The woods don’t change very often. Sure, it goes through the cycle of seasons. Trees fall in storms. Animals migrate through. Butterflies emerge from their cocoons. Rain falls. The sun dries up the rain. Creeks overflow and then become empty beds. Underbrush builds up and fires clear it all away.
These endless cycles don’t really change it. They just make it look different from time to time.
Walter and Margaret knew this well. They’d spent more than 2 decades wandering the woods together. This very forest was one that they’d known quite well in years past, but they came here with a promise of something other than a day in the woods.
Walter pulled out his phone and checked for a signal. Nothing. He looked up through the translucent green canopy and found himself half-blinded by the sun streaming down into his eyes. “This is wrong, somehow.”
Margaret stopped in front of him. When the crunching of her shoes on fallen leaves ceased, Walter became extremely aware of the silence. It was total, at first, but then the sound of a few birds and insects crept back into his awareness.
“What’s wrong? It’s not like we haven’t been here plenty of times before?” Margaret shrugged her black pack off her her red jacketed shoulders. She pulled out her cell phone. “We don’t even have GPS. Why?”
Walter turned his phone off and slid it back into his left pants pocket. “They’re useless now. Guess we gotta use the old tools of the trade, huh?” They trudged along through the forest until they reached a hill that contained a flat rock where they could spread a map out. It was a topographical map in white, black, and blue with red numbers marking latitude and longitude. “Based on the the description he gave us, it should be here.” Walter pointed at the bottom of a valley on the map.
Margaret undid her graying ponytail and started braiding her hair, a nervous fidget that Walter noted. “That sounds right. It’s the only valley here that has that many stone pillars in it.” She paused and let her new braid fall over her right shoulder. “Walter, I’m worried. Should we go back? What if something’s happened? There’s got to be a reason we don’t have a GPS signal. We’ve always had a GPS signal here.”
Walter scratched his salt and pepper head and squinted through his glasses at the map while he settled up the coordinates in his mind.
“Walter. Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.” He folded the map back up and put it in his black rucksack. He threw the rucksack over his camo clad back and said, “I’m not ok with it either. But we know this forest well. It’s not like we’ll get lost.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her throat tightened and panic seeped in around the edges of her words. “Is there a satellite down? The President’s finger was over the button before we left. What if he did it and we aren’t home with our families?”
“Enough!” Walter snapped. He surveyed the forest. It was dense with trees and the trail they were on was only visible to those who knew the region well. “He told us to retrieve it. I know it’s not the best timing possible, but we can’t just refuse, can we? If we can get it for him, our kids will be safe during the war..”
Margaret’s worry lines deepened. “We don’t know that. My husband was supposed to be just fine and he’s gone. What if the same happens to the kids?”
Walter made no response. He just glared at her and started walking.
“Betty is probably terrified, Walt. You know she’s not ok with any of this.”
Walter kept walking and grumbled, “She’s my wife. Don’t you think I know that?”
The hike to the valley was a difficult one. They crossed over vast hills with long, steep inclines. Some of these hills turned to rock faces that required vertical climbing. Neither of them ever wore a harness, they were such old hands at their craft. The trail was a strange one that could not be circumnavigated if you desired to reach the valley–Walter and Margaret had tried many times before. Topping another rock face, a familiar shift in vision occurred. The way back was now obscured, despite having been entirely clear from the bottom. Margaret said, “I always worry it won’t appear again. Some part of me wishes it wouldn’t.” They moved on across streams, crevasses, and precarious fallen trees that had to be walked across–no exceptions. They finally came to a hill that ended above yet another rock face looking over a strange sight.
The valley was grim. Walter took his rucksack off and said, “This is it, right?” Margaret nodded.
She took off her pack and pulled out a yellow sticky note and read aloud. “On the top of the map the second pillar to the left. The box is buried at the south foot of the pillar.” The bottom of the note was covered in a small hand drawn map that read “hill” on either side, had one letter marks for the cardinal directions, and a number of boxes drawn in a seemingly random pattern between the hills. She looked up and the valley she now faced contained a stone floor populated with massive marble pillars. The now visible tops of them matched the pattern on the notes map. “I’m 100% certain this is it. It has to be.”
“Remember the last time we were here?” Walter looked at Margaret who nodded again. “Do you think those kids we saw were ok? Those things that were down there before were…” He trailed off and looked back down at the valley below. He saw no movement or shadows. He strained his hearing. The dull ringing of his tinnitus was all he heard. The birds and insects were gone now.
“I don’t see any of those things this time,” Margaret said. Walter looked back and saw her face. It was tightened in fear at the memory.
They descended the rock face into the valley below. The stone floor was made of square tiles, each larger than a small car. The pillars that rose throughout them were of the same width, but rose at least five stories above their heads. A stream cut through the stone floor in a winding path that distorted the perpendicularity of the lines between the tiles. The floor was littered with rubble and remnants of what Walter believed to be a stone ceiling, long collapsed or carried off by something greater than he could imagine. No other rubble or evidence of civilization was ever found in these woods aside from the random valleys containing these pillars. This valley was special, however.
Crossing the line between the valley’s rock floor and the ancient stone was always a strange feeling. Walter shivered and Margaret gritted her teeth against the cold feeling that ran up her legs. The first time they’d been here was before they had met their respective spouses. It didn’t seem to change, but today it was different than they remembered. It felt colder and more blue than ever before. As they remembered, there was no sign that animals ever entered, although strange species of grass persisted in growing through the cracks.
“I don’t remember this one.” Margaret bent to look at the seed head of a plant. It was a beautiful thing that disturbed her deeply. It was crustacean in design, but clearly a plant. It seemed as if it would bite whoever touched it, though it had neither mouth nor claw.
They strode on after a brief adjustment. Walter looked up at the pillar they were passing on the left. It was plane and smooth. He looked right and saw that every pillar was just as smooth as this one. They always were, but he often felt that if he looked hard enough, he would eventually see some kind of carving. The pillars just reached five stories toward a blue receding sky. They seemed to be the massive remnants of some mighty beings that came before. “Look at these things, Margy. They’re beautiful.”
Margaret kept her eyes to the ground. “They make me seasick to look up at them. If I don’t keep my eyes down while we walk, I’ll hurl.”
Walt chuckled. “You’re such an old woman.”
Margaret smiled. She never thought she’d live long enough to earn that title.
The smell of ripe apples reached them and they looked at each other. That was new. The air here was cold. It smelled of stone and water. It never smelled like life of any kind. But the sweet aroma of fresh fruit and sugar filled their mouths with saliva and thirst.
“This is what I’m talking about. It’s never been like this before.” Margaret said, stopping. “We have always had a GPS signal getting here. This place is weird. I’ve never liked it and really want to get back home to check on my daughter.”
“We can do that when we find the box.” Walter turned and looked at her. “Please, Margy. We’re right here. We don’t have a reason to turn back now.”
“Have you ever smelled apples here, Walt? Ever? We’ve been through here half a dozen times and not once have I ever smelled fruit! It bothers me.” Walter looked back at her stubbornly. He frowned, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.
“Look. It won’t take me but a minute to retrieve the box then we can leave. If you’re that uncomfortable, crawl out of the valley and wait for me where we walked up before, ok? But we have to do this. We don’t have a choice.” His voice was hoarse and he rubbed his throat. He coughed and spat on the ground. It looked like puss to Margaret.
She shook her head. “This gets worse every time you come here, too.”
Walter huffed and turned away from her toward the pillar. She elected to follow him anyway.
When they reached the place on that map, they looked down at the ground. The pillar was surrounded by stone, like all the others. They combed along the edges looking at the grass that sprung between the tiles. One of the crustacean stalks burst against Walter’s arm, sending red sparks in every direction. The stone floor of the south face looked entirely solid, except for a single area that contained two cracks that intersected near the base of the pillar. Margaret pulled out a knife and wedged it between the tile and the pillar until the cracked section popped loose. As she pulled it up, the smell of apples smacked her in the face, making her sick with the sweetness of it. Beneath was an empty hole that contained what they were looking for.
“That’s it,” she said.
Walter got on all fours and reached down, burying his arm up to the shoulder to reach it. When he pulled his arm back out, he held a plain wooden box. He placed it in his rucksack and turned to leave, wordlessly.
“Walt!” Margaret called after him. “Aren’t we going to open it and make sure it’s not empty.”
“We were told not to open the box.” Walter turned. “And weren’t you eager to leave?”
“If we come back with an empty box, he’ll probably kill your kids.”
“Wow, Margy. Really? You can’t be serious. He said retrieve the box. We’re doing that. And I felt something rattle inside, so I know it’s not empty.”
“That could be anything from a dead rat to a baby carrot. You don’t know.”
“We’re not supposed to know. That’s the point.”
“And if it is a baby carrot, then what? If we came out here and brought back a box with a carrot in it, we’re all dead.”
“Maybe he wants a carrot! I don’t know! It’s not my business.”
“It will be when he kills your wife.” Margaret stomped her foot. “Just open the thing. When we verify that it’s not something random, we can go.”
Walter fumed for a moment. “Fine.” He took his rucksack back off, pulled out the box, and handed it to Margaret. “You do it.”
Margaret felt the regular grain of the box and examined it’s dark and solid wood. It felt old and the grain was nothing like she’d ever seen. She shook it. It rattled like he’d said. She turned it lid-side-up. The top of it was unadorned, containing neither lock nor clasp of any kind. It could have been a cheap cigar box at first glance.
“Well?” Walter yelled. “Are you going to open it or not?” He coughed and spat again. He beat his chest and looked at her with anger and annoyance.
Margaret felt for the edge of the lid and pushed up. Inside… “It’s empty.” She overturned the box.
“What?” Walter snatched it from her hands. “It can’t be.” He put his hand inside it, feeling around for a hidden opening or latch. He shook it beside his ear. It made no sound. “It rattled just before you opened it. How is that possible? You didn’t pocket whatever it was, did you?”
Margaret shook her head. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Walter closed the box and shook it again. Nothing. It made no noise. He turned to face the exit. “I told you we shouldn’t open it.”
They were both stopped short by the sound of stone scraping behind them. When they turned to face the pillar…
“I didn’t cover it back up. Did you?” Margaret said.
Walter shook his head. “No. I didn’t touch it after we pulled the box out.” He looked at his hands. “Where’s the box?” It had disappeared from his grasp.
Margaret checked her own hands. Shock ran through her. “We should leave.”
“Not without the box and this time we won’t open it, will we?” They repeated the process of prying up the tile fragment and pulling out the box. They put it back in Walter’s rucksack and made their way out to the forest.
When they scaled the rock face and looked back, the pillars remained the same. Margaret had felt that they would be different somehow, like they’d taken part of a strange world with them. The long trek back was silent. In all their years of adventure, they’d never handled even minor supernatural occurrences well. They each always needed time to process. Walter kept his rucksack at his side, checking to see that the box was still there every few dozen meters.
When they arrived back at the marked trails they had originally started on, there was a black vault sitting in their way. It sat open and on top of this vault was a yellow sticky note that read, “Place the box inside. Close the door. Scramble the dial.”
They did as the note instructed and headed back to the car.
When they arrived at the clearing, it was night time. The stars were bright and their SUV looked lonely in the grass field.
They threw their packs in back, got in, and found their way back to the dirt road they’d come in on. They never did address the disappearance of the box. It didn’t matter. They did what they were told to do.
***
Margaret hopped out of the SUV in the blackness of suburban night. No stars lit her path, but street lamps along rows of identical houses glowed indifferently. “I still can’t tell which one’s yours.” Walt put the car in park and tapped on the steering wheel. “You’re daughter’s not gonna shoot you is she? I know she’s been on edge.”
“I hope not. I texted her to let her know I’d be in soon.” Margaret checked her phone but saw no response. “She’s probably asleep.” She reached in back and pulled her pack out. It felt heavier than she remembered, but it often did after an exhausting trek like that. “Send Betty my love.”
“Will do,” he said gruffly.
Margaret walked up her drive, her hand on the gun she kept concealed on her hip. She pulled out her key with her free hand and placed in in the lock absentmindedly. When the lock clicked open, a tint of yellow intruded on her vision in the dark. She reached out and pulled a yellow sticky note off the door. “You shouldn’t have opened the box.” She shoved open the door, slung off her pack, and screamed up the stairs, “Carry! Carry! Wake up! We have to go!”
***
Walt’s phone rang more loudly than he ever remembered it ringing. It jolted him away from his dozing at the wheel. It was Margaret. He picked up and said, “Hello?”
“They saw! They saw! Carry! Carry! Where are you?” She was screaming on the other end. “I can’t find Carry. I don’t know where she is.” Margaret sobbed on the other end.
“I’m coming! Stay where you are!”
Walt drove back to her house as fast as he could. Then the thought of his own family hit him. “No!” He flipped around again and drove full speed home.
***
Margaret turned over every room in the house. All three bedrooms. The bathroom. The basement. Carry was nowhere. Her car was in the driveway. The note was on the door. Margaret stood in the foyer of her house screaming her daughter’s name over and over again. “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” She ran through the options. I can’t call 911. They’ll know. The police always know when the note writers are involved. Where is Walt? She thought of her old contacts. She dialed them all. No one answered. Not even the ones who owed her favors.
She ran into the street. “Help! Help! Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She pounded on their doors. Not one person answered. Not one.
She went back inside and dug under Carry’s bed. That’s the entire reason she bought Carry a journal–so she could keep tabs on her. She flipped to the most recent entry, but she didn’t read it. On the opposite page was a yellow sticky note that read. “Don’t worry. She’ll arrive soon.” Margaret froze. Tears ceased and her entire body shook. The note jolted her back to a stern reality. She pulled out her phone and dialed Walter again. He didn’t answer.
She pulled out her gun and checked the clip. It was full. She strode to the living room, faced the door, and waited.
After several minutes, an unmarked sedan pulled up out front. Carry stepped out of the back seat. She shook as she ambled toward the door.
Margaret gripped her gun tighter. If she got a shot at those bastards, she’d take it. She hadn’t missed a target in 20 years. She waited for another person to step out of the vehicle. But no one did. It just drove away.
Margaret relaxed her grip. Was that just a threat? Were they just letting me know they could if they wanted to?
When Carry reached the doorway, she called out, “Mom?” The beautiful brown-haired girl had tears in her big eyes. “What was that, Mom? What did they do to me?” She was addled, slurring her words. She’d been drugged. She stumbled a bit as she crossed the threshold and stood next to Margaret’s pack where she had left it.
My pack. It was heavier than I remembered. But how did they…? Margaret swallowed and took a deep breath. “Carry. Honey. I need you to walk backwards out of the house.”
The girl barely heard her. “What? What, Mom? Where am I?”
The pack exploded in a burst of shrapnel and fire. Margaret fell to the ground as a nail tore through her right arm and leg both. She rolled and screamed in pain. When she regained her sight, she screamed out even louder. Carry’s blood had been splattered up the wall and ceiling and the flames from the bomb licked her remains like a hungry dog.
An obscured silhouette stood in the doorway, seeing that the work was done. He turned and walked down the drive.
“NOOO! Come back here, you bastard!” Margaret tried to raise her right arm–her gun arm–but couldn’t move it. The slightest effort disabled her with pain. She looked and found she had dropped her gun, but her left hand could reach it. She grabbed it and pointed it out the door. The figure was just barely visible. She shot six times. Every single shot missed.
The flames grew higher around her daughter. She pulled herself toward the door and saw that her girl was dead. The pain in her arm and leg fell away, replaced by far worse. “WALT!” she screamed.
***
Walter came to a screeching halt outside his house and honked the horn 3 times–a sign of distress between him and Betty. He waited 3 seconds and honked 3 more times. He then got out and ran to the door. He unlocked it and ran inside. “Betty! Betty, get the kids!”
He passed a dark figure in his kitchen and did not see it. On his table was a new note he didn’t read. “Betty! Get the kids!” He ran upstairs to see his wife stepping into the hall in her robe, holding her Glock.
“What is it, Wally?”
“We gotta go. We gotta get the kids and get out of the country, now!”
She punched him in the gut and forced a hand over his mouth. “Stop. Talking,” she whispered and stared into his eyes.
Walter heard the front door close. Did I leave it open?
“They’ve been here all night. I half expected you were dead. The kids are all ready to go on our signal. I’ve been waiting for a window but couldn’t find one.”
“Jeff and Anna…”
“You know the old code. We need to clear the way first. That’ll be tough.’
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She kissed him and descended the stairs behind him, her gun ready to defend their lives. Walt pulled out his gun from his ankle holster. They secured the foyer, the living room, the bathroom, and blocked off the sun room. Then they went to the kitchen.
“What is this?” Betty held up a yellow sticky note.
Walter took it from her and read aloud. “You’re family is safe.”
A gunshot sounded upstairs. The parents bolted and flung open the bedroom door. Jeff and Anna stood with guns trained on the window. The black hair and pale skin of the siblings shone fully in the moonlight from the open window. Walter looked out the window. On the ground below were two dark figures dragging away the corpse Jeff had shot.
“He’d been in here the whole time, I think,” Jeff said. He was 17 and Anna 15. “He only caught my eye because of the flasher on his belt. I shot him as he was escaping.”
Anna didn’t speak. She just gripped her revolver and rubbed her red robe with her free hand.
Walter and Betty looked at each other. “What do we do now?” Betty asked.
“The debt is settled enough,” a man’s voice called from downstairs. “We took one of yours, you took one of ours. We’ll clean things up for you. Just stay up there until dawn.” Anna started toward the door of the bedroom and Betty caught her arm. Betty shook her head silently. Jeff crossed to the window, closed it, and pulled the curtains.
Walter pushed the bedroom door closed. His phone rang again. Margaret was trying to reach him. He turned the phone off.
Uncertain 