Ike Hamill: The Hunting Tree Trilogy

“We want this Loogaroo gone,” said Roland.

“I was, um,” Mike stammered, “under the impression that it was already gone. Katie?”

Katie smiled at Roland and he smiled back—“Didn’t you say you hadn’t seen the Loogaroo since Gus died?”

“Uncle Gus helped us see,” Roland explained. “That doesn’t mean it’s gone; just that we can’t see it. She can shed her skin and move around invisible. Uncle made her keep her skin on, but since he’s been gone, she’s had it off.”

“That’s interesting,” said Mike. “Have you ever seen any balls of light?”

Roland shook his head and stared at Mike.

“Okay,” said Mike, “I’ll go help Gary get set up.”

Outside, Gary paced out a rough semi-circle around a rusted steel pole protruding from the ground at a low angle. Mike walked forward to inspect the pipe and found the top mushroomed from when it had been hammered into the rocky soil.

Attached to a ring in the pole, a short length of rope led to a dirty pony halter.

As Mike watched, Merritt appeared from the back of the trailer pulling a large buck by the antlers. As he passed Mike, the buck tried to resist moving towards the center of the circle. Merritt pulled the animal with one hand as he bent to retrieve the halter. He brought the two together and quickly tied the snorting buck.

“Watch out for those horns,” Merritt told Mike. “Those fuckers are sharp.”

Mike put up his hands and took another step backwards.

“We’re gonna kill him in the morning anyway,” explained Merritt.

Mike watched the tethered buck puff a few breaths. He crossed back to the van to talk to Gary.

“How’s it looking?” asked Mike.

“I’ve got all the angles covered,” said Gary. “Ready to calibrate?”

“Sure,” said Mike.

The two men took their positions at the controls and adjusted dials. They called numbers back and forth to each other as they set their baselines and prepared the equipment for the experiment. Halfway through the procedure, Katie exited the trailer and arrived at Mike’s side.

“Looks different,” she said. Katie pointed to a radial display which showed the ambient noise with respect to the compass direction. “How come?”

“The angle?” asked Mike. “Who knows. Probably the time of day, or maybe even the season.”

“Seems like it should still be west if it’s the sun causing the baseline,” said Katie.

“No worries,” said Mike. “We’ll account for the offset either way. Can you get rid of Roland and Merritt?”

“You worried they’ll contaminate the results?” Katie asked.

“I think if we do see something, they’ll try to shoot it,” said Mike.

Mike and Gary wrapped up their preparations. When Katie returned from talking to the brothers she shook her head—“They’re staying.”

“Shit,” said Mike.

“What’s the big deal?” asked Gary. “If we do see something, let them shoot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Packed inside the van, Roland and Merritt insisted on joining the researchers once they found out that no visible lights would be trained on the deer. Without the aide of the night-vision cameras, the deer was invisible against the tree line.

Eventually, the buck curled his legs under his body and sat at the edge of his tether, exhausted from pulling against the rope. In the green-tinted monitor, the buck’s eyes reflected the infrared light and glowed bright. The thermal displays added very little information, showing only the signature of the buck and the occasional passing rodent.

Mike shifted in his chair. Roland was pressed against his left arm and Gary his right. He was being assaulted by unwelcome noises and odors from sharing close quarters inside the van.

“I’ve got to get a cigarette,” said Gary.

“I’ll go with you,” said Merritt.

The van rocked and groaned as the two men squeezed past the equipment and people to get out the back door. Mike took a deep gulp of fresh air and relaxed with the additional space. The buck’s head whipped around and Mike heard it snort through his headphones.

Mike pressed his hands over his ears to focus on the sounds relayed by the various microphones. He checked the energy levels, both transmitted and received, looking for paranormal activity. He saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then noticed a slight bump in a different frequency range. Mike considered fetching Gary so he could run a diagnostic while he adjusted the transmitter, but didn’t want to risk missing the phenomenon.

He adjusted a small dial clockwise until his transmitted frequency matched the small bump on the sensor. The spike was immediate. The bump doubled and tripled in magnitude within a few seconds. Mike dialed down the power to the transmitter, but the spike increased further. When the power dial would decrease no further, Mike held his breath. He turned the frequency dial, moving back to the normal position and then panicked. His left hand shot out and killed the power to the amplifier. Mike exhaled and focused on the receiver where the spike had finally leveled out.

“Gary?” Mike called. He heard his own voice faintly in the headphones.

“Mike?” whispered Katie from the far end of the van. She had her hands raised to her ears, and pointed at her headphones when Mike looked over. It took Mike a second to realize what she was referring to, but then he heard it too—footsteps from woods.

“Gary, we need you,” Mike called again.

The footsteps paused.

Mike looked up at the deer and studied the image for any change. The buck stiffened and turned its head to the side, stretching the rope hanging from the halter. Suddenly the buck tried to stand, but as it straightened its front legs, its head was pulled by the rope and it nearly toppled. With its legs spread wide for stability, the buck thrashed and huffed, trying to shake loose from the halter.

“It’s here,” said Roland.

Mike glanced back to the meter and noted that the energy spike was holding.

“I don’t see anything,” said Mike. “Maybe it doesn’t show up on IR and thermal." He spun away from the instruments and shuffled to the door of the van. Before opening the door, he turned to Katie. “Keep an eye on that deer. If you see anything, yell to me.”

Mike threw open the door and slipped out of his chair. Light spilled from the back of the van, and when Mike’s eyes registered what was going on outside, the left side of his body instantly went numb from shock. He crashed to the floor of the van. Roland looked down at Mike, but Mike’s gaze was locked on what he saw just outside the van. He opened his mouth to yell, but instead he choked on a gulp of vomit cast up from his shocked stomach.

Gary lay on his side, ten feet from the van, with blood smeared over his shirt and face. Upright but sagging, next to Gary, Merritt stood with his arms wrapped around a tiny shriveled naked thing. It looked vaguely amphibian, with a giant head and thin exposed ribs covered by translucent skin. Its back was to the van and its tiny feet hung a foot over the ground. It was suspended from Merritt’s big frame. The thing’s head rose to the level of Merritt’s neck, and the tall man appeared to be holding it up with his tight embrace.

Roland exited the van. He stepped over Mike.

“Oh, fuck no,” he said. With two large strides, Roland approached his brother and reached out with a thick, strong hand to grab the creature by the neck. He pulled at the little creature and Mike saw the bones of the thing in sharp relief. Mike heard a soft tearing sound as Roland pulled.

Merritt moaned and stumbled forward; the creature remained firmly attached to him.

“Wait—fire,” said Mike, regaining some control of his body and trying to stand. Roland glanced back at Mike, but continued to pull the thing from his brother. Mike didn’t wait for him to understand, but stumbled over to Gary and fished the lighter out of Gary’s shirt pocket. He registered that Gary was still breathing as he stood and struck the lighter.