“We’re sitting here, waiting to be picked off by spirits, and I’m still thinking about the show,” he gasps. “Fuck this.”

“Stay inside the mess hall,” I instruct him. “Don’t leave until I return, whatever you might hear. If you need to go to your tents, do it in groups.”

“We will, but what about you? Hey, where are you—”

I ignore him and run back to the cabin.

***

I arrive just in time.

I can hear Askal’s angry howls and Chase’s terrified shouts before I turn the doorknob, and I burst into the room where both sit huddled at the end of the couch.

Tree roots grow everywhere.

They hang down from the ceiling, probing through the roof’s material to infect every space and crevice they can reach. They grow over the walls, wrapping thick branches around the table and furniture. Gries’s laptop is nearly hidden under brown, withered bark. They surround Chase and Askal, moving closer.

A creature hovers before them, dangling upside down before Chase’s terrified face. Chase tries to shield Askal with his body, lashing out at the air before them with a clenched fist.

The tree makes an odd crooning noise. Its branch-fingers reach out to caress Chase’s hair, moving down toward his shoulders and neck.

Huwag mo siyang saktan, it says.

Askal reacts. Snarling, his teeth find bark. The thing rears back, but Askal refuses to let go, bravely engaging it in a tug of war, distracting it from Chase. The rest of the balete circles nearer.

I grab my machete and swing.

I chop at the nearest root, and it breaks easily, the cut branch shriveling. I lift the axe again, and this time bring it down on the largest of the roots that I can see. A fountain of ugly, black, sap-like liquid spurts from the gaping wound, seeping onto the floor.

“’Wag!” I shout.

More roots spring out from below. Only this time, the larger, thicker vines block the thing’s attempts to close in on Chase, who is frozen, gaping as the tree mutinies against itself.

I plant myself in front of it and swing my ax again.

The thing turns away from Chase and grabs at me, roots circling my wrist. Up close it shares similarities to a Venus flytrap; the sides of its head fold in on itself like makahiya leaves do, like a mouth. It drags me closer, jaws opening to reveal an eye surrounded by teeth.

Gusto mo siya? a voice whispers from within it.

While it’s distracted, Chase snatches up the machete and finishes the job; with his swing the mouth cleaves in two, and the thing staggers back. Chase attacks again, depriving it of its head.

The rest of the tree retreats, melting into the walls and floors, until only the viscous puddle remains. The head withers to ashes. We’re alone.

Sixteen

The Knock

“Am I a bad person?” Chase asks, several minutes later. We both haven’t moved from the couch; still sitting side by side, still watching the dried black liquid on the floor’s rug like we’re expecting it to coalesce into some fresh new horror. Askal is burrowed on Chase’s other side, head on the boy’s lap while his paws cling to the teddy bear.