Trail Guard

Chapter One Cherish No harm, he’d said. It would do her no- The crack of the whip resounded like a gunshot, wrenching a scream from her as pain tightened in a hot band across her back. She’d never heard such a scream, nor imagined such a sound could come from her own throat. Where could such a scream go in all this darkness and who could it summon to her rescue? As far as she could tell, the only others here had all been instrumental in her abduction and subsequent delivery into the charge of this torturer. She shrieked as another lash fell, burning into the band of the first. She glanced up the pole, half blinded by the glare from the lamp overhead as she tried to make logic of the fastenings on the manacles encircling her wrists. She could neither slip free of their leathery grasp nor extricate the chain between them from the lock that shackled her to the iron ring before another lash fell and she shrieked again. The night was cool, but perspiration streamed in fresh rivulets down her rib cage and, for the first time since they’d quit just before sundown, she was aware of the acrid stench of the sweat she’d worked up that afternoon. The nausea from being carried over his shoulder down the hill was subsiding, but the sensation of the thick gag he’d removed before taking her was still present at the corners of her mouth, the bitter tang of laundry detergent from the cloth mingling with her taste buds. Another scream ruptured the sweet blend of nature’s night music as the whiplash found a new target across her buttocks. An owl hooted into the brief interval, adding its own odd counterpoint to the inharmonious cacophony of sounds. She had tried to reason with the man – ludicrously bare, her hands shackled behind her. Shocked, angry, panic rising like a thermometer dropped in boiling oil, she blurted the obvious questions, launched ineffectual arguments, and hurled accusations and unenforceable threats. All the while she’d danced barefoot against the cold earth in an effort to evade further contact with the soft spoken, enigmatic stranger who smelled of Ivory soap and bound her to this lamppost. She was dancing still, under a spot of soft yellow light, surrounded by an uncaring sea of darkness, as the unseen lash of his whip snaked lightening quick out of this surreal landscape to lick her flesh like a fiery dragon’s tongue. This mysterious man in black for whom the situation held no perplexity. The tears began, her terror compounded by the realization that her life had been swept up by strangers. Another strip of searing pain and her struggles were reinvigorated, all indignation now choked down by pure desperation. She understood the straining was futile, but she couldn’t fathom why she’d been brought to this place, or how she came to be bound to this post and so cruelly beaten. She gasped as another lash cut across her shoulders and tried to recount the steps she’d taken into this unforeseen circumstance. Her will and energy seemed to be ebbing away as she visualized the radiant beauty of the surrounding countryside caressed by rays from the warm, benevolent, spring sun. The promise of peace and welcome she’d sensed when she first arrived. It had truly seemed as though the clarification she sought was almost within her grasp. Finally, simple answers were offered to her most complex questions. Then suddenly the world was topsy-turvy. The man she had seen but not noticed. That other who had stepped into her bright, new, idyllic world like some specter of doom. Directly – indirectly he had handed her over to the one who carried her into this pit of shadows – and pain. An inexplicable infliction of layer upon layer of pain. Whoo, hoo-hoo, whoo, whoo? asked the owl. Who? her disbelieving psyche echoed. Who the hell were these audacious brutes? Yet more lashes cracked, and she wailed under a sliver of moon that was gradually dwindling, like the last vestiges of logic in her life. Streams of tears streaked her pretty, contorted face as she begged to know what in the world she had done to deserve this? And could she honestly say she hadn’t been warned? If you do this, Meris, you’re bound to run into trouble. I’m in trouble now. I feel like I’m drowning, she said. Drowning in what? Daniel sounded desperate. What do you think? There’s some miracle out there waiting for you? How good do you expect it to get? This is it! “This is it.” “I don’t think so.” “This isn’t where you wanted to be?” Meris opened her eyes, squinting up into the driver’s inquiring eyes. “Where are we?” she asked, trying to make the transition from nightmare to reality. “Cherish Township.” Meris pushed up in her seat and glanced through the window, but to the eyes of an urban native, there was nothing out there. “Where’s the town?” “Two miles down that road.” “You don’t drive into town?” “Not this one.” “How much to the nearest town you do drive in to?” “Twenty bucks.” Twenty bucks closer to civilization would put her twenty bucks shy of an extra night of clean sheets in a locking room. “Is there a hotel here?” “There’s an inn on the main street.” Two miles was a lot further than she liked to be off the bus route, but her hand was already hooked into the strap of her pack. She’d promised herself – stop now or capitulate. The engine coughed to life, gravel crunching under the tires as the bus pulled away, leaving Meris at the T-junction, staring down a secondary country road. After ten months on the road, Meris had grown used to the weight of her back pack. She’d also done her share of hiking. She’d covered a lot of ground for someone with no destination. When she took off on this adventure, she didn’t stop to consider she was bearing directly in to the coldest winter she’d ever know. But as she set out from the junction, taking a visual measure of the two miles ahead, she suddenly realized spring had caught her up at last. The season came gently to this land. Greening meadows opened out on both sides stretching away to rolling, tree topped hills where spring was busy endowing the bare, prickly horizon with a new headdress of fresh verdant growth. This tender greenery didn’t have to combat its way through tons of soot and grit, and the open sky shone a vibrant blue, unfiltered through layers of smog. The air smelled sweet, enlivening Meris with effervescence as heady as fine champagne. It was truly a day to nourish even the hungriest soul. The road ahead meandered like a lazy river through tranquil countryside toward a small village that seemed to welcome the weary traveler with the open arms of a mother who had long awaited the return of a runaway child. “Welcome To Cherish” the sign read and Meris noted there were football stadiums with greater capacity than the stated population of this hamlet. The main street was flanked by neat one and two story buildings in a combination of stone, red brick and impeccably white wood frame structures with green shutters and planter boxes boasting fragrant spring blooms of every conceivable color. Lovingly hand painted wooden signs hung above the doorways of small businesses – antiques, a cobbler, the grocery. This was a place people took the time to care for. The storybook town nestled at the side of a model railroad track. The bright tinkle of bells with the opening and closing of shop doors. The musical laughter of children racing by on bikes and the yapping of a small spotted dog, trailing in their wake on short speedy legs. The indistinguishable chatter of two women gossiping on a bench outside a dress shop. The sights and sounds of Cherish engulfed Meris in a sense of well being as she worked her way through the center of town. The aroma of fresh bread wafting through the gap of the closing bakery door reminded her of the hunger within. It was nearly dusk and some of the shop doors were already hung with closed signs. The day and the activities of Cherish were winding down and Meris couldn’t imagine a safer or more comforting place to be with the coming of nightfall. The inn was nestled in a crook of the road which continued on toward cozy family homes. Two carriage lamps flanked the wide polished front door of the ivy shrouded building. Their light illuminated the cobbled walkway, beckoning Meris up the porch steps as though she’d been expected. None of the creeping evening chill followed her into the warm interior, a small announcing bell sounding overhead as the door closed behind her. The reception area was more like a parlor, rich in comfort and the scent of furniture polish. Meris’s steps were muffled as she crossed thick, patterned carpet to the front desk. A large, orange cat was curled up asleep on the lovingly buffed surface of the desk – next to the reception bell. Meris had hardly raised the idea of ringing for assistance and waking the cat before a tall, sandy haired woman in jeans and a checked lumberman’s shirt appeared from a curtained doorway. “Good evening! I’m Nancy Taylor. How can I help you?” She was a handsome woman in her mid-forties with an open friendly face. “I need a room,” Meris said. “For how long?” Forever, she nearly said. “I’m not really sure.” “We can go on a day to day basis, if you like.” “That’ll be fine.” Meris signed the registration book, paid cash for the room and accepted her key. “Right up those stairs. Third door on the left.” “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor, is it?” “Yes. Just let me know if there’s anything you need. And call me Nance. Everyone does.” At the foot of the stairs, Meris paused. “I noticed a dining room. Am I too late for dinner?” “We’ll be serving at seven-thirty.” “And what’s the cat’s name?” Nance beamed a broad, white toothed smile. “Jasper.” *** The window in Meris’s room overlooked a flagstone back patio and a wooded glen that sloped down to a briskly flowing stream. Although the temperatures in these parts dropped dramatically during these spring nights, Meris left the window open so she could listen to the night sounds as she cuddled deep under the thick, patchwork quilt. She was thinking about the unique and personal interpretation you formulate about a place that instantly becomes special to you. A place you feel you want to stay. You ache to stay, knowing the sentiment may change once the place becomes familiar. Like that particular exuberance when, after weeks of hunting, you find the ideal apartment. The wonderment as you wander through the empty space, mentally placing your couch here, visualizing your favorite print hanging there. And you win the bid for this special place, the exhaustion of moving and unpacking overshadowed by your unblemished ecstasy. Then a few months down the road it’s just another place, less than ideal because the three flight walk up is really a little much after a day out in the wild world. And there’s never quite enough hot water for those thirty minute showers you’ve come to adore. And the charm of a building with musicians in it has worn off as you deal with the exhaustion of living with under-employed barbarians who want to party all night. Thank goodness she was no longer held captive by any place long enough for the romance to wear off. Now every place was fresh and new with its own distinct memory – bright or dark – and the bright ones shone with eternal luster that need never be tarnished by dulling, abrasive familiarity... Meris was jarred back to consciousness by the call of a single night bird. The rhythmic chanting of crickets and frogs had lulled her into a dreamy, peaceful state, but now this one bird, calling, calling, an almost desperate note to its song. Meris listened, her sympathy growing for that lone creature, singing into the darkness with the hope of attracting the thing that would quiet a lonely heart. Her own sense of loss suddenly welled up. Not the loss of anything specific, but a fear of never connecting with the one element of existence that would bring her contentment. She was thinking of Daniel. The cavalier way she’d taken off on this odyssey. She knew he’d welcome her back – no questions asked.