James Moore - The Haunted Forest Tour

Little Amy, his fourth granddaughter and just possibly the cutest child ever to walk the earth, in Al’s heartfelt opinion, came over and climbed up in his lap. At all of five years old he could barely even feel her weight in his lap.

“Well, what are you doin’, button?” He smiled at the girl, and she smiled back, clearly showing the lack of her two front teeth. They’d fallen out within three days of each other.

“Grampa, can you take me to see the new trees?”

“What new trees, button?” She was always asking him to go on adventures with her, and he was always more than happy to oblige. Like he told Candi during their “business trips,” he was a family man.

Amy pointed down the road leading out of town, and Al looked where her finger indicated.

The smile that was on his face suddenly grew very heavy. He stared long and hard at the tree that was growing at the edge of Dover’s Point, his heart thudding heavily in his chest. The tree hadn’t been there an hour earlier. Hell with that, not even ten minutes ago. He was getting on in years, but Al didn’t make mistakes like that. He’d have remembered a giant, ugly tree with fruit on it big enough that he could see them from his front porch. He licked his now-dry lips.

“Honey girl, you want to do your granddaddy a really big favor?” She nodded excitedly. Normally favors meant running inside to get him something. Said favors were often rewarded by a glass of soda and ice. “You go inside and ask your daddy to come out here. Ask him to bring the binoculars, okay, baby girl?”

“Okay!” She hopped off his lap and ran for the front door. Al stood up and stretched, feeling the twinges that ran across most of his back in the process. Getting old sucked.

He felt the boards under his feet creak and groan for a moment and frowned, wondering if he’d finally put on enough weight to make him fall through the old porch.

As it turned out, he had not. The tree that came out of the ground five feet to his left was the culprit. He hurried toward the front door just in time to run into his son.

Bernard gaped at the tree. “Oh, sweet Jesus in a minivan, it’s happening again!”

“Go get the chainsaw and be fast about it!” Al had to yell to be heard because the sound of splintering wood was loud.

Bernard nodded, jumped off the porch, and ran back around the house.

Al reached for the cell phone on his hip and dialed the police station on the speed dial. No reason for worrying with emergency numbers when he already had fast access to Steiner anytime he needed to talk to him. Sometimes it’s good to be the boss.

And sometimes, not so much. “Jake, pick up the damned phone!”

The tree continued to grow and sprouted a thick branch that just missed taking out the front window. He’d have felt better about it if the growing length of wood didn’t then catch the siding and start pushing against it hard enough to crack more boards.

“Answer the damned phone, Jake! Now!” Jake did not respond, which, to be honest, was to be expected as he was halfway to the H.F. Enterprises offices, along with most of the police force.

The tree limb pushed through the wall and cut into the roof as it rose higher, taking half the shingles along for the ride.

Al stepped back again and into the house. Enough was enough. He disconnected from his call and then moved, as quickly as his girth would allow, over to his office at the back of his home. He needed to make a call for back-up that wasn’t on his speed dial.

A few frantic seconds to find the number and he was dialing again.

When somebody finally answered he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Yes, Bea? I need to speak to the governor right now please. It’s most definitely an emergency.” He waited a few moments and cringed as the tree kept rising. His grandkids and his son and daughter-in-law all looked at him where he sat on the phone. He waved them to silence as the governor picked up.

“Tom? It’s Al Gantry. Yes, that’s right, from Dover’s Point. Remember a couple of years ago when we talked about what might happen if things should suddenly change out this way? Well, it’s happening.” He paused for a moment. “Tom, I think it’s growing again. Fast.”

He listened and nodded his head, as if the governor could see him on the other end.

“Yes, Tom. I’d say now would be the best possible time to call in the reserves.” He shook his head. “Tom, I have a fucking tree growing into my house, pardon my French. I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer. I’m ten goddamn miles away from the edge of the Haunted Forest! Yes, I thought you might see it my way. Thank you. Thank you very kindly.”

Al hung up the phone and looked at his family. “Get your things. We’re leaving town, right now.”

As he moved, he made one more call, this one to Albert over at the fire hall. “Al? It’s Al. No, the other Al. Mayor Al. Notice the trees, did you? Yes. Set ’em off. We’re evacuating right now.”

Forty-five seconds later, the air raid sirens cut through the October heat and sent a chill through most of the citizens of Dover’s Point.

They’d lived next to the Haunted Forest for four years; they’d long since been prepared for the chance that things might go very, very wrong.

Another tree came out of the ground like a gigantic fist, shattering the concrete walkway that led to the driveway where the cars were parked. This one was covered with thorns that were easily as wide as Al’s finger when they first showed up and quickly grew to be as thick as his wrist. Al shook his head and cursed, looking back over his shoulder to call for his son.

The words never escaped his mouth. The thorns hooked into his broad back and sank deeply through layers of meat and bone before sliding almost gracefully through his face, neck, and chest.

The last thing he heard were his granddaughter’s screams.

Though his situation had presumably improved, Eddie was terrified. He and Booth walked along the tracks, moving as quickly as they could while still allowing Eddie to keep control of his hostage. He never took his hand off the back of Booth’s collar, and the gun stayed firmly in place against the back of his head. Booth stumbled every couple of minutes, but Eddie kept him from falling.

Monsters were everywhere.

On each side of them, behind them, in front of them, above them… everywhere. Things that crawled. Things that slithered. Things that growled. Things that hissed. They never came close enough to touch Eddie or Booth, but the two men only had a few feet of personal space, if that.

If his hostage got away from him, the creatures would rip Eddie apart within seconds. He was sure of it. He’d be strewn all over the forest floor, and shortly after that he’d be in the bellies of eighty different monsters.

Not a fun way to go.

But he had to think positive. They were making excellent time. Since they were following the tracks, he knew for certain that they were headed in the right direction.

He might just make it out of here alive.

Hopefully the others were doing well. It would take some of the joy out of his survival if he found out that the others were all dead. Not all of the joy, but some of it.

“You’re making a mistake,” Booth informed him.

“You’ve already said that.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you realize what you’ve done.”

“And I’ll keep saying that you’re full of shit. Most likely you’re the asshole responsible for this whole mess.”

“Suppose I am?”

“Then I’m right. Cookie for me.”

Booth stopped walking. “Suppose this is all my doing, and I make you an offer you can’t refuse.”