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“In the middle was a big cauldron
That they were stirring, stirring
And there were trees around
That they kept burning, burning.
I asked a toothless man
Who all these people were, and
He said, “The soap makers
and we are working, working.”

                Clutch, The Soap Makers

                The trees seem strangely familiar. As I move about them, surrounded by nothing by leaves and branches, I try to make my way. I keep just in sight of the road, keeping a god idea of my direction. The road’s curved here and there, but it’s stayed the course and I’ve stayed with it.

                I arrive at a small clearing and find blood splashed everywhere. But no bodies. I force myself to not consider the idea that they got up and walked away. I count myself lucky that I haven’t encountered any monsters. But every time I think about them, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I find myself looking over my shoulder more than usual.

                I kneel down at the edge of the clearing and try to get some idea as to the direction I’m traveling. I look in vain for stairs or a moon, but nothing but darkness exists above the tree tops. I consider climbing up the trees, but the sapling-like bodies that surround me don’t look study enough to hold me. Even though they’re well over twice my height, none of the trees seem to be much bigger around than my leg, and the branches aren’t bigger than my hand.

                I keep on.

                The darkness starts to keep my company. Silence is everywhere. My breathing, my steps, my motions, all sound like a pack of elephants walking on dry leaves. I try to keep quiet, but in the back of my mind, I know it will do little good.

                And then I see something new.

                I stop slowly and crouch down, immediately looking around me. I don’t see anything so I look back in the direction of the trees, away from the road.

                Light

                And then I see something even more important.

                  M o v e m e n t

                The light casts out from the trees like an angel rising up from a tomb. The light slices up against the trees themselves, shattering across the forest. But the light isn’t very powerful and it seems focused. I wait for a moment longer, than my curiosity gets the best of me. I stand up slowly and start towards the light.

                I’m quiet. I try to think about ninjas and the wind and anything I can that doesn’t make sound. I try to pretend I’m moving in a movie without any sound. Anything to help me think that I’m being quiet. But the only sound I hear is me.

                I come up to the point where I can see the clearing. And a breeze kicks up around me, disrupting the leaves. They lift up like a whirl of life. And then it hits me.

                Blood

                The iron-like smell is unmistakable. I swallow hard, already afraid. But as I step on a bit more, I can see through the trees, into the light. And there I see the light. A single flashlight, lying on the ground, rolling as the breeze tosses it. A tiny flashlight, it amazes me that it creates that much light.

                I look past it and see them.

                There are maybe fifteen or so bodies. All of them ripped up and torn apart. Their clothes are sprayed with blood, while their bodies are missing giant gaps from their form. Dressed, or once dressed, in casual clothes, they were rushing. I can smell the sweat mixed with the blood. I can smell everything. It couldn’t have happened too long ago. I look around the space, trying to imagine what might have happened.

                They leapt out of the darkness.

                The crowd of fugitives turned inward on each other, keeping their backs together. But there were too many.

                They came shambling out of the forest, running too fast to be human. They collided with the crowd, taking many of them to the ground. But the time most of them knew what was happening, it was already over. With walking canes and bats and frying pans, they tried to fight.

                But one by one, more and more monsters piled out of the forest. And it didn’t matter how many times they were knocked down. They kept rising back up.

                The darkness was soon filled with noise. The noise of hissing and growling. The noise of screaming and fighting.

                But mostly, it was simply the silence that followed.

                I sigh.

                I pick up the flashlight and look around. The world suddenly seems different. The darkness that I had become so used to now had come alive. When I moved, the darkness moved with me. The trees cast their own light against each other, while the shadows shattered and scattered across the world of the leaves and the forest. But in the back of it all, the darkness waited.

                I turn off the flash light and listen.

                Nothing

                The darkness whirls in around me and I can’t see for a long time. It takes me a while to even get enough bearings for me to remember which direction I was going. I have my doubts, but I learned long ago when riding that you never, ever question yourself. You might be wrong, but thinking your right is nine times out of ten more important than being right. Sometimes thinking you’re right can keep you alive just as long as being right.

                But I glance in the direction of the once red pulse. I listen.

                Nothing

                I turn the flashlight up towards the direction the pulse had come. “This could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” I whisper.

                Light

                Light

                Light

                I send up the flashes in a quick, rhythmic series of pulses. And as I do, I can just barely make out some type of tower in the distance. It’s not much higher than the trees. But it’s tall enough to send out that red pulse that I’ve been following.

                I listen for a moment longer, then started out of the clearing. I’m very careful not to step on any of the bodies as I walk out. I try to head back towards the road while also staying on course towards the tower. I keep myself from thinking about what might be causing the red pulse. I’m hoping that . . .

                Red

                Red

                Red

                I don’t move.

                My eyes tilt back up towards the tower, staring for the longest time. My heart beats a mile a minute as I stare up at the tower obscured by the darkness. Unconsciously, my hand tightens around my tire iron and my machete.

                I keep walking.

                I’ve lost track of time and I don’t want to take my hand off my machete or my tire iron to check the cell phone. The flashlight bumps against it in my pocket, but they don’t make any sound. Besides, I wouldn’t stop long enough to adjust them.

                I keep walking, listening. Watching. I feel like an animal, able to see so well in the darkness now. Despite the near pitch-blackness of the world, I can make out the space yards ahead of me. I can see the trees and the world as if it was day. For a few dozen paces anyway.

                But every gust of wind, every slight breeze, and I panic. My sense of hearing has overtaken my eyes. I’m almost a bat now, living by my ears.

                But as I walk, I hear a sound that’s not me. I turn around, my tire iron and machete ready. I can see and I can hear. And I listen. I listen for growls or hisses or any other sign that one of them might be trying to come up behind me. I watch for any of the jerky movements. I wait for any tell-tale sign of . . .

                A hand covers my mouth.

                A knife blade slides around my throat.

                “Make a sound and you’re dead.”

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