Gina Ranalli - House of Fallen Trees

Perplexed, he said, “Yeah, that’s Terry King. He’s the town DJ. What’s the matter?”

She thought about it, thought about telling him about the dream, if that’s what it had been. The words on her computer screen. But in the end, she just shook her head and said, “Nothing. He just sounded familiar for a second.”

Rory nodded, though his eyes remained concerned and he shot Saul a look via the rearview.

It took them less than ten minutes to get to what appeared to Karen to be an old utility road that hadn’t been used in at least a decade. Rory turned onto the road, bumping over clumps of earth and stone before setting the tires into the twin ruts that made the actual road.

Karen rubbed her face with both hands, suddenly drained and wondering just what the hell she was doing out here in Washington. She should be back home, working on the new book, drinking coffee during the day, wine at night. Relishing her solitude and privacy, not having to be social with anyone. Living her perfect little hermit life instead of tooling around in the woods hoping to find a hint of who her lost brother might have been. What really happened to him…

Then it occurred to her: This whole trip, this town and its people. There might actually be a story in here somewhere. Maybe not a novel; maybe just a short story, six or seven thousand words. But still…inspiration was everywhere. And she hadn’t even seen the house yet.

Maybe, just maybe, this entire trip wouldn’t be a waste, even if she didn’t find a single thread of information about Sean. The whole haunted house angle could turn into something, she was sure. And ever since childhood, she’d loved a good haunted house tale and had wanted to try her hand at one. Why not now? It could be fun and she might even be able to get her publisher to foot the bill. She could say she was on a research trip.

Forgetting all about the guy on the radio, she sat up straighter in her seat, began looking at the passing forest with new, writer’s eyes. Taking in as much as she could, trying to commit certain things to memory. A big boulder on the side of the road, a white spray-painted skull and cross-bones decorating its face. The impossible greenness of this new world, so unlike New England in autumn. The thick gabardine-gray of the sky, mostly blotted out by the overhanging pine branches, some of which had been sheared off in one storm or another and lay in the road, causing the Jeep to bump and lurch and jostle the passengers within. Lost in thought, she didn’t even notice as they approached a huge downed tree blocking the road.

“Well, this is where the hike begins,” Rory said, jolting Karen out of her thoughts. Her mouth fell open when she saw the size of the fallen tree.

“Holy shit,” she said. “It’s as wide as a school bus.”

“Yeah,” Rory agreed. “And probably in the vicinity of five centuries old.”

She gaped at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope,” Saul put in, climbing out of the Jeep. “She was probably the grand old madam of this forest until something fierce ate away her roots until she couldn’t hold on to the earth anymore.” His tone was one of sadness, as if he were talking about a much loved aunt who had succumbed to a devastating disease.

Rory and Karen emerged from the vehicle and went around to the back of the Jeep to pull out their various bags. Saul stood beside the downed tree, his face thoughtful.

A moment later the other two joined him and the three stood silent, gazing down at the old tree as if looking at a fresh grave. All around them, the forest was silent. Perhaps it too, was in mourning. She and Rory waited while Saul went and retrieved his own bags from the Jeep before coming back and leaping onto the dead tree in a single bound. He grinned down at them, his time of bereavement over, as though he’d paid his respects and was now moving on with his life.

“Imagine climbing this old lady when she was still standing. Probably could have seen all the way into Idaho.”

Then he hopped down the other side, a little boy excited to get on with the adventure. As she followed, Karen wondered why he seemed so enthusiastic all of a sudden, when he was clearly ambivalent about their final destination. When she questioned him, however, his response made as much sense as it could have.

“I’m not thinking about the house,” he said. “I need to take a piss.”

And with that he darted off into the woods.

“You should have gone before we left The Lantern,” Rory called after him.

Saul ignored him, disappearing behind a fat blue spruce.

Shaking his head, Rory looked at Karen and said, “Kids, huh?”

She smiled, glad to see the ride had improved his mood somewhat.

A minute later, Saul emerged, yanking up his zipper. “Whew,” he said. “Damn beer.”

The hike took over two hours, what with all the stumbling and climbing over more downed trees and wading through foliage allowed to grow wild for decades. Huge ferns and bramble bushes did their best to keep the trio from moving forward but move forward they did, Karen taking mental notes all the while.

It was because she was paying such close attention to her surroundings that she noticed the crows at all. There seemed to be an abundance of them — roosting in the pines all around them, walking around on the ground just past the tree line. A few flapping by above them, taking off from one branch to land on another further up the road.

She made a face, trying to recall what crows were symbolic of in literature. She couldn’t think of it off the top of her head, but had a feeling she might be able to use it if anything ever came of this tiny nugget of an idea for a new book. She’d have to remember to look up crows and their meaning on the Internet when they arrived at the house.

Saul followed her gaze with his own. “Tricksters,” he said. “In Native-American folklore.”

Surprised, Karen said, “Were you just reading my mind?”

“I know that look you had on your face. I get the same look when I study blueprints.”

“Ah. Well, there are a lot of them, huh? The crows, I mean.”

“There’s a lot of everything the further away you get from people. Don’t be surprised if you see an elk or two. I once saw a whole herd of them grazing in a clearing a half mile or so behind the house. Lots of deer out here too. Once in a great while, you’ll get to see moose. Bobcats. Grizzlies.”

Rory smacked him on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Karen. This guy is so full of shit, his eyes are brown. You might see a deer. But probably, not including those crows, the most wildlife you’ll see are some squirrels, maybe a raccoon, or an opossum.”

“Hawks and falcons, too,” Saul said. “And I did see the elk.”

Rolling his eyes, Rory said, “Okay, okay. Maybe you’ll see an elk.”

But Karen was hardly listening to the two of them bicker. Movement just beyond the tree line had caught her eye and it was definitely no crow. It was low to the ground, with red fur, a long bushy tail and a black snout.

“What about dogs?” she asked.

“Dogs?” the men said in unison. Then understanding cleared Saul’s face. He looked at Rory and said, “Dusty.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rory nodded. “Dusty.”

Karen watched the dog, barely visible in the shadows of the woods, trotting along, pacing them. “Dusty,” she repeated. “Male or female?”

“Female,” Saul said. “She used to belong to an asshole in town named Richard Mallack. He had her for a good year and that dog never once saw the inside of his house. Kept her chained to a doghouse 24/7, every season, every kind of weather. His kids used to shoot BB guns at her. I was bitching about his treatment of that dog one night in The Lantern and Mike — the guy you met — got pissed off enough to go and snatch the dog from Mallack’s backyard. But, of course, she was skittish as all hell and not housebroken, which Mike was annoyed about. Anyway, he let her roam free and she just took off, came to live out here on her own where there are no people to torment her.”