Catch up on Part 1 | Part 2 here

Previously…

…his pain was brief. The trees descended on him and gored him with a branch through his sternum. Officer Dan spit out a mouthful of blood, and then fell silent forever.

“We’re not getting out of here alive, Steve,” Harry said.

“Think of something!’” Steve shouted. “There’s got to be a way.”

Harry smiled. His life was coming to a close anyway, but this young man, he had a bit of time left on this earth. Useless as he was as a paramedic, Steve Clucken probably had a family. A wife and some kids, maybe. Harry could understand all of that. But right now, Harry felt so incredibly tired. He felt so old, and the pain in his forearm was maddening. A part of him just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. But the fight in him, the will to survive that was ingrained in all human beings, came to the forefront, and Harry knew that there was something they could do.

“Wait here,” Harry said. Outside the front window, the trees were breaking through. Broken glass flew against the sheer curtains, falling to the floor in a sprinkle of shattered glass and wood.

Harry ran back into the kitchen and saw that the tree from the back yard was pushing its way into the house through the broken kitchen door. Harry ignored it and pulled open a cabinet above the stove. What he was looking for was there, just like it always had been. It was a bottle of Old Hickory bourbon, saved for special occasions. There was half a bottle left, and Harry figured that would be enough. He pulled the bottle down, and it nearly slipped from his fingers. He recovered it quickly and moved out of the kitchen just as the tree had made its way through the kitchen door, splintering the frame onto the floor.

Steve was waiting where Harry had left him only moments ago. He was hunched over, covering his face as glass continued to spray onto the floor. The trees were inside the house, their awkward limbs and muddy roots clambering over the window frame. Harry held the bottle of bourbon up to Steve’s face.

“Are you kidding?” Steve stammered. “Your idea is to get drunk?”

Harry smiled and pulled open the bottle, taking a large pull from it. He winced as the old whiskey burned his throat. When the sensation passed, he took another swig and handed it to Steve. The useless paramedic looked at it only briefly before nodding and taking a large drink from it.

“You got a lighter?” Harry asked.

Steve handed the bottle of bourbon back to Harry and shook his head. “No. Why?”

Harry just shook his head. Of course, he doesn’t have a lighter. Why would he?

“Wait here,” Harry said. As he was about to go from the room, a large branch swung through the sheer curtains and caught Steve in the ribs. It ripped through his flesh, stopping midway through his sternum as it hit muscle and bone. Harry yelled out loud and was paralyzed where he stood, unable to look away. The tree tried to pull its branch free from Steve’s body, but it was stuck.

Steve jerked as the tree pulled, blood and torn flesh spilling down the man’s leg. It yanked again, and the branch ripped free. And from where Harry stood, he would have sworn that he saw the man’s organs plop onto the ground, followed by three broken ribs. Steve Clucken made one last gurgling noise before falling apart on the ground in two messy halves.

Harry knew there was a lighter in the China cabinet just off the living room. Why he hadn’t grabbed it when he grabbed the bottle, he had no idea. But he made it to the cabinet and pulled open the drawer. The lighter was there. He grabbed it and wheeled around. Three trees were moving on him fast. The one from the kitchen, the smallest one, looked like it was limping towards him, and the two from the living room seemed to be towering over him. He thought of old cartoons where the shadow of a villain would grow larger along a wall and seem to arch almost up to the ceiling. Harry remembered everything all at once. Your life is flashing before your eyes, old-timer. He saw his wife, his kids, and his orange groves. He saw weddings and children, and his wife naked in the moonlight under the willow tree. And then one of the trees let out a loud shriek.

Harry was brought back to reality. He took one more pull from the bottle, holding the sweet liquid in his mouth, and then he tucked the bottle under his arm. With his remaining good hand, he pulled the lighter free and lit it—another shriek from the largest tree closest to him.

Harry held the flame in front of his face. He managed a small smile and then spit the bourbon onto the flame and watched it explode outward onto the tree. The brittle branches caught fire immediately and the shriek he heard only moments ago was merely a whisper compared to the sound that issued forth from the tree now.  They were wailing.

The flames spread quickly, catching each tree on fire and burning the rug beneath their roots. Harry’s shirt caught fire as well, but he didn’t try to put it out. Instead, he slumped to the floor and watched his world burn through a haze of flames. He watched the trees swing wildly, almost as if they were trying to understand why they were burning. And before long, the whole room was ablaze, burning with the intensity of hell. The trees continued their macabre dance, shrieking the entire time.

And as he burned, his flesh melting from his bones, Harry finally felt at peace.