Part 2 Part 4

I lay on the floor, my stomach muscles unclenching after the coughing fit. My wet clothes left damp smudges on the floorboards. Neither Martina nor Roger spoke. Roger, presumed missing, was alive and communicating through the radio meant for contact between the lookouts. But he wasn’t with Martina, and he wasn’t with me.

“We need to call the Station,” I said into the radio.

“No.” The response from Roger was immediate and forceful. “We can’t get them involved.”

“Why? They can help. We need help don’t we?”

“Tom, is it?”

“Yes.”

“There’s something going on up here Tom. It is at a critical stage. We cannot have outside interference now.”

“What? What the hell is happening?”

“Tom, listen to me. We have already come so far. It is almost done. There are forces at work in this forest that wish us to fail, and we cannot let that happen. I have the situation under control. You have to trust me.”

I let a few seconds of silence pass.

“You can trust him Tom.” Martina’s voice, faint and unconvincing.

I was at a loss. “What am I supposed to do?”

Roger again. “Nothing Tom. Give your weather reports. Watch for fires. Be a lookout. That is all anyone is asking you to do. I need time, that is all.”

I grabbed the radio that was the link to the Station and tapped the button. I put it back down on the shelf. I peered through the window to Martina’s lookout across the valley and imagined talking directly to her. “This doesn’t feel right.”

She responded. “We need to trust Roger.”

My eyes fell to the radio on the shelf. I played an imaginary conversation with the Ranger on duty.

There are monsters and demons up here and the man who went missing is talking to me through the radio. Come and help please.

Even if they came up here, they would only drag me back down off the mountain. In their minds they would assume I had gone full Jack Torrance in a matter of days.

I talked into the radio for Martina and Roger. “Who was she, the woman outside the lookout?”

A few seconds passed before Roger responded. “She is the one we are fighting against. She is the one trying to stop us.”

“What if she comes back?”

“Tom, nothing up here can hurt you unless you let it. She can only come in if you invite her in.”

“How do you know?”

“I have been on watch on this mountain for more than a decade.”

I thought back to the shadow from the night before. That was not a woman in a blue dress. “What is the other thing up here?”

“What other thing?” Roger sounded genuine in his concern.

“A dark shadow. It carved a triangle on the door to the outhouse while I was inside.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. It is the woman who you must watch out for. If you see her again you need to call.”

“You’ll be listening?”

“I’ll be listening. I can rely on you can’t I Tom?”

I paused before answering. “Yes.” I put the radio down and sighed.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it. I needed time to think. I decided to wait before contacting the Station. I would need to send down my weather report at 9am the next day. Should I tell them something then? I didn’t want to put Roger in danger.

The clouds parted on the horizon and the setting sun glowed yellow and turned the sky crimson. The weather had passed for now. The container for the fire wood was barely half-full. I eyed the enclosure housing the logs outside. It would be better to do it in the light.

The air held a fragile warmth in the glow of the sun. I removed my damp sweater and hung it over the balustrade at the edge of the deck. I took a deep breath and the warm air felt good in my lungs. I watched and listened for the woman in blue or a dark shadow hiding in the trees on the slope. Seeing nothing, I stepped off the deck and made for the wood pile.

In the valley to the east a light glowed in a bare patch between the trees. I squinted and caught the smudge of a blue tent. It must be Rebecca, the hiker who signed the visitor’s book, making camp in the clearing. I grabbed an armful of wood and hauled it inside. I hoped for her sake there would be no more rain tonight. But maybe she liked the rain, some people do.

I built the fire as the sun dropped below the horizon. In the last of the daylight I looked east and tried to find Rebecca’s tent. The outhouse and wood enclosure blocked my view. I took the binoculars from the shelf and went back outside and to the edge of the peak and found her tent. It was strange, I came up here to be alone and removed from the world, and yet my attention was drawn to the only other person I had seen since Hitch left me on the first day.

The binoculars brought her camp site into focus. Her brown backpack poked out the front of the tent. A light hung from a tree a few paces away. I couldn’t see Rebecca.

I lowered the binoculars. To the right of her camp a wisp of light-grey smoke rose into the sky. Almost imperceptible, like the exhale of warm breath on a cold day. Could it be a fire? I lifted the binoculars back to my eyes and scanned up and down trying to pinpoint the smoke. I latched onto it, but could not see a flame.

And then something moved. A dark shape pushed through the trees, branches shaking in its wake. The column of smoke shifted with it. It was as if it were a giant lump of black burning coal rolling through the forest.

What the hell?

It made a beeline for the blue tent of Rebecca’s camp. I pulled the binoculars down and surveyed the scene from a distance. The wispy smoke fanned across the forest like the exhaust from a fast-moving train. Rebecca’s tent stood in its path.

I yelled out. I told her to get out of her tent and run, but she was too far away.

Through the binoculars she emerged from the tent, a tiny ant scurrying across the ground. She had seen her pursuer, or heard it, or both, and ran into the forest. The dark shape came for her. As it moved through the trees it looked almost human. But it moved with unnatural speed. The gap closed and I lost them both behind a thicket of trees. Neither Rebecca or the shape emerged from the other side. The column of smoke rose stationary above the trees.

I ran inside and picked up the radio. “Martina, Roger, is someone there?”

Martina’s voice. “I’m here Tom.”

“There’s something in the forest, smoke.”

“A fire? Where?”

“East of my lookout. In the next valley. It took her?”

“It took who? What are you talking about? Is there a fire?”

“There’s smoke. I saw smoke. It took her.”

“Give me a bearing.”

“East. It’s east. Draw a direct line from your lookout to mine and keep going.”

“I don’t see anything Tom.”

“It took her. I saw it take her.”

“Who?”

“The hiker who came to my lookout this morning. She camped on the mountain. It chased her.”

“What?”

“It was dark and fast.”

“A bear?”

“It wasn’t a bear. It was on fire, or at least hot enough to send vapour into the air. That’s where the smoke came from.”

She was silent for a few seconds. I willed her to answer, squeezing the radio in my hand.

“Do you see it now?”

I scanned the forest with the binoculars. Nothing, no smoke or dark shapes. I ran back outside to where I had stood when I first saw it. It wasn’t there. In the last of the light the forest was still and silent. The light hung by Rebecca’s tent shone bright. I trained the binoculars on her tent and waited for movement. Nothing.

I lifted the radio to my mouth. “It’s gone.”

“There’s no fire? No smoke?”

“Not anymore.”

“Tom, sometimes rain clouds can funnel in the valley and they can look a lot like smoke. I’ve called in a couple of false sightings.”

“There was something out there.”

In my mind there was now no doubt. The thing that I saw roaming around the forest was the same thing that came to me the night before and banged on the door to the outhouse. It was the warmth I could feel through the door.

“There are bear sightings up here every summer.”

“It wasn’t a bear. It was the creature Roger told me not to worry about. It took her. Is Roger there?”

“I don’t think so. It’s getting dark. Get back inside.”

In the growing gloom the fireplace inside the lookout burned red hot. I dragged my feet inside, dejected and overcome with a feeling of helplessness.

“Should I call it in?” I asked into the radio.

“There’s no fire to call in.”

“And the creature?”

“There’s nothing they can do in the dark. Wait until morning. We might hear from Roger. And you never know, you might see her out by the tent cooking breakfast.”

“This is a damn nightmare.”

I put the radio down. Outside the black of night closed in. There was nothing for it now but to wait it out until light.

I stoked the fire and prepared a plate of food. The task provided a temporary distraction. Roger had said that I should not worry. He had also said that nothing could get inside the lookout. That they had to be invited in. How did he know that was true? Had this thing come to him before he went missing?

I resolved to hike down the mountain first thing in the morning. I would radio the station and tell them that I was sick or injured and needed to come down. Hell I might even tell them the truth, that I was scared. That there were things out here I did not want to mess with.

Rebecca had hiked up from that direction and she had made it. But then it had found her, and then it attacked. She had not invited that thing into her campsite and it had come anyway. Would I even make it back to the Ranger Station? I had half a day of hiking to get there. There was every chance I would not make it down.

My shoulders dropped as the realisation set in. I was a prisoner inside the glass walls of the lookout. The safest option was to stay put inside and keep the doors locked. I had come up here, in part, for the freedom and the open spaces. Now I was unable to leave or to go outside to collect wood or to take a shit. When light came I would have a view for miles in all directions and yet I would be confined to this tiny box.

Roger had asked for time. But how much time? How long did he expect me to remain a prisoner in the lookout he abandoned? He said that there were forces at work in the forest. He had singled out the woman in the blue dress. But it had not been her who rampaged through the forest leaving smoke in her wake. Martina had said to trust Roger, but could I trust Martina?

I ate less than half the pasta and put the leftovers in the fridge. By now it was full dark outside and I lay down on the bed and watched the fire. The heat dried my eyes until it felt like I had sandpaper under my eyelids. I let them stay closed. I was tired. The nap in the morning had tided me over for a while, but now I was flagging again.

The night was still. The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace. My mind drifted. I wished to be back in the office, with its cliques and drab furniture and my supervisor who used me as a place to unload all his frustration. I hated that place, but at least I knew what to expect. Early mornings and boredom and a middle manager drunk on power, doing his best to cut me down so he could puff out his own chest. He was a grown up version of the bullies who chased me into the toilet stall at school. Hell, I’d even take that toilet stall now over this.

My head snapped up and I coughed dryly. The once thick log in the fireplace was down to a pile of glowing red embers. I must have dozed off. I got up and put another lump of wood on the fire, if only for the comfort of the light and heat.

The flickering light from the flames danced on the floor. I watched the window, the grime more obvious under the direct glow. A pebble skipped across the ground somewhere outside. I heard the tick-tick-tick clear as day and caught a flash of movement. I listened for anything else. Nothing.

I lay back down on the bed and stared in horror at the panel of glass next to my bed. The glass was covered in condensation, roughly the height and breadth of a person. I reached out a finger and slid it down the glass. The condensation was on the outside. Something warm had been close to the window. Was it watching as I slept?

My eyes strained to penetrate the darkness. I scanned the windows in each direction, wishing I had eyes in the back of my head. On the northern side a shadow moved. A dark shape flirted with the light and then retreated back into the night.

I picked up the radio. “Martina? Roger? Is someone there?”

Martina’s voice first. “I’m here Tom.”

“Roger, are you there?”

A pause. “I’m here too.”

I whispered now. “It’s here.”

“The woman?”

“No. The other thing. Tell me what to do.”

Roger sounded worked up. “Are you inside?”

“Yes.”

“Is the door locked?”

“Yes.”

“Stay inside.”

“Should I go out and tell it to leave?”

“No. Stay inside. You’ll be safe there.”

“What is it?”

Roger waited before answering. “Stay inside. It won’t come in.”

A pair of feet the colour of the grey ash of a spent fire flirted with the light at the edge of the peak. They looked almost human, the shape of big boots. I almost fell off the bed. I dropped the radio and it clattered to the floor. The feet took deliberate steps towards the light and then retreated again, as if it knew it would expose itself. Thick grey smoke rose off its skin and into the night. It burned hot. This is what had chased down Rebecca out in the forest.

“Leave me alone.”

My voice was meek and small. It was the voice of a fifteen year old kid trapped in the bathroom at school, begging for it to end. It hadn’t worked then.

A pair of red eyes glowed like embers in the darkness. They moved around to the northern side of the lookout. It was circling, looking for an opening.

I fumbled for the radio.

“It’s still there.”

No answer.

“Is anyone there? I need help.”

Martina’s voice. “I’m here Tom.”

“Where is Roger?”

“I don’t know.”

I almost shouted into the radio. “I’m calling the Station.”

“No Tom. Roger told us not to.”

“Roger isn’t here now is he?”

A shape about the size of a small pot roast tumbled into the light and landed on the deck with a splat. I jumped backwards, afraid to look. My chest tightened and I struggled for breath.

From behind and somewhere far off came a guttural howl. The creature stopped, the eyes no longer dancing in the dark. Another cry split the silence of the night, closer this time. The eyes disappeared like headlights switching off. A flurry of stones skipped down the slope. It was on the move.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes. What was it?”

“I don’t know.”

Out in the darkness a series of growls, like two animals fighting. It sounded far off.

“I think it ran away. I can hear it fighting with something. I think there are two of them. It threw something before it took off.”

Martina’s response immediate. “What?”

“I’m afraid to look.”

“What is it Tom?”

I stepped over my unpacked bag and stood on my tip toes to get a better look. I was afraid to go near the glass. I took another half-step forwards and the object came into view. The sole of a shoe, of a hiking boot. I recognised it immediately. The same boot Rebecca Hughes was wearing when she visited my lookout. I put my hand to my mouth. A thin band of pale skin ended in a red and bloody mess. Her foot and half her shin were still attached to the shoe. Streaks of charred black cut across the flesh and the boot, as if it had been barbecued on a grill. I almost threw up.

“I’m calling the Station. I have to get out of here.”

“Tom.” It was Roger. “Don’t call the station Tom. You are not in danger.”

“It killed her. It ripped off her leg and left it by my door.”

“If you call the station then a team will come up here and there will be more blood. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“You told me there was nothing to worry about.”

“If you just stay inside and don’t let anything in, there won’t be. I will take care of everything. We are so close to the end Tom.”

The radio shook in my hand. “If you knew something was out there that could do this, you should have warned me. I could have warned her. She might have lived. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“It will be over soon. Stay inside.”

X