It's Not A Falling Tree

Chapter 3

Cigarette smoke wafts up from her ashtray as Linda reaches for the remote to turn the TV off. She's not sure why she even bothered turning it on in the first place. It's not like the weather report is ever particularly useful. Nethertheless, there she sat for the past five minutes watching the weather woman from the twelve o'clock news out of Casper cheerfully confirm that it was indeed blizzarding outside.

Just as she grabs the clicker, there's a popping noise and both the TV and all the lights in her home go dark. Hearing the noise and realizing that potential danger is afoot, Charlie leaps out of his human's lap with a ferocious yip and runs off to do a quick perimeter check. Linda just sighs, puts her cigarette out and stands up. She knew the power was going to go out sooner or later, so the sudden lack of lights is neither surprising nor concerning to her.

In her kitchen, Linda turns an assortment of flashlights and battery powered lanterns that she's assembled on her counter on and off again. She's already checked them once today, but she wants to be extra sure that everything is working before nightfall. The tall pine trees that surround her home do a good job of blotting out moonlight on clear nights, and with the weather as bad as it is, she expects to be in near total darkness once the sun goes down.

At her feet, Charlie, who has just finished securing the home from any possible invaders, looks up at her. He can't quite tell what she's doing up there, but he isn't entirely sure it's worth the lack of attention he's currently being given.

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Grace Wilson opens a bottle of scotch and pours a generous helping into her glass. She's not quite drunk, but she's definitely getting there. Part of her recognizes that it's probably not the best idea to get sauced while you're stranded in the middle of a blizzard, your power's out and you don't have a phone. But, what else is she supposed to do? Cope with the storm sober? No thank you.

She takes a big sip from her glass and feels the familiar burn as the liquid goes down her throat. Approvingly, she shakes her head, takes a breath and then downs the remaining contents of the glass. This was going to get her very drunk very quickly.

With the bottle in hand, she makes her way to the fraying leather armchair in her living room and plops down on top of it. A fire blazes in the hearth at the center of the room, radiating heat and casting flickering shadows across the walls. It's not all bad, she thinks, pouring another glass full of scotch and looking up at the picture of Sandy she keeps on the mantelpiece. He'd be pissed if he saw her drinking, but it's not like he's here to do anything about it. He's probably up in Heaven playing poker or pool, unconcerned with his alcoholic widow drinking herself to sleep in his chair.

As Grace daydreams about what Heaven must be like and how Sandy is spending his time there, a bang from outside startles her back to reality. It's so sudden and so loud that she jumps and spills the contents of her glass all over her lap.

"Shit!" she mutters as she sets her glass and the bottle of scotch on the end table next to her and stands up.

A tree must've fallen over.

At least that's what Grace thinks has happened given how bad the weather is outside. There's no way to be sure though, a bank of snow has piled so high against the front of her house that she can't see out the windows to check in the direction the noise came from.

She's about to head to the bedroom and change into a pair of dry sweats when she hears another loud thump from outside. This time it sounds even closer. "What in the hell is going on out there," she whispers to herself as she presses her face against a window and tries to get a look outside.

Bang! Bang! She recoils as the sound once again reverberates through the air and a sickening smell of blood and rotting meat hits her nostrils. Bang! Bang! Bang! Something's hitting her house.

An animal probably, but what kind? It sounds too big to be a deer, so maybe it's a bear? Either way, Grace makes her way to the gun cabinet next to her kitchen and grabs a double barreled shotgun. It's already loaded, but she still crams a handful of cartridges into her pocket before walking over to the entryway and pointing the gun at the front door. She's prepared to blast whatever is outside to bits if tries to come inside.

As she stands there, the banging grows louder and louder, and eventually it starts to get on her nerves. "Piss off! I've got a gun!" she shouts, though she's unsure why. She doesn't think that whatever is making the noise can even hear her, let alone understand what she's saying. But, to her surprise, the banging stops and all she can hear is the steady howl of the wind outside.

Just as she's beginning to calm down and accept that the animal has wandered off, her door explodes in a flurry of wood and snow. Terrified, she pulls both triggers on the gun and fires two rounds toward the intruder. The gun kicks like a mule and she staggers backwards almost falling over in the process.

As she regains her footing, she hears an enraged roar and looks up. Whatever just busted her door down has backed away from her house, so she can't get a clear view of it through the shattered door frame. But, from what she can see, she can tell that it's big. Very big and covered with a thick layer of brown fur. In all her years living in the mountains of Story, she's never seen something so large or heard something roar so loudly.

Her heart beats frantically as she turns and starts to run toward her back door. Though she still holds her gun tightly in her hands, the thought of standing her ground doesn't even cross her mind. She has got to get out of here, away from this monster.

When she rounds the corner to the hallway that leads to the back of the house, she hears the sound of wood splintering and glass shattering behind her. Picking up speed, she sprints toward the door and yanks it open. There's no time for her to grab a coat or to change out of her slippers before she rushes out into the deep snow that's piled up onto her back porch and starts toward the thicket of trees that are on the far edge of her yard.

She knows that what she's doing is both incredibly risky and stupid. She's completely underdressed for the weather and still a little bit tipsy from the alcohol she was just drinking. Still, she's convinced that navigating through the thick and densely packed pine trees of the forest will drastically slow something as big as the creature if it tries to follow her. All she has to do is rely on nature to help her put enough distance between she and it and hope that the freezing cold doesn't kill her before she can get to a neighbor's for help.