Behavior Report 15

Dearest Love,

I wish I had the ability to describe the great canyon in an artful way to give it any credence. Grasses overhung the edge like a green waterfall frozen in time. Wary of stepping too closely to the edge, I peered over and followed the stone cliff down until it reached the rushing waters. The walls were cut sheer as if some giant used a spade to shape the canyon. Massive birds, like cranes, flew between the cliffs, searching the water for prey.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Lieutenant Talbott said. “But that’s not all. Look up and out.”

Thousands upon thousands of treetops spread out like a grand carpet leading to a single sharp mountain peak. It was beautiful, yet bizarre. I could only see leaves, no tree trunks.

“How come we only see the treetops?” I asked.

“I assume the trees are in a valley just on the opposite side.”

“Is that mountain part of the Alps? Wait … Aren’t we too far north? I thought they were in the south of France?” I spoke in short staccato breaths. “How do we cross?”

“There has to be a bridge somewhere.” Lieutenant Talbott said and began to walk along the cliff. “We can follow the edge until we find something.”

Nests as big as houses were affixed to the cliff walls. Some sections of the river turned into rapids from massive stones that dropped into the center at some point in history. From within the foam, I saw something that was unexplainable. We were hundreds of feet above the bottom of the canyon and yet, I saw a fish leap over one of the massive boulders. It may have been a salmon or trout, I’ve never been one to know the difference between the two, but it leapt over the boulder. That’s not the strange part. What caught my eye is that the fish was almost the same size as the rock. The scale was entirely off. The fish would have to have been a whale for me to see it from hundreds of feet away!

“Did you see that?” I said. “That fish—”

Lieutenant Talbott was gone.

Most of the day passed with nothing to show for my journey. The mountain and the treetops barely shifted and there was nothing in the distance to suggest a crossing. At dusk, I made camp and ate a can of food labeled as chopped ham and eggs but looked more like meat jelly with yellow chunks. I didn’t build a fire because I didn’t want to attract any attention.  

 The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of rushing waters and bird songs. I got up, stretched, and then jumped in surprise. Not more than twenty feet from me was a bridge spanning the canyon.

‘How did I miss that?’

The bridge couldn’t have been built overnight. Coarse stone abutments jutted out from the cliffsides and connected to individual stone blocks that arched over like a Roman aqueduct. Each stone was about ten feet square. I remembered learning about Roman arches and how the keystone holds everything together but what I couldn’t understand is how anyone or anything could place a keystone on the bridge without a crane.  

I gathered my things, walked up to the abutment, and then gazed across the span. The idea of stepping onto the first stone was impossible to grasp. I knew that the stone weighed several thousand pounds and likely stood for years and years, but I couldn’t help but feel that my extra weight would be all that was needed to cause the entire bridge to collapse.

After a few deep breaths, I stepped forward onto the first block and waited. When the bridge held, I took another step. I repeated this process until I passed the first stone and then the second as well as the third. The river coursed steadily hundreds of feet beneath the bridge. Massive hawks flew underneath without a care toward me or the bridge.

At about a quarter of the way across, a fog began to set in. Each successive step brought about thicker and thicker fog until I could not see a few feet in front of me. What was even stranger is that the fog only appeared when I faced the direction of the mountain. If I turned around, the fog was gone, and I could see the shore where I came from. ‘What’s going on? Where’s this coming from?’ I pushed forward, keeping an eye to the stone under my feet.

Then, if the fog wasn’t enough, a strong breeze picked up. Invisible hands pulled at my shirt and pant legs. Creepy cool fingers crawled along the back of my neck and whistled as it passed through the spaces in my helmet. I leaned into the wind, thankful that the bridge was several feet wide. The fog and the wind grew stronger the further I pushed forward.

Whispers seemed to carry through the winds. At first, they were difficult to understand, but then the winds grew less steady and more temperamental. The first word I understood was spoken in a long, drawn out, breathy, voice.

“Francis.”

The “F” in my name was spoken strongly but the rest of my name was spread out and lingered in the dying breeze as it passed through.

“Francis turn back.”

I readied my rifle and planted my feet firmly into the stone.

“Who’s there?” I said, firmly. “Show yourself.”

“Francis go home.”

“How do you know my name?”

From within the fog ahead, I heard footsteps. The iron sight on my rifle pinpointed on a spot that seemed the only natural place a being could materialize. I held my ground. I didn’t panic. I didn’t feel numb or cold or weak. Time stopped. I was ready to face whatever trial or being or monster would appear.

“Who are you?” I yelled. “Show yourself.”

Like a camera focusing on its subject, my eyes fell upon a black shadow forming in the fog. It had legs and arms and a head shaped like a man. Not a soldier or a Kraut. My rifle locked on. My finger held tight to the trigger, diligently waiting for orders to squeeze. Just as the shadow was about to form into a recognizable person where I could see details in their face, the fog cleared, and the wind stopped. I found myself on the opposite side of the canyon without taking another step.

My Love, I don’t know how to explain what happened. One moment, I stood in the middle of a massively long bridge and the next I was on the other side. Questions rattled my mind. ‘Am I dreaming? Did I move without even knowing? Was I so distracted that I missed taking steps forward?’

And here is the strangest part of all – my canteen was full again. I heard water sloshing inside and grabbed it to check. Water was filled almost to the top.

I pinched myself and didn’t wake.

What else could I do? I slung my rifle over my shoulder and continued my journey. Sometimes no answer to a question is best because the answer is worse than not knowing.

The edge of the canyon was covered in tall grass that rose to my waist. I forged my own path by sliding my hands through the tall blades to push them aside as if I was doing a breaststroke. An odd sensation befell upon with every passing step. My view above the grass tips became shorter and shorter until I was drowning beneath them. Darkness diffused the light within the depths. After a few minutes of pressing forward, the grass grew to be as tall as any normal pine or oak tree. Their stalks were like tree trunks. I could have climbed a stalk of grass if I so chose. The grass eventually gave way to a forest, but not just any forest.

“My god.”

My Love, the trees in the forest were as tall and wide as skyscrapers. I was reminded of the buildings I saw in New York City when we had a forty-eight-hour pass right before we shipped out. The nearest tree, an oak, had a base like the Empire State Building, easily spanning the width of an entire city block and shooting up hundreds of feet into the air before branching out. The forest was eerily silent.

A voice from behind scared me. “Kind of reminds me of home.”

I looked down and found Bob rolling up his sleeves. Walt stood nearby staring up.

“Every once in a while, my friends and I would make our way over to Manhattan just to look at all the buildings,” Bob continued. “We’d stand in the middle of the sidewalk and make everyone mad because we’d block the flow of traffic. I always wondered how they got the flag poles on top of them buildings.”

“You know that buildings have elevators, right?” Walt said.

“What’s the tallest thing you got in Iowa? A cornstalk?”

“We’ve got a weeping willow that’s pretty tall. Nothing like this. I’d hate to have a seed pod fall from one of these trees. Probably take out a Sherman.”

Both laughed.

Bob added, “I’d hate to be here in the fall. The falling leaves would be worse than a barrage of mortars.” He tilted his head as if to signal he saw something. “Look at the pieces of bark on the ground. They’re the size of a bus.” He pointed to another spot.

“Bout right.”

“Can you imagine what a mosquito may look like in this forest?” I said. “One bite would leave a man bloodless.”

The mighty oak we first encountered was small in comparison to the overall forest. Many more oak and ash and maple and pine and fir flourished like towering buildings in a city. Sunlight danced near the tops of the trees, but deep within the valleys of the grand giants, an ominous ghostly fog floated wherever the shadows didn’t subside.

We continued exploring, but with all the massive debris in our way, we couldn’t forge a straight path without climbing over an excessively large root or crawling under a leaf. A hundred-foot journey in the forest felt like a mile.

“I think we should turn back,” I said. “I don’t like it.”

Bob replied, “C’mon, let’s keep moving. Imagine what kind of wood you could find to make a baseball bat for Surplis. Ain’t he from Chicago?” He looked around and then said, “Where is Surplis in all this mess? He should know what it’s like to be surrounded by skyscrapers.”

“I … I don’t know,” I responded. “Honestly, I don’t know how any of you show up.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Walt said. “You tend to think too much for your own good.”

We came upon an open spot, free of any immediate trees, where a stone resided. Bob and Walt urged me to climb up to get a better view of our surroundings.

“See anything?”

I looked in every direction and said, “You know, the forest doesn’t look all that big.”

“Ah. No. See, that’s what they call an illusion. Happens in New York. The buildings are so big that you think they’re closer than they really are.” Bob walked around the stone and pointed. “You see that tree over there? Looks close, right? But it’s probably a mile away. It’s deceiving when they’re that big.”

I hopped down. “Should I turn around?”

“No.” Both responded in unison.

Suddenly, a massive crack echoed through the forest. Several more followed. Vibrations shook the ground. Dirt bounced about. Leaves shivered.

“What’s that?” I said.

Bob and Walt disappeared.

My Love, my first reaction wasn’t fear because I didn’t know what to think. But that changed quickly when something growled. I looked everywhere to find the source. A second growl arrived behind me.

‘It’s too low to be a Kraut tank.’ My rifle found itself pressed into my shoulder and aiming at anything that seemed to demand my attention. ‘Where is it?’

Then, everything stopped.

The sound vanished.

Nothing moved.

I kept my rifle trained in the last spot where I thought the sound came from.

Suddenly, something began to move on my right. I turned and aimed.

A man wearing a strange brown cape ran toward me, waving his arms.

“Run!” He yelled.

He ran right for me and yanked my shirt as he passed by. I hesitated a moment while he continued to pull.

“Move!”

Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t know what to think.

A creature came running from behind the nearest tree.

‘My God.’

A wolf leaped out with exposed teeth. The creature was monstrous. Its head was easily thirty feet from the ground.

“Run!” The man yelled again.

Leaves exploded into the air and the ground shook as the wolf crashed through the forest. I understood the danger and could feel Fear tugging on me, but I was transfixed. My Love, seeing a wolf that is a thousand times bigger than a normal dog is mesmerizing.

A second wolf crashed around the tree. Drool and foam collected around its mouth full of sharp teeth. This was what broke me. Reality finally set in, and I realized that they were coming for me.

I turned and found that the man in the cape was already a hundred feet away, running as fast as he could. My body jolted into action, following the man’s path underneath leaves and over branches. I kept my rifle in hand, just in case I needed to fire off a round to slow the wolves. Their paws rocked the ground more and more as they grew close. Their snarls and growls filled the air and crawled under my skin.

‘Where are we going?’

We ran right to the base of a massive oak and into an opening where we were fully exposed to the whims of the wolves. Spongey moss carpeted the ground. Our steps became more cartoon-like because we needed to overemphasize each step to avoid tripping.

‘Where is he leading me?’

I wanted to turn to see how close the wolves were, but I also didn’t. Their snarls felt as if they were on top of me.

‘They’ll swallow me whole.’

The man stopped at the tree and pressed his hand into a hollow in the bark’s texture. Then, a crack formed in the bark, and he opened a door.

“Hurry!” He yelled.

There was maybe twenty feet between the door and me, but with the wolves on my heels, the distance felt insurmountable.

“Run!”

Ten feet remained and the ground shook terrifically.

“Get inside!”

I leaped the last few feet, and the man slammed the door behind. Our world turned to total darkness.

Two massive jolts hit the tree followed by furious scratching. Gusts of air began to force the door open, sending in shafts of light, but the man leaned on the door to keep it shut.

“Grab that block!” He yelled.

“What? Where is it?” I could barely see anything.

“Next to the door. Grab it and put it on to barricade the door!”

I padded the ground until I felt a long piece of wood leaning against the wall. I picked it up and slid it onto the door.

“You almost got us killed,” the man said. “Killed!”

“Who are you?”