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Under The Oak

The Only True Face

A Coward’s Relief

Under The Oak

   The grey hatchback rattled across the metal cattle grid before crunching to a halt in the gravel lay-by. Arthur turned the ignition key and the engine died with a shuddering sigh. Evelyn sat motionless in the passenger seat, both hands wrapped around a paper coffee cup. Through the rain-streaked windscreen the northern forest looked like a towering wall of black spruce trees against the fading dusk. The late autumn sun had already dipped behind the distant hills. It had taken four exhausting hours of stop and start traffic to escape the city. She had spent all week craving quiet, but looking at the darkening treeline now made her stomach tighten with an unexpected chill.
   Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt and let out a long stretch against the headrest.
   “Fresh air at last,” he said, his face breaking into an eager grin. “No sirens, no construction noise, and no work calls.”
   Evelyn forced a polite smile and took a tiny sip of the cold dregs of her drink.
   “It certainly looks isolated,” she replied.
   “That is the whole point of a walking holiday,” Arthur emphasised, stepping out onto the wet gravel. “Grab your waterproofs before the light fades completely.”
   Evelyn stepped out into the chilly evening air and zipped her heavy wax jacket up to her chin. The gravel crunch beneath their boots felt reassuringly solid. Arthur hauled two rucksacks from the boot and slammed the heavy tailgate shut. The sudden metallic bang bounced off the front row of trees before dying away into the twilight. He buckled his waist strap and pointed toward a rotting wooden gate at the edge of the trees. An old footpath marker was nailed to the post, its green paint peeling away.
   They passed through the gate and began their ascent along the dirt track. For the first twenty minutes the hike felt entirely ordinary. The path wound gently through stands of Scots pine, their needles carpeting the ground in soft brown layers. Arthur walked at a brisk pace, chatting about his plans for dinner and the wood-burning stove at their rented cottage. Evelyn kept half a step behind him, watching the darkening sky through the upper branches. A light breeze stirred the pine boughs, shaking loose occasional drops of moisture onto their hoods.
   Then the wind stopped.
   It didn’t die down in gradual stages. The moving air simply ceased, as if a thick glass dome had dropped over the forest floor. The sudden silence was disarming. Evelyn slowed her steps, her ears straining against the lack of sound. The usual woodland noises had vanished completely. There were no birds chirping in the trees or rustling of leaves. Even the soil beneath their boots felt altered, squelching softly like wet dough without producing a sharp crunch.
   “Arthur,” she whispered, stopping dead in the middle of the trail.
   Arthur took three more strides before realising she had fallen behind. He turned round with an impatient sigh.
   “What is it?” he asked.
   “Listen,” she said, holding a hand up.
   Arthur stood still for several seconds, looking around at the motionless trunks.
   “I don't hear a thing,” he said, laughing softly.
   “That's just it,” Evelyn said, her voice tight. “Where are all the woodland sounds?”
   “Probably settled down for the night,” Arthur replied, waving a dismissive hand. “Come on, we only have another half mile before the loop turns back.”
   He turned and walked on, but Evelyn remained frozen for a few seconds longer. A cold prickle of dread crept up the back of her neck. When she took a breath, the air felt strangely heavy and warm against her lungs. She forced her legs to move, hurrying to close the gap between them.
   As she walked, a bizarre sensory distortion began to torment her hearing. Every time her right boot met the damp loam, a second footstep seemed to fall half a second later just out of sight. She stopped abruptly to catch it, but the stillness swallowed the woods instantly. Her heart rate increased slightly as intrusive thoughts raced through her mind. She told herself she was letting the approaching darkness play tricks on her mind.
   The trail curved around a massive outcropping of dark rock, rising steeply toward an open clearing. As they cleared the rise the pine trees peeled back to reveal a wide, sunken bowl in the earth.
   “Well, look at the size of that monster,” Arthur said, his voice dropping in awe.
   In the centre of the clearing stood a solitary oak of colossal proportions. Its massive trunk was at least twenty feet wide and swollen with grotesque burls and knotted bark that looked like hardened muscle. Unlike normal oaks, its heavy branches didn’t reach toward the sky. They bowed downward in severe arches, burying their gnarled tips back into the dark soil like giant rib bones.
   The earth around the trunk was completely devoid of undergrowth. It looked as though it had been cleared by hand, perfectly smooth and glistening with moisture. Arthur jogged down the grassy bank into the hollow, his previous impatience forgotten.
   “Arthur, wait!” Evelyn called out, her voice cracking slightly. “Don't go down there!”
   Arthur ignored her and walked directly to the outer ring of the tree's canopy. He stopped suddenly and crouched low to the earth.
   “Evelyn, come and look at this,” he shouted over his shoulder.
   Evelyn hesitated at the lip of the bowl, her chest aching with an overwhelming instinct to run back toward the car. The oppressive silence in the hollow felt heavier now, pressing down against her skull like a physical weight. She picked her way down the slick grass bank, keeping her hands clenched inside her pockets.
   When she reached Arthur he was pointing at a distinct row of indentations in the black soil.
   “Look at the shape of these,” he whispered.
   Evelyn leaned over his shoulder, her breath stopping in her throat.
   The tracks were not from boots, nor were they animal prints. They looked like the narrow pads of human toes that had struck the ground, leaving sharp, triangular gouges in the mud. There was no heel print at all.
   “Someone was walking on their tiptoes,” Arthur said, reaching out to touch the edge of a print.
   “Don't touch it,” Evelyn snapped, stepping back.
   “Why?” Arthur asked, looking up at her with a puzzled frown.
   “Look at the distance between them,” she said, her finger shaking as she traced the path of tracks.
   The next tiptoe impression was nearly twelve feet away, pressed just as deeply into the ground. The stride was impossible for anyone walking on tiptoe, or even sprinting at full speed.
   Arthur’s mouth opened slightly as he measured the distance with his eyes.
   “Maybe someone was jumping from root to root,” he suggested, though his voice had lost its certainty.
   “In bare feet?” Evelyn demanded. “In freezing mud? We need to leave, Arthur. Right now.”
   “Just let me check where the tracks go,” Arthur replied, getting to his feet.
   “No, Arthur! We’re going back to the car.”
   Arthur ignored her panic, following the line of narrow toe prints as they circled behind the monstrous trunk. Evelyn stood frozen in place, fighting the urge to vomit as a stench rising from the oak reached her nose.
   “Evelyn, get over here,” Arthur called from behind the trunk.
   His voice was barely a whisper, strained with genuine fear. Evelyn rounded the thick wall of knotted wood cautiously. Arthur was standing before a massive gap torn between two primary roots. The roots formed a natural archway that descended into a dark, subterranean hollow directly beneath the tree.
   A warm, humid draft blew out of the opening carrying the heavy stink of rot. Deep inside the sloping tunnel, thick vines began to glow with a faint, sickly green luminescence. Arthur stepped closer to the mouth of the cleft, unable to take his eyes off the strange light.
   The emerald glow pulsed faintly against the black soil of the tunnel floor. Arthur stood motionless at the entrance, his eyes reflecting the sickly light.
   “We shouldn't be standing here,” Evelyn whispered, grabbing his waterproof sleeve. “Arthur, please listen to me.”
   Arthur didn’t pull away, but his feet shifted forward on the damp lip of earth.
   “It isn't natural,” he muttered. “Roots don't glow like that.”
   “Which is why we need to walk back to the car right now.”
   “Just one look down the slope,” he said, turning his head slightly. “Just to see what’s producing the light.”
   Before Evelyn could yank him backward, Arthur stepped down onto the sloping dirt ramp. His boot sank two inches into the soft mud, sliding forward before finding purchase on a thick root. He ducked under the low wooden archway, vanishing into the green gloom.
   Evelyn stood alone in the dead quiet of the clearing. The thought of standing out in the falling twilight by herself terrified her more than the tunnel.
   “Arthur, wait for me,” she hissed, ducking her head beneath the gnarled lintel.
   The earthen ramp plunged downward at a punishing angle. Evelyn had to press her palms against the tunnel walls to keep from tumbling forward. The walls were massive, intertwined oak roots that coiled around each other like nests of sleeping serpents.
   When her bare fingers brushed the wall roots initially, she recoiled in shock. The wood felt damp and curiously warm to the touch. It felt like living skin rather than ancient timber. She looked down at her palms and saw they were smeared with a sticky, amber resin. The fluid gave off a sour, metallic odour that made her skin crawl. She wiped her hands frantically against her trousers, but the residue stayed. The unpleasant sensation was preferable to sliding down the steep decline.
   The air grew thicker with every downward step they took. The chill of the northern woods was completely gone, replaced by a humid, stagnant heat. Sweat began to prickle along Evelyn's hairline and collarbone.
   “Arthur, slow down,” she gasped.
   Arthur was three paces ahead of her, his silhouette etched in bright emerald light.
   “The ground is levelling out,” he called back.
   The ceiling lifted as the narrow ramp emptied into a vast underground chamber. Evelyn stumbled out behind Arthur, catching her balance on a flat boulder. The cavern was enormous, stretching out beneath the root system of the massive oak above.
   Thick ropes of bioluminescent vines hung from the vaulted ceiling like dangling intestines. They dripped with a pale green fluid that glowed with a steady, unearthly intensity. The light cast long, shifting shadows across the jagged earthen floor. The illumination made the walls seem to heave and breathe in the damp corners.
   Evelyn clamped a hand over her nose and mouth as the stench struck her. The sweet scent of rot they had noticed outside was overwhelming down here. It was a suffocating blend of putrid flesh, sour bile, and the sharp metallic tang of fresh blood. Her stomach heaved violently. She doubled over, fighting back the desperate urge to vomit onto her boots.
   “Oh God,” Arthur choked out, taking a step back into Evelyn.
   “What is it?” she managed to whisper, keeping her eyes squeezed shut against the nausea.
   “Look up,” he said, his voice trembling.
   Evelyn forced her eyes open and looked toward the centre of the subterranean vault. Hanging from the tangled network of roots were dozens of animal carcasses. They were suspended by fibrous wooden tendrils that had grown directly through their hind legs.
   There were badgers, foxes, hares, and several large red deer dangling in neat, orderly rows. Every single corpse had been slit cleanly from throat to pelvis, their ribcages pried open like empty baskets. The meat was strangely bloodless, dried to a pale grey under the emerald light.
  “This isn't an animal den,” Evelyn whispered, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. “Animals don't hang their food like butcher shops.”
   Arthur walked forward tentatively, his face drained of all colour. He stopped beneath a hanging stag whose empty eye sockets stared down into the dirt.
   “The cuts are too straight,” Arthur murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Look at the bone. It's been sawn through.”
   “Arthur, don't go near them!”
   He reached out a trembling hand and touched the dried hide of the deer. The moment his fingers made contact, the hanging vine above it twitched.
   A faint shudder rippled through the braided roots along the ceiling. Evelyn watched in horror as the green light flared slightly brighter around the suspended carcasses.
   Arthur jerked his hand back as if he had been burned.
   “Did you see that?” he stammered, backing toward Evelyn.
   “Yes,” she breathed. “We’re leaving. We’re leaving right now.”
   The green light suddenly seemed to stretch out ahead of them, illuminating three dark, gaping tunnels on the far side of the cavern that they hadn't noticed before. The tunnels plunged into pitch-black depths, leading deeper into the bedrock.
   Every nerve in Evelyn’s body screamed that they were being observed from those black openings. She held her breath, listening for the slightest hint of movement beyond the green haze. Terrifying thoughts raced through her mind in a frantic loop. Who had carved the carcasses? What had made those tiptoe tracks in the mud above?
   Arthur grabbed Evelyn's hand, his fingers icy and slick with nervous sweat.
   “You’re right,” he confessed, panic finally breaking through his stubborn demeanour. “Let's get out of here.”
   They scrambled back toward the base of the entrance ramp, their boots slipping on the slick mud. They had made it only halfway up the incline when a deafening sound shattered the cavern's heavy quiet.
   It began with a deep, grinding groan from the earth above. The massive root columns at the entrance suddenly convulsed, whipping against each other with terrifying force.
   Evelyn cried out as the ground shook violently beneath them.
   “Arthur, run!” she screamed.
   Arthur lunged for the purple twilight filtering through the top of the cleft, but he was too late. With a series of violent, splintering cracks, the thick roots snapped across the opening like interlocking jaws. Wood fused against wood. Soil and loose stones cascaded down the ramp, burying the last remaining cracks.
   The outside twilight vanished completely. As it did, they both lost their footing and tumbled and slipped back down to the chamber.
   A heavy silence returned to the space as they came to a stop, broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing. The air in the sealed chamber immediately turned stifling and stale. Evelyn sat in the dirt, her chest heaving as she stared back up the ramp in despair at their only escape that was now blocked.
   The hanging carcasses now swayed gently from their tendrils. From somewhere deep within the dark tunnels across the room the faint sound of wet scraping began to echo through the dark.
   The emerald light flickered along the ceiling as the roots settled into place. The air in the chamber had grown suffocatingly warm.
   Arthur propped himself up on his elbow next to Evelyn.
   “Keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice cracking with dry terror.
   Evelyn didn’t reply.
   From the mouth of the central tunnel, the wet scraping sound came again. It was a slow, dragging slide followed by the distinct tap of hard pads against stone. Something was creeping along the bedrock in the dark. The sound was accompanied by a wet, bubbling respiration that grew louder with every passing second.
   A drop of clammy condensation fell from a hanging root and struck Arthur’s neck. He jumped, stifling a cry.
   “Did you hear that?” he whispered, his eyes darting frantically.
   “It's just water, Arthur,” Evelyn said, trying to convince herself of something she knew wasn’t true.
   The stench of rot filled her nostrils until she could taste the stale decay at the back of her throat. Her mind raced. Who had strung up the dead animals? How long had they been hanging in this subterranean darkness?
   Evelyn strained her eyes, peering into the black mouth of the tunnel. For a split second she caught a glimpse of movement in the peripheral gloom. A slender, pale shape seemed to unfold from the tunnel ceiling and pull itself backward into the dark.
   “Did you see that?” she breathed, barely moving her lips.
   Arthur nodded once, his eyes locked onto the black corridor.
   “There’s something in there,” he said, his voice trembling. “We need a weapon.”
   Arthur crouched low and began fumbling along the muddy floor for anything solid. His fingers closed around a heavy, jagged limestone rock half-buried in the soil. He pried it loose with a dull squelch and stood up, holding it against his chest.
   The bioluminescent vines above them began to pulse with a sickly, feverish glow. With every surge of green light, the hanging animal carcasses cast grotesque shadows across the stone floor. Evelyn ran through in her mind what they could be facing.
   Whoever it was had killed the stags with precision and cut them open with a butcher’s skill. They were not mindless beasts. They were patient and methodical.
   A soft click sounded from the leftmost tunnel. It sounded like someone tapping long fingernails against the rock. Evelyn turned her head sharply, but the entrance remained empty.
   “Arthur, we can't stay here,” she whispered.
   “Where else can we go?” Arthur snapped under his breath.
   “Look around the edges! There might be another opening.”
   They moved along the curving wall of the cavern, keeping their backs against the cold stone. Every step through the slick mud felt agonisingly loud in the suffocating stillness. Evelyn held her breath until her lungs burned, stopping every two paces to listen for the dragging sound. Her stomach suddenly churned violently, a fresh wave of nausea rising in her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing the bile down as she stepped toward a cluster of boulders.
   Arthur suddenly stopped.
   “Look up there,” he whispered, pointing a trembling hand.
   Evelyn peered over his shoulder. Hidden behind a curtain of hanging roots was a narrow, vertical chimney cut into the rock. It looked like an ancient drainage flue or a natural geological fissure leading to the surface. The shaft was narrow, but wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
   A faint, cool draft brushed against Evelyn's heated face. It carried the fresh scent of damp pine needles and wet earth. A sudden, overwhelming rush of relief flooded through Evelyn's chest. Her knees stopped shaking as tears of pure hope welled in her eyes.
   “It goes to the surface,” she choked out, a desperate smile creasing her lips.
   “We can climb it,” Arthur said, tossing his rock aside. “The rock looks rough and dry, offering plenty of handholds.”
   “Are you sure?”
   “I can boost you up to the first ledge,” he insisted, his eyes wide with renewed energy. “Once you're up, you can pull me after you.”
   Arthur stopped below the narrow stone shaft and braced his boots against the base of the wall. He laced his fingers together, creating a stirrup with his hands.
   “Step up,” he commanded in a tense whisper.
   Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She placed her muddy boot into his palms and grabbed a protruding edge of jagged rock. Arthur hoisted her upward with all his strength. Evelyn kicked against the stone wall, finding a narrow footing three feet off the ground. She reached up with both hands, her fingers wrapping securely around the smooth rim of an upper ledge.
   The cool night air bathed her neck. She could smell the crisp autumn night above. Safety was so close.
   Then the cool breeze abruptly stopped.
   A wave of scalding, rancid heat blew down from the shaft, washing over Evelyn’s face. It smelled of putrid, rotting organic material. Evelyn froze, her knuckles turning white against the stone.
   Slowly, she lifted her gaze into the chimney.
   The way was blocked out by a pale, hairless torso crouching upside down inside the narrow shaft. Its impossibly long, spindly limbs were folded against the rock walls like the legs of a spider. Two bloodshot, human eyes stared down into hers from a gaunt, skinless face. A wide mouth parted without a sound, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth dripping with dark saliva.
   A scream caught in Evelyn’s throat. Her body locked up in terror.
   Needle-thin fingers reached down from the shadows, their elongated knuckles bending at unnatural angles. The cold, leathery tips brushed against the skin of her forehead. A piercing shriek finally tore from Evelyn's lungs.
   “Arthur! Pull me down!” she screamed, kicking frantically against the rock.
   “Evelyn! What is it?” Arthur yelled, grabbing her ankles.
   The creature lunged downward with blinding speed. Long hands clamped around Evelyn's shoulders lifting her bodily off the ledge. Arthur pulled on her legs with desperate fury. The creature didn’t give an inch. With a sickening, wet snap, her collarbone fractured under the creature's crushing grip. Evelyn screamed in agony as she was yanked upward into the dark chimney.
   Arthur lost his grip and tumbled backward onto the cavern floor.
   “Evelyn!” he roared, scrambling to his feet.
   Above him, the bioluminescent vines flared with a blinding emerald brilliance. The entire cavern was illuminated in stark, violent clarity for a single second. From every dark tunnel mouth, dozens of pale, long-limbed figures emerged on silent tiptoes.
   Then the green light died completely. Total, suffocating blackness engulfed the underground chamber. The violent cracking of bone echoed through the dark, accompanied by the frantic, wet sound of tearing meat. Arthur’s final shout was choked off mid-breath by a sudden, wet gurgle.
   Gradually, the cavern fell still once more.
   Far above on the surface of Blackwood Ridge, the massive oak stood motionless under the pale moon. The forest was wrapped in its heavy, unbroken silence. The ring of impossible footprints in the black soil waited quietly for the next pair of footsteps to leave the road.

The End