Campaign of Terror

 'Do not be afraid of them. The Lord your God goes before you.'   Instantly my throat closed at words my soul knew by heart from Sunday School. Not like hands around my neck, but a force centered entirely in one spot, the center front of my neck, just where a barely noticeable scar remains, a tiny point just big enough to twist a knife into. I had not felt that force since the day my mother died.

  The Alaska I once loved slid past my view, 100-foot spruce interrupted by a mix of empty rich-owned architectural envy, dotted with local homesteads marked with noticeable signs of life - the oft used half-crooked deck leaning down to the edge of the Inside Passage water's edge and matching wooden stairs up to the house, kitchen windows with light shining through simple cotton curtains, smoke puffs drifting off roofs to fly closer to the eagles.

  I had expected to feel happy, welcomed even, back to where we had first started our new family in Sitka. But this wasn't Sitka. It was Ketchikan. And suddenly, two simple sentences my soul spoke to my heart gripped me in fear. Them. That's plural. How many are they? Do not fear them. What are they going to do that I should not fear?

  The first time I had noticed one of them was at the Sea Mart in Sitka some nine years prior. As I gently lifted Isaac out of his car seat and turned to face an ocean surface sparkling like diamonds on a rare rainforest sunny day, I knew I had made the perfect choice for a long-awaited first grocery trip as a mom.

  There was a cheaper place we could have gone. But I didn't care. I wanted to always remember this day. For it to be absolutely perfect. And it was. Hardly anyone else there, time to linger over shelves brimming with organic and fancy brands. No need to hurry. So when I turned at the end of the first row and stopped at the brownie mixes, I knew exactly why I was taking so long. Even though I had been making brownies from scratch for years, I figured a new baby in the house would require a few adjustments here and there - so I was looking to see what if any, were the new options for an easy chocolate overdose. But why was the man at the other end of the aisle taking just as long?

  For someone who was not gay nor a chef, he was willing to spend an inordinate amount of time looking at the spices. A man shopping for his wife, yet stumped as to where the heck is something would have pulled out his cell phone long ago. So as a person with an equally inordinate amount of patience, I waited him out. A few moments later my answer rounded the corner, greeting him with a cheery, 'Hey Chief!'.  A pained looked actually crossed the chief of police's face. Busted. Not that I was surprised. It was just a confirmation of what I already knew.

  I didn't know him from the paper; I never bought it. What alerted me to their actions was an extremely weird incident at the doctor's office.

  I had gone to the Sitka Medical Center for an annual PAP exam. Instead, Dr. Donald R. Lehmann, M.D., performed an unauthorized, unethical psychological manipulation and experiment.

  The first tip-off was everyone's mannerisms and voice tones when I arrived. They were all acting weird. By the time I passed the new visiting medical resident with an Italian name a mile long - I definitely knew something was up. He looked absolutely terrified. I almost turned around right then and there.

  When Dr. Lehmann entered the room, he walked slowly, in an apparent predetermined line, straight towards me then turning sharply directly in front of me to walk slowly to a chair at the end of the room. Obviously to make sure I had a good long time to take in the change. As if I wouldn't have noticed that my doctor who normally wore shoes that cost more than all the shoes I've bought in a lifetime combined, with pants that draped like butter - decided to suddenly shop at the thrift shop and left with poor mismatched choices at that. With holes in the shoes. Seriously.

  He then proceeded to perform the exam, looking for a physical response. To see if my subconscious would present the past to him. Unethical. To say the least. Which is why the new resident looked terrified. He knew what was happening was wrong.

  After that, I knew to expect almost anything out of them. So I wasn't surprised to see them following me. What I didn't know though is that it was the launch of a campaign of terror against my tiny family - even before Isaac arrived.