Adventures Of Oakheart, Issue #002

Issue #002 – – – – – controlled by Wayne Gildroy – – – – – Credits 94

He didn’t panic.  Oakheart wasn’t given to panicking in the face of even imminent death and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.  Methodical, careful, logical, this is how he would proceed.

First the hero tested his arms.  His memory was still supplying flashes of what had been and he was sure that in the past his “branches” had functioned in the same way as human arms.  Testing first the left, then the right, he was pleased to find some limited movement.  Further, his “hands”, formed from smaller branches and sturdy twigs, seemed to also function in the way he would expect.

“Hmmmm,” he rumbled again.

Testing his flexibility he found that in many ways he was completely unlike the other trees.  For a start, he could bend at the waist.  He did so, trailing his arms on the ground and raking at the grass and mud there.  He could feel his immense strength, intrinsic in every limb or his wooden body.

With long sweeps he began dragging up the earth, digging at the foundations where he presumed his legs would be.  This had an odd effect.  He began to feel woozy.  As he exposed his roots so the odd sickness grew.  He supposed this was to be expected.  Trees did not do well with their roots exposed.  But Oakheart determined to continue.  It was, after all, a choice.  Dig himself out and hope he survived, or stay here and be a tree.  He was intelligent and the latter did not seem at all appealing.

Abruptly, Oakheart toppled over.  He’d dug deep enough that the roots tore and his huge weight caused him to tumble to the ground, crashing through the other trees and bushes around.  It was dark and there was nobody near to hear, it seemed.  Nobody came.

Oakheart shook himself.  The sickness was passing now and he felt the roots break away, revealing instead two huge lumbering wooden legs at the base of his trunk.  Oakheart cheered internally!  He was whole again.

He pushed himself to his feet and glanced around the gloomy shadows of the city park.  He wondered, now he was free, what he should do.  Drawing on his power, Oakheart grew a small amount taller.  Since he was already huge sized, compared to humans anyway, there were limits to how much bigger he could get.  But he was able to “grow” a little, so that he could peer over the top of the surrounding greenery.

He could see the park’s edge on two sides.  The winding paths that were used by joggers and dog-walkers in the mornings, but were dangerous places at night.  Somewhere to the East he heard a noise.  Oakheart listened again, straining to both hear and to feel the information communicated to him in nature’s way.

A scream!

Oakheart may not know who he was, or why he was, or even entirely where he was, but he knew one thing for sure.  Screams in the city park at night were bad news – and it was his job to deal with them.

Huffing with concern, Oakheart began striding through the park towards the source of the noise.  It did not take long.  A low bridge that formed both an overpass for a cycling track and an underpass for pedestrians was lit by only a single flicking lantern attached to the wall.  From the shadows beneath he heard the scream again.  A woman’s voice then: “No, please no.  Just take the money.  You can have the money.”  Some laughter.  Men, perhaps a woman’s voice too.   Sneering.  Cruel.  Dangerous.  Then one gravelly voice that silenced the others.  “I don’t think so, lady.  We’ll take the money, sure.  But then we’ll be having some fun.”

Will you?  Oakheart thought.  We’ll see about that.