The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen (21 page)

Simon, the natural born leader, stayed ahead of him, the only thing moving against the landscape, going around and between the trees, jumping over logs and brushing aside sword ferns that stretched five feet off the ground. Robby breathed in the clean earthy air and kept his eyes on Simon’s back, trudging through the soft squishy soil, trying to stay within ten or fifteen feet of his brother. He loved the smell of the woods, especially early in the morning after a good soaking rain. It was so much better than the poisonous fumes he inhaled at the shop. He hopped over a rock and landed right on a branch. A dry branch. It snapped, breaking the stillness of the early morning calm like a gunshot. As wet as the ground was, he hadn’t expected that.

“Oops,” he muttered, awaiting the storm.

Simon stopped and turned to face him, his camouflaged attire blending seamlessly into the ferns and moss-shrouded trunks behind him. “Jesus Christ!” he hissed savagely. “What the hell are you doing, numbnuts? Watch where you’re going!” He shook his head angrily, then pivoted back around and loped off at a fast clip.

Robby didn’t bother to say anything in his own defense. Simon was right. Stomping through the woods like an amateur would scare away every deer from here to Canada. So he set off again, following after Simon in the gray morning light. There wasn’t a single cloud visible through the treetops, yet very little light reached the forest floor. The trees were so big they practically blotted out the sky. But every so often, there was a gap where a giant tree had died and fallen to the ground, leaving an opening for the probing sunlight to make its way through the canopy. No clouds today. No birds. No anything. Just clear early October sky.

But something was different today, something was
off
. And it wasn’t just the usual Ashfield Forest uneasiness. Robby couldn’t put his finger on it, though it had been bothering him since the moment they’d climbed out of the Hummer with their rifles. Simon seemed oblivious to it—whatever
it
was. He just marched along at a blistering pace that Robby could only match by going at an awkward stuttery-stepped half-jog.

Without warning, Simon stopped and held up his arm.

Robby pulled up next to him and looked out at the monotonous canvas in front of them. The forest was quiet and still. There was nothing but…
total silence
. That’s what it was. That’s what was off. Where were all the forest sounds? What happened to the birds chirping, and the squirrels, voles, rabbits, and other little critters scurrying through the underbrush to get away from them? The forest was silent.
Too silent.

“Hey Simon,” he whispered, glancing sideways.

Simon turned to face his older brother. In his early thirties, Simon was a former high school athlete, and a good one. The girls had always been infatuated with him, and with each passing year, he seemed to get better looking and more fit. He loved to shoot things and he looked the part of the intrepid hunter, just like the guys who graced the covers of
North American Sportsman
, Simon’s favorite magazine. At the moment, he just looked annoyed with Robby.

“What?” Simon said irritably, taking off his hat. A fancy downtown salon that charged $60 a visit lovingly tended to his full head of hair. Enzo, the neighborhood barber, buzzed what little hair Robby had remaining for eight bucks and that included the tip.

“Don’t you think it’s too quiet out here?” Robby said in a low voice. “I can’t hear a thing.”

Simon scratched his forehead and put the hat back on. “Did you just notice that, genius? Someone musta went through here earlier and spooked all the animals.”

“We didn’t see any cars on the way in,” Robby pointed out.

“True.” Simon cocked his head to the side, peering through the low hanging branches of a hemlock draped with strands of spaghetti-like gray-green lichen. “But they could’ve taken a different road.” He pointed off in the distance toward a raised clearing. “C’mon, let’s get to the top of that mound over there and have a look around.”

Robby had to pump his short legs to keep Simon in sight, and even so, he lost him for a brief and very scary moment as he climbed over a decaying log. Robby skipped around some branches and squeezed between two thick trees instead of going around them for fear of losing Simon again. When he caught up to his brother he was winded, but he felt better. Simon was an asshole, but he knew how to take care of himself. If a monster or a cannibal or some crazy serial killer was out here looking for two more victims he wanted Simon by his side.

The mound didn’t afford much of a view. The horizon never seemed to change, though the woods seemed gloomier than before. And colder. Not cold enough to see your breath puffing out like little exhaust clouds. But close. And the forest was still quiet. The silence was eerie, unsettling. Robby’s bad feeling was getting stronger, more acute, and he was finding it hard to swallow. He wanted to go back to the Hummer, but if he confessed that to his brother, he’d be risking an avalanche of taunting and ridicule.

“Quiet!” Simon said suddenly.

“I wasn’t talking,” Robby said, his face furrowed in confusion.

“Shut up! You see that over there?” Simon was pointing at something, his arm held out in front and nearly straight. “Next to the tree with the… the knot… the crooked tree there. Fifty yards straight that way. See it? Ten o’clock. What is that? A bear? That’s not a tree, is it?”

“I don’t see anything.” Robby tried to find ten o’clock, still breathing heavily from his jaunt up the slope.

Simon looked over at him, his mouth tight. “That’s three o’clock, you idiot. I said ten o’clock.”

Robby knew how to tell time. He was looking at ten o’clock, and there was nothing there. Then he saw it. Or at least he saw something that looked… out of place. “You mean that? That’s not a bear—too skinny. Just a tree, I think. Funny shape though. Kinda looks like a person.”

“Holy shit!” Simon blurted, flinching back. “It moved!”

Robby didn’t see anything move, but a clot of anxiousness suddenly swelled in his stomach. “Are you sure it…?”

“It moved! I’m tellin’ you. Give me your binoculars!” Robby slipped the cord over his head and handed them to his brother. “Where’d it go?” Simon muttered as he adjusted the magnification, his head moving back and forth in a sweeping motion. “It was right there.” He jabbed a finger in the air. “Dammit Robby! Where’d it go? It couldn’t have just disappeared. Were you paying attention?”

Robby was staring intently at a crooked tree, but he wasn’t even sure if it was the same tree as before or if they were even looking at the same thing. There were lots of crooked trees out here. “I dunno. I lost it. I think it was just a tree.”

“It moved, dumbass! Trees don’t move. Where’d it go?”

“I didn’t see anything. Maybe you saw a hunter? Maybe someone in camo?”

“Stop talking and look for it!” Simon ordered harshly.

There was something in Simon’s voice that Robby didn’t like. He knew his brother got scared just like everyone else, but unlike everyone else, he never let it show. Not even when they were kids. Fear was for girls, Simon would say.
For sissies
. But now, Robby was beginning to wonder if being in Ashfield Forest was worrying Simon more than he was letting on. Maybe he’d just wanted to come out here so that he could tell his buddies about what a brave badass hunter he was. Robby unslung his rifle, tucked the butt tightly against his shoulder, and peered through the scope.

“See anything?” Simon asked him a moment later.

“Trees. Maybe the wind was just blowin’ some branches aro—”

“What wind?” Simon said, annoyed. “It was right over—”

Tha-woomp

“What was that?” Robby lowered his rifle, feeling his breath catch in his throat. “You hear that?”

“Yeah.” Simon glanced all around, letting the binoculars dangle from the cord around his neck. “What the hell? Sounded like an air gun!”

Tha-woomp.

Tha-woomp.

“There it is again!” Simon said. “Where’s it coming from?” He spun in a tight circle, eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell is that?” He shrugged out of the shoulder strap and held his rifle out in front at chest level. “I think it’s coming from over that way.” He used the barrel to indicate a thick clutch of trees some thirty or forty yards up ahead and to their left. “Let’s check it out.”

“
What?”
Robby said, surprised.
“
Let’s get the hell outta here. I don’t care what it is. C’mon, Simon. People have died out here, ya know.”

“Don’t be such a little girl,” Simon said with a sneering smile. He looked at Robby, and seeing the fear in his eyes, his smile stretched over his handsome face. “What’s the matter? You wanna go home and clean your vagina? Don’t be such a pussy. Come on.” He started off down the slope.

Robby could never say no to Simon. No matter how much he wanted to. He just never had it in him. Even after all these years, to hear his little brother call him a
‘girl’
and a
‘pussy’
was the absolute worst thing in the world, as emasculating as physical castration. So Robby tagged after him like an obedient Labrador, and when they reached the bottom, they headed for a cluster of three enormous Douglas firs. Centuries ago, the trees had taken root in a straight line, one next to the other, and there had been ample space for the saplings to flourish. But now the trees were prehistorically gigantic and they competed for room, encroaching on each other’s territory like skyscrapers constructed too closely together on the same city block.

“Alright,” Simon whispered as they approached the trunks, which, Robby noted with apprehension, formed a nearly perfect wall that blocked out everything on the other side. “Whatever I saw was right around here. That deformed tree with the weird knot is there. See?” He motioned off to his left at a little hemlock that had died, probably from some kind of tree disease. “You go around that way and flush it out.” He readied his rifle.

“Me?”
Robby said, his voice scratchy. “Why me?”

“’Cause I’m a better shot than you. Don’t be a pussy.”

“You gonna shoot it?” Robby asked uncertainly.

“No, I’m gonna invite it over to bang my girlfriend.”

“What if it’s a person?”

Simon’s brow wrinkled in thought as he seemed to consider this possibility. “Okay, hold on a sec. You cover the left, I’ll cover the right.” He cleared his throat and bellowed: “Hello! If you can hear me, listen up! We have guns and we’re not afraid to use ‘em. If anyone’s back there, come out slowly.”

“With your hands up!” Robby added quickly.

“We’re not cops, idiot.” Simon flicked a disapproving glance at Robby, shaking his head.

In the ethereal quiet of the forest, they waited for what seemed like a very long time. Robby felt small and foolish, and the silence was grating on him, pushing his anxiety buttons. He wished
something
would make a noise. Some birds chirping or a woodpecker chipping away on an old snag would be nice. He’d even settle for a gust of wind.

“Okay,” Simon said to him when it was evident that no one was coming out from behind the tree wall. “Go around that way.” He nodded to his left. “I’m shooting on sight. I don’t care what it is. We gave fair warning. Go!”

Robby gulped down his anxiety and looked at his hands. They were trembling.

“If you see anything, shoot it,” Simon said forcefully. “Whatever it is. But don’t be a goddamn fucktard and shoot me!”

“Okay.” He drew in a deep breath and moved past Simon, gripping the rifle tightly in both hands, squeezing the jitters from his fingers. A sense of dread crept up his throat but a single thought tamped some of it down:
maybe this was his chance to take the bull by the horns.
When his dad found out that he was the one who took the lead maybe he’d stop calling him Gump. He knew it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference to his dad, but just the prospect of earning his dad’s respect gave him the courage to keep his feet moving forward. With the trunks to his right, he went slowly, careful to keep his boots from getting tangled up in the underbrush or any branches hidden beneath moss and pine needles. When he reached the edge, he paused for a second before circling around the last tree, leading with his head, trying to see if anything was on the other side. He was literally sticking his neck out. His heart was beating so hard it seemed to shake his arms.

But there was no one there: no knife-toting psychopath; no guy in camo; no bear; no cannibal; and no lab-created monster. It was just a small clearing of ferns and some decomposing logs swimming in moss. And beyond that an emerald carpet of vegetation and lots of big trees. More forest. There didn’t seem to be an end to it. He turned back and looked for his brother, but the tree wall obscured his view.

“Hey Simon!” he called out, feeling stupid for addressing trees. He didn’t like being all alone out here even if he wasn’t really all alone. “Nothin’ here! I don’t see any tracks or anything.” He kicked at a fern and checked the ground just to make sure he didn’t miss a big pile of steaming bear crap, or anything else that might be obvious. If he missed something like that, and Simon saw it, he would never hear the end of—

A scream ripped through the forest, shattering the silence like a rock skipping across a reflecting pool.

Robby tensed up instantly, the blood in his veins freezing solid, paralyzing him in place. He recognized the voice. It wasn’t a spider crawling up your pant leg kind of scream. This was different. This was real. Filled with terror. Robby had never heard his brother scream before—not like that anyway. His heart was pounding fast and he could feel it in his ears. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to run—but not to his brother. He wanted to run as far away as he could from this place. He wanted to get back to the Hummer and tear out of the forest at a hundred miles per hour. But he knew he wouldn’t do that (
couldn’t
do that); he could never leave his little brother behind. He took one unsteady step forward and then froze again. He felt like his boots were stuck in the ground. His breathing was labored. He wasn’t getting enough air. His legs were weak and rubbery.