The Inception Trilogy by Easton Livingston (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

to breathe, hard to see straight. Somehow, he hung on to the machete but he knew he would not hold out if they slammed him into the ground again.

Swinging the blade with all he could, he severed himself part way, cutting through the roots on his right ankle, freeing him from its grasp. A high pitched screech filled the forest as the roots flailed back and forth. He wasn’t sure what was going on or how a root could screech but he didn’t care. He swung again, connecting with the roots on his left ankle but not quite severing them all the way. Another screech.

Whump!

He hit the ground as the root released its hold. Long moments passed as he lay befuddled on his back.

“Hal!”

Veronica’s voice woke him out of his lull. The branches still swayed but cautious, one now lolling to one side from Hal's machete attack. He scooted back a few feet on his butt with the machete in front of him as he got to his feet. The roots darted in and out, targeting his hands. He swung in wide arcs to keep them at bay, making his way backward towards the door. Once he got to the landing, they retreated underground.

Hal stumbled back inside the cabin, locking the door behind him. Veronica ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face.

“Agh!” he said with a grimace, shrinking away.

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s just I thought ... I didn’t know if ... ”

Hal looked at her with a weak smile, giving a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be O.K.”

She nodded, light relief dabbing her expression.

“I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

Part V - Escape

Hal sat at the dining room table with his shirt off as Veronica cleaned the scrapes and cuts, applying hydrogen peroxide to his back and neck. She had to tweez and pick gravel out before cleaning some of his wounds. A couple she bandaged. Donna sat next to him on one side while Sean sat on the other, Hal’s fresh shirt spread out in front of him on the table.

“Dad,” Sean said, breaking the silence. “What were those things?”

Hal heard but didn’t give an immediate response. He’d been trying to wrap his mind around the whole thing. It made little sense, at least in his mind. He knew they were tree roots, or he had a high confidence they were. But beyond that, he couldn’t create a scenario in reality where something like this was possible. His reality at least. Aliens? Bio-engineered trees? Had they entered another dimension? If so, when? Those kinds of theories represented elements of science-fiction or fantasy stories, not reality.

“I think they’re tree roots,” he replied. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

“All done,” Veronica said, gathering up the bloody cotton balls on the table. Hal stood and put on the shirt, careful of the bandages.

“We need to get out of here.”

“How are we going to get past those things?” Veronica asked, throwing away the cotton balls.

“I’ll come up with something. But we will get out of here. I want everyone to go gather up your things.”

Veronica scooted the kids down the hall towards the bedrooms, looking back at Hal with worry. Hal walked to the front and looked out the window. Overturned lawn chairs, scattered charred wood, and small mounds and furrows of dirt were the only evidence that the roots had been there, besides his own injuries. Maybe the machete was enough to get them to the van and drive them out of there.

Kreesh!

“Dad!”

The sound of breaking glass propelled him down the hallway towards Sean’s room. The window shattered, tree branches clawing and raking at Sean who was holding it back with a chair. Hal darted back down the hallway and grabbed the machete. Rushing into the room, he stood on the bed next to the branches.

“Let him go!”

He brought down the machete with both arms, the blade driving into the branch. A screech filled the room which was much louder than the one he’d heard before. Looking out the window, he froze. In the base of the tree trunk were the features of a face. The eyes glowed, golden, its mouth filled with razor-sharp, wood teeth. It shrieked again like a wounded eagle when it met his gaze. In that split second, the branches swept Hal to the floor, the machete still stuck in it.

“Go!” Hal yelled to Sean, who used the tree’s divided attention to bolt out of the room. The branch was retreating out of the window. Hal shot to his feet, grabbing the hilt of the machete and yanking it out of the branch. The momentum of the pull threw him back against the wall. Stumbling to the door, he slammed it shut, heart racing, thumping in his ears.

“Leave everything. We’re going.”

Marching down the hallway, Hal opened the cupboard below the sink where he had placed one container of lighter fluid. His family watched him in silence as he reached in a kitchen drawer, grabbing a grill lighter. Donna cried again, and he saw Veronica’s face as she consoled her. She was holding it together by a thread.

“We will get out of here,” he assured, looking each of them in the eye before resuming his work. Going to the garbage can in the kitchen, he lifted out his torn shirt. Breaking off the sweeps of the broom, he tied it to the tip of the handle and saturated it with lighter fluid.

“Honey,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’m going to need your help. We’ll light this, put the kids in between us, stay close, and move to the van. I have a feeling they won't like fire.” Veronica nodded in agreement, steeling herself for the task.

He looked at Sean. “Buddy. I will need you to watch over this bottle of lighter fluid,” he said, handing it to him. “Don't let it go. Can you do that?” Sean nodded his assent through a weak countenance of bravery.

Gathering at the front door, Hal lit the