text: There’s a nature park a few miles from my house. It has a marked trail that winds through a wooded forest. Sometimes I take my dog there for a little variety in our walks. It probably doesn’t matter that much to her though. She just wants to sniff the trees and chase wildlife. I keep her on a leash for their safety but her collar is kind of loose. If she really wants to escape, she can (and has). I’ve tried tightening it but it’s as snug as I can get it. I’d buy a smaller one but it doesn’t happen often enough to be an issue. At least not in the past. One day last week she began tugging fiercely on her leash. They teach all sorts of training techniques on how to stop unwanted behavior like that but Thelma is a husky; and they aren’t nearly as eager to please their humans as most dog breeds. Pulling is in their genes. She’s only pulled hard enough to remove her collar a couple other times. I don’t know what she saw in the woods, but it was enough to shimmy out of her collar and break free like her life depended on it. Fearing it might be a rabid animal in her sight, I chased after her. Naturally she took off at a furious pace I couldn’t replicate without a motorized vehicle. I’d soon lost sight of her but I could still hear her in hot pursuit (of whatever it was). Calling and yelling did no good. She only responded when it benefited her. Finally I caught up to her. She’d stopped by the edge of a large tangle of underbrush in the woods. She paced around it frantically, wagging her tail and circling the mound with hyper focus. I figured it was a possum or raccoon living in there. Heaven help us if it was a skunk or den of snakes. The truth was actually worse. I witnessed the tell-tale evidence of a man-made bunker before us. As I had carried her collar for the whole heart-pounding chase, I tried to unfasten it and slip it back around her neck. Whoever was living in that hollowed out enclosure in the deep woods would definitely not appreciate our intrusion. Thelma just barked frantically. She never barks unless it’s highly important to her. Like most huskies, they howl or ‘talk’ most of the time. I was already on the edge from the uncomfortable situation; and hearing her bark on top of it just added to the creepiness. She wouldn’t sit still long enough to slip the collar back on her so I could drag her away. I feared some crazed hairy mountain man would spring up from a hidden trap door and shoot me at any moment! Thelma was making things infinitely worse. She began to dig frantically at what I assumed was the entrance. I hissed at her and tried to pick her up. She wasn’t having it. For whatever reason, she desperately wanted inside the bunker; and I wasn’t going to be able to stop her. I debated giving up and leaving her. Ultimately I’m a coward at heart. I wasn’t about to be attacked or shot by some antisocial hermit living ‘off the grid’. She could fend for herself. I’d go back and get help. The authorities could deal with whatever soul was dwelling there. Just as I was about to run back to my car, Thelma slipped in through a trap door and was gone. I was torn between the pragmatism of saving myself, versus the emotionalism of saving her from whatever was down in the bunker. I’ll let you guess which side won. I crept inside the bunker slowly. I feared it might be booby-trapped or I would encounter the occupant before I could explain my intrusion. I whispered for Thelma but she was nowhere to be seen. I used my cell phone to light the way but there was a surprising amount of natural light filtering through some improvised ‘skylights’. The bunker was much more spacious than I expected. I suppose I thought it was just going to be a narrow hole in the ground. The truth was, it was expansive and incredibly well-braced. I could even stand upright. There were a number of large corridors leading in different directions. There was no telling how far the tunnels went. I called Thelma again. She finally showed her head and I successfully collared her. Just as I was about to drag her outside to safety, I was struck by something very odd. Everything felt ‘familiar’. I couldn’t shake the deja-vu feeling that I ‘knew’ something about the place! Obviously that was impossible but as I looked around the dank hideaway, I had the unshakable sensation I’d been there before. Thankful I didn’t run into the ‘owner’, my dog and I left the bunker as close as possible to how we’d found it. It was a small miracle that he was out gathering supplies, or whatever. I vowed to call the forest service and report it just as soon as I got home. I also intended to pick up a better collar for her. Obviously I didn’t want to accidentally discover any more hidden bunkers in the woods. When I got home, I looked up the local parks and forest service phone number. Somehow the first link that came up in my phone was the right one. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain such an odd thing but when a park ranger answered the phone, I blurted out my incredible discovery. I half expected the guy to hang up on me but to his credit, he listened with no judgement as far as I could tell. I described the events of finding the bunker and the general area where it was. Then he asked if I would accompany him to locate it. Frankly, I was so surprised he even believed me that I readily agreed to show it to him. I figured there would be more safety in numbers. It was near sundown so we both agreed it would be safer to go in the morning. I met Ranger Ross and the two of us started down the trail. Thelma started getting agitated again when we neared the same area where she’d broken away before and led me to it. Just as the previous evening, she started whining and pulling hard on the leash. At least there wasn’t going to be an difficulty locating it. The ranger and I allowed her to guide us back to the source of our journey. She barked and wagged her tail in animated excitement. Once we approached the mound, the ranger motioned for me to stand behind him. He quietly unholstered his service revolver and crept up to the bunker. To my surprise, he went straight up to the hidden trap door, without Thelma or I showing him where it was. It was well hidden and I didn’t see how he could’ve guessed it was there. My suspicions and paranoia were having a field day. Had the ranger been there before? Was he somehow involved with the bunker? Even more strange, he pulled open the trap door with no apparent concern, and then a well dressed man exited! It was incredibly jarring. The man in the suit was very familiar. My knees buckled. Thelma went over to the bunker occupant and started licking him like he was a long-lost friend of ours. The ranger put his gun away. I still had no idea what was going on. It was beyond surreal. Thelma obviously knew the man and she was aquatinted with the bunker too. The ranger came over and put his arm around me in an apparent gesture of support. The well-dressed man instructed Ranger Ross to guide me inside. I was deeply afraid of what I might find there. My knees were knocking. I stumbled though the opening while my dog and the other two men led the way to whatever epiphany I was supposed to witness. Blind trust instructed me to comply. Once inside the main corridor, a battery powered lamp was switched on by one of my companions. When illuminated, I recognized the walls of the bunker. Not from my brief foray into the mystery the day before, but prior to that. Somehow my memory was only letting me remember small details, a little bit at a time. The harder I tried to force it to come back, the more my head pounded. The well-dressed gentleman introduced himself as Dr. Jackson. He explained that he was my therapist and I’d experienced a deep trauma at the bunker some time in the past, which fragmented my memory. Through immersion therapy and repetition, he and the ranger were trying to help me come to full terms with my experience. I asked for greater details. Dr. Jackson said I still wasn’t quite ready for the full truth yet, but I was making ‘remarkable progress’. He felt I would be ready in just a few more ‘cycles’. I marveled at the implications. I had apparently led rangers to this bunker in the woods many times in the past. Each time I get a little closer to accepting the unpleasant truth and releasing the block to my memory. I still don’t know what it is, but one day soon I hope to. Thelma will need another walk in a few days. I’m sure she’ll start dragging me toward the hidden truth about ‘the bunker’.