing strangers with bear traps, it wasn’t her.
She’d only come here for her father’s funeral, and then to meet her brothers and sister. After that? She didn’t know what she had planned. Maybe they would have arranged to meet up another time.
But this? Forest mazes, crazy brothers, one-word-answer ghosts lurking in hidden rooms? Loe having to push people into in bear traps?
Maybe strange situations called for drastic measures. She shouldn’t feel an ounce of sympathy toward this guy. He didn’t deserve it.
That said…she needed him.
She reached toward him. Emory flinched as though she was going to hit him, but instead she took his bag and set it on the ground a few feet away from him. Patting his trouser pockets, she was sure he didn’t have anything he could use to hurt her.
She pressed her knee onto one trap spring, and she pushed down on the other, straining with all her strength as the jaws opened wider and wider. Her cheeks heated up. This had been a hell of a lot easier with Mag helping.
All the while, Emory wailed and groaned non-stop, and the sound began to grate on her.
“I’m trying,” she said. “Just shut up.”
Finally, she got him free. Emory touched his bruised arm, winced, and wiped the blood from his skin. The trap hadn’t pierced him. Like the one that had hurt Alt, the metal jaws were way to blunt to actually stab through flesh. He had a wicked-looking scratch and he would bruise like crazy in the next few days, but he’d live.
“I want nothing but honesty from you, Emory,” she said. “And not just honesty in your answers. I want you to tell me everything. No lying by omission or anything sneaky.”
He scooted back a little from her.
“That’s far enough.”
Groaning, he rubbed his arm. “Barbaric.”
“They were your traps.”
He had no response to that.
“Come on, you baby,” she said. “You’ll live. Or at least, the trap won’t kill you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
No, I wouldn’t, she thought. Of course, it wouldn’t do any good to tell him that.
“I just pushed you into a bear trap and watched you squirm. You should forget any pretensions you have of knowing what I’ll do.”
He seemed to appreciate the logic in her statement, because the look on his face was less poisonous and more compliant. He was a broken man, crumbling like a soggy biscuit.
“Ask your bloody questions then,” he said.
Ask your bloody questions. A fair comment. Problem was, she had so many questions that it was hard to know where to start.
Even so, this was a man who she could see, one who she’d overpowered and thus would answer whatever she asked. He wasn’t some spirit who, for whatever reason, would only say yes.
“You know a way out of here, don’t you?”
“I know a way in.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“The way in is the way out. The end is the beginning.”
“Less riddling. I’m not in the mood.”
Truth was, she was still feeling woozy, and the dull ache in her head had never gone away. Thinking about it brought her back to the conclusion that she had a concussion, and that it was going to get worse and worse. She couldn’t afford the accompanying anxiety that following that line of thought would bring.
“I want you to show me how to get out of here,” she said.
“It isn’t that simple. You can’t just…” he stared at her for a moment then.
Loe knew enough to realize she was better staying quiet. Sometimes you had to shut up and give people enough rope.
“Your father never told you anything, did he?” he said.
“I never knew him.”
“What?”
“Never knew him, never met him, couldn’t have picked him out of a crowd. I didn’t even know his name until my grandma got ill and slipped up and told me. My mum wanted to keep it
a secret from me. I’m beginning to understand why.”
“And your siblings?”
“They knew him.”
“They knew him, and you didn’t?”
She was beginning to think that Emory knew even less than her. “Enough about my family history. Tell me what I need to know to get out of here. Tell me everything. No omissions, no bullshit. I can always set the trap again.”
“Your family history is the key to this all,” said Emory. “History is where this all began. The seeds of the past…”
She took a step forward, grabbed the chain of the bear trap and picked it up, letting it dangle. Hell, this is heavy, she thought, as she desperately tried not to betray how heavy it actually was. Wincing or having to drop it would really take the sting out of her threat.
“I said no riddles.”
“Our families go back,” he said. “Way, way back. The Harrows and the Gales…our histories intertwine, our roots have grown together for centuries.”
Like the roots of the Harrow Woods trees. Too close. So close that they smother each other.
“How does this lead to bear traps all over the forest? How do you go from there to fucking…mazes, and stuff?”
“Do you really have to swear?”
“Sorry.”
Sorry? What am I apologizing to this guy for?
“Our roots have grown together,” she said. “They’ve intertwined. Fantastic. What does this mean?”
“Do you believe in curses?”
“This sounds like the beginning of another riddle.”
“Please humor me,” he said.
“I know what they are. I know they aren’t real.”
“You’re so sure about that?”
“I believe that some people might think they can lay a curse on someone. I doubt there’s any evidence that cursing people does anything more than let someone vent their anger. Enough crap, Emory. Let’s talk facts.”
“Facts. Evidence. You’re walked through a forest that has no end, haven’t you? A forest folded like a sheet of paper, both ends curling on themselves so that the beginning is the end. You still need facts?”
