At 5 o’clock Friday night, Neil Porter picked up his kids from his ex-wife's house. By Christmas Eve, his ex-wife was making frantic phone calls trying to find them.
Caroline looked out the window. It got dark fast now. The snow had stopped. It didn't fall for long, and there was a cold, thin, white sheet over everything. Caroline wrapped her arms around herself unconsciously, aware of the cold outside though it couldn't touch her behind the glass. She was watching her ex and the kids drive away. Before long, even their headlights were gone.
***
There weren't many cars on the road. Vehicles had followed one another's tracks, making two dark grooves in each lane. The rest was snow - recently fallen, shallow and still clean. Out of it stuck trees, spruce and Douglas fir, perfect Christmas trees spaced out at a lonely distance. That’s where the car stopped by the side of the road.
“Why are we stopping here?’’
Carly looked around at their surroundings for the first time now that they weren't moving at the monotonous pace of an empty road. They had actually been passing the sparse woods for a while now. With the headphones stuck in her ears, Carly had been shutting out the rest of the car and the stark view out the window - empty, snow covered fields, far-flung houses and now the woods.
“We're getting a tree,’’ Neil told her and Grady, as he got out of the SUV.
The kids stared opened mouthed at him from the back seat. By the time he had the ax out of the trunk, Grady's surprise had turned to excitement. Carly’s had not.
“We are going to pass like a bazillion Christmas tree lots, and you want to steal one?’’ Carly was saying as Grady jumped out of the car.
“It’s not stealing,’’ Neil whispered as if his whispering could erase Grady hearing what she said at full volume.
“We’re not stealing,’’ he told Grady especially. Neil figured the kid was just going to have to take his word for it.
Carly was not letting it go.
“It says ‘Private Property’.’’
Neil was seeing the sign for the first time. It was old. Lines of rust ran down into the red letters.
“That's just for information,’’ Neil told her. The look on her face didn’t change.
“You can stay in the car. Grady, come on.’’
The trees closest to the road were bent or gaunt. Not what Neil was looking for. They moved further in. The branches held on to the snow. Underneath each tree there was a dark circle where the snow hadn’t reached. Centered in these gloomy, pitted spaces, the barely frosted trees looked as if they were arranged for some joyless, pagan ritual. Neil and his son walked between them without speaking. Neil was glad that there was plenty of moonlight. The snow, reflecting it, seemed to give off its own frigid light. Neil still gave Grady the flashlight to hold.
“Isn’t this much cooler than pulling out the same, old, fake tree from the attic?’’ Neil asked, breaking the silence.
Grady nodded emphatically. He had a focused, wide-eyed look on his face. Neil had been planning to buy a real tree. He was going to let the kids pick one out, the bigger the better. Driving by all these trees just growing out of the ground, with a new ax in the trunk - how could he resist the opportunity? Grady was going to have an adventure with his dad that was way better than tagging along while your friend shoplifts Sour Patch Kids.
Grady was taking big steps and flicking the flashlight on and off. The light from it made no impression against the gleam of moonlight on the snow. The kid was sure going to remember his first Christmas with his dad. Carly - well, she was a teenager.
They crushed the untouched snow under their shoes. Their footprints were dark and distinct, breaking right through to the bare ground. The car was somewhere behind them, blocked from view by some crooked trees. Neil didn’t like not being able to see it. He hoped Carly had locked the doors. Ahead of them, nothing was moving on the white floor. The air was still, bleached by the moonlight. The trees were spaced out like monuments.
“Wow, look at that one!’’ Neil said with pumped up enthusiasm. He remembered the need to be more covert. In a lowered voice he added, “Mom’s tree isn’t that big.’’
“I bet nobody’s tree is,’’ Grady said with gratifying awe.
Neil put up his hand to estimate the height. It would fit. Probably. It wasn’t the tallest tree around, but it was impressive. Even all around, tapering attractively, it seemed to tower higher than its actual height. After they were done admiring it, Neil got to chopping. Or tried to. He had trouble getting to the base. The needles were sharp. The branches stuck him in the face. His right knee hit a sharp rock under the shallow snow as he crawled in between the boughs to kneel. He swung the ax. It stuck and he pulled it out. Neil swung again, aiming for the same spot.
It was kind of dark at the base of the tree. He told Grady to turn on the flashlight. Grady crouched out of the way and his light wavered through the branches. Neil examined the trunk. He had done pretty well. Made a neat, little wedge like he vaguely thought he was supposed to. Something thick and dark seeped from under the bark. The sap filled the white nick in the trunk pretty quickly considering how cold it was. And it seemed to be getting colder. The air was cutting right through Neil’s clothes. He looked over at Grady’s pink blotched face to make sure he wasn’t too frozen. He seemed fine.
Neil went back to chopping. The gloves were giving him trouble. He took them off. He chopped. Around the ax handle, his hands were numb and pale, maybe even a little blue. It was slow, uncomfortable work. He was sweating and freezing. Bent double, he was smothered by branches that were stealing all the light, obstructing Grady’s flashlight. Neil was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in the dark space. The ax was slipping against the wood like he was cutting frozen bone.
Neil stepped out into the open, breathing hard. The moonlight seemed too bright now. The air he sucked in was sharp, hurting the inside of his nose and throat. But the tree was down. Neil handed the ax to Grady, warning him to be careful. Flexing his fingers, he put the gloves back on. His hands were too cold for him to feel it, but they had to be raw. He had trouble getting a good grip on the tree. The trunk was mangled. There were stray cuts where he had missed, exposing the white flesh underneath the bark. The tree was heavier than he expected. He dragged it, choosing the smoothest path to spare it from damage.
Finally that roof rack on the SUV was going to come in handy.
“Isn’t this a nice tree?’’ he asked Carly as Grady opened the car door letting in cold air.
“It was nicer in the ground.’’
Neil pulled the tree alongside the car. He then set it upright against it. Grady was making helping motions. If only he was a little bigger.
“That won’t fit in your house,’’ Carly decided. She was playing one of Grady’s video games. Neil was supporting the tree in the upright position that was no longer natural to it.
“I can trim it off if it doesn’t,’’ Neil said, not too nicely since he was covered with sap, holding up an unwieldy, already cut tree that might not fit in his house, and trying not to ruin it in the process.
Neil realized putting a tree with branches that hadn’t been neatly tied off up on top of the SUV without help wasn’t going to be a cinch. He only had enough rope to tie a bought tree to his car roof. Ahh, spontaneity.
“Help us get the tree on the roof,’’ he told Carly, including Grady in the task though he was too short to be much help.
“And get tree sap on my clothes?’’ She was still buckled in her seat and didn’t make a move to get out of the car. Neil stared at her for a minute to make sure she really was just going to sit there. She was.
Neil managed to get the tree up by scratching his face with the branches and letting the needles stab him in the eye a few times. The things a guy will do for his kids. Once he had it tied to the roof, he dropped into the driver’s seat with a relieved, loud huff.
“That’s why Mom has a fake tree,’’ Carly told him, smugly.
He turned around.
“Your mother... is a wonderful woman.’’
He turned back. He thought with disgust of that fake tree he had hauled out of the cramped attic year after year with fake pine needles raining down on him. The tree smelled like dust and plastic. One year, Caroline had liked it so much she had left it decorated and wrapped it in a long roll of bubble wrap. A bunch of ornaments fell off and broke as he tried to stick it in the attic like that. Of course he got blamed.
Once on top of the car, the tree jutted out in the front and in the back. It dwarfed the SUV and obscured Neil’s view while he was driving. The unsecured branches tapped the windshield when the car slowed, stopped or sped up. The rhythmless knocking unnerved Neil. Peering between the branches, he spent the whole drive clenching the steering wheel.
Neil pulled up to the house slowly with grit crunching under the wheels. He had already put up lights outside and left them on so the kids could see them when they got there. Grady was pleased. Carly was Carly.
Neil had gotten the house thinking of the kids. It was a neighborhood of renovated farmhouses, each one set apart from the others. The commute was murder. The mortgage was a nightmare, way more than a nice apartment in the city with no driveway to shovel. But he didn’t want to keep the kids cooped up when he had them. Carly hated it. If there wasn’t a mall next door, she was bound to. Maybe once he got them a dog...
Pulling the tree through the front door stripped off a good number of needles on the doorjamb. Neil left the tree on the living room floor while he tried to figure out how he was going to set it up. Carly wrinkled her nose.
“Aren’t real trees supposed to smell good?’’ Carly asked.
They hadn’t noticed it in the great outdoors. The tree was giving off an awful stench. Neil searched through the branches. He pictured a dead and rotting animal stuck in there.
“Smells like something...’’
“I’m looking, Carly,’’ he cut her off not wanting to upset Grady. Of course if he yanked out a dead squirrel, that might upset him too. Neil didn’t find anything, but he couldn’t be sure. There were a lot of branches. He gave up.
“We’ll spray some air freshener.’’
Neil had been counting on the high ceiling in the living room, and it did not disappoint him. The last owners had remodeled the house, broken through to the attic and exposed the beams.
Neil leaned the tree into the corner. He propped it up in an oversized drum of dirt and water and surrounded it with some cement blocks - old stuff that had been sitting in the basement for no good reason until now. All of that took him a while.
“That’s pretty, Dad,’’ Carly said as he tied the tree to some nails in the walls as unobtrusively as possible.
“It will look nice when we decorate it. We can put some fake snow at the bottom to hide that junk.’’
“Why not real snow, Dad?’’ More sarcasm from Carly.
The tree did look strange standing there dark and accusing, tied to the house. It didn’t have the cheerful look of a Christmas tree. It looked like something that shouldn’t be there - a wild animal standing in his living room. Neil hoped ornaments would fix that and make the whole thing worth all this trouble.
It was well past bedtime when they started the decorating. The kids didn’t care. Neil got on the ladder to put the star on top. Grady was disappointed he couldn’t do it.
“I can climb a ladder, Dad,’’ he claimed.
As it was, Neil had to lean over to try and reach the top branch. Then it was too thin and wouldn’t hold the star. He let go of the ladder and leaned over to gather a few of the twigs together. He figured if he lost his balance, the tree would break his fall. The branches would rip off the exposed skin of his face and hands as he tried to grab hold. The tree would then tip over crushing the kids.
“Kids, could you move over by the kitchen.’’
“Should I be dialing 911? Who knows how long it would take them to get out here,’’ Carly asked, probably picturing him bleeding to death at the foot of the big tree. There was enough worry in what she said that Neil was almost touched.
“Shh, Carly,’’ he told her and she actually listened. The ladder shifted, but he regained his footing.
After all that, the star was too small and got kind of lost up there.
“That looks nice doesn't it?’’ he asked as he admired his work from the safety of the floor. Carly looked at him with disbelief. Grady nodded. The tree looked just as oppressive as ever.
They put up the ornaments he had bought. There weren't enough of them, and since Grady was doing most of the decorating, they were bunched at the bottom. Neil picked him up so he could hang the few that were left a little higher. Carly draped the two fuzzy garlands half-heartedly.
“This is lame,’’ she groused.
“We'll get some more ornaments tomorrow,’’ Neil promised.
Grady was yawning. Neil felt sleepy as well and a little guilty for letting them stay up so late. It was the holidays. It was OK.
***
“Dad, what time is it?’’
“Five more minutes,’’ Neil mumbled into the pillow.
“Dad,’’ Grady insisted.
Neil grabbed for the clock. He squinted and read the time.
“It’s 8:15.’’
“Shouldn’t it be light out?’’
“It’s probably cloudy. Now let me sleep.’’
After the late night they had, he was surprised Grady was up at all. But for a kid his age, anything past six was probably a late morning. He was right, though. It was very dark, and the shades weren’t even closed.
“Go watch TV, Grady’’
Neil closed his eyes again. Dark is a good thing when you’re sleeping. So is quiet, Neil thought. A loud noise from the living room made his head snap off the pillow. It was only a burst of static from the TV that Grady had turned on.
Neil got up on that rush of adrenaline. He turned off the TV as he went through the living room and led Grady to the kitchen. He ignored the gloomy tree towering over them.
It was like no time had passed. The lights were on just like the night before. Neil considered putting on a major breakfast but decided that this wasn’t the morning for it. It didn’t seem like morning at all. He poured out cereal and milk and set out a bowl for when Carly got up.
“I thought it was the middle of the night,’’ Carly complained, looking sleepy as she sat at the table and eyed Grady’s bowl of cereal-colored milk with disgust.
Grady peered out the window. Nothing could be seen outside. They could hear wind blowing in gusts, pitching snow against the house.
“The TV doesn't work,’’ Grady informed his sister.
“You're kidding.’’
“It’s the snowstorm. It must have knocked out cable,’’ Neil told her. He showed her two different cereal boxes both of which she rejected.
“We are supposed to go shopping,’’ she whined.
“Not in this.’’
“What about the ornaments,’’ Grady asked looking at the tree through the kitchen doorway, barely one quarter decorated.
“We can string some popcorn. We’ll have to pop it first,’’ Neil said. He would have sounded enthusiastic if he could have managed it after so little sleep.
“You can’t string butter popcorn,’’ Carly told him.
“I have the plain kind,’’ Neil said.
“We'll need needle and thread,’’ Grady piped up. “We did it in school,’’ he explained after they looked at him.
Neil burned about half the popcorn, and the smell choked the closed-up house. They managed to salvage enough to string. It wasn’t easy or that much fun. But it gave them something to do other than listen to static and wind. Neil kept sticking himself with the needle, staining the popcorn when he wasn’t breaking it.
Carly bailed on them when they started up A Christmas Story on DVD. When she came back dressed and with her hair combed, she looked down at them still in their pajamas, sitting on the floor among a mess of broken popcorn kernels.
“The phones don't work,’’ she said accusingly.
“Try...’’ Neil started to say.
“None of them work.’’
Neil tried for himself. He only got silence on every line.
“We’re supposed to call, Mom,’’ Carly reminded him.
“Is that who you were calling?’’ Neil asked her. Of course it wasn’t. But the kids had promised to call their mother, and Neil had promised to make them. He hoped Caroline wouldn’t go apoplectic when she didn’t hear from them every minute.
All three of them were sitting on the floor. Stringing popcorn had lost its novelty, and now the kids were throwing popcorn at each other. The lights flickered then went out. Neil turned on the flashlight almost immediately. He had been reviewing where the candles and matches were since the phones died. Getting up, he set the flashlight on the floor to light his way while he went to get another one and some candles.
“Now we can’t watch the movie,’’ Grady whined.
“You’ve seen it a hundred times,’’ Carly reminded him. “Everyone has.’’
Grady shined the flashlight in her eyes.
“Grady!’’ she snapped.
Neil stood in the kitchen. The kids were fighting over the flashlight so he hardly got any of the light where he was standing looking through the window. He wasn’t looking out at anything. The window just showed his dim outline. Neil knew that it must be white out there, but all he saw was black.
“This is the worst Christmas,’’ Carly said as soon as he came back with the extra flashlight and candles.
“We should have stayed home.’’
Neil sighed. His consolation was that he knew Carly didn’t turn into a sweet, little angel as soon as she set foot in her mother’'s house. Caroline was getting more than her fair share of this kind of thing.
Neil sipped cold, leftover coffee and listened to the wind whip the snow outside. With only a few candles burning, the tree was a massive shape darkening the corner. Neil didn’t even want to look at it. If it wasn’t too much work, he would have ripped off the ornaments and dragged it outside.
Grady was reading a comic book by flashlight when he sat up with a jolt.
“We have to eat the ice cream! When the power goes out, you have to eat the ice cream,’’ Grady said with candlelight shining in his eyes.
“No ice cream,’’ Neil told him.
“No ice cream. No pizza. Not ever again,’’ Carly said with teenaged gloom. “We’re going to be stuck here forever with nothing to eat and nothing to do and...’’
“OK, Carly. That’s enough.’’
Neil had promised the kids pizza for dinner. Nothing could compete with pizza where kids were concerned. Not even Caroline’s mashed potatoes, or her gravy. Now all he had was cold food and the presents he hadn’t even set under the tree yet. Barely decorated, the tree was a deep shadow always in the corner of his eye. It was like someone had knocked down a wall and taken away the safe, enclosed feeling of the room. It was yet another intrusion of the elements wrecking his day.
Carly stomped back from the bathroom.
“Your house is falling apart.’’
“What now?’’
“The bathroom floor is going up. I could have broken my neck.’’
She showed him, pointing with her flashlight beam. The bathroom floor was buckling. Tiles were cracked to pieces in a wavy line coming from the sink. The crack snaked through into the next room, pushing up the floorboards.
“Maybe a pipe burst. They do that in the cold,’’ Neil said, looking at the mess.
“Mom said you wouldn’t be able to take care of a big house like this,’’ Carly parroted. Neil took the flashlight from her.
“Your mother is ... a wonderful woman and we both love you very much,’’ he said to her while she looked at him like he was crazy.
Neil tried turning on the tap in the sink. Nothing came out.
“The water now too,’’ Carly said with disbelief.
“I told you the pipes freeze, water turns to ice and expands. You go to school, figure it out,’’ he said absently. It was too much. The kids visit was ruined. Christmas with their mother was going to be perfect next to this.
Grady came over waving his flashlight wildly. He clowned around trying to hide how afraid he was to be left alone in the dark. Carly confiscated his flashlight, and the kids wandered off to see where the bulge in the floor ended.
Neil opened the cupboard under the sink. The cupboard door slammed wide open. He fell back. Tangled under the sink, around the pipes was a mass of roots. They were pale and thin like ropes. He stared. The kids noticed and came over to look.
“What is that?’’ Carly asked.
Grady looked at him expectantly.
“Roots,’’ Neil told them.
He had to tape the doors of the cabinets under the sink so they would stay closed. He didn’t know why he didn’t just leave it open, but he just couldn’t look at that.
“Dad, your house is weird,’’ Grady said.
“Don’t you start,’’ Neil warned him.
Neil went to the basement mostly to look at the pipes, but also to get away from the kids. They followed him. He pointed the flashlight at the steps not trusting them to behave. Halfway down, he pointed the flashlight up. The beam of light lost itself in a veil of roots coming down from the ceiling. He could feel Grady grab hold of the back of his sweater. Neil panned the flashlight around. It couldn’t be that the roots filled the basement that ran the whole length of the house. He didn’t see a gap. The roots reached almost to the floor, their filaments like hair.
After they went back up, the kids were quiet. Neil had himself a drink and then another. He was going to have a few more but decided that a drunk dad wouldn’t be an improvement on the situation.
***
“I can't get into the garage,’’ Carly announced.
Neil had been dozing on the couch. The dark made it possible to almost fall asleep.
“If you'd sit still instead of wandering through the house, we wouldn’t know half of the things going wrong around here,’’ he told her. She just stood there waiting for him to do something.
“Why do you want to get into the garage anyway?’’ he asked her, not feeling like getting up without a damn good reason.
There was a damn good reason. Carly had left her music player in the car. Neil figured she might mellow if she had it so he went to the garage door. Grady’s video game was probably there too. That was definitely worth the trouble of getting the door unstuck.
Neil pressed against the door. It didn’t budge. He pushed again hard enough to bruise his shoulder. It moved a little then closed again. He felt like he was pushing against something. He kept leaning into it. Finally the space was wide enough for them to see into the garage. Carly shone the flashlight into the space. Cold air oozed in. Evergreen branches popped through the gap in the door. Startled, Neil stopped pushing. The branches poking through kept the door from closing all the way.
“Did a tree fall in the garage?’’ Carly asked.
“We would have heard it,’’ Neil said, but he couldn’t think of any other explanation.
“That’s why you have roots in your basement.’’ She added, “I bet your car is crushed.’’
“You are full of good cheer.’’
Neil tried to see if she was right about the car, but the branches blocked his view.
“I don’t like the tree any more,’’ Grady told them when they got back to the living room. He was pointing his flashlight straight into it, making a small spotlight where the boughs met the trunk.
“It’s the dark. It won’t look so bad when the lights come back on,’’ Neil said as he put on his shoes.
“That will be any minute now,’’ Carly was being sarcastic, but Grady missed it and looked reassured by her words. She rolled her eyes.
“At least it doesn’t smell any more.’’
Neil didn’t tell them that it probably did, that the house probably smelled, and no matter how bad it was, they had just gotten used to it.
Neil put on his coat. He was going outside to check the damage. Grady asked to go, but Neil didn’t even bother answering him. He stopped just before opening the front door. He was ready for wind and snow to rush inside. The door would have to be closed quickly. Without power, they couldn’t afford to let in too much cold air. The knob turned, but the door didn’t move. Neil double-checked the lock. He went to the window. He couldn’t see anything. It was completely black. He shined the flashlight outside. It reflected back off the glass but didn't penetrate it.
“I think the tree might be blocking this door too,’’ he guessed.
He acted calm, even when Grady asked, “How are we going to get out?’’
Neil ruffled his hair. Carly straightened it.
Neil went to the back door. He wished the kids weren’t watching his every move. He wished they were at their mother’s. The back door stayed closed. Pushing didn’t help. Another window showed him only darkness. He took off his coat. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination that it was getting colder inside.
***
There was nothing to do. The flashlights were off to conserve the batteries. Grady was sitting on one end of the sofa, facing the tree, watching it. Neil sat down opposite, so that Grady was looking at him.
“The tree probably fell in the night. We slept right through it,’’ Neil told him while he wondered how it could have been any of the trees around his house. They weren’t that big. Maybe it was more than one. He continued the explanation that was supposed to soothe Grady.
“The tree messed up the TV and the phone and the lights, see? As soon as it stops snowing so hard, they’ll come over and fix everything.’’
“Who will?’’
“People who fix things. Like the power company people and the phone company people. They have big trucks to lift up telephone poles and stuff. You’ve seen them.’’
Grady didn’t look reassured.
“Lets have some snacks.’’
“Not popcorn,’’ Carly said from her seat, one leg over the arm of the armchair.
“OK,’’ Neil agreed.
They wouldn’t have to wait long before someone came over. He was to have the kids back for the ‘real present opening’ Christmas morning. That's what Caroline called it, the ‘real present opening’. That ... wonderful woman.
He and Grady got up to go to the kitchen. The wood floor rose up like a wave before they could take a step. Carly fell out of the armchair with a shriek. Neil and Grady got knocked off their feet. A deafening creaking filled the air. The floorboards split. Their jagged edges stuck into the air.
Everything stopped. An earthy smell overwhelmed the room. Neil made sure the kids were unhurt. He crawled toward the swelling in his floor. He crept closer and looked into the hole. Inside was dirt and from the dirt a thick, gnarled root twisted free.
Neil stood up quickly.
“A tree must have fallen over, pulled the roots up right through the floor.’’ He hoped he didn't sound as shaken as he felt.
“Dad,’’ Carly said helplessly. Neil could tell that she didn’t know what she wanted him to do.
“Let’s have snacks.’’
They grabbed some peanut butter cups and stood in the kitchen, chewing nervously. Neil couldn’t taste what he was eating. He hoped the kids were enjoying theirs.
“We should open presents,’’ he said. It was an act of desperation.
“Now?’’ Carly asked.
Even Grady didn’t look wild about the idea.
“Sure. No better time. Let’s go get them.’’
Neil led the way to the hallway closet. He pulled off the sheet he had used to camouflage the gifts. There was a mountain of presents, big and small, mostly in bags. Grady’s eyes lit up. Even Carly looked like she was trying to hide a smile. Then the house shook. Plaster fell down around them. They huddled into the closet.
The wall opposite bulged and cracked. A fissure raced up the wall. It split off, ran over the ceiling. They followed it until something slammed through the wall in front of them. It forced its way through only partly. Neil wasn’t sure if it was a root or branch. It was bare and rough looking. He didn’t dare touch it.
“Dad!’’ Grady squirmed. Neil pried his hands from the kids’ shoulders. He kept his eyes on the wall with an occasional glance to the ceiling. He didn’t need Carly outstretched hand to point out what was happening. Sap, dark and clotted, seeped out of the cracks in the wall.
“Don't touch it,’’ Neil warned her.
“I wasn’t going to.’’
“Just don’t touch it.’’
They got dressed to go outside, then went into the last bedroom – Grady’s. The floor was still in one piece there, so were the walls. It was farthest away from everything. Neil broke the window with a chair. Branches blocked the way out. Cold air swept the room. Neil went back toward the kitchen for something sharp. He wished he could get to the ax still in the car.
“Stay here. Don’t move,’’ he ordered the kids when they tried to follow him.
On the way, he saw that the ceiling was so veined with cracks and protruding branches, he didn't know how long it would hold. In the living room, hairy root filaments reached across the rug. The walls were breaking apart. He rushed through toward the kitchen.
The hallway floor opened up in front of him. The splintered edge stuck out dangerously. He backed up. The wall split next to his head. Something sharp came through. Before he could turn, it lodged in his neck. His voice, warning the kids, was just a gargle.
The root had gone straight through his neck. Neil tried to break it off. His hand slipped over blood. He couldn’t do it. The root pinned him in place. A stalk from the floor stabbed through his thigh. He would have collapsed if the roots weren’t holding him up. More and more of them were sinking in. They sliced through with ease. His flesh was hardly solid against them.
He felt roots wrap around his bones, crush his ribs like a handful of sticks. He couldn’t breathe. But he could see the tree in the living room, higher than before. The floor was a hill around its base. The tree stood against the snow swirling madly around it. The ornaments were long gone. Only a wisp of the garland twisted frantically in the wind. Neil felt a root pierce his cheek, smash his teeth like they were nothing. There was pressure against the backs of his eyes. Neil was just glad he wouldn’t see what was happening to his kids.
***
Snow was thick and dirty. Hills of it were piled up next to the road. Where people walked and drove, it was turning into mud. And it only just stopped falling. Caroline flagged down a man pulling out of his driveway. He rolled down his window.
“Excuse me. I'm looking for number 531,’’ she told him. She had driven up and down the street a dozen times already without finding it.
“This is 533. That should be next door.’’ After motioning her down the road, he was ready to drive away.
“I can't find it,’’ she told him. Her voice was hoarse, but he heard her.
“All these houses are set back from the road. Just turn in at the next driveway,’’ he said. She didn’t move away.
“There is nothing there.’’
He looked over in that direction. She followed his eye. Only the tops of trees could be seen. He shrugged.
“Maybe you should call them,’’ he advised her.
“I have been.’’ She didn’t tell him that she had been calling all day yesterday while everyone was telling her not to worry. They told her she was overreacting when she decided to drive over so early. She was holding her face tight so she would seem calm because she was overreacting, and everything was fine. The man saw how upset she was.
“If you don’t mind following me...’’ he told her.
They turned into an unpaved road. He stopped and stuck his arm out the window of his car. He was pointing to a mailbox with 531 on it. They drove on, but there was no house at the end. There were only trees with one spruce right in the middle.
The guy got out and came over to her car.
“I guess this isn’t it. Must have the wrong house number, Ma’am.’’
“No, that can’t be. I was here before Thanksgiving, picking up my kids. My ex lives here.’’
“Well, not here,’’ he pointed out mildly.
“His name is Neil Porter. Do you know him?’’ she asked hopelessly.
“I don’t really know my neighbors. You know how it is.’’
“Yes.’’
“I guess you could just try calling him again.’’
He sounded doubtful. He looked over at the trees.
***
Worn-out boots sunk into the fresh snow. Sam stood over the stump, the cold stiffening his bones. Nightmares he didn’t even remember from the night before drove him there on a pale, gray morning. The snowfall had covered up any footprints, but Sam knew it was the work of some suburbanite. He had made a mess of it. The stump was hacked to pieces. It was nearly buried by the snow. No one would know it was there. Staring at it, Sam could only think it was funny how dark the sap looked.
Every Christmas he lost a few. One year it was two dozen at once. Sam found chainsawed stumps where his best, young trees had been standing. The ground was peppered with sawdust. His head filled with the smell of resin and gasoline. The rest of that day was lost to him. The next morning he woke up in his clothes, frozen to the bone, his throat so sore he couldn't speak. It didn’t stop him from going out.
After parking his truck out of sight, he walked the property looking for trespassers. He carried a shovel. It was all he needed.
Sam stayed up nights waiting. He lost count how many nights he stood in the dark, in the shadows of trees. He closed his eyes for his only rest and heard the sounds the wind drew out of the branches. Their rustling was like a sermon.
Cars passed but didn’t stop. Clouds covered the night sky. The green of the trees turned black. It hadn’t snowed yet. It just kept getting colder and colder like the air was going to freeze. Sam stomped his feet to get some life into them. A van stopped on the road. It pulled onto the shoulder. Sam stood still. He heard the engine turn off, a door slam. Footsteps crunched over dry ground. Sam felt a feverish joy.
The tree swallowed Sam in its shadow. It hid him as the intruder passed, carrying an ax. The man scratched his face as he picked out a tree. Sam could hear the man’s nails against the stubble on his cheek. It was that quiet.
Sam came up behind him as he took the first swing at the tree. The curses he tried to say wouldn’t leave Sam’s throat. The man turned, hearing something. Sam could see teeth breaking against the shovel, jaw swinging out of place, snapped off the joint.
The man raised his ax only half way. Sam didn’t let him get any further. Stepping back, he swung the shovel again. He saw the man’s head cave in on one side. The ax dropped out of his hand. His jaw hung loose, while blood dripped down freely. Sam finished him off with his own ax.
The ground was hardened by the cold. Still wielding the ax, Sam cut through the topsoil. Blood drops flew off the ax blade and into the dirt. His shovel came clean as he dug out the soil.
Sam threw dirt over the body where it lay curled up at the narrow bottom. The ax went in too. Sam dug up a sapling. He felt its roots snap as he ripped it from the ground. He stuck it in the hole before he filled it in. The wounded roots sunk in, hungry.
The stump was all that was left of it now. Sam stood like a mourner, looking down. Under the snow and the ground, there was nothing but some bones tangled around dead roots.