Grizzly bears, Ursus arctos horribilis, are considered a
subspecies of the brown bear. They can be found in remote areas, including northern
Ontario. Grizzlies, or brown bears, eat mostly vegetation. Their diet is
supplemented with fish and small mammals, when available. I have read they will
sometimes attack people.
A pale light penetrated Erin’s eyelids as the shriek of
something trapped scattered the last remnants of a dream, of gathering shells
and sea glass on the beach at…grief clogged her throat and just as quickly the dream
was gone. She struggled to sit up but was wrapped in a cocoon that wouldn’t
yield. Slowly memory surfaced of trying to scramble from an icy ditch, of
lights and a big lumbering something hovering over her before she slid into
darkness.
A bear! Had she been dragged to the beasts cave? Fear held
her still, listening. She felt no pain from ravaged limbs but was unable to
move. Struggling only drained what little strength she had so she concentrated
fiercely on opening her eyes. Finally one lid flickered up then the other and
she blinked until dusty wooden beams came into focus above her. Where were the rock
walls of the bears cave and the smell of…?
Ugh! Her stomach protested at the thought of rancid bones
and smelly bear scat. There was a harsh creak, like unoiled hinges, somewhere
to the right. Not the cry of an animal then… She tried to scream but couldn’t
as a face covered in hair filled her vision and large paws grasped her
shoulders.
“For god’s sake pipe down before you burst my eardrums.”
Erin stilled and tried to breathe past the knot of fear in
her throat and think rationally. Bears didn’t speak, they growled. Well, this
beast’s voice was definitely growly and demanding. She had to get out of here. Something
plucked at whatever bound her and an arm came free. She took a deep breath and punched
the furred chin as hard as possible.
“Ow!” She winced and shook her hand.
“Serve you right. Enough already!” Her wrist was clasped in
a tight grip so she couldn’t swing again.
“Get your great paws
of me. You can’t keep me here you…you throw back.” She flinched as his other hand lifted towards
her face.
“Christ! I’m not going to…” Both hands dropped away from her.
“You’re a bloody nuisance. When you can stand on your own two feet, I want you
out of here.”
He stood back and she could see it truly was a man, although
he was definitely hairy—at least above the neck. A full beard covered
two-thirds of his face and long brunet hair hung past his ears. She pulled in a
rasping breath. “Fine, I didn’t ask to be here.” Then she wondered where ‘here’
was. No matter, she had to move on, stay ahead of Fraeling, find a city and make
money playing her guitar. At least enough to rent a cheap room or buy a bus
ticket to take her…take her where? She had no idea what she was looking for,
only what she was running from. And the thought of taking to the road again was
daunting.
Erin felt wetness on her cheeks. Tears! She hadn’t cried for years. After all, what
was the point? It didn’t solve anything. Suddenly she was free as hard
calloused hands hauled her out of the clutch of twisted covers and pushed her
against a nest of pillows hastily stuffed behind her.
A cloth swiped down her face. “It’s okay, I’m not going to
hurt you...” He blew out a gust of air. “…stop fighting me, dammit! You’re all
tangled up in the sheets.”
She was uncomfortably hot and was glad of the cool breeze
drifting through an open window, soothing her bare skin. Suddenly awareness
made her yelp and drag the sheet over her exposed chest. “What have you done?
Where are my clothes?”
Willing the unwanted tears away she looked into the face of
the man as he finished tidying the bedclothes. It was a relief to realize she
wasn’t bound with ropes and he didn’t have nasty looking knives stuck in his
belt. But…but, she was naked. Her hand reached under the sheet, even her
panties were missing.
Erin knew without a doubt she hadn’t been ravished but finding
herself naked in a strange bed with a man hovering over her, that made internal
alarm bells clang a warning. She did what she normally did when frightened,
attack. “I asked you a question, mister. You better answer or…” He was so close
she felt the puff of his breath on her cheek.
He straightened up and stormy grey eyes glowered down at
her. “Or what? Are you going to stomp your foot and whine? That really scares
the shit out of me. Get a grip, kid.”
Erin shut up. That shocked her. Fraeling was always
punishing her for mouthing back at him. It was her only weapon and she had
never been able to curb it, even when he...”
She bit her lip, hard, and tasted blood. Different day,
different man. “I don’t have any money, or anything you could want. So you should
let me go before you get into big trouble.”
He remained silent and she took a quick peek over the covers
now bunched under her nose. He was dressed in a faded checkered shirt and rumpled
blue jeans. The room was primitive, like the glowering man hovering over her.
She wondered if he was a hermit or one of those weird people who believed the
end of the world was coming and hid away from society. He looked doomsday grim
as he bent and picked up a blanket and laid it across the foot of the bed. Strangely,
his thick beard and overlong hair looked shiny clean. She pulled in a deep
breath. There was no rank odour of unwashed man, only the scent of pine and
loamy woods drifting in on the breeze. Strange, shouldn’t the bed be covered
with crusted sacks and animal hides? She couldn’t help snickering. Imagination
overload, Erin.
“You think I’m funny? Take a look in the mirror, kid.”
She wanted to tell him he wasn’t funny at all. In fact he
was a little frightening and she felt brittle enough to shatter if he touched
her. Feeling defenceless was counter to the new tougher Erin she had tried to
create during her long flight from Fraeling’s grasp. ‘I am woman, hear me
roar,’ was an alien concept right now.
The last thing Erin remembered was huddling in a frozen
ditch as lights splintered the darkness and something large hunched over her. Then
the lights went out. Now she found herself naked in a strange bed, as a brute glowered
down at her. There was nothing reassuring in this, or the previous scenario. Even
so, Erin wasn’t about to let him think he had the upper hand. She tried for a
superior tone. “I have rights and I demand you give me back my clothes, or I
will set the authorities on you.”
He let out a short bark of laughter. “What authority did you
have in mind, kid? There isn’t a cop within hollering range. But don’t let me
stop you. Go ahead, yap all you want. Maybe a wolf pack will answer.”
Last night she thought a bear was about to drag her away. Now
there was the threat of wolves…she looked past him to the dense pines she could
see beyond the window. Panic made her
chest tight and any thought of venturing out without a weapon fled. Besides,
she needed clothes and he wasn’t about to offer them.
“There must be a town close by, civilization?” She knew the
hope was raw in her voice, although she wondered if he knew what the word
meant. “You could take me there. I can get a job waiting tables so I can pay
you back.”
His dismissive look was beyond rude. “Not likely, kid. Take
a look in the mirror. Nobody would take a chance on hiring someone who looks
like a trickle of pump water.”
As usual, her temper flared in response to cynicism. “I’m
stronger than I look. Besides, you should
take a look in a mirror before venturing into town for your beer and…and chawing
tobacco. You would frighten elderly ladies and small children.”
A dark eyebrow twitched and for a moment she thought he was
about to laugh. Instead he glowered. His nose had a slight hook, and his mouth
was barely discernible beneath the verdant growth on his face. No wonder she
thought he was a carnivorous bear, when she woke.
He looked her over as if she was three day old fish left in
the sun. “Anybody ever tell you that smart mouth and snooty attitude could get
you in a pack of trouble? In fact, us good old chaw-baccy boys like to feed uppety
Limey’s to the hogs.”
So much for trading insults. His threat to turn her into pig
fodder trumped her wretched attempt to intimidate him with her ill-humoured
assessment. Still, she couldn’t back down. “You will give me my clothes. Now.
You had no right to…”
“Jeezus! You’re not much to look at so don’t get your
panties in a twist.”
She certainly wasn’t about to remind him she had no panties on
to twist. Instead she turned her face away, glad he found her ugly. There was
safety in that, although she couldn’t help resenting his jibe. Holding the
sheet to her chest, she managed to roll to the far side of the bed and slid her
feet to the floor. She must find her clothes. And where was her guitar and
backpack? As she tried to stand, her limbs trembled and her hands reached out
trying to find something solid to hang onto.
Once more hands reached out and held onto her. “Dammit,
girl! What the hell is wrong with you? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
His irate voice echoed as she slid down a slick dark tunnel.
The thought flickered: Alice must have felt this stomach-churning
disorientation as she fell down the rabbit hole.
****
It was nighttime although the room was softly lit when Erin
surfaced again. Once more remnants of the dream drifted away like smoke. A
variation of a familiar scene, she had been searching endless corridors cut
from glittering ice. Always ahead, music drew her on as the floors and walls twisted
and spiralled into stairs winding climbing and turning back on themselves, going
nowhere. Then she stumbled into a cave filled with musical instruments. As she
reached out to touch the strings of a viola it shattered, filling the air with shards
like glass as a mournful sound quivered through the cave.
The dream always left her disoriented and hopelessly craving
something unknown. She lay still as thunder sounded far off. Her stomach
growled as if in harmony although she felt no hunger. She turned her head. A
small oil lamp stood on a stand by the bed. The light was comforting. The walls
were made of rough planks and no curtain hung at the window. Although, given
the dense black beyond, there was probably no need for draperies. There was no
moonlight or glitter of stars. She shivered at the thought of miles of forest
and bush between this primitive hut and civilization. Then she recalled, wolves
had been added to the creatures she didn’t want to meet.
An angry voice from below made her jump and her heart
skittered ready to fly out of her chest and hide beneath the bed.
“This is not acceptable, Zachary Edwyn Pritchard. Why did you bring the girl to this…this
ramshackle place…for heaven’s sake, you make me crazy.”
“Hold it down, will you. I don’t want her waking and trying
to run off. She’s in no fit state at the moment.”
Erin gave a little snort. Zachary Edwyn? Who knew! Supposedly the name Zachary meant he was an
artist, musician and a lover who always pleased his woman. Hah! More likely he
was named after Jules Verne’s Master Zachary, the clockmaker who lost his soul
to the devil. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and she hastily burrowed deep
beneath the covers as the door creaked loudly as it opened and she realized
that was probably the unholy shriek she heard earlier.
Footsteps crossed the room and stopped by the bed. “It’s
okay to come out now, honey. No one’s going to hurt you.”
It was the same voice as moments ago although there was no
anger in it now. The bedclothes were gently peeled back and a woman smiled down
at her. Tiny crinkles fanned out from grey eyes. The woman looked as if she
laughed often, so perhaps there really was nothing to fear. Erin tensed as
heavier footsteps headed upward and the shaggy hulk blocked the doorway. There
was a dangerous look on his face, although it was hard to see what was going on
beneath the tangle of beard. His hair was tied back with a leather thong and
she could now see a knotted scar arcing from his hairline and ending barely a
breath from his left eye.
The woman had hold of Erin’s hand and she was glad of the
comforting warmth, but couldn’t help asking. “Are we both going to end up in
his stew pot?”
The woman laughed as the hulk mocked. “Madame Meg here, is more
likely to roast my ass over the damned barbecue.”
“Language, Zach!” She patted Erin’s arm. “My son learned a
great deal during his time abroad, but mostly he forgot how to be a gentleman.”
She sat on the bed and placed a hand on Erin’s forehead. “Still a little
fevered.” Competent fingers found a pulse. “Hmnnn, you’re ticking over-fast,
honey. Probably due to this little drama Zach has created. He should have
brought you straight to the lodge when he found you.”
“I told you, she was unconscious and suffering from
exposure. Besides, the roads were washed out with all the rain.”
“Hmph! Strange, you can drive back and forth in all kinds of
weather when you want a good hot meal. Besides, you said the lass has been here
three days. You could have called me.” She turned back to Erin. “My name is
Margaret, friends call me Meg. What’s your name, honey?”
Erin just managed to answer before her belly let out another
loud grumble.
“Don’t tell me he hasn’t fed you yet? Lord, save me from
incompetent men. Never mind, I came prepared. There’s a large container of chef’s
cream of chicken soup, and a loaf of fresh baked bread. You settle back, Erin,
I’ll have it warmed in no time.”
She stood and waved her son out of the way and headed down
stairs. Zachary Edward Pritchard gave Erin a look that promised…what?
“I knew you were trouble the minute I picked you up and you
threw up all over my jacket.” He scowled and turned to leave.
Erin felt tears sting her eyes. For a moment, Mrs…Meg…made
her feel safe. Something she hadn’t felt in years. Ever since her… Erin blocked
out the thoughts that were venturing far too close to the surface lately. Although
Meg hadn’t made her feel like trouble, her son obviously didn’t feel the same.
If only she didn’t feel so weak and teary. It was pathetic, she was pathetic. She steeled herself and tried not to break
down in front of him. She was no longer a child, or a doped up junkie, unable
to fight back.
Her voice was tight and precise, as it always was when she needed
to stay calm. “I’m sorry you find me such a burden, it was not my intention to
inconvenience you. If you will give me my clothes and my other belongings, I
will ask Mrs...Meg if she could give me a lift to the nearest highway.” She
fumbled to keep her naked body covered as she sat up and waited for him to
leave. Surely he wouldn’t refuse to let her go now his mother was here?
Erin was startled when he turned and punched a balled fist
into the plank wall. She flinched. That must have hurt.
His look was grim as he turned and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t
be so damned…British. You are not going off to die in another freezing ditch.
Not on my watch. So forget it. Honey!” Then he clumped down the stairs.
Erin noticed a flash of something bleak in his eyes before
he turned away and wondered what phantoms troubled him. Honey? It sounded like a
curse. She lay back against the pillows, suddenly too tired to worry about
anything. Maybe tomorrow he would leave, go shoot gophers or some other
helpless creature. Then she could search for her things and find her way out of
the forest, hopefully without being stalked by animals with big teeth or claws
that ripped.
In spite of not wanting them to, her eyes drifted closed.
She tried fighting the need to sleep as a snatch of melody danced just beyond
reach. She knew those notes, the image of a moth dancing on the moon. Her fingers
curled to hold a slender flute that was long gone, broken beyond repair. Then,
from out of the darkness, the familiar sound of a woman’s laughter echoed from
long ago. Sleep overtook her as tears still slid from beneath closed lids.
****
Zach wanted to curse as his mom came down the stairs, still
carrying the bowl of soup she had taken up to the skinny menace in his bed. He sat
at the small pine table he’d rescued from the dump and stripped of thick coats
of ancient paint. He was about to stand and take the soup back up to the little
witch. She wasn’t getting away with starving herself to death.
Meg laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and placed the bowl
and spoon on the table in front of him. “Don’t you dare hassle that girl
anymore. Sit. Eat.” Then she went to the small kerosene stove and ladled soup from
a smoke blackened pan into a large mug and sat opposite him.
They both spooned up soup for a few minutes. Finishing his, Zach
couldn’t hold back his unease.
“She has to eat she’s skinny as a rake handle and shaky as a
kitten.”
His mom looked up, and smiled. He didn’t like it one bit. He
went to the stove and poured the last of the soup into the bowl he’d used.
“She’s going to eat before she keels over again. I want her out of here and
that won’t happen until she builds up her strength.”
“My darling grumpy son, what am I going to do with you? She’s
not one of the injured wild things you used bring home and care for and then
released. You should have brought her to the lodge. And I checked your cell
phone. It isn’t out of juice.”
“You know you’re a meddler?”
“Ummm, so I am.”
“Besides, I’m not that maudlin kid anymore. She was almost frozen to death. I had to get
her warm before she…” He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “She was almost
gone when I found her.”
“You managed to prevent hypothermia and bring her fever down,
Zach. That’s good. Right now I think she needs rest more than food. In the
morning I’ll send over fresh eggs and milk, maybe some hot biscuits.” She
grinned. “I think you can manage to scramble eggs for her breakfast on that
bitty little stove. You know not to feed her anything too heavy for a little
while, right?”
He lowered himself onto the chair. “Yes, mother, and I won’t
demand she scrub the floors and skin the rabbits I have hanging in the root
cellar.”
“Smart ass!”
“She was too sick to for me to move her.” Zach tried to hold
onto his temper.
“Perhaps she would have been better off in hospital, Zachary?
She’s barely more than a child and needs taking proper care of. There’s
something gone very wrong for her, more than falling ill and getting lost and
ending up in that ditch.”
He never scoffed at his mom’s intuitions. She had an uncanny
knack for reading people. “I don’t think we should move her yet.”
He looked up to find his mother giving him that look that said
she could still read him like a cheap comic book. Didn’t matter he was almost
thirty years old and had been around the block more than once. Plus going through a hell you can’t put
behind you buddy. He tamped down on that unwanted thought.
“I took good care of her, dammit! You’re not the only one
who knows how to read a temperature and bring down a fever. Don’t forget you
taught me. Besides, I think she’s older than she looks.”
“Oh, Zachary, she’s a young woman who was lost and ill and
now she’s sleeping in the bed of a stranger.” Her hand waved dismissively
around the stark space. “This is a bare-bones shack way out in the woods. No
wonder she looks scared to death. Besides, she must have a family somewhere hoping
she will come home one day. Don’t you think they would be unhappy at this
situation?”
“She’s running from something. It could be her family.”
Meg reached out as if to touch the scar on his temple where
a bullet almost ended his life. He pulled away, not wanting that scenario to
open again.
“Honey, I hate to see you like this. Why don’t you come back
to the lodge? I don’t know what keeps you in this place. There’s a perfectly
good winterized cottage right by the lake waiting for you. You designed it
yourself so you know it’s comfortable, and the view of the river is lovely. Besides,
I have a group of corporate people coming in for orientation workshops and I
need your help.”
“You have the lodge staff well trained, and I’ll be there
when you really need me. You just have to call.” He didn’t like to see his mom
distressed. But he didn’t think she could understand. He wasn’t remotely like the
architect son who, three years ago, had travelled to a village in Uganda with
such optimism. He just wanted to be left alone to do the maintenance around the
lodge and run his business from his laptop. That meant he would have to make
the trek to the lodge soon as the battery had run down.
Meg left a short time later and he washed the few dishes in
warm water heated on the stove. Boiling water was a tedious process and he knew
something would have to be done so his visitor could take a bath when she was
strong enough not to keel over and drown herself. He had the feeling she was
used to more sophisticated living and wouldn’t take kindly to the outdoor
shower he’d hooked up to a rain water tank out back of the cabin. On the other
hand, he could bundle her up in a blanket and drive her over to the lodge in
the morning. And yet…he had no idea why taking her to the lodge wasn’t an
option, his brain must be seriously addled.
Turning the kerosene lamp off, stripped down to his shorts, and
stretched out on the well-used couch he’d rescued after the fire that wiped out
the old lodge. Moments later he hurriedly pushed back the blanket and sat up as
a wavering cry drifted from above. Quickly hauling on his jeans he headed up
the stairs. The storm had moved on and moonlight laid a pale light across the
bare boards, although it wasn’t necessary as he was used to making his way in the
dark.
His mom had left the door to the room open and the small
lamp by the bed was still lit. The girl thrashed about as if caught in a
terrifying nightmare, calling out something unintelligible. It was a desolate
sound that twisted his gut in knots.
Once again she was wound tight in a sheet, though her arms
were free this time. He wasn’t about to get socked in the jaw a second time, so
he edged behind her, pulling her up so her back was against his chest. His arms
crossed over small breasts, holding her as gently as possible. She was thin to
the point of frailty and her skin was hot, slicked with sweat. Partly, he
thought, from the fever that had scorched through her and still flared up at
times. And partly from the nightmare that wracked her frame with tremors.
Another time another place intruded. Damn, he didn’t want to
think about the trip to Uganda and the horror as he sat in the dirt, holding Tom
Anders as he bled out from gunshot wounds as they were caught in crossfire
between terrorists and local militia. No matter how he tried, the damned scene
played over and over in his head. The girl let out another stark cry and struggled
against his hold bringing him back to the present.
“No! No! I won’t let you.” Her body was rigid with terror
and tears dripped onto his bare arms as they curved around her. “No more…no,
no, no!
Her distress was raw and painful, filling the room with
something dark and unknown. “It’s okay, Erin. Whoever hurt you isn’t here.”
She was beyond thought or hearing his quiet reassurance. The
keening started again and she began to rock childlike in his arms. Zach
loosened his hold and pulled her around to curl against him. All the fight had
gone out of her and she lay trembling, the thin wail full of sorrow as tears
ran unchecked.
****
“Mrs. Pritchard said to tell you there’s a jug of fresh
orange juice, and the ham is great I had some with your mom’s waffles for breakfast,
and the eggs were collected this morning.” Jefferson, a young waiter from the
lodge, stood on the doorstep grinning as he waited for an ill-tempered Zach to
take the large cooler he held out.
Zach hadn’t heard the sound of the all-terrain vehicle
arrive. He’d been up half the night trying to keep Erin from hurting herself as
she went through a cycle of sleeping and thrashing about when the nightmare kept
returning as if a needle was stuck in the grove of an old record. Finally, as a
hazy dawn light lit up the room, she fell into a deep sleep. He thought she was
probably as exhausted as he was. To be woken by pounding on his door and then
to find this idiot grinning and babbling at him was too much.
“For Christ’s sake, couldn’t you just leave the bloody thing
on the doorstep?” Unfortunately, there was no squelching the affable idiot.
“Nope. Mrs. Prichard said to remind you not to feed
your…visitor the ham, just scrambled eggs and orange juice or milk.” He nodded
his head. “Yeah, milk would be good.” He tried to peer around Zach’s frame, no
doubt wanting a glimpse of whoever was stupid or brave enough to share the
snarling wolf’s den.
Zach grabbed the hamper and was about to slam the door in the
fucking idiots smiley face before he tied the cretin’s nuts in a knot. Unfortunately,
smiley wasn’t done yet.
He yelled, “Hold on.” And raced back to the vehicle and ran
back with a pillow stuffed with something and dropped it at Zach’s bare feet. “Clean
sheets and sweats. Then he finally took his ass out of danger and rode off down
the narrow trail back to the lodge.
Zach kicked the door shut as a throaty voice demanded, “Call
him back. He can give me a lift into town.”
Spinning around, Zach bit back a curse that would have
curled her toenails if he’d let it out. She was dressed in one of his plaid
work shirts and stood clinging to the back of the couch looking like death
warmed over.
“No I won’t call him back. And no you won’t be getting a
lift into town.”
He watched her eyes narrow and her mouth open to give him
grief then her teeth clicked together as he dropped the hamper, took two
strides and scooped her up to dump her on the couch. The blanket he’d wrapped
himself in last night was still bundled in a heap. He dragged it around her
then leaned down and got in her face. “You will quit making demands. No
leaving. No lift. No more crap! Got it!”
****
Erin watched Zach turn away. His harsh words resonated, made
her want to run, from him, from herself, from the past she feared was about to
overwhelm her. Splinters of long-rejected memories spilled through dark cracks.
Still she floundered to rise and head for the door, wanting to outrun the
veracity of what had been. She could hardly breathe as sorrow wound tight
around her chest and blocked her throat as she pulled open the door and stepped
out into cool, fragrant air. Suddenly, her weakened body gave out and she
stumbled, cracking her knees on the stone step and sprawled forward, arms
outstretched, her cheek slamming into damp mossy ground as the past she had
rejected escaped and wouldn’t be denied.
Vaguely, she heard Zack call her name and felt the thud of
his footsteps hurrying towards her. He was too late. Memory dragged her back to
a place she didn’t want to be. She was twelve years old again and drained as
she always was after a performance. Her mom and dad should have been back from
their dig and sitting in the reserved seats at the Albert Hall. She had watched
for them from the wings before stepping on stage. Her dad always sat in the
aisle seat so he could stretch out his long legs. Adam, her parent’s friend,
sat there instead. A sense of tragedy made her feel ill. Still, the audience
waited to hear her play so she tried to concentrate on giving the performance
expected of a professional. Later, Adam took charge, cleaving through the
well-wishers and autograph seekers and handed her into the waiting limo. The
London townhouse was silent. The dining table set with glinting crystal goblets
and fine china, ready for the special late dinner planned for her mom and dad’s
homecoming. Then Adam told her things she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, then or
now.
Clods of earth and moss tore beneath her hands and a howl of
crazed fury and grief rent the air. It sent birds fluttering above the cabin
roof and winging away over the treetops. She wanted back what had been stolen
from her, wanted Fraeling to die a thousand times, wanted someone to hold her
before she slipped into madness. But most of all she wanted to be free of heart-rending
pain.
Candle Without A Flame continues in coming issues of A Writer’s
Journey.
Men’s voices again, echoing like souls lost in a
fog. The mist lifted in one swift movement to disappear into nothingness. In
its place, were at least a hundred men.
