Trusting Strangers

 

Janet felt unexpected heat against her face and slowly opened her eyes to find she was on the ground a few feet away from a campfire. A sudden jolt of terror ran up her spine and through her neck; she scampered. The last memory she had was of walking along a trail with her best friend, Julie.

 

Janet was hassling Julie about using the same tattered magenta backpack she used back in high school, they were giggling and reminiscing – then it hit her - the man in the mask. Fragmented visions began to coalesce in her mind as she recalled coming around a bend, a man lunging from behind a tree, her being knocked to the ground with a blow to the head, and watching the man chase Julie off into the forest.

 

Now, she crawled along the ground blindly, kicking up dust with her hands and feet, before she felt many sets of hands on her back and shoulders. She could hear a score of unintelligible words from a shrouded crowd. She whipped her head up to find herself in the center of many shadowy faces, barely visible but for the bouncing glow of the fire.

 

“What the fuck?!” she screamed, her head convulsing in every direction like a cornered animal. Instinctively, she jumped to her feet and began to sprint forward as she yelled out her friend’s name, “Julie!”

 

“Relax,” a voice commanded, rising above the momentary commotion. Janet’s eyes snapped in its direction. A man’s face, faintly lit beneath a dim headlamp, appeared within inches of her nose and two unseen arms gripped both of her shoulders. Her chin retreated into her neck as her entire body stiffened.

 

“We found you on the trail a few hours ago, you were unconscious…” he said, forcing some downward pressure through his palms, trying to sit her on a log directly on the ground behind her. She resisted and went to swipe at his hands when fingertips tightly gripped her biceps from behind. He let go of her shoulders just as she was swept off her feet with a violent tug.

 

“Ah, fuck you!” she screamed as she collapsed onto the log. “Where is my friend?!”

 

Janet’s vision began to adjust; before her, an average looking man, not much taller than herself, with an eccentric smile hiding within his thick handlebar mustache. She began to make out many faces in the crowd around her but could distinguish no expressions.

 

The man tilted his head suspiciously and stared down into her eyes. Hysteria grew inside of her, fed by the blend of emotions and collective silence. Seconds went by, then a minute; her eyebrows furrowed, her lip quivered, her brain began gently convulsing inside of her skull – she was a stew of anger, confusion, and fear. A loud pop came unexpectedly from the fire, making her flinch.

 

The man took a step toward Janet; he was now looming over her, uncomfortably close. The grips on her arms tightened and she winced, it was beginning to hurt. As she turned around to protest, her head was twisted back in the direction of the man’s face.

 

“Look,” he began softly as he took a knee directly at Janet’s feet, “all we did was find you and bring you here - so you should be thanking us that you didn’t become bear food, or worse – and I don’t know anything about any friend of yours…”

 

“One of you did something! Which one of you was the piece of shit that was wearing that fucking mask?!” Janet snarled, bits of spit firing from the corners of her mouth. She moved her eyes from side to side, fearing another move of her head might lead to a more deliberate correction. The man looked down past his knee, bringing his lips down to it with a sigh.

​

“Alright,” he said, bringing his mouth up to her ear, “we’ve been out here enjoying a camping trip, just relaxing, minding our own business. None of us did anything to your fucking friend. In fact, I’m not so sure I trust you…”

​

He backed up to his feet, not looking at her anymore, and slowly spun around on his heels. She felt a strange sensation, a tingle, radiating from her forehead as she digested the man’s words. She had only woken up moments ago, but these had easily been the most excruciatingly prolonged moments of her life. Her mouth began to open in response when a balled-up hand towel was suddenly jammed over her tongue – she had been silenced.

​

“Look, look – really, we don’t want any trouble,” the man continued as Janet was pulled to her feet by the force behind her, “so, for everybody’s safety, we’re just going to tie you to a tree for the night…”

​

Almost as the words left his mouth, Janet began to struggle, desperately kicking her legs and trying to scream through the cotton. It was hopeless. She was being dragged on the tops of her toes, a few yards beyond the light of the fire, by four women, none of which were wearing headlamps. They may as well have been shadows pulling her along.

​

“We’re not crazy!” the man continued, now shouting in her direction, “we’d be crazy if we didn’t tie you to a tree!”

​

Janet was being lifted off the ground; placed with her legs outstretched and her back against the trunk. She could only hear the duct tape being ripped and rope hitting the ground as it unraveled. Her limbs contorted to the pressure of the unseen cordage tightening around her and then she couldn’t move. Although she howled and twisted with all her strength, the effort only translated into muffled groans and negligible jolts.

 

“Nowadays - especially nowadays- you have to be extra careful!” the man screamed before regulating his voice to rejoin a simmering conversation, casually chatting and chuckling with the group. The figures finished tying their final knots and joined the dozen or so silhouettes to re-encircle the fire, picking up the festivities as if nothing had happened.

​

Questions began racing through Janet’s mind: What the fuck did these people do with Julie? Where are my things? What are they going to do with me? Without warning, her face was being licked by what she could only assume was a dog. One of the female figures from around the fire stood up, agitated, and rushed over to pull the dog away.

​

Janet looked up to where the figure’s eyes should be, there was no movement for a moment. “We’re not going to hurt you,” said a sweet, disembodied voice, “they’re just a little protective, and especially now - with all that’s been going on – I mean, he’s got a point.”

“Just hang in there,” the voice continued, “in the morning, trust me, you’ll be able to go on your way. We have your stuff, your bag, he never lets anybody steal anything, so it’ll be okay, you’ll be fine, I promise…”

​

The source of the voice swirled to return to the group as the other figures erupted in uproarious laughter at some unheard joke. Janet was in no position to be trusting at this point but was oddly relieved by what she had just heard. Nevertheless, she continued to struggle in silence as the group continued to enjoy their night.

​

The glow of blue light would intermittently illuminate faces as pictures were taken and text messages were sent. She could see the face of a burly, bearded man come close to the flame as he flipped steaks. Cigarette smoke wafted in her direction, flasks clanked for shots, and the hilarity continued. Janet struggled, wriggled, and writhed, and eventually passed out from exhaustion.

​

The sun was a weak glow behind a thin sheet of haze when she awoke. Her back was stiff, her legs numb, and the rest of her body generally aching from the prior night’s escape attempts. She could see some movement inside the scattered tents, hearing a distant cough or giggle from time to time. A woman quietly smoked a cigarette as she looked over the cliff toward the horizon.

​

Janet watched this routine activity unfold, counting on the marginal reassurance she had been given the night before. As she scanned her peripheral, she was surprised to see another figure tied to a tree a few yards from her, mostly obscured by the dawn’s lingering darkness. It was a guy; he too was gagged. From the looks of things, he had fought back against these people and was beaten for it.

​

By slender rays of light slowly illuminating the forest floor, she could just barely make out a gnarly bruise under his left eye and deep scratches all over his cheeks and arms. He appeared despondent, and desperate, as he looked in Janet’s direction. She wasn’t sure if he could see her.

The two were stuck in place, gagged and bound, forced to watch as their captors nonchalantly broke down their campsite and packed their things away. Having enjoyed their evening, the group did a final site check before leaving, paying absolutely no mind to their prisoners.

 

They made their exit onto a herd path, marching past Janet in a row, disappearing one by one. The man cooking the steaks, the woman smoking the cigarette, the voice, the voice’s dog, and a few others. Finally, the man with the handlebar mustache approached. He tossed a steak knife to the ground, about a foot away from Janet.

​

“Now listen, with the right amount of effort, you’ll be able to reach that and cut yourself loose,” he said confidently. The captives silently watched from their respective posts as the man stepped out of sight, returning a moment later with a pack in either hand.

​

“As promised,” he started, “here are your things.” In one hand was Janet’s light blue bag, he tossed it at her feet. Then, he turned and tossed Julie’s magenta backpack, the one she had used back in high school, at the guy's feet.

​

As Julie’s pack hit the ground, the man snickered – “nice bag.”

​

“Young lady,” he said with a grin, turning to Janet as he started toward the herd path, “would you mind giving this guy here a cut once you get yourself free…”