The Tree Feller

It was the afternoon, hot like summer had come already. Janis thought on the news as she walked. She passed a pile of sawdust strewn across the path and roadway with a stump where a tree had been. Who was this terrible tree-feller, this stalker of proud oak and wizened birch, this night terror who walks among us.

They were mentioned everywhere she looked this week, no matter which channel she hopped to on her tv or which social she touched on her oh so lovely phone screen. She fingered her phone idly in her short strap purse as it bobbed against her thigh to the rhythm of her progress down the tree lined street. Some believe the culprit may be travelling in a red car, others that the car is light-coloured, while yet others think they may be travelling by bike. Local residents were looking for patterns and clues. Janis imagined she saw suspicion in the eyes of everyone she passed, considered glances this way and that as they weighed the worth in evidence of what they saw.

The station was just ahead and to the right, nice and close for her to walk to most mornings. Janis was tired even though she had awoken only an hour before. She loved her job, but it was knackering. And the suspicion and checking updates minute by minute every night as reports came through took their toll. The Facebook group was alive from 8pm every night till the early hours. Live updates on the real life manhunt happening here in Weybridge. Late night police patrols were followed by the curtain twitchers and the newly excited crowd alike, updates on CCTV trawling and the use of number plate recognition technology fawned over. Yet, police were still no nearer to identifying the perpetrator or perpetrators.

A grey van drove by, and then began to slow ahead, red lights shining bright in warning. For a moment Janis felt her pulse quicken and her thoughts turn to crossing the road, she glanced behind her quickly but traffic was coming. The van slowed to a crawl some twenty yards ahead, she was starting to close on it. Ten yards. She could almost see into the paving side mirror. She looked behind her, a car was closing fast, she couldn’t cross nor stop without drawing attention. She slowed her pace, still unable to decide whether to stop or keep walking. She could hear her heart thumping. Then the van pulled away, swerving round a small picket of hazard barriers where a hole had been dug at the side the road. It had one of those red signs from the water board saying works were underway. Or not. Still there was a hole.

Janis felt instantly foolish. Why had she jumped to such terrible thoughts? She would have kicked herself if that wouldn’t have made her feel even more foolish and self conscious. Maybe the fantom tree-feller had been driving the van. On their way out to stalk another victim. What had the police said in the local paper, “do not approach any suspects, not least as they are using a chainsaw.” Janis half chuckled to herself.

It was strange Janis thought. Strange no one had seen this attacker in the act. The outrage and fear was whipped to a cream in the town. “Weybridge,” her neighbour had said. “In Weybridge! We must be targeted. Someone is coming here to do us mischieve. Jealous and mischief making. Downright hateful it is. That great old tree on the green, it’s been here longer than I have. Destroyed over night. All they found was the stump and the body laid out on the grass. Wanton vandalism. That mountain ash, so long on this earth but now gone.”

“Chopped up I heard, firewood now.” Janis had said. The look Mrs Wryweather had given her could have turned the fiercest guard dog to stone.

“The police will find them.” Janis had told Mrs Wryweather in her most reassuring voice.

“Will they indeed! Well that inspector, he was on the radio saying we should video the culprit and send the pictures to him. Can’t say he’s holding out much hope of catching the fiend.”

“You’d think the dogs would be barking.” Janis had said.

Janis arrived at the station, early as always. She waved in reply when she spotted her friend Sally. They worked at the same hospital.

“Have you heard the latest?” Sally said.

“Only from Mrs Wryweather. Coffee?” Janis replied as she queued behind another commuter.

“Yes thanks, another long shift tonight.” Sally said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well this tree-feller, he’s been working his way back and forth along the river. Round the canoe club and up by the island.”

“You’re not far from there.” Janis said.

“Round the bloody corner. I heard not a thing. Just stumbled on the scene of destruction when I went for my jog. You’d think you’d hear something, a bloody great chainsaw murdering trees in the middle of the night. But no, one one‘s heard a thing.”

Janis tapped her card and passed a cup of steaming coffee to Sally. She took a tentative sip of hers as they both turned toward the platform. It was too hot, her tongue felt burnt on the tip. That was for being silly earlier. She shouldn’t be silly.

“Must be a quick death, this chainsawing thing.” Janis said. Sally looked mock aghast at her.

“If no one heard a thing I mean.” Janis said.

“Fred, you know, the one down the way, he says the bloke doesn’t know what he’s doing. No skill, just hacking the trees down.”

“Lucky he isn’t dead. Crushed by his own handiwork.”

“That’s what Fred said.” Sally said. “But folk are upset, some of those trees are memorial trees. Remember Mr and Mrs Archer’s boy, the one that drowned?”

Janis felt a guilty pang. “Yes, yes I remember. Sam I think his name was.”

“That’s right, Sam. I used to see him out with his dad when he was little. He fell into the water when they were out in their boat. Got pulled under. Anyway, one of those trees had been adopted by the Archers. They put a plaque up, there was a memorial ceremony, ever so many came from all about.”

“You’re right. I should remember not to wind up such things as these.” Janis said.

“It’s good we are all keeping it in mind, might catch the silly beggar. I bet it’s a teenager. And don’t sip hot coffee, you’ll burn your tongue.” Sally said.

“Too late. Anyway, if it might be a teenager, where are they getting a chainsaw from? Probably someone who should be getting looked after by the mental health trust. So many people not getting any help and support.”

“It could be.” Sally allowed.

Janis was tired, her feet felt like two lead bricks tied to her legs as she exited the station, waving away to Mr Carlmichael, an old friend of her dads, and regular invitee to family events.

“He’s just a chancer, playing a game with us.” He had said to her as they rode the train. His eyes darting with suspicion about the carriage.

“Have you been on the Facebook group? Elmbridge TreePatrol, or was it Tree Patrol Elmbridge. Hang on let me check.” Janis had waited patiently for him to fiddle with his premium phone.

“Here, more than fifty trees they are saying. He takes a break for a week till the heat is off and then he’s back at his venomous acts with new vigour. Eight this week. Eight more.” He pushed the phone into her view. Elmbridge Tree Patrol it was.

“That’s a lot.” Janis said stifling a yawn. She was so tired.

“Branches left strewn about paths and in the river.” Mr Carlmichael said.

“My favourite cherry tree was a victim this week. It’s all very unsettling. That cherry tree was particularly beautiful.”

“How sad.” It was. Janis had never seen Mr Carmichael look so upset about anything before.

“The police have no leads, no suspects?” Janis asked.

“None. They say they have followed up all the leads given by the community but haven’t enough evidence to make an arrest.”

“Is that a thousand followers?” Janis asked.

“The group is very popular, what with everyone being so worried.” Mr Carmichael said.

“What’s that one. There.” Janis said and Mr Carmichael obligingly made the post bigger.

“It says here it’s the work of a group, a challenge.” Janis said.

“It’s vile.” He said.

“It’s got 200 likes.” Janis said.

“Can't be, makes no sense. It’s someone on a vendetta.” Mr Carmichael had said and then the train had pulled into the platform.

Outside the station all was dark and fear flirted at the back of her thoughts. Her eyes taunted her with every shaking tree canopy, the buzz of a chainsaw springing to life In her mind. Just my mind playing tricks, too exhausted to see straight or hear straight, Janis thought. Buzz every rustle in the wind whispered to her. A motorised saw of whirring teeth every passing car sang to her. Janis huddled tighter in her coat against the chill and the rising tingle creeping round her tummy and up her spine. She startled at a noise behind her before she turned the corner. What was that? she couldn’t see the cause. Nearly home she told herself. Nearly home.

The neighbours had heard nothing she kept thinking as she jumped at another noise behind her. Trees felled without being seen or heard. Just stumps and branches strewn about to show the crime. It was creepy. That was for sure.

Janis turned the corner, and all the street was alight, the darkness pushed to the corners. Several police cars and a police van were parked up just past the flats where she resided. A man was being hauled away, his hands restrained behind him. The flashing police lights blurred the faces beyond into shadow. A man and police on either side. Into the cavernous hole at the back of the van. Janis could see nothing even when she drew closer. Outside her flats, with the police cars and their flashing lights parked right there against the curb, one of her neighbours broke from a group of them. She had seen him about, but didn’t know his name.

“They got him.” He said.

“Got who?” Janis said and immediately felt foolish. He smiled at her and pointed to the police van whose doors were now firmly shut.

“The tree-feller. We’ll all sleep more soundly tonight. One cut too far, his car was spotted the police said. One too many times I reckon. Got him.”

“Right.” Janis said. “Local then.”

“Yeah, lived right there.” The man pointed to the building next door. “Don’t shit where you eat.” He said.

“Right.” Janis said. Grudge it was afterall she thought as she dragged her weary body up the stairs. Sleep came quickly.