“I think it might be dangerous,” Brad said. “I think vines try to hypnotize you so they can eat you.”
“Not to be an ass or anything,” Stavros said, “but you’re feeling okay, right? Not too much stress with your job or anything lately? Any dizziness, change in medication?”
“Come inside,” Brad said. “I’ll tell you the whole story and show you a piece of vine.”
Brad walked Stavros into the kitchen, relating all the details as they walked. The plastic bag with the vine lay on the counter. Brad’s hands shook a little as he dumped the bag out on the counter. He expected it to be empty; for the hunk of vine to have disappeared just like the last one. The glove fell out, but nothing else came out of the bag. He turned it inside out and let out a relieved breath when he found the piece of vine clinging to the bag.
“This,” he said. “And look, it has a flower.”
“So it doesn’t move once you cut it?" Stavros asked. He leaned in close to peer at the vine.
“Yeah, it only stayed alive for a little while once I clipped it off last time,” Brad said. “But I was able to get a reaction when I…” Brad blew on the vine. One end flipped up off the counter and the vine spun itself into a tight coil. “See!” Brad said.
“Wow,” Stavros said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“Yeah, like I said,” Brad said.
Stavros reached out and touched the vine before Brad could stop him. The vine’s action had weakened, but it still curled around his index finger, sinking its tiny thorns into his flesh.
“Shit!” Stavros said. He plucked at the end of the vine and pulled it away from his skin.
“They’re barbed,” Brad said. “I told you.”
“Yeah,” Stavros said, grimacing with the pain while he pulled the thorns from his finger, “I guess I like to see for myself.”
“So what do you think it is?” Brad asked.
“How the hell should I know?" Stavros asked. “What do I look like, a botanist?”
“Not since about twenty pounds ago,” Brad said, laughing. They had become friends and then roommates in college, when Stavros studied botany, and Brad studied engineering.
Stavros pulled out the last thorn and tossed the piece of vine back on the counter. He sucked on the side of his finger and both men watched as the vine flipped over one last time.
“So what’s the connection to rock? Anything?" Stavros asked.
“I don’t know, but the vines didn’t touch the rock-thing, and it was right in the middle of them,” Brad said.
“Yeah, well even those thorns wouldn’t do anything against a rock,” Stavros said.
“If I had to guess,” Brad said. “I think it might be just a really big animal camouflaged to look like a rock. A rhino kinda looks like a rock, or a big turtle.”
“So you’ve got some new species of plant back there,” Stavros said. “At least they’re nothing indigenous, and nothing I’ve ever heard of before. How dangerous is this clicking you were talking about.”
“As far as I can tell, it just kinda hypnotized me for a little while,” Brad said. “But those vines got pretty close while I was out. It’s like a psychic game of ‘Red Light, Green Light,’ I wouldn’t want to find out what happens if they win.”
“You said you heard the clicking when we were walking,” Stavros said, “but you didn’t pass out then.”
“Maybe it wasn’t loud enough?” Brad asked. “Who knows. I wore headphones when I was up on the ladder before and I was fine. I don’t know—maybe I would have been fine without them. Hell, I don’t even know if the effect was caused by the sound or what. Could have been a smell, or anything.”
“We’ve got a whole lot of questions and not many answers,” Stavros said. “I still know some working botanists; do you want me to have them check this thing out?” He pointed at the vine.
“Sure,” Brad said. “I’ve got acres of the things.”
“Okay,” Stavros said. “In the meantime, I’d suggest you don’t venture out back there again until we have an answer.”
“Fine by me,” Brad said.
“And if they really do grow as fast as you said, you’d better keep a good eye on the yard,” Stavros said. “If you see any of those things creeping up on the house, just get in the car and drive,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah, will do,” Brad said, laughing. “Attack of the killer plants.”
“Seriously,” Stavros said, laughing too. “Those things hurt.”
Dear Karen,
I saw Stavros today. He came over to look at those plants I was telling you about. He didn’t know what they were either, but he said he would send my clipping off to a friend of his. I wish we got together more, like we used to. Those dinners on the porch, watching the sun set over the hill—I think that was the greatest time of my life. Half of the women Stavros brought were totally crazy, but I don’t think he ever really felt comfortable hanging out with us as a couple when he was alone. Now that I’m alone, I think Stavros and Julianne feel bad for me.
It’s been a long time.
I know I told you this before, but when Stavros tried to set me up, I wanted to kill him. It may have been Julianne’s idea—in fact it probably was—since she worked for the same company as Julianne. You were always the outgoing one. I met more people through you than from all other aspects of my life. My only friends used to be your friends and my work friends. Now, since I’m doing contract work all the time, I don’t meet anyone. Stavros is the last person from growing up I’m even still in contact with.
Sorry to sound so melancholy. You know what? I’m going to sign up for the yoga class you used to take down at the old mill. I never wanted to go with you because I was so bad at it, and I didn’t know any of the moves. Now that I’ve had a few years of practicing with videos, I can probably fake my way through it. Maybe I’ll meet some new people there. I’ll probably even meet some people you knew, once upon a time. I miss you.
HAVING HANDED THE problem off to his friend, Brad found it easy to temporarily ignore the odd things going on in his back pasture. He did his usual Tuesday night routine—ate an early dinner, wrote his letter to his dead ex-wife, and didn’t send it. The letter spoke mostly of the adventure out back, but also featured a section about Stavros. Karen always loved Stavros.
Brad went to bed early. He tossed and turned through a long night of tortured dreams he could barely remember when he woke up. Somehow, he’d slept right through his alarm.
He took his coffee out to the deck and sat on the stairs, looking up towards the hill out back. Random chores kept popping into his head. He needed to clear the brush around the fence line. He needed to paint the trim on the windows. He needed to weed the front flower beds. Brad decided the only way to get peace from his chores would be to write them all down and prioritize the list. At least then he’d have a chance of knocking a few of the big ticket items off before he got another call about a contract. Brad sighed and stood, ready to go inside and make his list.
As he turned, a pile of dirt caught his eye. He set his coffee down on the railing and descended the stairs. Right next to where the deck met the foundation of the garage, Brad saw the edge of a big pile of freshly-turned dirt. The top of the dirt on the pile had just started to dry out, but the bulk of the sandy pile looked fresh and moist.
Brad reached the lawn and saw the extent of the damage. His deck was big, and stood about five feet above the surrounding yard. Next to the foundation of the garage, a giant hole had been dug, easily seven feet across. Almost all of the excavated dirt was piled under the deck. The pile Brad saw initially was a tiny fraction of the amount under there. Brad backed up and gaped—the dirt pile under the deck ran the entire twenty-foot length.