The Appalachian National Scenic Trail, generally known as the Appalachian Trail or simply the A.T., is a marked hiking trail in the eastern United States extending between Springer Mountain in Georgia and Mount Katahdin in Maine. The trail is about 2,200 miles (3,500 km) long, though the precise length changes over time as parts are modified or rerouted. The trail passes through 14 states: Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. - Wikipedia
Chapter One – Hike, Interrupted.
Crisp autumn leaves rustle beneath my boots as I set an easy pace for the start of today's hike. The cinnamon-like smell of decaying leaves warn the season is coming to a close. Up in Maine, I'd met no other hikers for days at a time, but now in Northern Virginia where the fall is still stretching a little warmth through the days, I meet someone now and again.
A few friends gave me hell for daring this hike so late in the year, while others raked me over the coals for daring to do it alone. But I'm not afraid. I keep a sharp eye and ear out for other people and usually duck off the path until I can take stock of them. Often, I never approach them and they walk by unaware of my scrutiny. Only if I feel they are no threat do I call out and then introduce myself which means I usually avoid men traveling alone or in groups. But I had met some nice people and helped others.
Like the newly married couple in Maryland, starting out their official couple days communing with nature. And when I came across a guy whose swollen black and blue ankle had all but immobilized him. He was shocked when I made a travois, dragged his clumsy ass down the mountainside, and then flagged down a trucker who took him to the next town.
"Thanks. You're one strong chick!" he said as I hoisted and the trucker pulled him into the cab.
"Yup," I'd grunted back and checked that all his bedraggled parts were inside before slamming the door.
The pleasant memory of a job well done comes to a halt. Stopping dead still on the trail, I wait, peering all around, even sniffing the air and listening. Something's wrong. Every hair on my body prickles up in instinctive alarm.
Nothing is up ahead, nothing is behind me. No movement or shape lies off the path's sides. No strange smells and no sounds. That's it! There's no sound whatsoever. The morning's usual bird chirps and occasional flutters have vanished.
Slipping off to the side, I hunker down next to a thick hemlock trunk and wait, checking my mental map. This trail segment is near a stand of virgin hemlock, only spared by lumberjacks due to the spears of octagonal basalt sprouting from the mountain which denied any attempts at road making. Maybe someone detoured off the trail to visit the ancient trees. They are magnificent, as are the blackish basalt columns which guard them. But with weather closing in, I had decided to skip such beauty on this trip.
Stillness hangs thick. But something has really spooked the birds. My legs begin to stiffen and wish to walk again, but I stay by my rugged trunk, waiting to see who or what will appear. It could be a bobcat or a bear, but more likely, it's a person.
A branch cracks and I cock my head in the sound's direction, my body tensing like a bow string. The heavy shuffling of at least one large person tracks too loudly through the leaves. I assume it's a guy, judging him as someone careless in of their footfall and probably careless in their outdoor craft as well. He's coming my way. Hidden behind the heavy trunk, I'll wait until he is well up the trail before resuming my hike.
Then I hear male voices. There are two!
"Goddammit! Fuck you!"
"Fuck you!"
"No, fuck you!"
"Well, fuck you harder!"
"No, fuck YOU!"
I suppress an urge to laugh as the A.T. suddenly abounds with intellectuals. The morons continue their verb starved argument as they trudge past my hiding place. I thank the stars, Great Spirit and anyone else listening that I'd not had to meet up with them. Most people on the trail are good people. But there are always a few. The argument continues as they begin to leave me behind.
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you, motherfucker!"
"No! I said FUCK Y!" is squelched by a sound like an exhaled scream.
What the hell? Crouching, I scuttle through the underbrush skirting the trail side, trying to see the pair through the twigs blocking my view. Finally using my hands, I wedge some of the sticks aside.
There, down on the ground, lays one of them, quite still. The other one is grappling, no, being grappled by, someone much, much larger. This huge dude, sporting some kind of masked helmet and long dreadlocks, cuffs the smaller combatant and he slides to the ground beside his buddy.
The huge dude in the mask is looking straight at me! Shit. Holy Shit. Somehow, through all the cover, he can see me. Run, dammit!
I'm flying down the steep slope. Thick with fallen leaves, there's no secure foothold. Sliding, running, falling, it doesn't matter how but I am getting away from whoeverthehell that is. Cold fear propels my body as in the back of my mind my cool persona begins to speak. There's no sound of anyone running after you. This is what Dad warned you about. Blind fear. You aren't thinking. USE YOUR BRAIN!
My legs churn through the leaf litter in the dry watershed bed at the bottom of the slope. Towards the highway. Good! Towards people. Get out of the woods! My sprint turns into thrashing as something hits me and I plunge face first into the leafy strata.
It's way too warm. I move to undo my parka's zipper only to find myself bound. Something's holding me by the wrists and by my ankles too. Unyielding to struggle but at least it's not cutting into my skin. And then I find myself gasping for air as I remember the fight on the trail, the huge masked dude and my flight.
Caught! I've been caught! My mind cries out. I force myself to regain control. Slow, deep breathing now. In. Out. Again. Again. Again. Okay. Take stock.
I'm lying on a padded surface sort of like a medical gurney. The room is dimly lit with a greenish cast. The two guys who were arguing on the trail are here too, each on a gurney. And they are out, or dead. There's other stuff here. Don't know what it is. It looks . . . medical. Oh shit, some insane dude has grabbed me and is going to cut me up!
Don't panic, Angela Lea. Think. Your brain is your best tool.
I can hear the two guys breathing, so they aren't dead. Maybe they will get cut up first? Quiet your fear, girl! Keep breathing. Focus on that.
A heavy sliding sound is behind my head where I can't see. My heart pounds along with the heavy footfalls that enter the room and come around to stop beside me. He's here. I presume it's the huge dude from before, only he doesn't have his helmet on and he obviously isn't human. I get glimpses of a large head above me, with black thick tress-like things ringing its skull. They hang down past his shoulders. His arms are thick with muscles and his skin is strange. Dark on top, spotting into lighter areas beneath his arms and a trail of spots running down the middle of his very bare chest.
I keep breathing and feel my eyes grow wide as he aims some device at me and runs it down my body. Thankful that there is nothing to feel, I keep quiet and watch. He presses buttons on the device with long pointed claws. His palms are pale and spotted on the edges with dark smudges that converge to complete darkness on the backs of his rather human hands. After apparently changing the settings, he once again runs the device through the air about a half a meter over me. I feel nothing from the thing and remain grateful for that.
He finishes his task and then turns so I can see his full face and I gasp harshly, which he seems to ignore. There is nothing like this. This…this…monster..
Someone has Frankensteined a chimera of Rastafarian, crab, spider and perhaps saber-toothed tiger. Forcing myself past the ugly mouth, I slide over the flattish place a nose should be and concentrate on his eyes. They're brown. They spark with the light of intelligence and are the only human thing about that face.
Okay, now you're staring directly at him. That's a threat to many creatures. I pull my gaze downward and hear a distinct clicking come from him followed by a guttural voice.
Daring, I glance back up to the eyes only to be greeted with that mouth opening sideways and letting out a low growl. Eyes back down! The clicking starts again. I dare look in his eyes once more before establishing that we are communicating. I am not to look him in the eye.
Being able to read him a bit glimmers a bit of hope inside.
I watch as he runs his device over the morons, changing the settings and scanning just as he did with me. Neither of them awakens.
The huge dude then comes back to me and unfastens my bindings. Without warning he takes hold of my arms with those huge spotted clawed hands. I cringe but stay pliable as he pulls me up and around to sit on the gurney, legs dangling over the side. He offers a metallic cup of clear liquid which I carefully sniff and then stick a finger in to taste, all the while trying to watch his face without looking into his eyes.
He seems to be waiting for me to drink, but I'm not sure what this is. Maybe a sedative? Poison? What the hell. I raise the cup to my lips and he clicks again, so I figure that's approval. Bravely, I chug it down. It tastes like water and it's good.
Here come the hands again, cupping themselves around my upper arms. I'm lifted from the gurney to stand on the floor and gasp again when my feet vanish beneath a swirling mist. There is solid floor beneath so I try to relax as he lets go and I have to find my balance. A sway or two and I'm okay.
There is something around my neck. I finger a strange band of something. Not metal or leather, but something that fits quite close without choking. There's a small ring right in front. Just like a dog collar.
My thought is verified by the clink of metal as the huge dude snaps a line to my collar. He turns away and tugs, nearly pulling me off my feet, and begins to lead the way.
Maybe he's not going to cut me up! Hope brightens my spirits as I follow him out of the room.
A curving hallway extends both directions and I'm yanked to the left. Scurrying behind, I have to walk quickly to keep up with his large stride. And it's damn hot. Sweat starts running down my face. Managing to unzip my parka, it is left behind as I shake it off my too moist arms and fail to grab it. Not willing to try and stop the huge dude, I gamely keep up.
The walls are amazing, covered with pictures and lights depicting his kind and other strange creatures. My giddy brain takes it all in and I'll try and sort it out later, assuming there is a later.
Huge Dude opens a doorway and tugs me into another room. Before I can look around, he picks me up again and plops me on a large cushiony chair. Holding up his hand and growling what can only mean 'stay', he drops the line and walks to a large round table where other of his kind are seated. Eating.
There are three of them. Huge Dude bows his head to one of them. I guess that's the leader. The other one he seems to only acknowledge with a nod. The leader growls out some sounds and Huge Dude bows his head and growls back. They go back and forth for a bit with these growl words punctuated with clicking. Then huge dude sits down and they all eat.
It's frightening, but it's fascinating. The menu is raw meat. They cut pieces of it from a chunk of carcass on the table. Looks like a hindquarter of something. Skinned, cleaned and they're eating it raw. Periodically, they pick up big tankards of some liquid and pour it down. They have no lips, so the mug is just tilted and streamed in. The meat is seized from their bare hands and worked into their mouths with those side opening mandibles. Sometimes, they slice through a large piece with their fangs. All the meat is just gulped down, I don't see any chewing.
I try not to catch anyone's eyes as I stare at them eating. But no one pays any attention to me.
Huge Dude has been building a little pile of meat bits. He pushes away from the table and brings them to me in a small dish. Placing it beside me on the chair, he motions me to it.
"No, thanks." I whisper and push it away.
He growls, pushing it back.
Let's experiment. I don't want to piss him off, but maybe he's just trying to intimidate me.
"Sorry, Huge Dude. I don't eat raw meat. Especially when I don't know what it is and I don't know where it came from." I push the dish away again.
His growls are met with what sounds like laughter from the table. I see one of his fists ball up. Uh oh. Get ready to duck.
Clicking and words come from the leader. I dare a quick glance up to see Huge Dude looking at the leader, his head cocked as if quizzical. My head pivots down as he turns back to me and snaps on my lead. I stiffen as he picks me up and places me fairly gently on the floor. Then grabs the dish and tugs me behind him.
Over in one wall, there is something burning. Kind of like a fat candle. Huge Dude produces a flat metal piece with attached handle and dumps my meat on it. He gives me the handle and directs me to place it over the fire. Okay, cookout. I can do this. Nodding my thanks back to him, I begin to cook my dinner. The candle is surprisingly hot and before long the meat is reasonably cooked through. Opting for well done, I leave it a few minutes longer, hoping it won't char.
Okay, it's done, but now how to get my odd skillet off the burner? That long handle must be hot. What can I use for a hot pad? "Necessity is the mother of invention," I mutter and pull off my long-sleeved tee to wrap around the handle. I have a bra on, it covers more than some swim suits and besides, these are aliens. I'm hoping they don't care.
I glance over to the diners to discover that they are all staring at me. I stare back for a moment, but not into anyone's eyes. Maybe they are just curious. I pull my dinner off the heat and poke it with a finger which rewards me with a small burn.
I jump in response and pop the offended finger into my mouth. And Huge Dude is standing over me, handing me a small knife. It's so small that for a moment I imagine he uses it to clean his finger claws. But, he's being kind to me by providing what I have observed is their only eating utensil. "Thanks, Huge Dude." I murmur and nod.
Then try to ignore him and the others as I eat, after first replacing my shirt. The aliens seem as interested in watching me eat as I was in watching them. I'm sure they think my mouth looks weird.
The meat is pretty good, a bit big pungent with wildness, but edible. I finish my dinner by licking my fingers and cleaning the knife off on my shirt tail. Huge Dude is still standing there, so I offer him the knife back, handle first. He looks maybe puzzled, that face is impossible to read, and raises one hand as if to say 'no'.
"Okay, I'll keep it. I don't have anything else to eat with anyway. Thanks, Huge Dude."
I put it in my shirt pocket and he nods with a grunt then picks up my leash. We are out of the dining room and headed somewhere else.
Somewhere else turns out to be a kennel. Yea, my very own kennel. It's a cage with what presumably is a sleeping pallet, a large container of water, and a heap of some kind of pellets in the corner. Immediately, I figure the pellets are like kitty litter. Nice. Hope you are better at keeping the litter clean then I was when I had a cat.
Huge Dude takes off my leash. Then he places one giant hand on top of my head and rumbles something. All I can make out are a few sounds and them something like Idunt. A word but with a click in it. He repeats this Idunt thing several times. Have I just been called 'good dog'? He closes me in and there is a definite locking sound.
"Good night, Huge Dude," I call to him in a hopefully pleasant voice. He nods and then is gone.
After using the kitty litter, I curl up on the pallet and try to find sleep.