Weapon of Choice

It was hot and still when Terre went to bed. It was one of those nights that sleep proved elusive and he was restless, his eyes open in defeat. After watching the shadows of window-framed trees wiggle on the wall, he flipped back toward the window with a sigh and looked outside. The landscape was lit up and he could see a hundred yards out. It was weird like that way up here in the mountains. Normally dark this far away from town, the landscape would light up when the moon was full. You didn’t even need a flashlight unless you went back in the trees. He was just closing his eyes when he saw a quick flash. He frowned and watched. There it was again, another flash. He couldn’t pinpoint the source, and worried maybe it was a spark from his fan, he sat up and turned it off.

Terre could hear Donkey snort and paw at the ground. Donkey was an ancient bull that wandered on the property a few years back. No one ever claimed the bull and the bull himself seemed perfectly happy to live in the old run-down barn at the back of the property so Terre let him stay. He called him Donkey because when he went to buy food for the old boy, the feedstore clerk asked him why. He had only ever bought wild birdseed, corn, sometimes peanuts. Terre thought about it and decided there was no sense in advertising that he had a rogue bull on his property and replied that it was for his Donkey. The old man was funny like that. He was not one to lie but if people misunderstood what he said? Well, that was on them. It was hard to keep secrets in rural America, even way back in the mountains.

He was getting ready to lay back down when he realized the wrongness. He looked back at the wall. Silhouettes of trees were dancing in the shadow of the window frame, but there was no wind. Usually, the wind sounds ranged from ocean waves to a howling banshee, but not tonight. He looked outside at still pines then to the wall then back outside. It must be a trick of the moonlight.

The moonlight. He had seen the moon when he said goodnight to Donkey in the barn. The moon was two days old, a barely-there sliver in the sky. There was no way the ambient light came from that tiny slice of moon. He stared outside. The sky was the flat beige-gray of moonlight behind heavy clouds, but there were no clouds, and he could see a few stars bright enough to outshine the light. Just as another flash came, he heard the crunch of grit as Donkey pawed at the ground again. He’d seen the old boy to bed. Why was he out? Terre wasn’t one to spook easy, but none of this was making any sense. Sighing again, he got out of bed, dressed, grabbed his cane, and walked outside.

Donkey came trotting over, giving Terre a push with his nose. Stop that! Terre scolded him as he regained his balance, but then reached out and ruffled the fur between Donkey’s eyes. The two old boys stood quietly, enjoying the sanity and realness of each other’s company in the face of the strange night. That moment of peace was broken by another subtle, silent flash from somewhere behind the house. Terre hitched up the waist of his pants and started the walk around the house.

He turned the corner and stopped, pulling his free hand down over his face. The light was emanating from an undulating fleshy mass hovering over the barn. It reminded him of the oyster mushrooms sometimes found on the trees, but it was the size of the old green Pinto he’d driven back in the 70s. The thing was vibrating – its pale surface rolling and twisting. Every few minutes the thing would pop, emitting a flash. It wasn’t a bright flash. It was the flash of a camera in the next room. He turned to Donkey, but the bull had stayed behind, keeping the house between him and the barn.

He wondered what he should do. Nothing in his 82 years on this planet had prepared him for this. He tugged at his beard, then hitched up his pants again, and went back into the house. Terre was standing in the kitchen doorway when he felt a warm, damp breath of air hit him between his shoulder blades. The dampness landed a moment before the odor. It smelled of green earth and bile. He clutched at his chest in alarm as it threatened to stop and fell against the door frame, raising his cane as he turned to fight, but it was just the old bull. This time, Donkey had followed him.

Shit! He panted, rolling his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Donkey snorted, spitting a slimy green mass on the floor. Shit! Terre muttered again, his affable calm returning. A flash of light flitted just outside the kitchen window. He made a face. He was going to have to deal with this. Should he call someone? Who would he call? He went to the fridge and pulled out a cake he had made for a neighbor’s birthday but never took over to them. He sat down with a generous slice of chocolate cake for him and a smaller piece for Donkey. He didn’t know if bulls even liked chocolate cake, but it didn’t matter. He’d seen crazier things that night than a bull eating cake at his kitchen table.

It turns out that bulls do indeed enjoy cake and they were thoughtfully chewing when the rumble came. It was felt rather than heard. Man and bull looked at each other, then Terre got up and went to the back door, opening it slowly and peeking around the edge. The thing was quivering violently. Suddenly, a green light shot out from it and pierced the barn. A wave of nausea swept over him as the light pulsed, then just as suddenly as it started, it was gone. The thing was gone. There was no fire, no debris, not even a boom. It simply vanished. He twisted his beard as he stared outside then shut and locked the door and went back to bed.

Terre woke up the next morning wondering if it had all been a dream. He dressed and found Donkey snoring on the floor, his big head using the couch as a pillow. He peeked in the kitchen. Chocolate crumbs were all over the table. He looked at the back door, took a deep breath, and cracked it open, peeking out at the barn. He nodded his head. The barn was still there. He left the bull sleeping on his couch, grabbed his cane, and went outside. Everything looked perfectly normal. He hesitated before opening the barn doors, wondering if he should call someone first. Curiosity won though – he had to look inside. He pulled the doors open, ready to jump, but … nothing. Nothing rushed out. Nothing looked out of place. He walked inside and looked around. It wasn’t until he got to the last stall that he saw it.

It looked like a small tree had grown overnight. The tree was about four feet tall, skinny, and sitting on a ball of roots. It had light green leaves and looked like a young pear tree except it was peppered with buds that reminded him of miniature marigold flowers. He crept closer then stumbled back to safety when the tree shimmied. He peeked back into the stall. It was closer. That tree had moved. He shook his head and walked back towards the house. He was almost to the back door when he heard a car horn. Walking around to the front, he tightened his grip on his cane when he saw who it was. He didn’t have many neighbors but here was one, and she was a busybody. Carol got out of her car, swinging her ample girth out of the way of the door as she slammed it. What were you doin’ up here last night? She called. What were all those lights? If you were shooting firecrackers, I’ll be making a report. There’s a drought, ya know! Terre rolled his eyes. She heaved herself to a stop before him, breathing heavily from the short walk up the drive. Well?

Terre thought about it for a minute. Something was in the old barn, he said quietly. What? She screeched like a hawk. Terre rubbed his ear. Something got in my barn last night. Well, Carol planted her hands on her hips, what was it? I dunno, he shrugged, come see for yourself. He turned and led her to her barn. When they walked by the house, he saw Donkey’s face watching them from the window. He hoped Carol didn’t see that. This was already too hard to explain.

He took her into the barn and pointed to the last stall. It’s in there. Carol stomped forward and turned the corner. Well? Carol demanded. Terre peeked around the corner. The tree was still there. Uh, it’s the tree. He pointed at it. She took a heavy step forward and grabbed it, twisting a fistful of branches. It was born last night, Terre added. For a big woman, she spun on him like a cat. Born last night? Born last night?! She repeated. What a stupid thi- She was interrupted by a wet, ripping sound. She gaped like a fish and shriveled before his eyes. What was once Carol the busybody was now a mummified husk that was disintegrating into dust on the barn floor. Oh ... shit, he chuckled nervously. As the body flaked away, he saw the tree had pierced her with a large thorn. The tree visibly plumped and made a happy sound. Oh shit.

Terre drove Carol’s car to her driveway and hiked back to his house. Terre peeked in at the tree. It shimmied and he gave it a nervous smile. He left, locking the barn doors behind him. He didn’t want Donkey getting in there, but the old bull didn’t seem at all curious. He had left the house and was milling around at the pond.

Donkey was regularly sleeping in the house now because they often heard the tree outside rolling around outside at night catching its own food. Terre sometimes fed the tree too – hamburger or fish. He was doing it more often now as the tree had grown. The summer passed. Snow had fallen and the frozen pond was thick with ice so the tree couldn’t fish in its waters. Terre sometimes thought about Carol. He had a list of names in his head that had wronged him and his family over the years. He wouldn’t have minded luring them to his house, but it was too risky. There was plenty of hubbub over Carol’s disappearance. One morning, Terre went out to visit the tree. Its orange and gold flowers were fading with age. We’re both getting old, Tree, he said. The tree shimmied in agreement, then shook with a little hop. From the fading flowers, out popped seeds the size of beans. Terre sucked on his lip again and thought about Carol. He stooped over and painstakingly picked up all the seeds from the barn floor and went home, sitting down at his kitchen table. He looked down at the seeds scattered on the table and chuckled.

Two weeks later, people Terre had known at one time or another started receiving suspicious packages wrapped in brown paper with no return address in the mail. What a relief it must have been when they discovered it only contained a small package of seeds inside.