A Helping Hand

The woods were hungry.

That’s how Victor always thought of it. It was like some sort of primordial god awaiting its offerings. The massive stretch of forest that surrounded the Blue Ridge Parkway, running from south of Fancy Gap, through Shenandoah National Park and finally north of Front Royal. It was a ribbon of asphalt threading its way along hilltops and through the trees, funneling travelers through the backwoods and to some of the most breathtaking scenes that Victor had ever seen. It was only natural to help to feed them.

He’d been hiking these trails for longer than he could remember. Hitchhiking when he could, walking when he couldn’t, and camping as a rule. He liked to think of it as his walkabout. He’d been in the area since things had gotten too hot at his previous stomping grounds near Williamsburg back in the early ’90s.

The people whose paths he’d crossed over the years were many and varied. There were college kids on road trips, families on vacation, and teams moving from one competition to the next, but it was the solo travelers that were his favorite.

It was challenging to really get into deep conversations with big groups of people. Someone would end up posturing, playing to the crowd, like they were playing a character or holding court. Vic hated that.

But the solitary traveler was willing to take their time, to deep dive into conversations. They said things that had meaning instead of just making flapping noises with their lips. They were philosophers.

The thought brought a smile to Vic’s face. Dan was like that.

He’d met Dan the day before, as they were both approaching Falling Spring Falls, and the pair had struck up an amiable conversation. At 36, Dan was 18 years Vic’s junior. He was an amateur photographer taking a long weekend trip to shoot some of Virginia’s waterfalls, a reward for closing some sort of work project. He seemed nervous. Excited. Said he’d never done anything like this before.

Vic smiled. He’d done this more times than he could count.

He’d started in the ’80s with those three couples near Williamsburg. Police claimed that it was four couples, but Vic was certain that he’d only killed the three.

Dan was chatting amiably as they passed through the spring foliage. It was early in the season for this sort of hike. They were unlikely to run into anyone else. Unlikely for Vic’s work to be interrupted.

The woods were hungry, after all.

After he’d left the historical triangle, Vic had wandered for a while, working a series of odd jobs, picking up work as a dishwasher or line cook when he needed to, spending his time watching and waiting. Learning.

His mistake in Williamsburg had been to do too much, too soon. He hadn’t offered them an alternate narrative to people just vanishing. As he got older, he became more cautious, more patient.

But he also became more driven, convinced that he needed to do this. The itch in the back of his head would build until he knew that the woods called him. They hungered.

Then he’d disappear into their embrace until he found a sacrifice.

The focus on mental health over the past several years had made his work much easier once he’d started staging his victims as suicides. A drug overdose, a push off a of a high ridge, tampering with a car’s exhaust system to create some carbon monoxide poisoning, seasoned with a few “hiking accidents”, he had kept the woods happy and the local authorities none the wiser.

“Right, Vic?” Dan asked.

Vic blinked. He’d been lost in his reverie and had tuned out of Dan’s monologue some time before. He shot his sacrifice/hiking companion an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Lost in the woods,” he laughed.

Dan howled. “Ain’t we all, man. Ain’t we all. I was asking you what you did for a living.”

Vic shrugged. “A little of this, a little of that. I’ve never been plugged into the grid, so…” he trailed off as Dan nodded.

“Yeah, you’re a libertarian. I feel ya, man. All taxation is theft and all that jazz.”

“Something like that,” Vic replied with a smile and nod. It wasn’t entirely wrong, he mused. He didn’t think there was any reason for him to pay taxes to people, but the woods demanded their due, and his work to keep them from being too hungry was sort of paying taxes, wasn’t it? “The spot I told you about is up ahead. Probably another mile or so on our left.”

“Nice. So, you don’t have any family or anything?” Dan asked, his voice a steady drone buzzing in the background of his consciousness. “No stories about lady friends to let a married guy live vicariously through you?”

“Nope. I’m a bit of a solo act,” Vic replied. His hobby wasn’t one that he could share with people, and if the police ever managed to catch up to him, it amused him that anyone that knew him would probably describe him as “the quiet type” who “pretty much kept to himself.” Apparently, there were some molds that you just shouldn’t bother to break.

The two men’s feet continued along the trail as they approached the overlook that Vic had scouted out the week before, and the itch in the back of Vic’s head continued to grow, the woods were demanding their meal.

Sorry, Dan.

Vic felt a sting on his neck and slapped at it.

“Damn,” he muttered, rubbing at the irritation. “Warm winter has the bugs out early,” he lamented.

“Not doin’ anyone any favors,” agreed Dan. “I’m just about getting eaten alive. With this whole climate change thing, we’re just gonna get more and more winters like this one, I think.”

Vic wasn’t sure how the woods would deal with climate change. How it would affect their appetite. That was a problem for a different day, today it was time to…

“Is this it?” Dan interrupted.

Vic frowned, then nodded. They’d come up on the spot far more quickly than he’d realized. Rubbing at his face, he looked from Dan to the view. The water plunged off a stark ridge, bursting out of the early greenery and plummeting nearly 100 feet to the rocky stream bed below. The noise was a constant roar, and the mist it kicked up gave the vista an otherwordly feel.

It was magnificent.

Vic’s hand groped for his pocket and the knife inside of it, but he couldn’t quite manage to make his arms behave themselves. He looked down at his arm, then up to Dan before he deflated, collapsing to the cold, muddy ground.

“Wha?” he slurred.

“Shhh. It’ll all be over soon, Vic. I’m sorry, really I am...but lately I’ve been getting this feeling, like the woods are hungry or something...and I’m afraid that you’re the meal they’ve been waiting for.”

Vic’s eyes went wide as Dan reached out and moved him towards the ridge.