Sanctuary

I am alone in the dark. I am not quite fourteen. At least that is what I am told. Why should I pay attention to the changing calendar that I cannot see? My companions are three: two German Shepherds and an orange Tabby. Through their eyes and the minds of their precious heaven-sent souls am I able to view my surroundings. The dogs call themselves Brother One and Brother Two. The cat once knew a time when a human called him Sam.

I cannot find the memory of my name. Brothers One and Two call me Sister. Sam says that the name chosen by she who birthed me would return like the hungry mouse that runs away, only to come back for another taste of cheese. I must be still and wait. When I see the mouse once again cautiously run across the floor I must hide patiently, until he is calmly nibbling on the cheese. Only then should I swiftly pounce on my memory and not let go. Even if my memory does return, Sam will still use his special call that humans cannot pronounce, save it means something like "Cherished One, where are you?"

I do remember that I was not always cherished. Before the blindness came, my last visual recollection is Saturday before last and a big beast of a man whipping me in an alley when I would not sell my body for the drugs my mother craved. I was feeding Sam out in the alley just minutes before. He ran away when the man started beating me, only to return with Brothers One and Two. Brother One grabbed the back of the man's collar. The burly drug dealer snarled and tried to fend himself, but Brother Two was too swift for the throat.

I screamed, rolled up into a ball and closed my eyes, afraid that the dogs would attack me as well. Yet they came and licked my face. Like a flash in my mind, I could hear their thoughts in unison, "Sister, Sister you are safe… follow us. We have shelter."

For the first time that cold winter night, my special gifts opened like a flowering Pandora's box, never to close again. I had heard Sam's thoughts a few times before – short, swift and clear, like "get warm," and "hungry please." I remember having intuitive premonitions, but nothing like this. I was afraid of what I was starting to become.

I opened my eyes. Nothing but darkness. I closed my eyes again, and I could see the way through the eyes of Brother One. There were rumours in the back alleys of New York City of Mutants living in the old underground subways. I prayed to God that I would not end up there, that my new brothers had another shelter in mind. They led me to the back basement entrance of a Kosher Deli and the kind couple who let them and Sam stay in the warmth of the kitchen.

The wife told me her name was Ruth Cohen. She asked me mine, but I could not remember. Her husband, Zach Cohen left by a side door while she surveyed my torn, thin ragged clothes and weak hungry condition. I tried to keep my blindness from her with the help of Brother One, but my reaction time to her hand movements were slightly off. She led me limping to a chair at the table where she placed a bowl of warm chicken soup and challah bread. I ate ravenously while she served food to the dogs and the tabby who purred and rubbed her legs in thanks. Zach returned right after my last bite of bread.

"We have a friend who lives upstairs," he gently told me. "His name is John Munch. He would like to talk to you for a moment. He sometimes shares our Sabbath table on Fridays when he isn't working."

"What d-d-does he do?" I stuttered and shrank into the chair, but Zach smiled and said that John would like to tell me that.

"He helps lost youngsters, the way Ruth and I help look after the alley strays, like George and Fred here." He patted the back of Brother Two.

I sensed his caring nature and relaxed. "Okay." A memory flashed in and out like a butterfly flexing its wings. "My grandmother… she went to synagogue. She took me sometimes." The memory flitted away.

Ruth sat down beside me and smiled with encouragement. "You sure you don't remember your name, Honey?"

I nodded timidly. "I think someone attacked me. George and Fred saved my life."

Brother One came and sat down on the floor and watched Zach retreat to the side entrance.

"Not surprised," said Zach, opening the side door to a tall thin man with short graying hair and an even thinner nose that shared most of his face. Zach smiled at his upstairs neighbor, then looked back at me. "They used to be guard dogs. We keep them in the house. Not sure how they got out. But thanks be to Ha Shem they did for your sake."

"I've seen Sam open doors before," Ruth winked down at the big orange tabby as she gathered up my dishes and headed to the kitchen sink.

"Good Brother is here," thought Brother Two excitedly and walked up to greet the Cohen's friend, tail wagging.

To my surprise, the man smiled and spoke to Brother Two in thought whispers while he rubbed the Shepherd's head. Brother Two gave John Munch a thought picture of the alley violence, the near rape of my body and how the dogs had rescued me. John glanced at me and I shivered. I turned my head to the wall and watched him step toward the table through Brother One's eyes.

"Are you all right?" John thought as he approached the table.

"Yes."

"Can you see me?"

"Not without help."

I turned back and pretended to shyly smile as John sat down beside me. He smiled with speculative care, his thin upturned lips completing his face like a gentle companion.

"Hi Sweetheart, my name is John. I'm a Detective in the Special Victims Unit. Do you know what that is?"

I nodded. "A Police Department. You help kids and rape victims."

"That's right. Zach tells me you don't remember your name?"

"Cherish."

John wrinkled his brow slightly. "What's that?"

"I remember that sometimes I am called Cherish."

John's thoughts rang with mirth. "Sam the Cat calls you that?"

"Yes." I thought replied.

"Alright, Cherish," He spoke softly, grinning. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"A man was attacking me…." I frowned. "He wanted me to do something for medicine."

"Drugs?" John asked. His concerned frown mirrored my own.

I nodded. "My mother couldn't pay him…" And then my memory shut down. I shivered and scooted my chair against the wall. "I don't remember… I don't remember." I shut my eyes. Brother One licked my hand.

John took a deep long breath. He reached out to me with thoughts of gentle caring…covering a painfully long buried memory of a young girl he never saved.

"It's alright, Cherish. You're safe now. Zach and Ruth run an underground railroad for mutants."

I relaxed and thought back. "Okay. I believe you. But I can't see without help now. I don't know why."

I heard Zach scoot out another chair and sit down. He picked up a conversation that had been cut short when coming down stairs. "Let's take her to Charles straight away. That dope dealer's attack must have triggered her mutant gene. I'm sure he can help her recover her memory as well."

John folded his hands on the table and turned to Zach. "Good idea. I'll take the dogs with me. They saved her life but killed the bastard who attacked her. They only have the cat for a witness. Don't think even ADA McCoy would go for that."

Sam purred and rubbed against my chair. "…Me too. Please."

Funny I didn't feel the need to ask who in the world was Charles… I opened my eyes and out of the darkness, a pinpoint of light, shone like a trail to a distant sanctuary. Sam jumped into my lap and instinctively looked up at John for me.

"Sam wants to come with me too," I ventured.

John's eyes sparkled with mischievous mirth. "You can tell Professor Xavier you have a Seeing Eye Cat."