B. Larson - Shifting

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.

“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 headphones.