Ike Hamill - The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“To help him?” asked Bill.

“Not directly,” said Mike. “Maybe if he had asked me directly it would have changed what happened.” Mike took a second to collect his thoughts before he continued. “He sent me upstairs to the nightstand beside his old bed. By that point he was living in a hospital bed installed in his old den. Grandpa said something like ‘Run upstairs and get me that gun from my nightstand.’ So I did.”

“Did you ask him why he wanted it?” asked Bill.

“You didn’t ask him why he wanted anything,” said Mike, shaking his head. “Even in that state, he had a really strong personality. At least to me,” he added. “Anyway,” Mike continued, “that’s when I was most scared. I walked up those stairs knowing that by the end of the day I would be consoling my grandmother and talking to the police. I’ve had some experience with suicide. Once it happens, you just have a series of numb decisions to make. People will guide you by the shoulders and move you through it. But knowing it’s going to happen before it happens—that’s scary.”

Mike exhaled.

Bill waited for a few seconds before asking—“So what did you do?”

“I got the gun,” said Mike. “But before I took it downstairs I took out the clip and unloaded the chamber. He was careful with firearms. I knew that was the only loaded gun in the house, and the ammo was locked up. I left the bullets upstairs in the back of a drawer in the guest room, and took the gun down to him. He was beyond pissed,” Mike continued. “I just stood there and let him yell at me and just lied. I told him I had no idea what happened to the clip. He sent me back upstairs three more times to look for it again; telling me different places to look. After that he seemed to give up on me.”

“What happened to him?” Bill asked softly.

“He died a few months later in a nursing home,” said Mike, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. “It was easier on my grandmother that way, and she lived several more years. I’m glad she didn’t have to live those years remembering the sound of a gunshot.”

“It was the right thing,” said Bill.

“Well, it worked,” said Mike.

“How do you mean?” asked Bill.

“I’m not tired anymore.” Mike smiled. “A little sad, but not tired at all. You want to go see if anyone’s in there? We could just go up the drive and see if there are any cars in the lot. No harm in that.”

“Yeah,” said Bill. “But hold up that detector. Maybe we can get a more precise fix on its position as we drive up.”

Bill steered and drove slowly as they rolled into the entrance of the facility. He split his attention between the road and watching the device in Mike’s hand. Sweeping gently from side-to-side, Mike pinpointed the direction of the strongest signal.

“No cars,” Bill announced. “Place looks empty.”

“That’s odd,” said Mike.

“Why’s that?”

“No, I mean the device.” He pointed. Bill brought the slow-moving car to a stop to see what Mike referred to. “Even though we’re not moving anymore, I’m not getting a consistent signal,” Mike explained. He swung the device off to the left.

“That’s because it’s moving, ” said Bill. He whipped around in his seat and pressed his face against his window, searching in the direction of the signal.

“We’ll turn the car around, jackass,” said Mike. “It’s almost behind us.” Mike pointed the device with one had and reached down for the map with the other.

“Shit,” Bill whispered under his breath as he made a three point turn on the narrow drive. Halfway through the maneuver, he realized that he should have backed up to the road to save time, but by then it was too late. Mike held up the device but dodged and ducked his head to try to see out the window.

“See anything?” asked Bill.

“I can’t see much in the woods,” said Mike. “It’s getting too dark out there.”

With the car turned around, Bill raced to the end of the drive and slowed. “Which way?” he asked.

“Hold on,” said Mike, alternating between scanning with the device and looking down at his map.

“Hurry up,” said Bill, “just make a decision. To the right? It looks like it’s moving south.” Bill reached up and turned on the passenger’s light, mounted under the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, but that road curves back west. Yeah, go. Right! Go!” urged Mike.

Bill sent gravel flying from his rear tires as he bolted out onto the road. Laying the map down on his lap, Mike reached up and angled the GPS towards himself, so he could compare its display to the map. He had the detector pointed off to the left of their current direction of travel, following the creature.

“You’re gonna take a left in about a quarter mile,” Mike told Bill.

“How fast is it going?” asked Bill. “Any idea?”

“Not yet,” said Mike. “We should get a better idea once we’re going east, but right now the signal hasn’t decreased much, so I’d say it doesn’t have a huge lead.”

Bill stabbed the brakes and then released, preparing for the sharp left. He accelerated down the winding narrow road and the two men bounced over rough pavement. Mike struggled to get a lock on the direction, but the twists in the road made the task nearly impossible.

“Talk to me,” said Bill. “Am I going to fast, too slow, what?”

“I can’t tell,” Mike replied. “Wait, slow down. You’re about to cross another road.”

When the road straightened out and Bill decreased their speed, Mike was able to get a better idea of the creature’s path.

“Which way?” asked Bill, stopping at the intersection.

“Straight. Straight.” Mike pointed. “I think we’re almost caught up, but we’re right on the edge of this page.” He flipped back and forth.

The road widened and featured a dotted yellow line.

“Slow down,” ordered Mike. He pointed the detector past Bill and out his window. “It’s right through those woods, moving the same direction as we are.”

“Let’s get ahead of it,” said Bill, accelerating once again.

“Yeah, good,” said Mike. He shifted in his seat, twisting around to the left as Bill pulled ahead of the signal. Soon Mike had to point the device out the back window to track the strongest signal. “Take your next left,” he said. “I want to get a look at this thing.”

“Can do,” said Bill. He glanced at the GPS for a cue and then took a left turn, moving them in the path of the creature.

“Okay,” said Mike. “Stop here and it should pass by us.”

Bill pulled off the road where a dirt track ran underneath cross-country power lines. He killed the engine so they could hear and Mike climbed out, stretching the detector’s power cord through the car window. Bill pushed his door open, but sat in the seat with his hand on the key.

“Signal’s stronger,” said Mike. “Don’t know the distance…”

“Shhh,” ordered Bill. “I can hear something.”

Mike held his breath and listened. At first, all he could hear were crickets and buzzing insects. The deep blue sky showed the first stars of the evening. Streaks of black painted the dome as bats swooped for mosquitoes. Mike opened his mouth to say that he couldn’t hear anything, but then he heard the first pounding footsteps. He thought it must be same sound that early mammals had heard when dinosaurs roamed the earth, and the sound elicited the same response: he wanted to find a nice deep hole to crawl into.

The pounding drew closer until it approached the opposite side of the road. The footfalls were spaced evenly, but too far apart, as if the creature bounced along in low gravity. Suddenly the footsteps stopped, and Mike counted the seconds reflexively. He made it almost to three Mississippi when the car exploded.