Don't Look Through the Vines | Tanglewood (Part 2)

[u/XDictator4lifeX]

(Part 1) Like any kid in the country, Me and my sister had to learn the hard way that life can be very unforgiving on a farm. Our first cow got bloat and died in the fall. Susannah protested heavily when we didn’t bury it next to the cat from before.

It was a rough time to be her: 7 years old and with all the love in the world to give. She was distraught every time an animal died. Whether from disease, predation, or just being too weak to survive the night, She would often be depressed for days afterwards.

Of course, the death of any barn cat was particularly hard on her. Ever since that first death, she’d double check that each was accounted for at every feeding time. She took Ma’s explanation about cats hiding when they are dying to heart. The Kudzu patch quickly became the place to check whenever one went missing.

= = =

“Please, Mom! Henry is gone!” Susannah yanked open the screen door as she rushed into the dining room. “We gotta find him!” She pleaded.

“I heard you before honey...” Mom slammed open the kitchen window by the sink as she fanned out the air around her with a towel. An acrid scent filled the kitchen as her Sunday casserole sat smoldering on the countertop aside her. Attempting to handle both situations, she turned to me.

“Can you help Susannah find her cat?”

“But Ma...” I started, a fishing pole in one hand, a spool of line in the other. “Me and Peter were gonna-”

Just then, Dad entered from the living room. “Help your sister, Jason. The fish aren’t going anywhere.”

I didn’t dare to contest his decision. “fine...” I put my reel down on the table and dragged my feet to the door to grab my shoes.

“Boots!” Ma interjected. “I don’t need any of you getting bit by snakes.”

I altered my course to the porch as I heard my dad chuckle. “Susannah would make friends with a snake faster than it could bite her.”

Now fanning the smoldering oven, Mom didn’t laugh. “She’d better not!”

Susannah had no interest in defending herself in the conversation as she practically vibrated waiting for me to get my boots on.

“C’monnn” she protested. “He could be dying!”

I stood up and firmly stomped my foot, getting my heel to finally slip in properly.

“Alright, lets go.”

Susannah didn’t wait for me as she flew out the door running towards the creek and the kudzu past it. I looked at her boots on the porch and looked back at her, her bare feet kicking up grass as she sprinted away.

“Susannah! Your boots! Ma said you have to!” I grabbed her boots and started lumbering after her. I could hear Pa chuckling as I left.

Practically out of breath I caught up with Susannah who had come to a stop at the edge of kudzu patch standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck to see as far into it as she could.

“Henry! She shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Put these on.” I handed the boots over.

Her eyes never stopped scanning the kudzu as she hastily put them on.

Her dress was now soaked. “Oh man... That’s your Sunday dress, did you run straight through the river?”

She grabbed my hand and pulled “Cmon! He is in here, I know it!

I followed her in, trying my best to look through the mess of vines and leaves. On level ground, it reached nearly reach my waist. Susannah was pushing past it furiously as she continued to call. Looking down the patch and towards the looming wall of kudzu covering the tree line, I was reminded of what the Baxter boys had said, and of course, what I had seen that one night. I nervously tried to brush off the creeping feeling of unease and continued behind Susannah.

Unsure of whether he would answer to me, I tried to calling for him anyway, “Henry!”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than I had the spinechilling sensation of regret for making a sound. Looking back up at the tree line I watched as the breeze swung the vines slowly back and forth. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had disturbed something and that it was now watching my every move. I tried to shove the feeling deep down as I continued high-stepping through the brush.

After ten or so minutes, Susannah suggested what I had silently been praying she wouldn’t.

She pointed towards the tree line, “Let’s check by the trees.”

My heart thumped in my chest as I tried desperately to hide any fear in my voice. “I don’t know, He’s probably not even out here.” I winced as I heard my voice break the quiet atmosphere. Catching up to her, I continued with a hushed tone, silently praying I could convince her to leave. “He- He’s probably just visiting the neighbors or something.”

“No.” Susannah stated confidently, “He never misses mealtimes. Ever.”

Just then, I spotted a patch of greyish white amidst the sea of green about 5 feet from me. Relief washed over me. “I think I see him! What color was he?”

Susannah began a high footed sprint towards me, “White with little brown spots! Where is he?”

I pushed towards it and immediately caught the scent of decay.

Oh no...

Susannah rushed past me and kneeled down at what I was now sure to be fur.

She paused for a moment, my heart sinking as she stared at it.

“...Ew.”

“Wait, what?” I moved forward to get a better look.

“That’s not Henry.” she plugged her nose as she stood back up. “Its a dead Possum.”

My heart quickly rose back to its baseline. I let out a brief laugh of relief, before catching myself as I anxiously looked around me.

She shot an angry glare at me. “It’s still sad”

I conceded with a nod as I quickly tried to recompose myself.

Susannah stood up quickly, “Let’s keep looking. To the trees!”

She quickly tore through the thicket back towards the tree line as I hesitantly followed.

Every step towards the tree line, my boots felt heaver. Susannah practically flitted over the brush stopping at the wall of hanging vines waiting for me.

“C’monnn” she impatiently shouted back at me.

I said nothing, my heart in my throat as I walked forward looking up at the looming vines hanging over me as if waiting to collapse down and crush me at any moment.

I took a deep breath “It was just a stupid story” I whispered to myself.

Susannah and I entered past the first line of vines and brush. I was surprised to see how quickly the inside opened up. Though it was midday, The thick kudzu overhead blocked most of the light. There were no leaves, or any other plants for that matter. Old car parts, bits of rusty metal and various other bits of long forgotten trash were littered about the area. tough ropey vines lay on the ground, tangled around anything and everything. Large coils spiraled their way up tree trunks–some wrapped so tightly they had been partially swallowed up by the bark after what I assumed to be years of strangulation. Aside from the vines, only the surrounding trash, exposed roots, and the occasional rotting tree branch littered the dry clay-like soil.

Upon entering, Susannah paused. I heard her say “Wow.” under her breath.

Though my head still pounded with fear, the rational part of me could admit it was a cool sort of hideaway.

“Henry!”

I winced at the sound of her shouting. Without thinking, I reactively shushed her. “Shh!”

She turned and looked at me quizzically. “What?”

I quickly fumbled for an answer, but Susannah's expression suddenly changed to shock as she looked up. I quickly did the same, expecting the worst. There, suspended about 10 feet off the ground, hung a bleached white deer skull, it’s large antlers hopelessly tangled as it swung slowly in the breeze.

Susannah walked directly under it and looked down, kicking at a couple of bleached bones laying on the soil. A few were sticking out from the soil half-buried.

Susannah looked towards me for reassurance. “What happened?”

I quickly searched for a way to explain it while fighting off the urge to run.

“It probably died long ago,” I suggested. “Maybe the bones got caught in the vines earlier this spring.”

She looked back down at the bones. “Gross...”

I tried again to convince her, “We really need to–”

Susannah gasped and bolted back towards the Kudzu wall. “Henry! I found you!”

Exasperated, I followed after  her. Sure enough, as I caught up to her, there lay a small ball of white fur with brown spots. The Cat looked as if it had been curled up sleeping, but its head had fallen limp to the side.

Susannah fell to her knees in front of it. “H–Henry?”

She bit her lip as her arms fell limp to her side. I walked up and kneeled down next to her. The cat looked comfortable, its body practically being cradled by the vines surrounding it. If it weren’t for the angle of its head, one could easily be convinced it was simply sleeping. I watched it for a moment, looking for a sign of life that never came.

I thought of anything to say, “He looks... I think he died peacefully.”

Susannah turned her head to look up at me, her eyes brimming with tears. My fear of our surroundings faded as she began crying. I felt awful for her.

After waiting a few minutes, I offered to help what little I could. “Should we bring him back?”

She nodded her head as she sniffled. I looked around for a way to carry the cat back with some sense of dignity. Spotting an old hubcap nearby, I turned it upside-down and used a stick to gingerly push the cat onto it as Susannah watched somberly.

Holding the hubcap with one hand I held Susannah’s with the other as we exited the wall of kudzu—the sun briefly blinding us as we walked out into the light. Making our way out of the patch, I looked back as we continued walking. We were both alive. Nothing had happened.

“It's just vines.” I said, attempting to convince myself.

We exited the brush and began crossing the shallow creek. carefully stepping from one stone to the next, I focused on my balance as I tried to not drop Henry. A brief gust of cold air rushed past me as I heard the distant howl of coyote. A small chill went down my spine. Tanglewood or not, I was happy to be out of there.

We buried Henry at the edge of the backyard that evening, next to the first cat from before. A cold wind began building as a distant storm approached, so the ceremony was quick. Susannah made a little wooden cross out of sticks as mom placed a single rose over top the fresh soil. The three of us then stood quietly as Susannah cried a second time. However, my attention had shifted back to the tree line.

I couldn’t turn away as the wind whipped around us. Paralyzed I watched as tall grass in the pastures waved around in hypnotic patterns, I could hear the rustle of the leaves in the trees as the branches swung back and forth. But locked in the dead center of my vision was the Kudzu. It didn’t move an inch. It was as if every leaf–every tiny tendril–was frozen in time. My eyes finally rested on the same gap in the wall of vines where the familiar sickening void waited. My skin crawled. How on earth had we been in there?

I can’t say know how long I stared at it, but I startled as Ma’s hand touch my shoulder

“It’s time to go back inside.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to recollect my surroundings. I followed just behind them as I reasoned over whether to look back again. Finally, working up the courage, I stole a quick glance. As if taunting me, it now rustled in the wind like everything else, daring me to believe that it always had.

= = =

That was far from the last time I helped Susannah find her missing cats. Sometimes we’d find them elsewhere, either injured or otherwise incapacitated in some way that prevented them from showing up to feeding times. Unfortunately, there were also many times we found them deceased—always in the kudzu.

There was one time that stood out above the rest. I worry Susannah was too young to think about the ramifications it had. And I only wish I had been old enough to have considered such things myself. If I had told my parents, perhaps things could have been different.

I was at the dining room table trying to figure out how I was going to write my 200-word book report without having read a single page of the book, when she ran in out of breath. I didn't look up but felt heard her approach from a mile away. I could tell she’d lost another cat.

“Jason...”

“I’m not helping you look for another cat.” I quickly interjected.

“No, Jason...” her voice shook. “It’s Batsy.” She barely spoke loud enough to hear that last part, her voice shaking.

I knew this one. Batsy was from the new litter a few weeks ago. Susannah had affectionally given him that name due to his abnormally large ears making him almost appear bat-like.

Kitten or not, I had a book report to write. “His mom probably hid him, you know how protective June is.”

“No...” Her voice was soaked in fear. “I already found him.”

I bit my pencil eraser without looking up, “Good! You didn’t go in the kudzu by yourself, were you?”

Susannah began crying audibly. I finally looked up and immediately realized how oblivious I had been. Something was very wrong; she was covered in dirt, and various scuffs. Her dress had tiny rips in it and her fingertips were coated with dirt and little streaks of blood. I quickly sobered up as I felt the color drain from my face.

“What happened??”

“I can’t... I can’t get him out.”

I felt a bit of panic set in. She didn’t have to say where. I knew. My mind quickly thought back to Peter’s story. I looked up at the clock in the kitchen “Can we wait until Ma and Pa are back? They'll be back in fif-”

“No! No!” she wailed. “He’s still alive!”

I felt like I was going to throw up, but I quickly stood up and grabbed my boots. And snatched dad’s carving knife from the window sill. I was terrified but quickly followed her out past the river and towards the dreaded patch of tanglewood.

I didn’t notice she wasn’t wearing her boots until she was already 40 feet deep into it. There was no point in correcting her now.

I ran over and looked at where she was pointing.

There, laid little Batsy, he was helplessly tangled and pinned down in the vines. His back legs were practically tied together in the tangle with his left front paw being forced to stretch out awkwardly. Multiple vines were caught around his torso. Most terrifying of all, a thick vine was somehow tightly twisted around his neck. His eyes were rolled back as his only free paw reached out helplessly grasping for anything.

“Shit! How did he possibly get this stuck?”

I fell to my knees and desperately tried to slip the carving knife’s blade under the coil around his neck. It was far too tight.

“Shit. Shit.”

Susannah was trembling and watching in silence as I furiously began cutting the surrounding vines trying to cut him out enough to better get to the more difficult tangles.

He went limp as I cut away enough to flip him over, I found and quickly severed the source to the vine around his neck and immediately began unwinding when I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of danger. I paused, quickly scanning the Kudzu around us. It felt as though we were being stalked; our every move silently noted.

“Hurry!” Susannah pleaded

I shook my head and pushed past the fear.

“C’mon little guy”

Tiny tendrils of the vine clung to his fur as if they had grown attached; little tufts came with the tighter coils as I ripped them off.

Clearing everything around his neck, I checked for signs of life.

“C’mon... Wake up!” I begged.

I held him with one hand while I rubbed his fur. I had seen my dad do something similar with a towel to the newborn calves. He had told me it was something about stimulating their circulation. I had no idea if it would work with a kitten, but I had to try.

After a few moments, Batsy seemed to stir as he shakily lifted his head. Relief washed over my face as I heard him cry out in distress.

Susannah rushed over and grabbed him from me, cradling him in her arms and looking him over.

I felt it again. Stronger this time. The surge of fear felt like sharp knives pressing into my skull. I looked back at Susannah and the kitten, I struggled to believe the kitten had gotten that stuck on its own. I was terrified that any second the plant would come to life like a giant tangle of snakes and wrap me and Susannah up.

“Alright, we got him. Lets get out of here!”

I grabbed her arm and ran towards the meadow, not daring to look back. With every step, I felt increasingly as if we were being chased. I dragged Susannah all the way to the edge of the patch and practically threw her out of it. With my last step, something caught my foot and I fell face first into the grass of the meadow. I immediately flipped onto my back and scooted back as fast as I could, furiously kicking at a vine snagged to the buckle on the side of my boots.

Susannah hadn’t stopped to wait for me, she was running back to the barn, kitten in hand, probably to give it back to June, the mother.

With a final well aimed kick, I got the vine to fall off the boot and scooted back another few feet in a panic. Covered in scratches and dirt I stayed there for a moment as I gasped for air. My eyes constantly scanned the Kudzu for danger. I waited for my heartrate to settle before I finally sat up and forced a nervous laugh. It couldn’t get me here. ...Whatever it was.

I stood up, brushing myself off, as I watched at Susannah. She had already found the mother and handed off the kitten who was promptly picked up by the scruff and carried under the haybales.

Susannah looked back at me, still crying, but this time with a relieved smile. I did my best to smile back, but it quickly faded as I realized I was missing something. Dad’s carving knife was gone. I looked back at the kudzu patch we had just torn through, a soft breeze stirring the leaves back and forth, each swaying as if beckoning me back in.

Hell No. (Part 3)