Trembling With Fear 4-7-24

Waterfall Half Mi, by J. L. Royce

Herb glanced at his Fitbit: nearly a mile since the sign. “Kind of sketchy.”

“Stop worrying.” Jess was always drawn to the undocumented, the off-grid.

The anonymous Michigan road, potholed gravel, had been difficult even for their AWD. They’d parked at the hand-lettered sign and trudged on, past a farmer’s KEEP OUT. 

Through the golden autumn forest, they trampled once-flamboyant leaves underfoot. There were no wildflowers, no ferns, no bushes: just maple saplings. 

Herb trailed behind his smarter, fitter, sexier companion. “We’ve already seen a dozen today…”

“Man up,” Jess said, in her best executive style. “This’ll probably be the best.”

“Half-mi. That’s the U.P. for you—not strong on math skills.” 

“Herb…” 

“Just saying, Yoopers aren’t the sharpest knives in—”

They rounded a massive outcropping and stopped short, face to face with a local. 

“Holy wah! You gimme a start.” His clothes were rural in the extreme, his fiery beard unkempt. His cheerful grin revealed a mismatched collection of candy corn teeth.

“Knives?” Red gestured at the buck knife on his belt. “Need the borry?”

Small feral children, difficult to number, swarmed barefoot around his legs. They paused to study the strangers with frank suspicion.

“Say,” Herb asked, “are we on the trail for the waterfall?”

The grin widened. “Saw my sign? Yup, yassir, up the trail you go.” 

“Is it far?” Jess accented each syllable.

He jerked his head over his shoulder. “No Ma’am, not far. Just listen for the rushin’ water and in no time there…you…are!”

The children watched with wide, eager eyes as the interlopers threaded through them.

“Have fun!” The Yooper called. “Mind your step, trail’s a tad slippery…”

Herb glanced back. The big man nodded with a satisfied smile.

“See ya!” A child tugged at his sleeve; another set up a keening wail. Red herded them away.

“What about that?” Herb said. “Those ankle-biters…”

“They can’t help living in a disadvantaged setting.”

“Think they charge admission?”

“Doubtful. This waterfall doesn’t come up on Google—yet.”

Jess loved to document new destinations.

The trail grew rugged as they entered an emergent ravine, with rocks and roots challenging their footing. Jess stopped without warning, and Herb collided gently. He put an arm around her and nuzzled her ear. 

“Herb…”

“Yeah…”

“I think I hear water!” She squirmed away. “If you’d just stop breathing so loud…”

The liquid sound could have been rainfall, were it not a clear sky; perhaps a stream tripping over rocks; but…

Jess strode off, Herb stumbling to catch up. The ravine deepened, the trees lining the slopes dense enough to hide the bottom, where a stream might lie. The sound ebbed and flowed, growing stronger as they advanced.

“Look at all this,” he said. The trees grew gray and wasted, though underfoot the roots remained abundant and tangled. But Jess forged ahead with sure steps.

He stared down. “I don’t get it—there are more roots than trees…”

The trail veered from the chasm and ascended a soft hillock. 

“It must be over this rise!” Jess exclaimed. 

A squirrel darted onto the trail ahead and paused to study the intruders with bright eyes, gnawing a seed cone. 

“Hey, cutie!” Herb cooed. Though its orange bottle-brush tail twitched at attention, it held its ground, chittering a challenge.

“Photo op…” He fumbled out his mobile.

Jess rushed on to climb the final rise. The squirrel started and scurried off through the twisted roots just as a sinuous, dun-colored shape reared and snatched at the fleeing creature.

Herb gasped as the squirrel made it to one of the moss-covered boulders strewn about the forest and bounded from it into the safety of a tree cleft.

“Snake!” he shouted, “Jess, there’s—”

He was cut short by a scream from ahead. Herb rushed along, only to trip and fall, entangled in the web of roots. Shaking his head to clear it, he pushed himself up. His stinging hands throbbed… or was it the earth?

The roots quivered beneath him, then stirred.

Herb scrambled to his knees, only to discover his ankles entangled. He tore himself free of the vegetation and leaped up.

All around, the roots awakened. Taking his cue from the squirrel, Herb hopped from one stone to the next, avoiding contact with the writhing web. He topped the rise, the rim of a glacial kettle cupping a seasonal pond. From its rippling surface, thick with algae, came the sound, a facsimile of falling water. Jess dangled above the algae-streaked pond, suspended by a cluster of waving roots.

Herb tensed, preparing to leap out and pull the screaming woman to safety, when a hideous head, carbuncular and dripping greenish-brown ichor, broke the surface. 

Its mouth gaped large, its gurgling voice the thunder of falling waters. Its breath assailed Herb with the rank odor of corruption. But worse still was the scene beyond.

A clutch of locals had gathered safely out of reach on a rock overhang. The adults chanted in a primitive tongue, a verse guttural yet compelling. Red stood among them, his children hopping excitedly. 

“Help us!” Herb cried. 

Some of the onlookers held phones aloft, recording, while others raised long-neck beers in mock salute. 

Roots caught his legs, encircled his thighs, tightened about his waist. Jess dangled upside-down another moment; then the tentacles released her, and she plummeted headfirst into the creature’s fleshy maw. The gurgling ceased as the jaws snapped shut on her thighs. The bloated lips worked, urging her flailing legs in, then swelling around her hips. With a rush of water, the head sank beneath the surface, to cheers from the audience.

Herb grasped at roots, struggling to stay upright, as he was borne into the air. The crowd chanted as Herb pleaded for mercy. The pond stirred, and its denizen reappeared. Unbalanced, Herb swung head-down above the snout, as the jaws opened with an exhalation of decay. 

He stared at the inverted world, thrashing his arms, desperate for anyone’s attention. At last Herb connected with one of the children and gesticulated wildly, pleading for help.

She waved: Bye-bye.