Free Dead Tree Forest by Brett Mcbean Page A

ground.
    Ray dropped the Esky and stepped over to where Brian lay. He shrugged off his rucksack and gritting through the pain in his old joints, knelt on the ground.
    Brian was lying on his side, hands clutching at his chest.
    Ray gently rolled Brian onto his back.
    “Oh Christ,” Ray muttered.
He didn’t know what was more shocking: the frozen expression of pain on Brian’s face, or how old he looked. Age spots and wrinkles coated his saggy face and his whiskers were as white as his hair. His eyes were sunken and lifeless and his teeth, tucked inside his grimacing mouth, were yellow and black. He looked at least eighty.
    Ray knew Brian was dead, yet he still went through the motions of shaking Brian’s body and begging him to wake up.
    When he didn’t, Ray let out a shaky breath.
    No tears flowed; he was either too tired or too drained of life to cry.
    At least he went quickly .
    Ray closed Brian’s eyes and was in the middle of pulling Brian’s hands from his chest when the body started melting.
    Ray let go, struggled to his feet, and watched as Brian’s skin, flesh and bone dissolved. It was like watching fat bubble and melt over a fire, except instead of dripping and turning to liquid, Brian’s body seeped into the earth.
    Soon only his jeans, shirt, backpack and glass eye were left.
    Ray gazed down at the remnants in disbelief.
    He stared at the dead soil for a good length of time, before a cry slapped him out of his daze.
    “Ray!”
    The voice was distant.
    “Ray, Brian!”
    “Over here!” Ray shouted.
    Before Chris arrived, Ray bent down and picked up Brian’s glass eye. He pocketed Brian’s pride and joy. He didn’t know what he aimed to do with it; maybe give it to Claire, if he made it out of here.
    Soon he heard the deep, wet breathing of an old man who had overexerted himself.
    Ray turned and faced the man he had helped capture.
    Chris’s hair was completely white; his face fleshy and drawn and thick with lines.
    Chris stopped in front of Ray and looked around. “Where’s Brian?”
    Ray pointed down at all that remained of his best friend.
    Chris looked down at the clothes on the ground. “I’m sorry.”
    “Yeah, well, we have to keep going.”
    “Yes, her voice is definitely stronger,” Chris said. “We must be getting close to the lake. But I don’t think I can continue,” he said, looking pale and sleepy. “I’m tired, my back’s sore and, well…” He coughed, wiped his fingers against his lips and held up his hand. His fingers were smeared with blood. “I’m dying.”
    “We’re both dying,” Ray said. “Fuck that, you’re coming with me. I need someone to help retrieve the amulet and bury the girl.”
    Chris was having difficulty keeping his eyes open. “Just let me sleep for a little bit.”
    “No. We have to keep going.”
    “You go. You brought me here against my will; the least you can do is let me die with some dignity. You know what to do. Just follow Ginnumarra’s crying and soon you’ll get to the lake.”
    “But didn’t you say that once we give the girl a proper burial, then the curse will be lifted? So we’ll be able to walk back through the forest without worry. So come on.”
    Ray turned around and zipped open the gym bag. He dug through the junk contained within until he found the only item needed to retrieve the amulet (the other stuff was just props to make the story about buried treasure more believable to Brian and Nathan).
    He hung the snorkel around his neck and turned back around. Chris was now sitting on the ground, head bowed.
    “You’re not quitting on me now,” Ray said. “Get up.”
    “I can’t,” Chris said wearily. “You go. Find the amulet and lift the curse. Once that’s done, I’ll be okay.”
    “No, you can make it.”
    “I’m too tired.”
    Ray turned back to the bag and took out one of the coils of rope. He stepped over to Chris and started binding his wrists together.
    “You’re coming with me, no excuses,” Ray