"This stupid sentient forest," I muttered angrily. The rodent scurried up Cam's back and latched onto his backpack. I pushed against our barricades of old wooden planks, but they didn’t move. Frustration rushed through me, along with a beat of urgency. We needed to get out of here. A root poked up from beneath the ground. By going underground with their roots, the trees had completely secured our own barricade against us, trapping us inside their growth. Cam swore. I looked around the corners of the room more carefully. Past the debris, I saw the ends of tree roots protruding from the ground. They must've grown at such a slow pace that I hadn't noticed them.
"The trees are trying to eat us," Cam said in stunned horror. The roots curled and uncurled at their spindly ends, creating unsettling snaps inside our little refuge that was now a death trap. I glared down at the tree barrier, trying to think of a way out of this. Had the trees purposely lured us here? Cam reached into his bag and fumbled for a lighter. He flicked it near one of the roots to study it, trying to see what we were dealing with. I held up the lantern beside him to help, though its light was now flickering in and out. Was there some kind of fluctuation happening? I wished Sike was here. He'd have a scanner and a joke ready, and I missed both right now.
The root recoiled from the lighter’s flame. It didn’t like fire?
"The heat repels it," I blurted. Cam nodded enthusiastically. He darted toward our barricade and held his lighter to the biggest root he could find. To my delight, it uncurled in an angry slither and pulled away from the fire. Cam pressed on, forcing the roots to pull back from the plank of wood. Soft light peered through the opening. The roots must’ve slowly crept over in the darkest hour of the night to trick my tired eyes. I ripped at the board with all my strength as Cam focused the lighter on the remaining anchoring roots. The trees let out a groan in the distance. Icy pricks of unsettled fear spread through my body, followed by a wave of determined anger. The trees were hurting. Good.
Serves you right for trying to send your roots to kill us.
I successfully tore the plank off. "Let's go," I barked. Cam hurried after me as we stumbled through our exit and into the clearing. The daylight stung my eyes at first, but then I made out the distinct lines of buildings. A part of the forest had cleared, giving us a new view of the area.
We had somehow found a ruined city. I narrowed my gaze as I noted the familiar architecture, one not found anywhere in the Mortal Plane. It couldn't be, and yet the truth was staring me in the face. Cam gazed around in wonder.
"What is this place?" he asked.
"The Immortal Plane, from the looks of it," I replied uneasily. "We're in the ruins of an old city."
13
Roxy
Four in the morning was a hell of a time to be leaving. I set four alarms, just in case. After my tense discussion with Jones, I wanted to make sure nothing went wrong on this trip. Fortunately, everything went off without a hitch, and we landed on the eastern side of the Sierras four hours later, where we planned to meet up with a crew of soldiers stationed nearby. The mountains flanked us to the west with a gorgeous landscape, despite the Leftovers. They were green and moldy looking. Their sad trees made me think of evergreens left to rot on a curbside after Christmas morning.
The morning sky lightened as we stepped out into the area. It was sunny, but a cold chill filled the air. Snow topped the ground and the rooftops of the nearby buildings, which still remained on the outer edge of this particular Leftover spot. I could make out a faded green sign that said, "Welcome to Greenspring."
Whoever lived in Greenspring had to be crazy to stay so close to the Leftovers, and yet I was informed that there were plenty of local residents in this area who’d remained after the meld. The town was fairly small and rural, the kind of place that, as a kid, I would’ve easily traded for the cramped apartment I’d grown up in. I had fond, frustrating memories of washing dishes while dodging toys thrown by my wild siblings. In my house, it was easy to get an elbow in the face at our crowded dinner table of six kids, where I’d had to play co-parent to my mother and often-absent father. I spotted fancy houses, but quainter ones lay just behind the luxurious homes. They matched up better with my idea of a mountain town. Beyond those cottages, the Leftovers sliced through the area and consumed the mountains behind the town and more. It was a perfect line of weirdness, especially in their lake. The body of water seemed to be cut in half by the boundary with a blurred hazy edge. The water on the Leftover side was a sickly shade of green that gave off a nuclear vibe. How promising.
“Captain Taylor, we will gather the citizens so you can interview them about the monster incidents,” an older man named Clinton told me. The soldiers in this area had given me a rundown of information similar to what Hindley had told me, but with greater detail. Now, I needed to hear from the locals. I squinted into the distance. An older citizen was already walking down toward us from the mountain path to his cottage.
“Looks like they’re already on their way,” I said.
"All the fish died," the grumpy old man, who introduced himself as Louis, told me. He sat himself
