[2014] Wildwood Shadows Read online

  Wildwood

  Shadows

  Scott McElhaney

  Part One

  The Cuyahoga

  Nikoti

  It was during a fierce thunderstorm on the evening of June 12th when an unknown forest reached out and snatched my neighborhood away from me. The rain was viciously pelting my roof with the rhythm of a hundred angry hammers. I lie on the floor of the family room playing my 3DS while the weather outside tried its best to beat its way through the front window.

  Mother had just started working the evening shift at Yankee Candle to supplement her day job at the local grocery store, so she wasn’t home at the time. That didn’t stop her from calling me every twenty minutes to make sure that I was alright or that I’d found the sandwich she’d left for me in the fridge. It didn’t matter that I was seventeen and could take care of myself, not to mention the fact that I could make a better sandwich than those meat-deficient subs from Sam’s Deli. What mattered to my mother at that moment was that it looked like Armageddon outside and I was home alone.

  I wouldn’t have been alone that evening had I been the offspring of a normal father. My dad slipped out when I was fifteen without so much as a goodbye, good riddance, or a scribbled suicide note to explain his sudden disappearance. One day he was there and the next day he was gone. If he’d still been in my life on the day of the thunderstorm, both of my parents would have been home with me the moment when my world disappeared. My father would have still worked at the Cuyahoga Valley Physician Group until 5:00 and my mother would have still spent the better portion of her day with the Munroe Falls High School PTA. We’d have been a normal family. By 7:20 pm, I’d have still been struggling to unlock a new cart on Mario Kart 8 and my parents would have been hanging out at home doing whatever it was that normal parents do.

  At 7:20, when the trees closed in on me, I should not have been abandoned to venture on alone. I shouldn’t have lost everything. Well… I didn’t quite lose everything. I still had a roof over my head, so to speak.

  Niiswi

  I never really minded thunderstorms, but this particular one was distracting. The rain beat hard on the roof, interrupted only by the crashing thunder that was now riding on the tail of the flashes of lightning outside. I’m not sure what had drawn my attention away from my game and to the front window. All I know is that when I first looked out, it was dark and foreboding out there. Then suddenly, the storm stopped.

  Suddenly – instantly – the darkness abated, the rain and thunder was gone, and the window was now being stabbed with random spears of sunlight. I stared curiously at the window for a moment before rising from the floor. I wondered just then if this new development would stop the constant phone calls to check in on me. I wasn’t even five feet from the window when I noticed something significantly wrong with the world outside.

  Instead of houses across the street… instead of a street… heck, instead of a sidewalk, there was now nothing but massive trees. I pulled back the thin shears to get a better view of the impossible scene outside. It wasn’t just trees that surrounded my house, but rather a dense forest with very little sunlight piercing through the thick canopy. I looked to the left and the right, quickly discovering that my house was surrounded by this forest. The grass that was once my lawn extended outward from my house almost to the point where the sidewalk used to be. I noticed just then that the grass immediately stopped in a perfect arc, encircling the front of my house and perhaps the whole house altogether.

  This thought transported me back to the kitchen window at the rear of the house. There, I discovered the same thing. The dense woods began around ten or twelve meters beyond my window. Beneath those trees was the natural compost and moss that made up any forest floor, but that stopped abruptly at the green grass that still remained of my back yard. And just like in the front, the border of my yard was an arc, giving me what seemed like a half-circle for a back yard.

  That’s when I noticed the severed fence to the left that once marked the boundary between our property and Mr. Walter’s place. The fence simply ended abruptly at the same spot where the grass boundary curved in that direction. Everything looked as though someone had taken a circle cookie cutter and sliced my house right out from my neighborhood and then dropped me into the middle of a forest.

  I knew in that moment that I’d need to go out and verify it in person. I went to the dining room and unlatched the sliding glass door that led out to our small deck. Since the house was a typical 1970’s split level, the deck was situated about five or six feet above the ground level. Going out through the back door would involve my stepping out onto the deck and descending about ten or so stairs before even reaching the concrete slab at the bottom. If this new world that surrounded me was actually some distant alien planet, or perhaps if I was dropped into the middle of the dinosaur age, I’d be risking a lot by going out the back door.

  The front door, on the other hand, which was situated halfway between the upstairs and downstairs, led straight out to a four-by-four foot concrete slab and then to the front yard. Without the security of knowing where I was or what happened, I much preferred the idea of remaining close enough to run back inside and lock the door. I latched the back door again and then turned to the stairs that led down to the front door.

  Even as I stood at the steel door, I wondered if I should grab a kitchen knife or raid my dad’s gun safe before going out there. I unlocked the door and opened it, shaking off my paranoid thoughts as I looked out through the raindrops that still dotted the screen door. I could see that the grass was still damp from the downpour that had just ended mere minutes prior. With no tree canopy directly overhead, enough sunlight made its way through to reflect off the lawn and give it the appearance that it had been littered with clear gemstones.

  I put my hand on the knob to the screen door and was just about to open it when I saw movement in the woods directly ahead of me. I realized just then that I might not have been so paranoid after all. I knew where the key to the gun safe was and even if it wasn’t there, I was quite certain that I could break into it with a crowbar or a sledgehammer from the garage.

  The shadow of movement suddenly transformed into a small deer who had now chosen to examine its new neighbor. The deer, assuming it could see me through the screen door, didn’t seem as concerned about me as I was about this sudden interruption into my life. At least now I knew I wasn’t on an alien planet. And unless a pterodactyl swooped in right now and stole the deer from my lawn, I doubted seriously that I was in the prehistoric era.

  I slowly turned the knob and opened the door just a crack. The deer lifted its nose from the wet grass and looked at me with its ears perked up. I nudged the door further, admitting the crisp musky scent of the warm breeze into my home. I took a cautious step out onto the concrete, inhaling this new earthy aroma as I watched the deer watching me. I couldn’t determine what the deer thought of me and my invasive home, but it was evident that it didn’t find me a threat.

  The piercing scree of an unknown bird interrupted my thoughts, commanding my attention to the mighty trees to my left. I noticed just then that the attached 2-car garage didn’t fully survive the cookie cutter. Forgetting my senses, I released the door and rushed to the remains of the garage. The deer darted back into the woods before the screen door even slammed shut behind me. By the time I reached the remains of the asphalt drive, I realized just how close I’d come to the edge of the woods without so much as a knife or a club to protect myself.

  The garage, from the concrete base all the way up through the roof, was sliced perfectly out of existence. The garage door was still closed, but with the side gaping open as it was, it served no purpose at the moment. I risked stepping into the
forest, which began immediately at the point where the other half of the garage vanished. I returned to the inside of the garage, bypassing the door which remained closed.

  Inside, I discovered some impossibilities that all but insisted I was dreaming this whole thing. Everything within the half-garage that wasn’t located near the forest border to my right survived the trip in good condition. What didn’t survive was my bicycle which apparently had fallen over when the back half including the wheel and the seat had been severed off. The push mower didn’t survive. The deck of the mower was perfectly fine, but the handle succumbed to the same blade that took the rest of the structure away. Nearly three-quarters of a spare tire for Mom’s Jeep remained in the garage. The fibrous rubber as well as part of the rim had been sliced away with evidently no effort at all.

  Had her Jeep been parked in the garage, most of it, if not all of it, would have probably survived the invisible blade. It was mostly the second car space that was sliced away. All that remained of that portion, besides the items already mentioned, were some sliced portions of PVC pipe, a handle that used to belong to the snow blower, and half a ceramic planter. I still had most of the larger gardening tools hanging from the wall along with Dad’s tool cabinet and his fishing gear.

  Turning to the gaping hole that now revealed a wide forest, I wondered for the first time what truly happened. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t a dream. Nevertheless, nothing came to mind to explain what I’d witnessed so far. Nothing short of alien abduction came to mind, though I couldn’t imagine any technology that could instantly take a bite out of the neighborhood and transplant the morsel somewhere else in the blink of an eye.

  Suddenly, I heard what could only be described as a deep growl coming from the depths of the woods before me. The birds continued to chirp and scree as though they didn’t hear it. A shadowy beast moved in the distance, relieving me of any bravery I might have had. I turned back to the corner of the garage where four stairs led down to the door back into the house. Unless I was armed and dressed for the occasion, I had no intention of leaving this house ever again.

  Thwi

  The key to the gun safe was still tucked away in the back of my mother’s jewelry box as I’d suspected. I retrieved it and opened the towering locker that still stood in the corner of her bedroom. My mother was never a fan of guns, but my dad was. He was a hunter and a fisherman during those random times he was able to get away with his friends for the weekend.

  I opened the safe and stared at the arsenal before me. I think I took after my mother when it came to firearms. Although I wasn’t an advocate against them, I really never had much of an interest either. Because of this, I had no idea what I was really looking at. Propped in the one corner of the locker was a rifle with a scope that my father often took with him when he went hunting. There were two shotguns in the other corner. One of these shotguns was chrome with a pistol grip and the other black one looked very plain to me with a regular stock. Lying on the base of the locker atop the many boxes of ammunition were two handguns. One was a large chromed revolver and the other was the type of black firearm I often saw in the holsters of police. I believed, though I’m not certain of course, that this was called a Glock.

  There were holsters for each of the handguns, but I didn’t really trust any of my belts to hold up the weight of these heavy weapons. Besides, I wasn’t sure I could fire one of these without knocking myself to the ground. I did however have faith in the shotguns since I’d seen them used many times in movies and in some of my video games. I felt confident in my ability to load them and to fire them, especially since they probably didn’t require much skill on my part when it came to aiming them.

  I grabbed the shiny chrome one with the pistol grip. I also took one of the smaller boxes of 12-guage ammunition. I then sat down on my mom’s bed and cocked the shotgun, verifying that it had been stored empty. I opened the box of shells and proceeded to load the weapon. It only held six rounds before I couldn’t feed any more into it. Fearing that a time could come when I may find myself in a situation where six rounds wouldn’t be enough, I took six more shells and put three in each of my pockets.

  I put the rest of the ammunition back into the safe and then locked it again. I didn’t want to risk an alien or a caveman breaking into the house and using those weapons against me. I then took the safe key and the shotgun with me as I went to my own bedroom. I was still wearing the Nikes I’d slipped on before checking out the garage. Besides the shoes, all I had on were a pair of shorts. In case I had to leave the house suddenly, I wanted to get dressed for the occasion. Even if that meant sleeping in all my clothes from now on.

  I had a pair of hiking boots in my closet that probably didn’t fit very well anymore, but my only other choices would be the loafers I wore to funerals, my blue Converse Chucks that were almost worn through, or the Nikes which were so ventilated that they let all the water and mud into the grids on the bottom. I grabbed a thick pair of socks from my underwear drawer and did a quick inventory as I pondered the next time I’d get to do some laundry.

  Laundry…

  Laundry required electricity and water – something I hadn’t verified working yet. I reached over the top of the dresser and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. I flipped it again and again, still getting no response from the lamp in my room. My heart sank at the common sense of it all. If you scooped a house out of the ground, as all the evidence seemed to suggest, you would also sever all the plumbing and the wiring.

  “Water,” I muttered to myself.

  My thoughts instantly went from water to the concept of thirst. Thirst then transitioned to thoughts of starvation. From there, my mind settled in on the refrigerator.

  I was suddenly in a lot more trouble than I had initially realized. I didn’t need to focus my attention on hiding out in my house and protecting myself from the dangers that may or may not have lurked out there. Without a microwave or a toaster, I was going to need to cook over a fire - outside. Beyond sleeping, there was little my house could offer me in the way of survival if it offered no electricity or plumbing. Without an oven or a microwave, I would have to find another way to cook. I was fairly certain we had a tank or two of propane for the grill, but what about after that? And would I need to hunt for food? Did vegetables grow wild out there in the forest? And what did people do for water in the days before plumbing? Without running water, I was going to need to drink rain water or river water. I certainly didn’t know anything about digging a well.

  I dropped my socks to the floor next to the shotgun and then ambled to the bathroom. I turned on the sink faucet and was presented with nothing at all. I lifted the toilet seat and discovered the usual level of water in the bottom. I was just about to press the lever to flush the toilet when a little voice inside my head informed me that the tank in the back contained clean water which was now a precious commodity.

  Where else could I find clean water? I mentally searched the house from where I stood. There would be ice cubes in the freezer which would melt before long. There was probably a half pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator as well as three or four bottles of Gatorade. I also had two cans of Mountain Dew left. I wouldn’t count the gallon of milk because I wasn’t about to drink that once it was no longer cold.

  We had another bathroom downstairs which would have clean water in the back tank of the toilet. The laundry room would offer nothing except hopefully a load of clean clothes in the dryer. I did recall hearing the dryer alarm chime a couple hours ago. As far as water, I would be stuck unless…

  I stared at the hot water faucet which still offered me nothing. There was however a hot water tank next to the furnace in the laundry room. I had no idea how I would get the water out, but I was fairly certain it held several gallons of fresh water. Maybe upwards of twenty or thirty gallons.

  I returned my thoughts to the refrigerator and to the gas grill on the back deck. I couldn’t imagine cooking Pizza Rolls, Hot Pockets, or chicken nuggets on
the grill. I probably had less than a day before the food would spoil, so I needed to plan on consuming those perishable foods first. We had plenty of canned soups, pastas, bread, cereals, crackers, and snacks in the pantry to last me at least a week or two.

  I returned to my bedroom and continued to focus on getting dressed more appropriately. Not knowing what kind of briars and thorns awaited me in the woods, I figured it would be best to leave little exposed in spite of the warm weather out there. I located a pair of jeans and quickly changed into them. I retrieved the spare shells from the shorts I had been wearing and then tucked them into my pockets. I then rummaged through my shirt drawer, finally locating a long sleeve blue Adidas shirt that would suffice. I would have liked to have something camouflage, but I had never been the outdoorsy type nor was I one of those freaky survivalists who planned to one day find themselves hiding out from the government in the mountains.

  I put the shirt on and then retrieved my hiking boots from the closet. I rarely wore these shoes outside of winter because they were uncomfortable, but now I didn’t have much choice. I sat down on the floor and put on the socks and the shoes. Upon standing up again, I was pleased to discover that they still fit.

  Now, I would need a knife. I glanced around my room, pondering knives I’ve accumulated over the years. I knew I had an enormous SOG survival knife somewhere in my mess, but I didn’t know where I’d left it and I seriously doubted I’d want to carry such an enormous blade anyway. I had a butterfly knife somewhere as well. Again, that wasn’t probably what I needed to make it out there.

  Suddenly, I remembered the Gerber Multi-tool we kept in the kitchen junk drawer. It was sturdy, heavy, and had everything I could ever possibly need. And without our electric can opener, I was finally going to have to use that particular function of the tool. I retrieved the shotgun from the side of my dresser and took it with me into the kitchen. It only took me a moment to locate the multi-tool which I immediately put into my back pocket. At this point, if I were somehow chased from my home, I’d have at least a sliver of a chance of survival. Nevertheless, I didn’t plan on leaving the house until absolutely necessary.