The Inception Trilogy by Easton Livingston (best classic novels .txt) 📗

“Nah. I think we’d see a bear.”

They finished cutting and piling the wood and within twenty minutes had a sizable fire ignited. Veronica and Donna had set out the chairs and food on a tray, picking the best branches and sharpening their ends for the hot dogs and marshmallows. They set citronella candles at strategic locations around the perimeter of their sitting area. Everyone had a generous amount of mosquito repellent sprayed on.

Soon, they huddled around, watching the orange flames dance to a silent rhythm. They started off by singing songs where the proper note was only hit half of the time. Afterward, they graduated to word games. Darkness soon fell, but they continued on, secure in the glow of the campfire and each other’s company.

The sky was clear and cloudless, the stars visible and bright on the canvass of space.

“Dad?” Donna said.

“Yes, honey.”

“Did God put all those stars in the sky?”

Hal, charmed by the innocence of the question recognized the level of profundity to it that belied its simplicity. He wasn’t a religious man, but he wasn’t an atheist either. He believed something was out there, ordering the universe in all its many aspects. It was that order that convinced him of a hand of intelligence. Whether it was God, alien, extra-dimensional, or all three, he didn't know.

“Yeah. I believe so, sweetheart.”

“Can we come back every year and stay?”

Hal turned to Donna smiling. Young. Transparent. He loved that about her. It reminded him of what he used to be like when he was younger. Adults lost that quality with age. People get guarded. Care too much about image.

“I second that,” Veronica said raising her hand.

“Third and fourth!” Sean said, raising both hands high above his head.

He knew they were having a good time, but he didn’t know the place had grown on them so soon.

“Yeah,” Hal said. “I think we could arrange something like that to ha... ”

Koosh!

The fire erupted heated wood shrapnel and ash scattering everywhere. Donna and Veronica let out a scream. On instinct, Hal shielded his family as best he could, campfire debris leaving scorch marks on his clothes, burning his skin. He turned and looked back at where the fire had been and froze in his tracks. It was difficult to see in the dark, their only light cast by the softness of the citronella candles, but it appeared as if the ground had grown four tentacles over seven feet in height. The small gang of them swayed back and forth like charmed cobras. He didn’t know what to think, didn't know if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Donna squeezed him with all the strength she had which snapped him out of his temporary trance.

“Run. Get to the cabin,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off of the tentacles, interposing himself between them and the lithe menace.

His family was in shock, cemented where they stood.

“Run!” he screamed, pushing them towards the door. His retort seemed to agitate the tentacles, their motion increasing, and awake his family who made their way towards the door.

What in God's name are these things?

Hal inched backward. Though the door was only about thirty feet from where he was, it felt like thirty miles. The tentacles appeared to sense what he was trying to do. The sound returned. Heavy breathing, amplified. Turning on his heels, he sprinted towards the cabin. The tentacles responded power diving into the earth kicking up dirt and gravel like locomotive gophers rocketing towards him. He pressed on, looking over his shoulder.

Twenty feet.

They were fast. Real fast. He didn’t have far to go. He could make it. Just had to push it. Run.

Ten feet.

The burrowing stopped, but he didn’t let that keep him from running. He was almost to the landing and made a jump for the door. The ground erupted afresh in front of the landing, the tentacles renewing their foray. Diving for the entrance through the tentacles, he managed to grab the left door jamb.

Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

One tentacle entwined itself around his right ankle. He looked down in horror as he tried to pull free from its grasp.

Fwip! Fwip! Fwip!

Another around the same leg. The last two free tentacles tried to grasp his left leg, but he kicked giving them a harder target.

“Ahhggh!”

They were strong. The pain in his shoulders from the tug-of-war was excruciating. Something grabbed his arms, and the pain subsided a little. Looking up, Veronica and Sean were pulling with him.

“Pull!” he screamed.

Behind them, Donna, crying.

“Donna! Step back near the couch!” Veronica commanded but to no avail. The weight of terror was too much. All she could muster were tears and loud crying, frozen where she stood.

“Mommy!”

Veronica and Sean's help appeared to be working. He made headway into the entrance but now pain was coursing through his hip. He had to ignore it. Had to keep on pulling. Had to…

One tentacle wrapped around his left ankle. The strength was enough to yank him off of the door jamb and out of the grasp of Sean and Veronica.

“Hal!” Veronica screamed as he careened down the walkway, gravel, and dirt embedding itself into his hands, arms, and back as he fought to free himself. Being closer, he got a better look at what they were. Willowy and gnarled, their surface rugose and uneven. In the dark, he wasn’t able to tell too well, but they appeared writ ...

Roots.

They were dragging him towards the campfire pit where the chairs, wood, and…

Frantic eyes scanned the ground. Ten feet in front of him to the right was what he was looking for but the roots were dragging him so fast, he didn’t know whether he would grab it in time. He had one shot.

“God help me,” he cried. Stretching out, ignoring the pain, his hand clasped around the wooden handle of the machete. The roots lifted him in the air, swinging him from side to side then slamming him to the ground. A knife of pain penetrated his stomach and back. It was difficult