Where the Trees Watch – Chapter 9
The Hand on the Doorknob
The metal doorknob turned slowly beneath the station lantern light.
Not violently.
Not desperately.
Carefully.
Like whoever stood outside already expected the door to open eventually.
Ryan Mercer felt every muscle in his body tighten while Walter raised the shotgun directly toward the entrance. The old wooden station suddenly seemed too fragile, too small, too isolated from the endless forest surrounding it.
The knob stopped turning after a few seconds.
Silence followed.
Then three soft knocks echoed through the station.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
No one breathed.
Outside, the copied voice returned quietly.
“You know it’s me.”
Walter’s face looked hollow beneath the lantern glow now. Ryan realized the ranger wasn’t just frightened of the thing outside. Some part of him genuinely wanted to believe his brother stood beyond that door.
That was what made Blackwood dangerous.
Not monsters.
Hope.
The fake voice understood exactly what people needed to hear.
Claire slowly whispered, “Don’t answer it.”
Walter didn’t move.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the roof while fog drifted across the windows in pale shifting waves. The thing beyond the station remained completely calm.
Then the voice changed.
Instantly.
No transition.
No distortion.
Suddenly it sounded exactly like Claire.
“Ryan… please let me in.”
Claire physically recoiled from the sound of her own voice coming through the door. Her face drained of color while Ryan’s stomach twisted painfully.
The imitation was perfect again.
Every breath.
Every inflection.
Even the nervous shakiness underneath certain words.
Mason quietly muttered, “It’s learning faster.”
The copied Claire voice laughed softly outside.
Then it spoke using Mason’s voice next.
“You should’ve stayed out of Blackwood.”
Mason froze completely.
Ryan looked toward him sharply. “What does that mean?”
The guide said nothing.
The silence itself felt suspicious.
Walter slowly lowered the shotgun slightly without taking his eyes off the door. “You’ve heard it before.”
Mason’s jaw tightened hard enough for Ryan to notice.
“Everybody around here’s heard stories.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Outside, footsteps moved slowly across the porch again while the voice shifted once more.
Now it sounded like Ryan.
Perfectly.
“Open the door.”
The words hit Ryan harder than expected. Hearing his own voice from outside the station made something feel fundamentally wrong inside his head, like reality itself briefly slipped sideways.
The fake Ryan continued softly:
“You’re already lost anyway.”
Then the station lights died.
Instantly.
The room dropped into darkness except for the weak lantern near the table. Claire gasped sharply while wind suddenly slammed against the building hard enough to rattle the walls.
Outside, the whistling returned.
Much closer now.
Not one whistle anymore.
Several.
Different pitches echoing between the trees surrounding the station from every direction at once.
Ryan’s pulse hammered painfully while shadows shifted outside the windows through the fog.
Movement.
Tall figures walking slowly around the station.
Walter immediately grabbed the lantern. “Get away from the windows.”
Another whistle echoed directly beside the building.
Then another answered farther away.
The sounds moved through Blackwood like communication between things hiding beyond the fog.
Claire whispered shakily, “There’s more than one.”