by J F Rogers
Something landed on my head. I thrust out my hand. More drops plopped on my arm. A rumble sounded in the distance.
“Man!” I picked up my pace. Judging by the oncoming storm’s speed, I’d never outrun it. My house was still at least fifteen minutes away.
The clouds let loose, as if God had tightened His fist around them and squeezed.
I ran as fast as I could. The gray sky grew darker still. The fork in the path loomed ahead. Could this possibly get any worse? Dare I go by the graveyard, the fastest way back, my best chance to avoid being hit by lightning? I hesitated for a moment, and then dashed down the path.
My glasses, fogging up and covered with water, rendered visibility almost nonexistent. The windswept rain pummeled me, hindering my progress. My T-shirt and jeans clung to my body, chilling me to the core. The insoles of my waterlogged tennis shoes oozed with each squishy step. I might as well have run through a pond.
The path narrowed, branches rattled, swaying every which way in the crosswinds as if writhing in agony. I neared the creepy part and slowed my pace. My drenched clothing weighed me down. Between my rain-covered glasses and the near-black sky, I practically needed a white cane.
Lightning illuminated the path.
My heart skipped a beat. I recovered and hastened to count. “One one-thousand…two one-thou—”
Rumbling thunder interrupted. Less than two miles away. Too close.
I longed for my house where I could enjoy the storm from my bedroom window, safe. There was something calming about sitting in a dry house while rains pounded and lightning struck. But out in nature? No thanks. If only I could teleport…or fly.
A bolt of lightning shot down. The jagged streak shook the ground. Thunder crashed almost simultaneously. I jumped. My heart leaped into my throat. Smoke filled my nose, and I charged like a spooked horse.
Lightning struck again. A dog stood in my way. My feet stopped before my upper half. Arms wind-milling, I caught myself from falling. Another flash of light showed the animal— closer. I strained to make it out. Whatever it was, its unmistakable menacing posture sent shivers up my spine. Raised hackles made it appear as large as a pony. White, razor-like teeth shone in the passing light leaving a lingering afterimage.
I fled off the path, heart pounding in my ears. Spindly branches blocked my way. I raised my arms to protect my face. In a small clearing, I dared glance back to find the thing a few feet back. I faced forward and saw the branch too late. My face slammed into it. Before I could register any pain, I was on my back. My head smacked against the unforgiving ground.
Above me, lit by another flash, loomed a featureless pale face with yellow eyes. Then darkness.
Chapter Four
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THE BRIGHT SUN BURNED my eyes when I tried to open them, making them water. My skull felt like I’d been hit over the head with a blunt object. I groaned. Where was I? What was I doing outside?
My right arm, stuck to the moist earth, itched. I picked it up to scratch the pockmarked skin, wiping away bits of dirt. I touched the back of my head probing a baseball-sized lump and splayed hair as if I’d been dragged along the ground. My muscles ached from sleeping on the earth. Damp clothing compounded my discomfort. My shirt bunched up in the back with leaves clinging to my shoulders. Further evidence of having been dragged. I sat up, peeling my wet backside from the goopy surface. Whoever it was, were they still here?
A chill swept over me as I wiped my eyes with one hand and picked up my glasses off the ground with the other. One lens was broken in the twisted frame. My finger pushed through the hole where the other lens should be.
“Well that’s just great.” I threw them down, glaring as they skittered away. Though they were farther away, they hadn’t grown blurry. My jaw dropped. Could I—Could I see?
I scanned the horizon, which presented itself quite clearly. A field devoid of any ominous creatures—that I could see anyway. I sat in the only dirt patch in the middle of a large field surrounded by forest. Each individual blade of grass in the field glistened from the passing rain. Without glasses, even from afar, I discerned each leaf on every tree surrounding the field. Flowers, scattered about the greenery, popped out in colors I couldn’t describe. And the blue sky, littered with wispy white cirrus clouds, looked unreal. Like viewing high definition television when you’re used to an old picture tube.
What happened? I’ve needed glasses since kindergarten.
A cool breeze, carrying unusual chirps and tweets, caressed my exposed skin. The unfamiliar birds twittered in harmony as they flitted from branch to branch.
I didn’t wear a watch. And I had no idea which way was east or west to guess the time from the sun’s position. It felt like morning. Had I lain out here all night, unconscious? Had someone dragged me here?
Black rock stood to the right of me. I’d recognize the structure anywhere. It was the same megalith as in the woods. But how could it now be here, in the middle of an open field?
Memories of the day before flooded back. The rain. The snarling dog. Hitting my head and passing out. That explained my headache.
The face. An odd, pale face shone in the flash of lightning before I passed out. And those eyes—glowing yellow. Had that thing moved me? I shuddered and glanced about once more.
This was all wrong. I shouldn’t be able to see anything, never mind these unusual colors and strange birds. And the megalith should be in the woods off the path to the graveyard, not in an open field. This must be a dream. I rubbed my eyes and refocused. Nothing changed. I didn’t need to pinch myself—everything hurt.
If this isn’t a dream, where am I? How’d I get here?
My legs wobbled as I stood. With each movement, my head pounded. Groaning, I grabbed it in both hands, as if to hold it together, and squeezed my eyes shut. I needed aspirin—and coffee—desperately. I looked down at myself. And a shower.
I couldn’t just stand here. No road, no evidence of human life existed. I needed to find someone to explain what was going on…where I was. After scanning the tree line, I found a break in the woods. Perhaps a path. I stepped toward the grassy area, and the blades of grass closest to my feet sunk into the earth. When I stepped back, they shot back up. I rubbed my eyes, blinked, and then moved forward once more. The grass disappeared in a perfect circumference around my foot. I teetered there, with my feet spread apart, and surveyed at the muddy area behind me. Most of it had filled in. What in the world?
Careful not to move too quickly, I walked to the break in the trees. With each step, the grass parted before me then reemerged once I passed. I shook my head. I had to keep moving. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to find answers here.
The soreness in my body subsided as I walked, though my head pounded on, worsening with each step.
At the tree line, the mysterious grass-like substance disappeared. The field showed no evidence that I’d been there. But I was right. It was a path. Or so it seemed. It continued as far as I could see. I had no idea how many miles I shuffled along before it narrowed and disappeared. Too many to go back the way I’d come. So I kept going, hoping the trail would pick back up.
“Croooaaak.”
I jerked to a stop. That sounded like a sick frog…or something. It was loud, right next to me. I searched the ground.
“Croooaaak.”
No. Higher. Was it in the tree? I peered at a low branch.
“Croooaaak.” Part of the tree bulged out—the throat of a big toad. Its body color and rough, warty skin matched the bark. It blended in so well, it might’ve been invisible until its throat stuck out.
I moved closer.
Its eyes popped open. Wings unfolded, and it took to the sky.
“Whoa.” I jumped back. Frogs didn’t fly. Or toads. Whatever it was.
What is going on? What is this place? I’ve been aware of being in dreams before. This felt nothing like it. It had to be real. But how?
My stomach c
hurned. The trees wobbled around me as the direness of my situation set in. I was far from home, in the middle of an unearthly forest—alone. The wavering trees closed in. My chest constricted as though someone stood on it. The tightness restricted my breathing, heightening my anxiety. Those unfamiliar surroundings spun.
I sat and put my head between my legs. Breathe, just breathe.
After what felt like hours of focusing on my breathing, it returned to normal. Aside from branches swaying in the wind, the trees remained rooted to their spots, as they should.
I had no desire to get up and wander. I had no desire to do anything whatsoever. Every muscle in my body felt so tight, every thought consumed with so many possible yet unlikely explanations that I wanted to give up and shut down. Would I wander around here forever? Would I die out here wherever here was? I wanted nothing more than to go home. Would I ever get there again?
Home. What a foreign word. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d refer to Fiona’s house as home. Yet that was where I longed to be.
Sitting here, wishing myself home, wouldn’t accomplish anything. I had to find something. Food. Shelter. Night would fall. As much as I’d like to pretend this bizarre place with disappearing grass and flying frogs didn’t exist, I couldn’t be an idiot and wait out in the open, exposed. What might come out at night?
For hours I wandered, hoping the forest would open to reveal something familiar—a road, house, or town—anything. When I came to the same felled tree after walking for miles, I tightened my fists and screamed. Birds scattered from the trees above. I screamed until my throat became dry and sore. Then I sat on the trunk, stifling the tears threatening to burst forward. I lay back on the mossy trunk, closed my eyes, and considered my options. I awoke to water droplets flicking my face.
“Not again!”
The sky had darkened once more. Whether due to the rainclouds or the passage of time, I didn’t know. I cursed myself for not finding a dry place to sleep.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. No visible streaks of lightning accompanied it. Thunder clapped a second time. No, it didn’t sound right. It didn’t sound like it was coming from the sky. It sounded like it was coming from…
I turned and swallowed. The dog I’d seen the night before.
No. Not a dog. A wolf. Only a few feet away. His head lowered as menacing brown eyes peered into mine. Bared lips exposed intimidating, sharp canines. Hackles puffed unnecessarily. His immense frame terrified me without the added bulk.
I kept my eyes fixed on him. With extreme caution, watching for the slightest twitch in his stature, I stood and took a few tentative steps backward. Then I spun and ran with all my aching body had to give.
I fought the temptation to look back. The wolf’s panting and heavy footsteps came from close behind. I didn’t want to chance his gaining on me by slowing. When I spotted him on my right, I veered left. When he appeared on my left, I angled right. We continued in this way, as though he was shepherding me.
Adrenaline propelled me forward in the dark and rain. Leaping over roots, rocks, and felled trees. Pushing through prickly branches. Instinct took over. I didn’t think. I pushed ahead, running for my life.
My foot caught on a root. I landed hard. Pain shot into my knee followed by warmth as blood oozed from the wound. Before checking my knee, I scanned the area, searching for any sign of the wolf. Though it was dark, I could see fairly well. Leaves rustled slightly in the light breeze. Unusual cricket-like chirrups droned on in the distance. Nothing else moved. He had vanished. I had no idea how long he’d been gone. Still, to be safe, I stood and hobbled what felt like another mile while my conscious mind returned to itself and pain set in.
How much more of this could I take?
I headed into mountainous terrain and limped to a rock wall. Determined to find shelter, I searched the wall until I discovered a cavity large enough for me to enter.
The cave embodied three of my biggest fears: things with more than four legs, enclosed spaces, and the unknown. I took a moment to weigh my options. Small enclosure with who-knows-what inside, or becoming one with the wolf’s other undigested meals.
Inside, the cave was roomy enough to keep me from panicking—about the size of a two-man tent. I kept my face close to the exit. An occasional breeze swept through, providing temporary relief from the muggy air.
I probed my knee and touched skin sticky with blood. Under my T-shirt, I wore a tank top. To avoid more bruises from the unforgiving rock, I carefully removed my tank top, tore it into strips, and wrapped it around my knee. Not exactly ideal first aid. I needed to wash it when I had a chance. For now, it should work.
How had my life come to this? Now that I wasn’t running and had a chance to think, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu came over me. I seemed to recall running through dark, rainy woods from a wolf before. Where did it come from? Why was it chasing me? What did it want?
I feared I hadn’t seen the last of the wolf. How odd. It had been near my home and in this strange, foreign place. It had to be the same one. Was the wolf the reason for all this? Why hadn’t it killed me? I couldn’t outrun it. It must have let me go. Was it toying with me?
Cold, alone, and afraid, I did something I used to do as a little girl, something I’d forgotten. I hummed a tune from my childhood. A tune I didn’t know the name of or the words to. It was in a foreign language. Yet I could sing it as if it was my native tongue. The repetitive melody sounded in my mind, and I fell asleep.
I woke again, sore and stiff from yesterday’s impromptu exercise and the hard ground. This time, thanks to my enclosure, the sun wasn’t glaring into my eyes. My clothes had dried a bit. Something else was different too. I was warm. Heat radiated from something beside me. Soft puffs of air escaped in a steady rhythm—it breathed. I held my breath and dared look. The sun shining through the crevice illuminated the cave to reveal a blend of gray, black, and white fur sleeping beside me. The wolf.
Chapter Five
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I FROZE. HOW COULD I escape without waking it? Then again, it could’ve eaten me, yet it hadn’t. I still lay facing the mouth of the cave, the way I fell asleep. The wolf must’ve stepped over my head to lie beside me. At least it would make my escape easier. Making as little noise as possible, I stole out of the cave.
Once outside, I paused and listened for movement. Satisfied there was none, I released my pent-up breath and hobbled away. I had no idea where I was going. I didn’t even know where I was so it didn’t make a difference. I needed to put distance between the wolf and me, so I continued away from where I assumed I’d come from the day before. Attempting to circumvent the rocky area, I kept the upward slope to my left.
My mouth felt dry and gritty, my lips chapped. My stomach hurt. I hadn’t eaten since—my birthday was Thursday, so today was Saturday? I hadn’t eaten since Wednesday? My stomach rumbled as I limped along.
My knee throbbed. I needed to clean the wound.
As if on cue, a faint bubbling emerged from the right. I rushed toward it as fast as my leg would allow. When the brook came into view, I hoped my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, like an oasis mirage in the desert. Sunlight shimmered over the ripples. I eased onto the mossy bank. Steadying myself with one hand, I used the other to scoop water to my parched lips. Most of it ran through my fingers.
A shadow moved across the water on the opposite side. It took a moment to piece together the wavering reflection. The wolf.
I froze. My hand, suspended in midair, dripped water. So I’d be breakfast after all. Moving only my head, I peered up at him.
He held something in his mouth then dropped it. As if sensing my unease, he scooted a couple steps backward, turned, and ran away.
When he was gone, I moved to where the brook narrowed and a few flat rocks above water level allowed me to cross. The water wasn’t too deep, but my tennis shoes were beginning to dry. I didn’t want to start the process over again.
Once across, I found what the wolf dropped. A rabbit. The wolf offered me food? He was helping me? Why? He chased me twice in the last couple of days. And he’d snarled. I hadn’t mistaken that. There was nothing friendly about it.
Why didn’t he catch me? I recalled from my fifth grade report, they could run about forty-five miles per hour. And this one was big. His stride must be longer than an average wolf. I couldn’t run fast. So why chase me? What kind of sick game was he playing? He seemed to be alone. Was that why he didn’t try to kill me, because wolves attack large prey in packs? No way. My five-foot-five, skinny little frame was no match for him.
I looked at the rabbit again and gagged. Already flies buzzed the carcass. Now what? I was far too squeamish for this. Besides, I didn’t have a knife.
“I can’t even pick it up,” I said aloud as if to excuse myself from the task, not wanting the wolf to think me ungrateful.
I stood there, unsure what to do. My stomach rumbled and gurgled as if to say, “Feed me.”
I wanted to oblige. I really did.
First, I needed a fire. I hadn’t a clue how to start one. Rubbing two sticks together? Sure, I’d seen it done on television, but it wasn’t much help.
I formed a circle with a few big rocks and threw what debris I hoped would pass for kindling into the center. Grabbing a couple dry sticks, I set to work rubbing them together. When my arms grew tired, I switched directions. My hands cramped. Leaning forward hurt my back. Sweat ran into my eyes.
“Ow!” A splinter penetrated my skin. I dropped the sticks, shifted my weight to take the pressure off my back, and wiped the sweat from my brow. After pulling the sliver out of my finger, I sighed. I’d never get a spark like this.
Hunger forced me to persist in my task. I focused my energy on creating the fire and nothing else. I stared at the kindling as though it should burst aflame by the heat of my gaze alone.