A-Clone in the Woods

The thing I love most about the city is that with so many people around, it’s hard to feel alone.  One look outside my window and I see thousands of lights, each representing one or more people inside or outside.  Even at 3 am there are people still up, watching TV, making love, reading, eating, drinking, and….living. That’s why I came here.  I had to get someplace with a vibrant, twentyfour hour pulse.  Someplace where the noise and light never stopped; where I would never ever feel alone again.


My senior year of college...wait.  No, that’s not right.  My super-senior year of college began as one of the best times in my life.  Three other friends and I shared our second year in our house.  Thursdays through Saturdays our beer pong skills were honed and we would go to parties and try to hook up with girls. Sunday nights were spent watching The Sopranos and Entourage followed by pot fueled discussions that would tangent into all areas of space and time.  Our house was far enough off campus so that our noise was never a problem.  It was also far enough away into the farms and woods that the dark of the nights would enclose us in it’s black satin cloak, only letting the punctures of stars and the moon shine through.

We saw an especially hard winter that year. We all missed a class on more than one occasion due to our cars being snowed in or frozen in.  We all pitched in to help shovel out the driveway, but sometimes it wasn’t enough.  Still, on school designated snow days we would stay in, play beer pong, watch our DVR, and have fires in our fireplace. 

Winter gave way to spring.  One evening a massive storm blew through.  There was rain, sleet, then snow as the temperature dipped below freezing.  The winds and the ice downed power lines throughout the area and we were stuck in the dark.  Over half the residents in town were without power.  The power company struggled to restore power.  The roads were icy and there were loads of accidents.  Out by us, with our sparse population, we were low priority. The beer ran out on night one, but we had plenty of pot and food (ramen if nothing else).  What we didn’t have much of was wood.  No electricity means no heat/space heater.  We were living in front of the fireplace and with little communication (or means of communication) from the power company, we didn’t know how long it was going to be before power got restored. Without a garage, our cars were frozen in a block of ice.  We could have chiseled it off, but going into the woods to get firewood sounded like so much more fun. Given all the trappings of civilization, it was a game for us to play survival.  We were all pretty confident that we would have power back  on in the next day or so and everything would be back to normal. 

Rudy and I decided to go on the firewood run, leaving the other two housemates to keep the fire going with the last couple of logs.  And to scour the house for any more booze.  Half baked, Rudy and I set off on our mission.  We had some ropes to tie and drag the logs if needed.  We each had a pocket knife and Rudy carried a bow saw and I a camping hatchet.  We walked to the end of the yard and started cutting through the section of cornfield that separated us from the forest that stretched beyond. Once through the cornfield, we walked along the edge of the woods looking for a good spot to venture in.  Most of the outside was thick, dead brush.  Just a tangle of branches and shrubs that would snag any clothing it came in contact with.  After a few minutes of walking we found a small path into the wood, probably used by deer. It was just what we needed to get past the brush. Ducking under the tree branches, we crawled in. Despite it being afternoon in the early spring, the inside of the forest was darker than I had expected. I felt an eerie sense of foreboding and said as much to Rudy.  He confirmed that the feeling wasn’t just my own. We decided to make quick work of our duty and keep our time in there short.

Almost immediately we started collecting any twigs and sticks that looked dry in a pile by the path. We did some good work making a pile, but there was nothing in it that would burn for more than a few minutes.  This was further complicated by the fact that much of kindling had ice on it. If we were going to have a good fire that would last for the evening, we were going to need some larger logs or thick branches that we could saw to size that would keep burning longer.

I estimated the time to be around 3:30 pm and we didn’t have much daylight left.  We understood that we were going to go in a little bit further to scout for some better wood.  Together we tramped through the ice and brush, trying to avoid the puddles that didn’t fully freeze, and tried to stick to the dry-ish or frozen ground. A few minutes of this, turning over logs here and there, grabbing branches and checking them for dryness, and we saw the first figure. 

It was a stick figure tied together with twine hanging from a tree.  It definitely conjured up memories of The Blair Witch Project, and naturally we attributed it to some bored townies.  Despite being able to laugh it off, there was a certain tension that befell the two of us. Our jovial nature was dampened by the sight of the stick figure. The sun was beginning to set and we were still without fuel for the fire. We resolved not to return home empty handed, but we did not want to be caught out there after dark.  We agreed to a few more minutes of looking and then we would turn back with whatever we had, picking up the first pile of sticks on our way out. 

A few more minutes of hiking through the wood and we finally found what we were looking for.  It was a large branch most likely brought down by the storm.  The leaves on it were brown indicating that it was dead and likely dry on the inside. It arched upward and then down, almost like a bridge, with smaller branches jutting out. It’s arch shape kept it mostly out of the wet ground.  The log was thick and heavy when we tested it.  The way I saw it, we had two options: either cut some of it down to make it easier to carry right there in the forest, or try and carry it out of the woods and hack it up in the yard.  With the encroaching darkness and the lingering creep left by the stick figure, Rudy and I decided to do our best to just drag it out and chop it up later in the yard.

The branch was heavy and navigating it through the trees and over the ground past the brush proved more difficult than expected. We were losing our race against the clock.  Things got unimaginably worse when the temperature suddenly rose a few degrees and a dense fog started swirling around us. We were still some minutes from the pile of sticks marking by the path through the brush.  Almost immediately the fog combined with the twilight and made our navigation through the forest more difficult.

“Shit! SHIT! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

We were both cursing our situation.  I stopped for a moment and hit reset on my attitude.

“Look, man,” I said, “We’re going to be fine.  We just gotta chill out, stay calm, make steady progress, and get the fuck out of these woods.”

“I don’t know man, I think we should just leave this branch and say ‘fuck it’ to the plan and just get home,” Rudy replied.

“We’re going to be fine.  When we get back home, if we don’t have the branch, it’s going to be a cold shitty night.  Let’s just keep going and push through like men, not children.”

That seemed to win Rudy over and we kept moving.

The first rule of survival is PMA - Positive Mental Attitude.  Learned that one in the Boy Scouts.  I kept telling myself to keep calm, everything was going to be fine.  The tendrils of the fog whisping around me, the wind at the top of the trees rustling the dead leaves sounded like voices whispering around us, and the rapidly closing curtain of night kept eating away at any vestige of positivity that I could muster.  I pulled out my pocket knife which had a very small LED flashlight running off of two tiny flat batteries.  I held it in my hand, knife blade closed, waiting for the absolute moment in which I was overcome by darkness to twist on the light.

The two of us kept walking with the branch, carrying it the best that we could, heading in the direction that I was certain we left the pile of sticks marking the path out of the forest. There was still a last glimmer of twilight that illuminated the fog giving us a shred of hope.  During this time not much was said.  Our eyes open and alert, our ears listening for any sounds over our own, our adrenaline pumping, and our hearts racing. At long last I saw the stick pile.  My joy was short lived.  Hanging above the stick pile was another stick figure, much like the first.  It was most certainly not there before. Suddenly Rudy’s end of the branch dropped to the ground.  I turned back to see what caused him to drop it, but he was gone.

****~~~****

“Rudy!” I called.  Not loudly, mind you, but loud enough that he should hear me from where he should have been.  “Rudy!” I repeated, but there was no sound nor sign of him.  I didn’t hear him move from where he was holding the log.  He would have had to have made some sort of noise.  It was impossible to move and not make noise with sticks and leaves.  “Rudy!” I said again.  My heart was beating in my ears.  I was close to panicking, not that it would help.  I listened intently, hoping for a sign of my companion.  There were no sounds outside of the leaves rustling in the trees.  The fog was thick and I was doing all I could to keep from panicking. I walked back to the end of the branch that he was holding on to moments before. Thinking quickly I twisted on the little light on my knife and waved it around in hopes that he could see it and find his way back to me.  “Rudy!” I said again, never shouting, speaking just barely above a whisper.  The light of my tiny flashlight bounced off the water particles in the fog and created an aura that gave way to moving swirls in the mist and darkness beyond.  I didn’t think it was possible to make the atmosphere more intimidating, but my little flashlight exposed just how small and alone I was. Any comfort that I thought it’s friendly beam would bring me, was banished.

“Shit!” I cursed to myself in a whisper.  “Where the hell is he?”

I was full on startled by his disappearance.  Immediately I began replaying the events in my mind.  I saw the pile of sticks, I looked up and saw the stick figure, and then felt the log drop from Rudy’s end, and then he was gone.  Just gone.  Did I hear a sound from him leaving? Nope. Did I hear anything else to mark his disappearance? Nope.  Shit. This was bad. My stomach knotted up and I could feel the blood drain from my face. I felt that sick, nervous feeling you get when you know something bad is about to happen.  I turned off the light and let my eyes adjust to the dark.  If something else was out there I didn’t want to make it easy for them to spot and track me, and I didn’t want to burn out my only sources of light too quickly. Despite the fog, the light of the moon allowed for some illumination. The moonlight gave the fog an eerie quality as if it had a light of it’s own; as if the forest was an independent, fluid entity capable of manifesting all manner of horrors on it’s own accord.

I ran through the facts as I saw them: I didn’t know what happened to Rudy, there was a stick figure hanging over our stick pile that we made not long before, I was completely alone, and I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t want to leave Rudy out there alone, but I couldn’t find him on my own.  I had to get help. Ok, I’ll go get the other two guys, get better flashlights, and we will come back out and find Rudy together.  Maybe on our way to look for him he will be making his way out through the cornfield, we will see him, and all will be well.  At that moment it occurred to me that a cold night at home seemed a thousand times better than spending any more time in these woods.

I turned back towards the pile of sticks and found the path to get out.  Crouching under the branches I stepped low and crawled through and then stood back up.  Instead of seeing the empty cornfield and our house behind it, I saw more trees, thick and dense, in front of me complete with the fog. 

****~~~****

My mind reeled.  I didn’t know what was happening.  I turned to the right and left.  Fog.  Trees.  Darkness.  I turned around.  Fog. Trees. Darkness.  I was breathing short, rapid breaths.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  My stomach was knotted and I’m not ashamed to say that I was very scared.  PMA, I thought to myself, Positive Mental Attitude. It’s going to be OK.  Just remain calm.  Think back to your Boy Scout training.  There’s got to be an end to this.  What did you learn at camp? When lost in the woods, go from tree, straight to the next tree.  Just keep moving in a straight line.  There’s an end to the forest and it’s probably a road.  Out of the corner of my eye something big moved in the fog. My head snapped around to confront it, but I could not see anything.  I crouched down and listened. My heart was racing in my chest. I waited and waited, but nothing moved and nothing happened. I stayed crouched for some time, listening and waiting.  After a bit my knees began to get sore and slowly I stood up.  Slowly and carefully I moved forward, minding my steps.  I picked a tree directly in front of me and made my way towards it.  When I drew near I reached out my hand and touched it.  It was damp and cold, but it felt solid.  I moved around it so that my back was against it. I looked ahead and chose another tree in a straight line in front of me.  I opened my knife and held it, blade facing out from my pinky side, hand balled in a fist.  Slowly I walked towards the next tree.  The fog swirled around me shadows seemed to move through the silvery mist.  Just one step at a time.  You’re going to make it home.  Be alert, be vigilant, but keep moving.  Movement is life. Movement is life. Positive Mental Attitude.  Movement is life. I thought this over and over again as I stepped carefully forward.  Something moved in my peripheral vision again.  This time on my left side. I quickly looked, but it was gone.  If it’s going to attack, it will attack.  Until then, I’m going to keep moving, I thought to myself. Just in case, I grabbed the hatchet I brought that was hanging off my back by the rope.  I removed the head sheath and put it in my pocket.  I slipped the rope off the handle and slung it across my chest like a sash.  Hatchet in my left hand, knife in my right, I kept going. I slowly leap frogged the trees, always maintaining a straight line. The movements out of the corner of my eyes seemed to keep pace.  Sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left. I had the distinct feeling that there was something watching me.  Following my every move. Anytime I looked to confront the moving shadows, they were gone. 

I was cold. The dampness brought by the fog bites clear through to the bone.  I don’t know how long I had been out there.  Eventually I made my way to something familiar.  A pile of sticks near my feet and a small path.  Had I gone mad?  Did I make a full circle? I looked up.  There was no hanging stick figure.  I looked to my left and to my right.  No sign of Rudy or any moving shadows, but I did see the large branch we were carrying.  I looked again at the path.  Fuck.  Might as well go through, I thought to myself. I ducked down and crouched under the branches and crawled through. When I stood up, I saw the corn field and the fog was gone.  I began to feel relieved.  Until I saw something moving at the end of the field.  It was a figure moving away from me towards the house in the distance.  The house with smoke coming out of the chimney. I bet that’s Rudy! I began moving quickly through the still frozen ground of the cornfield.  It was much colder out here than it was in the forest.  As I approached the house, I could see light coming from the living room windows that looked out to the back yard and corn field.  It looked like there was a large fire in the fireplace.  The burning wood smelled good in the air.  As I walked up through the back yard, I could see the figures in the living room take shape. There were four of them.  That was odd.  Who else did they have over, I thought to myself. I drew closer and I began identifying them.  The two sitting on the short couch semi-facing me were the two roommates that we had left at home.  They were laughing and talking.  The other two sitting on the long couch looked like Rudy and….me??  What the fuck?  The figure that looked like me turned his head to say something to Rudy and for a moment, we made eye contact. I could see his mouth moving. Without breaking eye contact, its mouth curled into a smile, he winked his left eye and then turned away.  I was chilled to the bone and frozen in place.  My heart leapt in my chest when a hand was put over my mouth and “Don’t move,” was whispered in my ears.

****~~~****

The voice and hand belonged to Rudy.  A short lived wave of relief washed over me. “Get down.  Follow me,” he said. We crouched and took cover behind a corner of the house.

“What the fuck is going on in there???” 

“I don’t know, but there’s something very messed up going on,” Rudy replied.

“Were you stuck in the woods this whole time? Was that you ahead of me? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know, man, you dropped your end of the log and vanished. I was stuck wandering in the woods alone.”

“Dude, somehow the same thing happened to both of us. It’s like something happened in the forest and separated us and made evil clones of us while we wandered.  How are we going to handle this?”

“We have to kill them.  I don’t see any other way.”  It made sense, but I was still wrapping my head around the whole experience.

“This is freakin’ crazy! We are going to kill evil clones of us?  Wait, how do I know you’re you and not a clone?” 

“You don’t.  And I don’t know the same about you,” Rudy responded to me.  I thought for a moment. 

“Freshmen year, where did we smoke all the time and what did we smoke out of?” I asked.

“We would go for walks on the quad and smoke out of that wooden bowl you got from the smoke shop on Main Street, Father Knows Best.”

“Alright, I feel a little bit better about this.  What’s our best plan of attack here.  I think the Me clone smiled at me.  Do you still have the saw?”

“Yeah I do. Ummm… I think we go in, you first with the hatchet and knife, me backing you up, and we just attack.”  It wasn’t a good plan, but I didn’t see a better way to reclaim our spot in the world from the imposters. 

We crept around to the front of the house. Carefully I tried the doorknob and it proved to be unlocked.  Rudy and I made eye contact.  He nodded and I swung the door open.  The house was grey and cold.  Despite the dark night I didn’t have trouble seeing, as if it was illuminated by it’s own grey twilight, not dissimilar from the light in the fog.  Slowly and carefully we made our way to the living room.  I was startled to find that it was dark and cold like the rest of the house.  There was no sign of our roommates or a fire.  Rudy and I exchanged looks of confusion.  I heard a floorboard creek by the hallway.  There I saw my clone.  Except it was much more menacing than the copy I had seen through the window.  It’s teeth were long and sharp and it’s jaw extended outward.  It’s mouth was contorted upwards at the corners into a hideous and menacing sneer.  It’s eyes were completely black.  I heard a sound and a glance to my left told me that Rudy was confronted by his clone, equally as menacing. 

Our clones lunged at us at the same time, as if they were coordinating their attack.  I lifted up my axe and swung it at the face of my attacker and missed following it up with a midsection slice of my knife which also missed. I used my momentum to spin around with another downward angled swing of the axe and connected to his shoulder bringing him to his knees. I swung the knife down and  plunged it into it’s skull.  I turned to see Rudy on the ground struggling underneath his clone using the saw to keep it at bay.  It’s mouth was open wide and Rudy was just barely succeeding in his attempt to keep it from eating his head whole. I slammed the hatchet into the side of it’s head killing it and knocking it off of Rudy in one move. 

“You OK?” I asked him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  You?” He responded.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Well done gentlemen,” a voice behind me spoke. 

I spun around.  The body of my clone had vanished.  I looked and Rudy’s clone had vanished as well.  I looked at the speaker.  Standing before me I saw the clone version of my father and mother, but with the same huge mouths and long, sharp teeth twisted into a permanent smile and the same black eyes.  Rudy’s clone parents showed up to face him as well. 

“You’ve killed our sons,” said both of the dad clones together. It was strange hearing that statement coming from an enormous smile of sharp teeth.  “You’ll stay with us and keep us company, won’t you?  It would be ever so lonely out here without our sons.”

“It would be ever so lonely.  It would be ever so lonely.  Ever SO LONELY!” They all said in union.
“Ever so LONELY.”

With that Rudy disappeared along with his clone parents.  I was left alone facing my clone parents.  They both attacked me at once.  I stepped back and swung my axe at their heads, missing. I spun and danced out of the way of their clawed hands as they tried to grab me.  First taking a step to the side, followed by a spin step to the back I managed to land the hatchet directly in the forehead of my clone-dad. My clone-mom shrieked loudly and then started repeating “Ever so lonely” like a broken record that grew louder and louder, all the while trying to grab on to me with clawed hands. I danced away swiping with the axe.  In one move I brought the axe up high causing her to lean back and then cut at the exposed midsection with my pocket knife. I ripped open her stomach and entrails and blood spilled out.  She shrieked louder this time. I stood up, spun around, and brought the hatched crashing into the side of her head shutting her up for good.

I wondered how Rudy was faring in his parallel world, if that’s where he went.  A bow saw is not as useful as an axe when fighting. I started evaluating my options for escape, not really knowing where I was nor how to get back when I heard a faint sound.  I listened trying to figure out what it was.  It slowly grew louder until I could make it out.  It was the voices of the clone-parents repeating “ever so lonely” over and over again.  I thought I was going to go crazy.  “Ever so lonely. Ever so lonely. Ever so lonely.” I didn’t know what to do.  Just then Rudy materialized in the living room with big scratches on his face and blood soaking his clothing. 

“It’s not all mine,” he said, referring to the blood, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

I felt relieved, but the voices kept getting louder as they repeated their message. Wasting no time we got out of the clone house and could still hear the voices coming from inside.  Not sure where to go, we made way back to the forest.  Once back inside we noticed that the fog had cleared and the light from the moon illuminated the forest.  We tied our ropes to one another as if we thought it would help us from getting separated again.  Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t.  We didn’t know, but it was worth a try.  We continued the method of following trees in a straight line as best as we could.  The events of the whole evening exhausted us, but we kept pushing forward.  Stopping in that forest was not an option.  Not much was said during this time.  There was some general discussion of the straightness of the next tree as we picked our way along, but that was about it.  At a certain point our path became blocked by thick brush and undergrowth.  I stopped and looked around.  To my right I saw an arched shape illuminated in the moonlight.

“Hey, is that the branch we were dragging?” I said to Rudy.

“Yeah man, looks like it. Check it out?”

I nodded.  We made our way over to it.  Sure enough, it was the branch.  A few feet away and I saw the pile of sticks.  There was no twig figure hanging over it. 

“Grab the branch,” I said lifting up my end, “ I’m not sleeping in a cold house.”

****~~~****