Chapter 5

Dash

The storm was howling, and the sun had just started to set. It was getting dark and windy quickly. I was relieved to see the two men who made my delivery each month had finished unloading the boxes onto the cement slab and were about to go on their way back down the mountain. I was sure they’d make it to the bottom before the worst of the storm hit.

I had a delivery platform on the side of the road at the base of my small mountain. If you didn’t know there was a house at the top of the hill, you wouldn’t have any reason to think anyone lived there. I had a camera mounted on the trees, so I could see them come and go. My fortress was secluded and well hidden from view. The slab was just a weird thing you’d pass if you found yourself on the road, which most likely would’ve been because of a wrong turn at the fork or you were a forest ranger and there was a fire, otherwise, no one other than the delivery service used the road.

The delivery guys always placed the large moving sized boxes on the platform, then backed down the mountain to the crossroads about a half a mile away. I wouldn’t see any other humans for another month. I was happy to see them leave as I hated to think anyone was putting their lives at risk just so I could have toilet paper and fancy coffee.

As soon as I saw their lights fade away I made my way down the narrow path to the cement slab. I knew the truckers talked about me and wondered who I was. They probably assumed I was a reclusive writer or a hermit. Nobody suspected I was Dashell Frye, the dead/not dead almost Nobel Prize winner.

I grabbed one of the heavy boxes, hoisted it onto my shoulders and made the trek back up the mountain. The exercise from living in the mountains climbing every day, chopping wood, and maintaining the house had made me quite buff and strong. I looked very different than I did when I first arrived at the cabin, I was no longer a lean scientist, but was a sturdy, strong mountain man. I went back for the second box, then locked myself inside my safe little sanctuary, my almost brush with humanity over for the month. I was ready to shutter the windows and become a recluse once again.

In order to make sure I didn’t drive myself nuts with tedium, I kept my orders varied and exciting. It was the only thing I looked forward to, apart from my sister’s nightly Facetime calls. I had to stock mostly non-perishable foods, but I’d also order some things that were special, so I had at least a few fresh foods to look forward to. I’d throw in some frozen fish, frozen vegetables, goose liver pate, and things that could keep for a little while in addition to the essentials: toilet paper, shampoo, laundry liquid, dish soap, rice, beans etc. I’d become a survivalist with a dash of white truffles, European chocolates, smoked meats, a case of single malt scotch, and some fine red wine thrown in.

It felt a bit like Christmas by the time everything was put away and it was getting late. I was ready for a simple meal and a glass of wine. As I sat down to eat, I got my usual call from my sister Gloria. As per our routine, she was checking in on me and I was ignoring her.

I was only obligated to answer the Facetime once a week, that was our agreement. I felt it was too dangerous for her to call me. I craved her company and wanted to talk to her desperately, but I didn’t want to put her life in further jeopardy.

She was already in danger because she ran my company and was a surviving member of my family. She and the kids had armed security around them twenty-four/seven. Although, my own satellite was encrypted and as cyber-safe, as I could make it, both on her side and mine, I still took precautions.

After the ringing stopped, she sent me a message telling me the kids were good. Ally auditioned for the school play and got the role of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz and DJ had a good report card. Rainseed stocks were through the roof. She sent a lot of funny looking emoticons, then asked where she should send the one billion and five dollars I’d just made.

I texted her back ‘Great job Ally and DJ. I wish I could tell them in person, I miss you all so much. Put the money in the Swiss bank account as always, make sure you take your share, sixty percent and not a penny less.’ I pressed send and left it at that. She sent me an angry face emoticon and scrawled a scolding text berating me for being a difficult brother. It was a joke, but I knew it wasn’t that funny; neither of us found any of this amusing.

I was a difficult brother and I had left her in a difficult position. Saturdays were often the day I’d actually speak to her after the kids were in bed. I knew fewer people would be on the airwaves. Most of the thugs I needed to worry about were partying and doing other things on Saturday nights, thus it tended to be the least popular night for criminals to be looking for me, so Gloria and I would spend about an hour or so catching up on Saturdays. Usually, I just listened to her. My days were very routine and there wasn’t anything of interest to tell her. Conversely, speaking to her always reminded me that I was still alive, and I often needed that affirmation.

As the storm started to whip up more fiercely, I turned on the CB just to see if I could catch up on the excitement. Storms made people over-dramatic and fun to eavesdrop on. Oddly, the only people on the airwaves were the two delivery guys who’d just dropped off my stuff and another trucker.

“Whew…that storm is comin’ in fast, glad we’re off the mountain. Wonder what the ol’ hermit freak does in the storm.” I heard one of the truckers say.

“Beats me, probably just whacking at his dick till it falls off. What else would you do up there all by yourself? Must be a total fucking psychopath to live by himself up there all alone, probably got clothes made out of hiker skins,” the driver mused.

“Has anyone ever seen the freak show in person?” the trucker asked.

“People got all kinds of theories, but mostly sayin’ he’s a psycho killer. I hate doin’ the run to his place, ‘fraid I’m gonna get axed in the back, fucking nutso could come outta nowhere,” the driver added with a note of hysteria in his voice.

He was right, I was fucking nutso, I just couldn’t admit it. Losing my mind was a constant worry. I could have already lost it; I had no accurate barometer to judge, I just hoped I hadn’t. My sanity was precious. The cartel may have taken my life and the woman who I loved most on this earth away from me, but they couldn’t have my mind, the one thing they wanted most. I was winning as long as I had my sanity.