The Tree Line: Chapter 1

Miles sat looking at the page in his book, staring but not comprehending the words he saw. He was again plagued with a headache that left his forehead pounding with pressure. A light rain fell outside the large window of the second floor living room. It had been Celeste's idea to have the living room and kitchen on the second floor when they built the house ten years earlier.

"It will be eclectic," he could hear her saying.

"I don't know," he responded.

"Come on, Mi," she called him Mi when she really wanted something.

"Just picture the room filled with chunky furniture, funky artwork, and your mom's crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. We will make love on the large couch as the sun sets on a lazy Saturday evening."

She snuggled close to him and he had agreed.

Looking up now at the large wall of windows, he was grateful for her persistence. The entire wall was a series of large windows, which overlooked a beautiful west lawn. Beyond the lawn was 20 acres of forest, bordered by a wide river and even more trees, as far as the eye could see.

Celeste sat opposite him, also reading, but she occasionally sighed, no doubt due to the smut written on the pages. She had two advanced degrees, but still preferred spicy romance novels.

Miles sensed movement and looked toward her. Celeste had partially risen from her chair to peer out the window.

"What the…" she started to say, then stopped mid-sentence.

"What is it?" Miles asked, also rising to look in the same direction.

His heart started to race as his eyes focused on what she saw. A man was walking toward their house, across the lawn, from the direction of the forest. Suddenly, another man emerged from the tree line.

Both Miles and Celeste were now on their feet. She felt panic beginning to race throughout her body, she could feel her heart beating loudly in her chest.

Miles desperately looked around, as if to look for a weapon, though one was not found. He adamantly refused to own a gun, which was a deep-rooted fear from his childhood.

"Stay upstairs," he ordered. "I will walk down and make sure the door is locked."

Before he could leave the room, he heard her scream.

"Miles!"

Stopping to look back, he recognized the source of her terror. Emerging from the tree line were a few dozen other men, mixed in with an assortment of women. As they took steps forward, Miles could see that they were dressed in a variety of clothing. It didn't seem to make sense.

He ran from the room, down the stairs, and down the long length of the foyer.

As his hand reached for the door handle, he realized in a moment of fright that he was too late

The door opened and there stood the first man who Miles had witnessed walk across his lawn.

He stood, quiet, with wetness dripping from his face.

A few seconds passed before Miles found his words.

"How can I help you?"

The man remained standing and said nothing.

He was dressed in jeans and a sweater vest. He wore glasses and only one shoe. His other foot was covered only in a black sock, covered in grass and dirt.

Abruptly, a second man rounded into view and quickly pushed the man aside. He entered the house without asking.

Miles instinctively raised his arms in defense.

"Whoa, whoa, what do you want?" Miles asked.

The man was wearing a yellow safety vest, as if he had just come from a construction site.

He was frantic, almost crazed.

"It happened. My God, it happened," he wailed.

Miles turned to see Celeste standing at the top of the stairs, stunned at the scene unfolding in her home.

Miles heard movement and voices mumbling, as the remainder of the men and women stepped  through the door.

Stunned into silence, he stepped aside and watched as they marched past the foyer and started peeking into doors.

Most of the ground level was comprised of bedrooms, so Celeste made a decision to invite them upstairs.

"Excuse me," she said with a shaky voice.

A few turned their heads up toward her.

"Please come up to the living area," she offered.

"We have much more space up here."

One by one they filed up the stairs, the crazed man reluctantly coming up in the rear, followed by Miles.

Watching the strangers drip rainwater from their clothing on to her floor, she spoke up.

"Let me grab you some towels while Miles sees what he can do for you."

She made frantic eye contact with her husband before walking to grab a stack of bath towels.

When she returned, she took a moment to take a good look at each person.

 All were dressed differently; there were some in formal attire and some in sweatpants or jeans. One woman wore a pantsuit, another a summer dress.

Two women and a man, all three dressed formally, had taken a seat in a corner. One of the women was wearing a black, low-cut dress, displaying large breasts and a string of pearls. She wore red lipstick and had a bad attitude. The man perched between the two women, giving throuple energy, though it is was not confirmed.

Her mind raced. What are they all doing together...and why did they emerge from the forest?

A burly man stepped forward toward Celeste.

“We need to stay here awhile,” he stated.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said the wife.

The man took a step forward, “Well, I didn’t ask you if it was a good idea. I said we are staying a while.”

He spit on her wood floor.

She looked down at the mess, fear churning in her chest. She glanced to find her husband’s eyes in the crowd, but he was deep in conversation with a small group, likely trying to determine what was going on.

“Do you understand?” the man demanded, breaking her attention.

She looked him in the eyes.

“I heard you,” she said, tapping into the fear within her to muster up the confidence to speak again. Loudly she said, “And don’t ever spit on my floor again. Do you understand?”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“I’ll be damned, we have us a spitfire, Chuck.”

He said this while turning to another man dressed in old, worn jeans and wearing a trucker hat.

Chuck looked toward Celeste with cold, dark eyes. Slightly tilting his head, his face slowly formed a wicked smile.