The Cypress Tree

Marsha and Ann were notified after an unexpected discovery at their old research site. A bald cypress estimated to be over 2,000 years old. A discovery worthy of publication, overlooked by two biologists who specialize in finding rare trees. It didn't look good. They took a weekend trip to see the tree for themselves.

Ann maneuvered her truck down the muddy road and parked beside Marsha's hatchback. Marsha wasn't in her car, so Ann hiked towards the tree. She spotted it from 200 yards away. Ancient and gigantic, it was eighty feet tall and had a diameter close to ten feet. How had they missed it? Along the path she nearly stepped on a raccoon skeleton, picked clean and bleached white. Ann kept walking. She could see Marsha kneeling at the tree's base with her open hands pressed against the bark.

"Marsha!" Ann yelled excitedly.

"Ann! You've got to touch this tree. It's unique," Marsha said, giggling.

Her eyes were bloodshot. Her shirt was wet with dark yellow sweat.

"Are you drunk?" Ann said.

"Nope. Touch the tree."

Ann reached towards the tree. Marsha's smile stretched wider. Ann looked at Marsha's hands, which had not left the tree since she arrived. Something was off. Ann shook her head and pulled back.

"Touch the fucking tree!" Marsha screamed through her smile.

"Why?"

"Everything you've been carrying. It just goes away," Marsha said.

"Let go of the tree. You're not well."

"I can't," Marsha whispered.

Ann lunged and pulled Marsha's hands from the tree. For just a moment, her hands free, something cleared in her eyes. She looked at Ann. She looked at her hands. Then she growled and shoved Ann aside and grabbed the tree again.

"Please, don't do that," Marsha said.

"Do you understand what's happening?" Ann said.

"I think so," Marsha said.

"Okay. We're biologists. Talk to me like a biologist."

"We didn't miss anything. It wasn't here during our research," Marsha said.

"Impossible," Ann said.

"It's not a tree. It only looks like a tree."

"A carnivorous plant?" Ann said.

"Not a plant. I can feel its giant heart beating. It looks however it needs to look. Camouflage. When you touch it, it takes the pain away. Once you feel it, you can't let go," Marsha said.

"Venom?" Ann said.

"It waits to be touched, delivers the venom, waits for its prey to die. Then it eats," Marsha said.

"Why did you want me to touch it?"

"The feeling. It's indescribable. I'm sorry," Marsha said.

"I'm getting help!" Ann said.

Ann sprinted back through the forest. She'd have to drive to the main road for cell reception. When she touched the door of her truck, joy jolted through her body. No, it was better than joy. The worry. The sadness. The fear. All gone.

She looked down. Her hands weren't on the door handle. It didn't feel like metal. It looked like the bark of a cypress tree. She looked around. The forest. The tree. Somehow she was back at the cypress tree. Both hands were pressed flat against the bark. She thought about pulling them away, but the thought dissolved before it could take hold.

She could feel the venom moving through her. But she hadn't touched the tree? She thought about Marsha, grabbing her wrists, pulling her hands away. Had that been enough?

Marsha was beside her, arms wrapped around the trunk, cheek pressed against the bark, mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on nothing. A strand of drool ran down her cheek. Ann said her name. Then said it again. Marsha didn't blink.

Beside her, bones. A pile of them, small and large. She could identify at least three skulls. How had she missed them earlier?

She could still save Marsha. Somehow she knew that. But the thought was distant now, like something she'd meant to do a long time ago.

The heartbeat of the thing that looked like a cypress tree pulsated through her fingers. She knew she should be terrified. But all she felt was pure, beautiful magnificence. She smiled and waited.