Walking

She felt pain in her head, starting at her forehead and ending at the base of the skull. The last thing she remembered was laying on the bed in their home. Ludwig, her faithful shepherd, jumped up on the mattress and lay beside her. She remembered thinking that Don would hate it. He really disliked when the dog was on their bed and, as often as he reminded her of this aversion, she still allowed it to happen.

Greta opened her eyes. She felt pebbles under her smooth pale cheek. She lifted her head and found she was gazing down a gravel road. She could see little, the fog heavy around her, but there seemed to be a dull light in the distance. And from it, partially blocking the view, she saw something approach.

“Ludwig?” she spoke in a raspy voice and sat up. The dog, happy to see a familiar face, licked her chin and cheeks. “Where are we, boy?” Greta asked blearily, petting him gently.

Looking down at herself, Greta saw she was wearing what she had on when she laid down. Loose fitting pajama pants and a white tank top. Other than somewhat ratted dark hair and a sore head, which was feeling better by the minute, she did not really feel bruised or abused. However, she was more baffled than she had ever been in her life. Where was she and how did she get here? And why did whoever it was that brought her here bring the dog too?

It was a kidnapping, she thought. It had to be. A home invasion that turned into more. She watched the news with Don last night and the dapper newsman said there was a rash of crimes in their area. Who would have thought they'd be next on the list?

But where were her captors? If they had some kind of nefarious plan for her, they were not very careful. Maybe they thought she had died. Or did they have a change of heart?

Greta stood and stretched, making certain she was uninjured. She visually examined her surroundings and surmised, wherever she was, it must be early morning. The light ahead was probably the sun starting to rise. "Poor Don must be frantic." Greta murmured. She figured the best idea was to walk the gravel path toward the light and, hopefully, find a restaurant or gas station with a pay phone or, at least, find someone with a cell phone.

As she walked, Ludwig by her side, Greta realized she was bare foot. That made sense. She was in bed and did not have shoes on as she slept. The gravel on the road was fine and did not bother her as much as it might if the stones were large and sharp. “Thank goodness for little favors.” She whispered and smiled when Ludwig looked up at her. “We’ll figure this out, boy.” she promised.

Greta supposed she should feel more frightened but, weirdly, she was more bewildered than afraid or angry. She looked from her left to the right side of the path as she moved forward but could see very little. It was peaceful and, through the fog, Greta thought she saw tall trees waving gently in the cool but comfortable breeze about her. It was lovely in its own way.

Still, something was off. She heard no birds, crickets, or even the sound of water running from a nearby creek. Everything was abnormally quiet for a forest area.

Before she could ponder beyond this, a call came from behind her.

“Greta?” She was a portly woman with auburn hair tide to the back of her head with a donut band. She wore a skirt and blouse combo, something you might wear to the office, and her expression was as confused as her own. She reached out and touched Greta’s arm. “Do you know me?” she asked when Greta pulled back. “I’m Katherine Kline, I work with Don at the firm.” She added, “Mr. Esley’s secretary.”

Greta nodded, partly in relief but still muddled. “Yes, I think we met at the Christmas party last year.”

“That’s it.”

The two women looked at one another for a moment.

So, this was not a kidnapping. “What has happened? Where are we?” Greta asked.

Katherine took a breath and seemed suddenly relieved that she was not the only one in the dark. “I don’t know.” The woman looked away slightly, pondering. “I was at the office this afternoon. I had just taken dictation and was getting ready to type a letter when,” She touched her chest, “I felt a sudden pain … here.” She shrugged, “I woke up on this path an hour ago. I don’t know how I got here or where my phone is. You are the first person I’ve seen.” She looked down at the dog, “And your friend.”

“Isn’t it odd we are on the same road?” Greta commented rather than questioned, not quite anxious but sensing there was no simple answer available. "I thought I had been kidnapped." Once again, she glanced down the path, at the light, and continued, “I wonder if there are others …” When Greta looked back, prepared to tell Katherine to join her on their walk, she was gone. There was no trace of the woman.

It was as if she had never been there at all.