Alex felt the pieces falling into place. The bullets, the chain, the cavity at human height. This tree hadn’t just been a target. It had been a post—a place where someone had been held. Where the shots weren’t fired at the tree, but at whatever was in front of it. The bullets ended up in the trunk because a living body had been standing there.
The chain held them; the tree took the hits. He stopped, resting his palm on the cold wood.
“You saw it all,” he whispered, not to anyone in particular.
The pine, dead and sectioned, remained silent. But its silence was heavy with memory. Alex stood up and looked at the base of the trunk.
The cavity went deeper, narrowing as it led further down. He didn’t know what he would find there yet. But there was no doubt now. This spot had been used. Deliberately. And for a long time.
He realized the most important thing. The forest didn’t hide evil. It just couldn’t speak. But now, it was speaking through him.
The earth at the base of the fallen tree was cold and packed tight, as if it had been holding onto a secret for decades, refusing to let it go. Alex knelt by the stump.
Now that the trunk was open, the tree’s entire structure told a different story. The void, the bullets, the chain fragments—they weren’t random finds. They formed a line, a path leading down to the roots where the tree met the earth.
He took off his gloves and ran his hand over the cut. The wood at the bottom was incredibly hard—not damp or punky, but dense as bone. That happens when a tree lives in extreme stress for years, building up a defense around something that’s hurting it.
Alex picked up his saw and continued, but his movements were cautious now. He took his time, removing layer after layer, following the curve of the void. The deeper he went, the more resistance he felt—not from the machine, but from the material itself, as if the wood didn’t want to release what was hidden.
The sound changed. The chainsaw blade no longer gave off its usual hum. Now there was a short, dry strike—not the hollow thud of a void, and not the sticky drag of sap. It was a flat, metallic ring.
Alex stopped instantly. He leaned in, cleared the area with a knife, then a pry bar, and saw the edge of a flat surface. Not a fragment, not a shard. It was a solid plane, hidden under layers of wood and roots.
“Damn,” he whispered, almost to himself…
