Part Six - We Hate Fire

The Room

“What’d the machine look like? Was it futuristic, or something more like we’ve got around here?” Scott said. He was ready to start entertaining fantasies to keep Milo comfortable. The statement about the imagination filling in the kids gaps during the centuries of unknown made Scott cringe with the invisible prospect of accuracy.

“It was big, ugly, like it shouldn’t run at all. It almost looked like trash, people threw in the woods. Litter, or junk, a big square of it. Especially from a distance,” Milo said.

“Wait, did you ever see it up close?” Scott said.

“Yeah, yeah, a few times, but only with fire.”

“With fire? I thought you guys didn’t have tools in there? How’d you manage to make a fire?”

“Everyone, everyone knows how to make a fire, Scott. We’re genetically predisposed to it. We need it like we need air.”

“So you figured it out. I’m impressed.”

“You should be impressed that I survived at all, Scott.”

“I am, believe me, I am, but tell me more about starting the fire.”

Milo looked disinterested and crossed his arms. More scars curled up off his forearms like little blemished slugs. It seemed like with every detail, image, and piece of storytelling being unloaded on Scott, the more he noticed the crusted deformities riddled across Milo’s body.

“I mean did you rub two sticks together like Bear Grylls? What kind of tool did you use to make it?” Scott said. He had to start establishing some authority in the interview, so leaving questions open wouldn’t be an option going forward in the conversation.

“Basically, Scott, it was a little inarticulate, but we had no choice. We needed fire to try and break the trees apart. It was our only option,” Milo said.

“To stop them from grabbing you? Did it work? You’d think it would work?” Scott said.

“If it worked, Scott, do you think I’d be the only one talking to you today? Do you think I’d have mentioned how Samuel and I are the only ones to survive?”

Scott felt uneasy talking about the infant. They’d managed to steer away from it this entire time, but it was another monstrous elephant in the room. He pulled out a little photo of the baby from the woods. It looked like a doll, like it wasn’t real in the sterile edged government photo. The labs and doctors had done tests on the baby, and it was the genetic equivalent of Melissa and Ron, the two missing children.

“You want to talk about, Samuel?” Scott asked.

“Where is he? You’re not doing tests on a baby right?” Milo said.

“What would we ask an infant? The child is in a foster home. We’ll be turning him over to you once we’re done here. Contrary to popular belief, Milo, we can’t just throw people away in labs for forever.”

“When will I see him, for real, Scott?”

“I just said after we’re done with our conservation. Now, we have 48 minutes left on the clock, so why don’t we make them useful? Why don’t you tell me about what happened with the first fire you started.”

“We started it, and the forest put it out.”

“Oh, I see, so did trees not get affected by it?”

“They did, but, it wasn’t them that stopped it.”

“Who stopped it?”

Milo rubbed his face again, as he felt colder in the room and the walls were narrower.

“It, the Phantom.”

The Woods

It took them three hours to even get a clean spout of smoke to billow upwards from the stack of wood along the path. Melissa had stacked the sticks together into a pile. Ron grinded away with a flat log in the middle. Milo would whistle his best at the base of the grinding twigs, in the effort to make a small spark form upwards. Ron’s hands were red and ugly looking, like all the heat was being forged against his fleshy palms, and not the bundle of building fire they were working on. The winds were quiet while they worked, almost like they were curious about what they were building in their green trap. The woods along the path were drawn back and patient, waiting to swipe at the children with their tendrils if they tried to escape the woods or even the path. On the fourth hour, after they finally managed to seal the air escaping from their pile, a small puddle of flames formed at the base of their brambly pile. Melissa quickly fed the fire with dead leaves and kindling, and started to push the fire upwards.

“Alright, let’s do it, we need to burn the place down,” Ron said, wrenching a white stick free of the contorting pyramid of flame.

“Aim for the edges, where they won’t let us out or anything,” Milo said, following suit. Both boys charged down the path towards the entrance to the forest like a tiny angry mob ready to storm down an evil doctor’s door. The trees immediately came alive like chained squids from some deep sea horror film, flailing and thrashing at the two boys. The strikes were hard enough to take the deepest sections of skin away, and the pain made Milo drop his fiery weapon. Vines immediately wrapped around the broken fire, putting it out, while losing a few husks to its blazing top. Ron was slashed so hard, he dropped the torch back into himself and fell to the ground. The vines trapped him a like a spider web. They were so insistent of their wrapping, they actually bound the torch to his skin before he could start moving away from it. The fire burnt his skin nearly to the bone before it went out against the coiled stalks of the forest. Melissa dragged both boys away from the vines and trees. She pulled them to the crooked bend of the path right next to the dark water.

“Keep calm Ron, keep calm,” Melissa said. “You’re in lots of pain, so just stay still, we to wash the wound out with water to keep the fresh from burning.”

Milo had partially recovered, and helped Ron into the water. Ron was barely conscious, which was nice so he wouldn’t argue with Milo or Melissa. The water stayed shallow for them as they helped Ron into the oozing pond shore. The bog did not want to terrify the children like it had earlier with Ron and the pearled faces along its depths. This time the bog wanted to see how the children reacted with such a serious wound, to study their efforts to practice compassion, and hope. Milo looked back briefly at the campfire they’d made along the path. It was completely gone. The woods had eaten it up like a buzzard would a piece of rot. The forest was standing tall and quiet, and the path had gotten smaller. A figure was retreating into the woods. It was the hooded figure from before. It was dark, hanging, and faceless in the shadows. It moved like a trapped piece of light, like a reflection. The cloak around its body was fluctuating and fluid. Golden claws hung out of its hands along the figure’s side. It petrified Milo, but he managed to tug at Melissa, who was supporting the comatose body of Ron above the water. She turned as the figure retreated into the woods without parting a leaf.

She could only scream.      

Part Five - My Hidden Machine

The Room

“Not at first, it liked the hot weather, and how it made us act,” Milo said. Thinking about the unchecked sun made the sterile box of a room seem oven-like for just a rare second.

“How often?” Scott said.

“We tried to keep track at first when we realized we wouldn’t be going anywhere. It tricked us pretty easily at the beginning, but we figured out the more unpredictable we were, the more predictable it was,” Milo said.

“The Phantom?”

“Who else Scott? Don’t make me repeat it,” Milo said.

“Who decided to call it that anyways? Especially if you don’t want referring to it,” Scott said, pretending to scribble some notes. Whenever Milo would show a little frustration he’d mark his memo pad. When their interview was over, he’d count the amount of times Milo had collided with his own emotions. He’d refer it back to the material of Milo’s instigation, and try and build some pattern out of it.

“What?” Milo said.

“Who decided to name it that?”

“Oh, I don’t remember, it was just sort of the name we adopted. Conversations run together after that long amount of time, only certain acts sort of spring out to me.”

“Certain acts, like moments of violence?” Scott said. He wanted to skip ahead, past the moments of wandering the woods and looking for a way out. They had hundreds of years to cover within the woods, but, they had only fifty minutes to evaluate these centuries in their claustrophobic tin box. The table kept on getting bigger and wider, a mahogany sea pulled wide by the intensity of their conversation. Scott had to keep pressing him about the disturbing details within the woods. He had to play Milo like the time lapse was real, even though, Scott didn't believe Milo quite yet. The watered trembles of Milo’s eyes as he recited these little tidbits were convincing though. They were melting away at Scott’s analytical core like a corrosive salt-tear acid.

Milo didn't say anything for a few seconds after Scott’s last sentence. The room had become narrower to Milo, and the looking glass behind him had grown into a square black eye. Just fifty more minutes till he’d be free to return to his family. The press would get wind of his story and they’d be swarmed by oblong bobbing towers of cameras and reporters. The FBI said they wouldn’t release his story to the press, but he knew something this wild and dark couldn’t be kept a secret.

“How about discoveries?”  Scott said, breaking the silence and the growling motor of a distant furnace.

“Discoveries? What do you mean?” Milo said.

“You know, you sound like you sort of understood the situation you were in, what kind of discoveries did you guys make to give you even a little closure?”

“Closure? There was no such thing, Scott. We got vague and abstract answers, and our imagination filled in the rest.”

“Then fill me in those Milo, if you have vague answers then I have vague questions. What was the phantom using to make all these nightmares for you poor kids?”

Milo set his thin face on his right hand like a drunk at a bar. The kindness at the end of Scott’s question made him only say one word.

“A machine,” Milo said.

“What?” Scott said.

“I think it used a machine.”

The Woods

Milo had pointed out the dark shape of the machine what seemed like hours earlier. Now, they’d sprinted through the narrow green breaks of the forest. They all knew time had passed between each charge. Melissa and Milo had slept between their runs, resting their dirt-pounding feet and slashed skin against the soft breezes of the endless forest. Ron continued chasing the oblong shape, which was sitting like a lost barge one green ocean away. He’d sprint until his feet didn’t feel like they were below his knees. He’d sprint until the forest looked like a cracked trail of broken twig and branch, but the woods would never stay wounded for long, and would revive itself in subtle glows of white fog. Sometimes, if the kids had cared about how the forest had worked, they’d see the thin lines of pearl faces in these healing clouds.

They weren’t that observant yet.

They knew the machine was there and in the forest. It would appear behind them, in front of, or even what seemed like above, attached to the high limbs of the sky-blocking trees. Ron even tried to climb a few trees with his bloody fingers, but they’d shake him loose like an angry water buffalo. Ron wouldn’t stop any of his physical movements no matter how much Melissa screamed at him, and how much Milo begged. Ron was completely slashed to pieces. His white skin was nearly non-existent. Only his eyes retained any hope in comparison to his frame. He eventually stopped chasing the monstrous block of a shadow. He didn’t stop out of exhaustion, but only because he sensed that the machine wanted him to chase it.

“It wants us to chase it. Look, I see it right there like it can hear me,” Ron said. They were all sitting close to the sealed entrance they’d come in through before being trapped. The island and ring of swamp water was to their right, and the plants glowed around the inky strips of the bog like little narrow flames. The brick like outline of the machine was just beyond them up the path where Milo had originally noticed it. Melissa was sleeping in the sunlight, and Milo was starting at the island.

“Yeah, we figured that out a long time ago Ron, that’s why we stopped,” Milo laughed. He was getting tired of his ignorant friend.

“Well, you guys never said anything to me,” Ron said.

“Yeah, yeah, we did. You don’t listen to anyone Ron. Now, you look terrible. You should go back in the water and wash yourself off,” Milo said, with a sneer.

“I’m not going back in there. I’m not going in the water ever again,” Ron said.

“Okay, well, we need to figure out food and water, and stop trying to get out,” Milo said.

“I’m not hungry,” Ron said.

“Well, you will be. Besides, I’ve got an idea on how to get out of here,” Milo said, pulling together a pile of broken branches on the path.

“Oh, how is that? You've finally got an idea?” Ron said.

Milo banged a couple of sticks together to get their weight.

“Yeah, we’ll build a fire.”

Part Four - You'll Get Only Daylight

The Room

“So what did the faces do?” Scott said. He felt like he was making progress with Milo, but he didn’t want to insult him like other profilers had in their interviews. Scott had made as much progress as them, he’d watched the videotaped sessions, so now every word going forward would be new territory.

“Why would I know?” Milo said.

“Did you ever theorize about it? I mean, you had the time?” Scott said. He pulled his stomach tight and breathed deeply. He probably shouldn’t have joked with Milo about his situation. Milo was completely unpredictable, and Scott was one wrong mannerism away from this interview ending.

“Lot’s of time?” Milo said. He leaned forward stretching his arms over the table.

“Lot’s of time indeed Scott. How long was I in there again?” Milo said.

“Four hundred years,” Scott answered back.

Milo looked at him blankly.

“You’re getting it Scott, let’s keep going,” Milo said. He sat back in his chair like an exhausted puppet.

“My theory, plan, formula, whatever, was that the faces were linked to whatever was controlling the woods. It wanted to observe us, every inch of our behavior,” Milo said.

“Why would it want to do it, the Phantom or whatever,” Scott said.

“To study us, we talked to it too at times. The problem is the days mixed together weird. So much time had passed since we were in there, I can’t remember all the events where we figured things out. I only sort of remember the big things.”

“It, it talked to you, the Phantom?”

“Yeah, multiple times, I don’t understand it.”

Milo tapped his finger on the table like a bent mannequin.

“I don’t understand it. The thing tortured us for years, but it wanted to know how we felt about it all,” Milo said.

“You’re saying it was doing it strategically, like it wanted to know something about you?” Scott said. He was getting sucked in by the forest now too.

“Exactly, it wanted to study us,” Milo said. He looked away at the panel of glass behind Scott’s head. It floated like another world, a flat portal to a world of suspicion and misunderstanding. The government wanted to know how all this was possible, and Milo was biological proof of the forest’s strange power. How did they want to respond? All the government agencies and their lackeys could dismiss this as isolated event. They’d bring in some reclusive scientist to explain a hole in time and space, and Milo would be the sole survivor of some dingbats warp field theory.

“He was preparing for an invasion, Scott,” Milo said.

“What, what do you mean?” Scott said.

“He was preparing for an invasion, he wanted to know our weaknesses, and there is no one more resilient in our world than children,” Milo said.

Milo blinked back some tears and shook his head.

“Um, okay, I’m glad we’re getting there, but let’s get back to the details of the forest a little bit more,” Scott said. He knew if Milo drifted into emotion he’d lose a bunch of answers.

Milo shook his head again.

“What? What details then?” Milo said.

“If you were there for so long, did the seasons ever change?” Scott said.  

The Woods

"How long have we been in here anyways?" Melissa said. She was on her back, on top of some brown-angry leaves with mud sinking out from underneath their edges. She was staring at the canopy of chiseled green and twig. She was covered in mud, dried blood, and small pebbles of caked dirt. When Ron tried to swim back to the shore just a little while ago, something was pulling on his feet. He started to panic, and said there was something in the water with him. Milo and Melissa didn't see anything moving behind, except the thrashing blackness from his panicked limbs. They had to jump in the mire to help him out.

"I'm not sure, but it's been a while," Milo said. He was sitting against the tree watching the island. Nothing had moved since the figure wandered out there when they first appeared.  A few birds were singing like broken whistles in the wayward eves. There were no sounds of cars, jets, or other people walking alongside Snake Tooth Pass. Milo couldn't see past the canopy completely, but the sky looked strange, fake, like it'd been crudely painted with a fleshy yellow crayon. The trees themselves had an odd plastic edge to them, like the kind Milo's mom had in their basement, and would take out for special occasions since they had cords of Christmas light webbed through their limbs. He didn't want to think too much about his mom.

He'd cried for her earlier as they were running into the unforgiving wall.

Everyone had cried from the slashing vines and bashing trees except Ron. He cried later from what he saw beneath the water. Milo was happy to see him cry. He didn't know why, but he was glad to see Ron wasn't always trying to act better him. They'd been friends forever, but Ron had always been the same type of egotistical asshole. The one silver lining about being trapped in this forest was it finally knocked Ron off his 11-year-old pedestal. They were all pieces of meat for this forest to play with.

"I think it's been at least nine hours?" Milo said.
"No, less that that, maybe five," Ron said. He was sitting further up the path from Melissa and Ron. He wouldn't go near the water.
"I'm starving, we should try to find some food," Melissa said, standing up.
"I'm not hungry, at least not yet," Ron said.
"It doesn't matter, we should try and find something," Milo said.
"I need a little bit more time, just a little more," Ron said.
Melissa looked up to the sky.
"Shouldn't it be night by now, it was two thirty when we got off the bus," she said.
"Yeah, there is no way the sun shouldn't be getting less bright, this is weird," Milo said.
Milo walked further along the path, deeper into Snake Tooth Pass. Nothing moved but the edges of trees bending over the dirt-bumpy trail. There was a shape up a head, where the forest billowed upwards on a tree-etched hills. It was jagged, menacing, and full of moss.

"Is that a machine?" Milo said. The trees bent downward like a collapsing tunnel. Melissa sprinted over to Milo.
"I see it, I see it!" She yelled, pointing.
"The trees are trying to hide it, look at them," Milo said.

The forest groaned like an old engine powering up. Another figure stood amongst the trees across from Ebner's island. It watched with five eyes beneath it's metallic mask. It needed more reactions from these children, especially the coward from the water.