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The Man in the Pines

A Stygian Story

By A.W. NavesPublished 2 years ago 19 min read
1
The Man in the Pines
Photo by Rythik on Unsplash

1921

“What do we do with him?” Jackson asked, looking down at the body of Marcus Gentry.

“Take him up to Dillygull and plant him in the ground. No one will look for him out there,” Ross growled, looking around the room.

There was a bowl of pine nuts overturned on the table. Otherwise, everything looked perfectly in order. It had been a clean kill. Jackson had managed to slip in and break the rat’s neck without him even looking up from eating his snack. You don’t sell out the mob and get to live happily ever after. You don’t get to live at all.

“Clean up those nuts and wipe down anything you’ve touched,” Ross said. I want this place looking like he just left on his own.”

“Got it, boss,” Jackson replied.

2019

“Take that section right up the middle to the top of the hill and we’ll call it a day,” Sarah told Lance Tillerman, her foreman.

Behind her, protesters chanted loudly, “Save Dillygull. Save our habitats!”

Sarah ignored them. They’d caused enough trouble today, creating a long delay by chaining themselves to the equipment that had been brought in the night before. Their antics had wasted her time and forced her to bring in outside security to protect the equipment overnight.

The saws roared, toppling tree after tree. The operators in the grapple skidders began their work moving the logs down the hill to the slasher and then dropping them at the landing area where they’d be prepared for loading onto trucks. The day had run smoothly once they'd gotten going.

“Alright, let’s get this shut down and get out of here. Security will be here in an hour to secure the machines overnight,” Sarah called out to the crew as they finished their final run up the hill.

Back at home, the night brought a restlessness that consumed her. She dreamed of a man she didn’t recognize. There was something odd about him. He was out of place, out of time. He wore baggy brown pants and a thick flannel shirt with a flat cap as he approached her and opened his mouth to speak.

“Leave me be,” he gasped and then, he began to scream.

Sarah bolted upright in her bed, wide awake and suddenly aware that the screaming was coming from her own mouth. She glanced at the clock. Four am. Good grief. Climbing from beneath the covers, she showered and dressed, still feeling exhausted.

The day was uneventful, at least at first. Sarah felt they were finally making up for yesterday’s lost time and making progress. Then it all went south. The air around her was filled with screams and shouts.

The machines began shutting down, men spilling out of them and running toward something. She ran too, pushing through the men crowded around it. One turned and threw up just as she approached, his vomit spraying on her shoes. Disgusted, she looked back up and had to fight back her own purge.

“Oh my God! Call 911!” Sarah screeched, fighting the urge to hurl.

Her foreman, Tillerman, was already on it, speaking urgently into his phone.

Sarah tried to get a grip on herself as she stood looking over the scene in disbelief. A crew member had thrown himself into the slasher machine. The large saw had cut him in half just above the hips and flung gore all around.

Taking a deep breath, she ordered everyone to move down to the parking lot and wait there. The men began to move, all except Tillerman. He hung up with 911 and walked over to join her, looking more than a little gray himself.

“They’re sending help. You want me to call headquarters?”

“No. I’ll do that. Get up the hill and shut down operations. Send them all down to the parking area with the others. Try to avoid this on your way back down if you can.”

“Will do,” he said as he walked away.

“Tillerman,” she called to him. He stopped and turned toward her, his face gray. “Do we know how this happened?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Okay. Go.”

Sarah fished her phone out of her pocket and called headquarters. The receptionist, Monique, answered the phone with her usual upbeat tone.

“Monique, this is Sarah. Who’s in the office today? I mean, who’s in charge?”

“Colin is in his office. You want to talk to him?”

“Yeah. I guess I better. It’s an emergency.”

“Hold,” Monique told her.

“Sarah! How’s our best girl today?” Colin chirped into the phone. He was the owner of the lumber company and unnaturally pleasant most of the time.

“Colin, there’s been an accident here.”

“What sort of accident?”

Sarah told him what had occurred and was met with momentary silence.

“How could something like that happen?” he gasped.

“I don’t know. I didn’t witness it. I’m about to go ask questions now, before the authorities arrive, but wanted to let you know first thing.”

“I’m on my way.”

The line went dead. Sarah stuck the phone back in her pocket before heading down to the parking lot to ask questions. Most people saw nothing. No one was near the saw, per safety protocols.

Only one person had seen what happened, a trainee named Charles Goodwin. The logger, who he said was named Timothy Morgan, had simply walked toward the saw and thrown himself under it as it descended. Screams from witnesses had brought everyone running.

“What was he doing before that?” Sarah asked.

“Talking to a man,” Charles answered in a shaky voice.

“What man? One of the other loggers?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know everyone here yet, but I don’t think so.”

“What did he look like?”

He was about my size, but older - maybe forties or so? He was wearing a dark blue & brown plaid shirt,” he told her. “Oh. He was wearing a flat cap too. You know, like those Peaky Blinders guys on the tube.”

Sarah stared at him in disbelief. Had her dream been some sort of premonition? No way. That was just crazy.

“Did you hear anything he was saying?” she asked.

“No, not really. The machines were all going, so it was loud. I did hear him say his name was Mark.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” Charles said, seeming near tears.

“Go sit down somewhere and get yourself a bottle of water to sip. The police will want to talk to you when they arrive.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, staggering toward the truck that held water coolers. Sarah beckoned toward one of the other guys, “Make sure he doesn’t pass out. Stay with him.”

She noted Tillerman bringing the other men down nearby, making a wide circle around the slasher saw and the carnage surrounding it.

“Tillerman, do we have anyone named Mark on the crew?” she asked when he arrived.

“Mark? No. We’ve got a guy named Mike.”

“Where is he?”

Tillerman looked around for a moment and then pointed toward a guy in a pair of jeans and red flannel shirt. He was still wearing a hard hat. No way would he have had time to change or any reason to change in the brief period that had passed.

“Why?” Tillerman asked.

“Nothing. Charles said that Tim was with a guy named Mark right before the accident. He said he was talking to him and then just turned and ran toward the saw, threw himself under it.”

“Suicide? What a messed up way to kill yourself,” Tillerman gasped.

“I don’t know. That is for the authorities to decide. Speaking of which, there they come,” Sarah said, noting the sound of sirens growing closer.

Another long day. Sarah was at the site until well after dark and then had to go back to headquarters for a meeting with the management team and owner. She was fully prepared to be fired. After the events of today, she wasn’t sure she even minded getting sent home.

“Are you okay, Sarah?” Colin asked as she stepped into his office. He had left the site before her and already gathered his management team together to wait for her arrival.

“As well as can be expected,” she replied, looking around at the six men gathered in his office.

“I know it was a difficult day for everyone. The police say it appears that Timothy was suicidal. His sister said he had just gotten kicked out of the house by his girlfriend and was sleeping on her sofa. She thought he was okay. He said he was good, that it wasn’t a big deal, but apparently, it affected him more than anyone realized.”

“What a horrible way for him to choose to end his life,” she said.

“Yes. We just want you to know that we don’t blame you for this. There is no indication that you failed in any way. No one could have prevented what happened today.”

“Thank you for that,” she told him.

“The site will be shut down for a couple of days while they deal with everything out there and finish up the investigation. Will you be able to continue once it’s open again?”

“Yes. Of course, though I might need some new crew members. I don’t know how many of those guys will want to go back.”

“We’ll sort that out from here. We’re going to have an outside crew pull the slasher saw out and replace it, but you’ll want to relocate your landing elsewhere. Just let them know where when they bring in the new saw.”

Sarah nodded in agreement.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Thanks for everything.”

“Alright. Just take a down day tomorrow. We’re giving everyone the day with pay.”

“Thanks,” she said, getting ready to say goodbye, but then hesitating. “Oh, did they find the guy that Tim was talking to?”

“No. There is no Mark on the crew. We don’t even have a Mark in our current employee records. Charles said it was loud, so he probably just misheard. I don’t think it makes a difference anyway.”

“Probably not,” Sarah said, but it did make a difference to her. She had dreamed about the same man and now he had been the last one to speak to Tim before he flung himself on the saw.

On her way home, Sarah stopped by the liquor store and bought a bottle of vodka, grabbing some fresh orange juice on her way out of the store. A half dozen screwdrivers later, she fell asleep, blissfully oblivious for a while - but then the dream returned. The man wore the same clothes. He was angry, grabbing and shaking her as he yelled.

“Stop them! They’re going to destroy me!”

“W-who? Who is going to d-destroy you?” she stuttered as his icy hands dug into her arms.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but there was only the scream. The same scream as last night. Sarah bolted upright and looked around. She had fallen asleep on the sofa. She glanced at the clock. It was only four am.

She went to her bedroom and climbed into bed, not waking again until well after nine am. There had been no more nightmares and for that, she was grateful.

The following night, the dream returned. It was the same as the nights before, waking her at exactly 4 am.

“This is insane,” she muttered, climbing out of bed and showering. A sense of dread consumed her as she dried off and got dressed, her thoughts focused on the day ahead. She would have some new crew to bring up to speed, but she’d also need to bolster the morale of those that returned after the horrific incident.

It wasn’t until she sat down to dry her hair that she noticed the marks on her arms. On each one, just below her shoulders, there was a clear set of bruises as if someone had pressed into her flesh with their fingers.

“What on Earth?” she muttered.

A loud thud behind her sent her sailing forward from her chair and onto her feet. One of her old forestry books from college had fallen from her bookshelf and landed open to a page midway through the book. She walked over and picked it up, finding herself looking at the entry for the Pinyon Remota, or Papershell Pine.

It was the tree that made up most of the forested area they were logging. She closed it and picked up her shoes, making a hasty retreat from the bedroom to put on her shoes in the den. Nothing going on here made any sense. Crazy dreams that led to real bruises. Books flying off shelves.

Of course, there was a logical explanation. Perhaps she made the bruises herself in her sleep. The book may have just fallen on its own. The fact that it opened to that particular page was just an odd coincidence.

She just needed to get through this job and move on. They only had a small section of the overall forest to clear. Another week and they’d be done.

She was relieved when the first day back went by without incident. The crew was quiet, but she’d expected that. Everyone seemed to just be on autopilot. They’d get back to normal soon, if not on this job, then on the next.

It wasn’t until the following day that things were once again halted by unforeseen circumstances.

The sound of men shouting, and the equipment being shut down made her blood run cold. She rushed up the side of the small incline on which they were working to see men gathering once again. Her legs felt like wet noodles, barely carrying her forward to where the men stood over a fallen tree looking at it closely.

“What is it?” Tillerman asked, craning his head to one side to see.

Another pulled the branches of the tree that had just fell back to get a better view. His eyes were wide with excitement as Sarah made her way over and wedged between several of the crew members. They all stood there looking at the trunk of the large pine in disbelief.

“Is that a skull?” Sarah finally asked.

“I think so,” Tillerman replied.

“Human?”

“I think so,” he replied again.

Sarah looked at it again. It was split open by the tree, half of it upright and half tilted toward the opposite side – impaled and split by the tree trunk. She looked down the tree further and spotted what appeared to be a portion of a hip bone, its smooth white angles jutting out atop another branch. She motioned for Tillerman to look, and he stepped down to where she was.

“Unbelievable,” he said.

Sarah sighed. What in the world was wrong with this forest? She fished out her phone and dialed 911, motioning toward Tillerman as she did so.

“Get everyone together and send them home. Don’t go into details, just tell them we’ll call them. Not a word from any of you,” she warned the others who had gathered.

By the time Sarah finished with the police, the crew was gone, and the woods were filled with forensic techs and high-powered floodlights to illuminate the scene. She had already called Colin and informed him of the situation. He arrived just as she reached her SUV.

“This forest is bad news,” he growled.

“Seems so,” she replied. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing we can do. The police say they don’t know how long it will take to extricate the rest of the remains and that they might be spread into other areas besides that tree. There might even be more bodies. We’re just going to shut it down for now.”

“What about the equipment?” Sarah asked.

“Security will stay with the equipment tonight. Have some of the crew come back tomorrow and bring it all back to the yard. I don’t know if we’ll even come back to this place. Two dead bodies in one week is just bad juju. I’m not usually superstitious, but that’s unlucky.”

“I’ll say.”

“Go home, Sarah. Get some rest. When you come out tomorrow, don’t move anything until the police say you can. I don’t think there is anything you can’t move, but they’ll want to make sure they’ve cleared you doing so.”

“Alright,” Sarah told him.

She found herself hoping that he did bin this job. She could do without ever laying eyes on this forest again.

A few days later, she and most of the crew gathered at the local funeral home where services for Timothy Morgan were being held. After the service, Sarah found herself standing next to his mother. She felt awkward, unsure of what to say, but his mother seemed to have something to get off her chest.

“He told me that he didn’t want to go back to the logging site, and I made him. He said he was afraid, but I wouldn’t listen. He was flat broke. Charlotte, his ex, she took everything from him. Well, he let her have it.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morgan. This must be so hard for you all,” Sarah replied.

“He told me he was going to die. He said the man told him so.”

“Man?” Sarah said.

“Yes. He said he had a dream about a man, right after the first day at the logging site.”

“What sort of dream?”

“He said a man came to him and told him to leave the forest alone. He said it had given him a new life and not to disturb it.”

“When did he tell you about the dream?”

“The night before he died. He and his sister were over for dinner. He was bothered by it, but I told him it was nothing,” she said, bursting into tears.

I didn’t know what to do. I was glad when one of her friends approached and pulled her into a hug. I felt shaken to my core. How odd that Tim had been having dreams about a strange man too. I wanted to ask if Tim had described him, but she was still sobbing. Her daughter came over to help calm her down.

“She’s been so upset. She blames herself for making him go to work when he didn’t want to,” the friend told me as Tim’s mother was led away to have a seat nearby.

“I can imagine.”

“She should have seen it coming. Tim always was different. Even when he was a little boy.”

“Different?”

“He used to see things, people. He claims he saw ghosts. She thought he had grown out of it, but then, after this breakup of his, it began again. He said he had seen a man named Marcus in his dreams. A man that warned him to stay out of the woods.”

“Marcus?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all he said about him?”

“Yeah. I think. He just said this man named Marcus told him to leave the woods alone. Tim said the man said they were going to kill him if they kept cutting down trees."

Sarah was stunned. Perhaps the man had been named Marcus rather than Mark. That’s who Charles had seen him talking to at the site.

Wait. Charles had seen the man. He described him. She looked around. Charles was not here. She’d not seen him at all since the incident. Sarah said some final condolences and left, already on her phone as she climbed into her car.

“Monique, I need a favor.”

“What’s that?” Monique said happily.

“I need a number for Charles Goodwin, the new kid on my crew. I need to get in touch with him as soon as possible.”

“Oh, Sarah. We got a call this afternoon about Charles from his father. He was killed last night in a car crash.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Freak thing. He apparently pulled out in front of a trailer truck over on State 4A.”

Sarah ended the call without another word and sat back in her seat. What was happening here? Charles had described the man he thought was called Mark and he matched the man in her dreams. Two of the people who had seen him were dead. Was she next? And why? What had any of them done to deserve this?

Sarah drove straight home, her nerves on edge. None of this made any sense. Ghosts didn’t just come to life and drive people to their death. That was just crazy. She paced back and forth after she arrived home, finally picking up the phone to call Colin.

“I’m just checking in,” she said nervously.

“Oh, Sarah. I guess we’re going to pull out of the Dillygull site and hand it off to someone else. I just can’t afford any more bad press after the accident and now the dead mobster.”

“Dead mobster?”

“Yes. They think they’ve identified the remains. Turns out that his body was buried with his wallet still in his pants. They had to dig down to find everything, but it looks like that tree just happened to grow up through where he had been buried. That’s how he ended up embedded in a tree like that.”

“What was his name?”

“Some guy named Marcus Gentry. He was a mob informant.”

Sarah felt cold all over again. She heard herself telling Colin goodbye, but it sounded like the voice was coming from somewhere outside her body. She ended the call and dropped her phone on the kitchen table, then picked it up again. She searched for Marcus Gentry on the internet and began to read.

By all accounts, he wasn’t much of a loss to society. He had been a mob enforcer who turned state’s evidence when he got hauled in for a crime that would send him away for life back in the twenties. Then he had vanished.

He had begged Tim for help. He said the forest had given him new life. He was talking about being a part of the tree, the one they had cut down. He’d been trying to save himself from a second death and failed.

Had he punished the men who had seen him but didn’t help? Is that why he had also come to her in her dreams? If so, was she in danger too? An idea came to her, and she bolted out of her chair and out to the company SUV still issued to her, hurrying out to Dillygull Forest.

It was nearly dark as she pulled onto the old road that led up to the area where Marcus Gentry had been found. There were no police or security now. She put on her hardhat and flipped on the headlamp, making her way up to where the remaining sections of the Papershell Pine police had removed the skeleton from lay on the ground.

A half-hour later, she was on her way back home, a dozen pinecones from the branches of the tree in her possession. In her kitchen, she worked carefully, removing the pine nuts from each and dropping them into a small bowl.

Sarah carried them across her backyard to where it met a grove of trees situated between her land and a local park. Using the small gardening shovel from her greenhouse, she dug a hole and planted them there just inside the tree line.

If Marcus Gentry had been a part of this tree for nearly a hundred years, then the tree was a part of him. She had no idea if she was doing the right thing, but as she walked back to her house, she could have sworn she saw a dark figure move toward the tree line and disappear.

The wind picked up and with it came the faintest sound of a man’s voice whispering quietly to her.

“Thank you.”

Horror
1

About the Creator

A.W. Naves

Writer. Author. Alabamian.

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