The Pear Tree in Unit 15

The letter came in an envelope more fit for a theater than the shit heap storage rental property it came from.

Jason had just been fired from his fifth job this year when it showed up. He had applied to well over seventy-two jobs and been on at least half as many job interviews. He had a lot of good handshakes, half promises and the one or two interviews that led to something fell apart before turning into anything good. But this big fancy letter showed up and Jason just knew it was going to change his life.

It changed his life alright, but we'll get to that. First, the letter. It was sealed up in an antique-looking envelop that was authentically old, and not just for show. The handwriting on the front was written with ink and to a better perfection than a machine could have done. This was what real artwork looked like.

It was a job offer, written by hand, and it paid well.

---

Jason drove his car up the long lonely stretch of highway that tied two tiny towns together and featured a whole lot of emptiness in between.

It was an eery stretch of road. The overcast day and the threat of storms didn't help ease his apprehension. He was sure he had missed a turn or gone the wrong way, and then he found it. He rubbed his arms as he flicked on the turn signal and turned into the little drive that took up between the tall, leaning, and heavily rusted barbed wire fence.

Loose gravel crunched under his tires as he drove up into the little pull-off where three rows of buildings sat on one side and one lonely little stretch of buildings sat just opposite. A squat little cinderblock building with a fat gray window AC unit clinging to it like a tick and put the car in park. He looked around and didn't see anyone. One pale yellow splash of light stained the window and Jason figured that's where the owner was.

He eyed the green chaos of Summer growth - wild weeds and thornbushes mostly, and an endless sea of vines tying them all together. Then he looked at the buildings and wondered who would actually use a place like this and then wondered if he wanted to know.

Desperation made people do all kinds of strange things, he thought, reading over the little letter once more before opening the driver's door and getting out.

---

"Job's stupid easy," the old man, who introduced himself as Bert, said. He was sitting behind a cheap particle wood desk, chewing a big wad of bubble gum. He blew a bubble a time or two absentmindedly as he leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together holding his head up.

"Well, I can do easy," Jason said, smiling.

"Yeah," Bert said. "How'd you say you come about knowing I needed some help again?"

Jason pushed the letter across the desk to Bert, who took it, read it, and then looked at him.

"Yeah," he said. "Well, listen, I can pay what it says here, but I can't promise it'll be anything permanent. Just till Jessica, my wife, gets back on her feet and I can tend to things around here more is all."

Jason smiled again, looking around the small room with its busted couch sitting close to the AC unit, its pale yellow light flickering from the faded fluorescent light above, and numerous stuffed animals sitting around the room.

"You into taxidermy?" Bert asked, following Jason's gaze.

"No sir," Jason said. "Can't say I've ever tried it."

"Yeah," Bert said, blowing a bubble. "Wife's the one that did those. I never cared for that shit much myself either, but, what can I say when she comes in holding a freshly stuffed gopher and smiling from ear to ear?"

---

Bert gave Jason a quick tour of the little piece of land and its two dozen storage units. The whole place looked ready to be condemned. Rust clung to metal surfaces like a red-tinted inkblot test, and Jason felt that was somehow fitting for the whole place. Weed patches grew in chaotic patterns, and the gravel wore thin nearest the bay doors of each storage unit.

It wasn't anything fancy, that was for sure.

"Like I say," Bert began, "job's stupid easy. Ain't permanent neither, but, I reckon I could use a little help. Nights and on-call, maybe a few days here and there as I have need. Sound fine by you?"

"Yes sir," Jason said.

"Good, good. We'll fill out some paperwork, I call through your references and you can start this weekend if that works?"

"Works just fine by me," Jason said, smiling broadly.

Bert eyed him with one eye shut, his forehead bunched up under a knot of thoughts.

"One other thing," Bert said.

"Yes sir?"

"Folks around here like their privacy, they know what not to put in these units, and what they can and all that, but, besides that I don't meddle in their business," Bert paused, looking around for his little pile of rust and weeds.

Jason shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes looking nervous. Was he about to lose the job before he had even gotten it? That'd be fitting enough.

"What I'm getting around to is that these aren't your typical storage units and sometimes you might think one or two of them are haunted, and hell, the shit folks put in there they might be, I don't know. Thing of it is, don't go sticking your nose in none of them, alright?"

"None of my business," Jason said.

Bert looked him over once, nodded his head, and then said, "Yeah. So, if everything checks out, I'll see you this weekend."

---

Jason got the job.

Everything went without a hitch the first night. It was a boring job, but as old Bert had described it, it was stupid easy. There was no cell signal, but there was a deck of cards and an old VCR with an ugly old TV and a box of old scary movies (a thing he had no desire to watch working the night shift in that little office).

Everything went well the first night, even easier the second night. But the third night was where it all went sideways. The third night was when Jason got comfortable and let down his guard. That old busted couch and the boredom of 52 cards got to him.

He thought a nap sounded perfectly fine.

---

Jason had just stretched out on the old busted down couch, figuring he'd catch a little sleep before he did his late-night rounds.

That's when he heard the first loud thump from outside. He popped his eyes open and laid there, listening. It was hard to hear over the rattling AC unit and the sea of crickets. He waited five heartbeats and was closing his eyes to settle back in when a second thump came from outside. It sounded close but muffled as if it were coming from inside somewhere.

He laid still listening and then he had the ugly realization of just where exactly that thump was coming from. He raised up on the couch and listened, hoping to God he was wrong. He tilted his head one way and then the other. He grunted and then turned the AC unit off, and continued to listen.

Silence.

He was halfway to laying back down when a third thump, much louder this time, came from outside. He sat up and spun around, planting his feet on the floor, and pushed himself up and off the couch, deciding to investigate. He swung open the door of the little building onto the hot humid heat of an August night suddenly realized he couldn't see a damned thing.

The outside light was useless. Piss yellow light bled from the pole down onto one little corner of the lot near the entrance. And that was it. There was no other trace of light to be seen.

Thump. Thump.

He turned toward the noise and headed in its direction. Not long after, his stomach fell to his knees as he knew without a doubt where the noise was coming from. He was standing in front of storage unit 15. He stood there, trying to sort out his options when a loud thump suddenly came from inside.

He fell backward and hit the ground hard. Someone is in there! He got to his feet and ran for the office building and searched frantically for the bolt cutters. After hitting the office like a hurricane and sure Bert had taken them home with him, Jason, on a whim, threw open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and there they sat, right next to a fifth of whiskey.

---

Jason had to put one knee on the bolt cutter handle and use the ground for leverage to cut the thick lock, but after some effort, it finally gave.

He quickly reached down and then drew the bolt cutters back like a weapon and yanked the bay door up. He stepped back, ready to swing at anything that ran at him, but nothing did. Something about the perfect stillness of the unit was more disturbing than actually being attacked. He was prepared for that. He wasn't prepared for nothing to happen.

As his eyes adjusted he saw the damnedest thing. Popping out of the center of the concrete floor were the upper branches of a tree. All around it large jagged cracks in the floor fed into an even larger hole. He walked inside the unit, looking around cautiously, wondering if the thump had come from somewhere else. He stepped down on a pear and almost went ass-over-head because of it.

He bent over and picked up the pear and looked at it.

If someone had been in the unit, they were probably still down there. He leaned over the hole, the bolt cutters drawn back, ready to hit anything that moved, and suddenly felt dizzy as if he were standing on a cliff edge.

Just how deep did that hole go?

---

Dumb ideas come in a hurry and often don't reveal themselves as just plain dumb until it's too late to turn around.

Jason had the dumb idea to reach out over the hole, grab the pear tree and climb down into it. Curiosity was just too much for him. At first, he suspected he'd find some kind of basement or even an underground moonshine still or pot growing outfit. But as he climbed, he had a sudden realization that it was much stranger than that.

Halfway down the tree, he looked around and saw a night sky. He almost fell off the tree when he did, and then rubbed his eyes, sure he was seeing things. But the stars in that sky were too bright to be anything else. And that fatted moon hanging high in the sky, bone white and brilliant. It was impossible, and yet, there it was.

He got to the ground and spotted a little house not far away. He was in someone's garden, and he was hungry. Without much thought, he took a bite of one of the many pears around the tree and as he took a bite, the hole at the top of the tree began to close.

Each bite drew the hole a little more tightly in on itself until he took the last bite, and not even noticing, closed this underworld's night sky into one perfect collection of stars. The pear tree swayed where its top had been cut off by the sealing of the hole, but Jason never saw it. He was walking to the little cottage as if hypnotized.