The sign read No Trespassing

WC 1676 Boys exploring beyond the sign.

The sign read No Trespassing.



WC 1,676



By Philip Bernhardt



The sign read No Trespassing, but when had we ever paid attention to signs? And if we paid attention to it, how would we know why trespassing was not allowed? At least the sign didn’t say trespassers would be shot.



The three of us were “camping” in my back yard for the specific purpose of exploring this forbidden track of land just on the border of our usual territory. We usually moved around our neighborhood safely at night during our campouts. I think my dad knew it, but was willing to let us explore as long as we stayed out of trouble, or at least didn’t get caught and bring shame to him and mom. My other two twelve-year old buddies were willing to go where ever I was. We didn’t think their parents were any the wiser.



We were able to pull up the bottom of the wire fence and slide under. The corn in the field towered over us, so going through the field was not an option when exploring. It would be used as a hide out if we were detected and chased; the rows were wide enough for folks our size to get through without causing too much movement. We went along the fence in direction of the gated driveway and then moved parallel to the driveway using the corn field as our cover.



The moon was in the waning gibbous phase. We had just talked about this in science class, so I knew. The clear skies and the moon’s silvery hue gave more than enough light to see where we were going and to find out what was hiding behind the corn. We had walked a few hundred yards when one of us said: “Hey, do you smell something? It smells like someone is cooking something out here.” We all stopped and agreed about pungent aroma, but couldn’t guess what it was. It was a strange time of night to be cooking.



Moving further along the corn field, we noticed a stand of trees, but had yet to see a house or any lights. Of course, it was after midnight, so most people were asleep by now. We were concerned about loose dogs, but not enough to quit exploring.



We moved slowly towards the trees. As we did the smell became stronger and we could see wisps of smoke drifting out of the ground. This strange scene made us all the more curious to see what was cooking.



As we neared the location of the smoke, I stopped suddenly and, using hand signals, told the others to stop also. I thought I had heard a noise like someone taking a step. Looking around, I saw nothing and guessed it was my imagination, but stood there for a couple of minutes to be sure. We then closed in on the source of the smoke. A small metallic smokestack covered with a cone stuck out of the ground about two feet.



I looked at my friends and asked if anyone has an idea about it. One of them guessed that the house may be underground. The other wondered if it was a secret laboratory. I wanted to agree about the laboratory, but if it was government, why wasn’t it heavily guarded?



“What are you boys doing here?” The question came from one of the trees.



“We were just exploring?” I said hesitantly.



“Didn’t you see the no trespassing sign? Don’t you know you could have been shot?”



“No.” I lied.



“Get over here and we’ll see if we can’t teach you to obey signs in the future.”



We turned to run, but found we were surrounded by several men armed with rifles and shotguns. We started moving to the sound of the voice.



From behind a huge oak tree, a large man with a disheveled beard, dressed in overalls, carrying a large shotgun stepped out.



“This here’s our property. Been that way for a long time, at least since granddaddy bought the place a hundert years ago. We don’t like strangers, especially snoopy kids, comin’ to spy on us. We need to teach you three a lesson. Now git. The house is thataway.”



We headed toward and down the driveway. An outline of a house came into view. It reminded me of those haunted houses where people are routinely killed in the movies. I hoped it would not turn out that way for us. No one knew where we were or what we were doing. Even my dad didn’t think I would do something this dumb.



“Could anyone else hear my heart beating?” I wondered.



The old hinges screeched like a cat in pain as one of our guards pulled open the door to the cellar. A couple of guns pushed at our backs as we were shoved down the steps. Our hands were grabbed and tied tightly in front of us; they were pulled over our heads and tossed over hooks on the wall. I stood there on my tip toes, my face to a p cement wall, hoping to come out of this alive. My two friends were in the same situation.



“Now ain’t you boys a fine sight to see. All tied up and stuck to a wall. I wonder how you would feel if we dropped your jeans and gave your butts a good whipping. You couldn’t tell your mas because you ain’t supposed to be here. While we’re figurin’ on that, let’s drop those drawers anyway.”



So there we stood, up against a concrete wall in a cold, damp cellar, in a haunted house and no one knew we were. My chest was ready to explode and I felt like passing out, but knew that would be even worse. “Please mister, let us go. We won’t tell anyone what happened or what we saw.”



“Ain’t that cute, he just wants to let them go. They’ll be real nice and not tell or nuthin’. They don’t even know what they saw. What do y’all think about that?”



“Naw, we need to teach ‘em something good. They don’t need to be sneakin’ onto others folks lands.”



“Where the hell’s that whip? We can stripe their butts and then they’ll remember for a few more days.”



A whip cracked in the background. My butt tightened as I felt droplets of sweat roll down my face. I tried not to cry. I knew I would if that whip hit me.



“You know what’s worse? Maybe we bring sissy down to inspect these boys. Let her check out their manhood. See if they got fur in the right places.” All laughed at that suggestion and seemed to agree that would be worse than a whipping.



We had been hanging on that wall for what seemed like hours. I was betting the sun was almost up. What’s even worse is that if we survive, we were going to get another whipping when we got home.



Time seemed to creep by as the men just stood around looking at us and making jokes. They never touched us after dropping our pants, but they sure made us worry. I was scared to death and prayed we would all get out of here safely.



The one who’s been doing all the talking finally said, “Turn them around on the hooks, maybe sissy does need to see better.”



“Oh my God. A girl is going to look at us naked. I could die of embarrassment, especially if I know her.” I thought. “Just whip us!”



A strong hand lifted me under my shoulders and turned me around, with my tied hands still on the hook. I just noticed that my legs were shaking from standing on my toes for so long. Fortunately, there was no “Sissy” to inspect us. Just scaring us again had been enough for these men.



“OK, so now you have an idea how bad of a situation you got yourselves into by goin’ somewhere you didn’t belong, doin’ something you shouldn’t be doin’, at a time when you should be in bed. Is that about right?”



We all nodded our heads.



“We are going to take you down, untie you, and let you go. If we ever see you on our property agin’, it won’t be so nice. I want each of you to tell me that you understand.”



Each of us said we understood. They took us off the hooks, untied our hands and told us to pull up our pants. They led us out of the cellar and pointed us down the driveway. And said: “run.”



We did, all the way back to our campsite.



It turns out we got home about two, it had only seemed like forever. No lights were on in my house, so I thought we were safely returned from a new but harrowing adventure. This isn’t something we’ll talk about tomorrow or maybe ever.



As we made our way from camp to my house that morning, I saw my dad leave for work. The other guys went home and my mom asked if we had a good time. I answered yes and breathed a sigh of relief.



I was sitting in my room about dinnertime, when dad came in. He asked about our camp out last night. I told him it was fine.



Dad said, “Are you sure there’s not something you need to tell me?”



“No, why”



“Not telling when asked is the same as lying.”



Here comes the guilt again. It has been a rough day.



He goes on to say that one of the guys at the plant had some interesting visitors last night. Those visitors had no idea how much danger they were in and were only saved because one of them recognized you. “Look, those guys you ran into last night are the local moonshiners. Everyone knows what they do and every one stays away, including the cops. You were very lucky.”



I had to admit what we did. Hopefully, I’ll be off grounding by the time my senior prom comes around.