Chapter Four
Micah
The radio set up in my living room was pouring out a never-ending stream of warnings. What had been the occasional reminder that severe weather might be on its way had become forceful demands for attention, telling the few of us that were on the mountain to be prepared for the worst, and telling those who might have interest in coming up to stay away. There hadn't been weather this severe this early in the season in years, and though I had dedicated myself to being as prepared as possible and knew that I was going to be able to weather the storm just fine, I found myself wondering about the people in the cabin below me. The smoke from the chimney had continued since I first noticed it, telling me that they were keeping a fire burning at all times. It was likely their idea of creating holiday ambiance, not realizing how important their fireplace and stove would be as the temperatures continued to drop and the electricity was at risk of going out. I hoped that they were either better prepared than I thought that they would be, or that they were already putting in calls to the rangers who would put plans into place to rescue them if necessary.
I had been hearing the warnings about a tree that had come down across the access road and my curiosity was getting the better of me. From the description of the place where it had fallen, it seemed that it wasn't too far from my lodge. Considering that I was the only one who lived this far up on the mountain, that meant that it shouldn't cause problems for anyone lower down. While this was a benefit to them, it also meant that the motivation to get the tree off of the road wasn't very high and it would likely remain low on the priority list throughout the storm. That didn't really matter much to me. I had everything that I needed and would have no need to head down the mountain anytime soon. Having a day without going out into the woods to work, however, was starting to create cabin fever and I needed to get out for a little while. Going to see the tree seemed like the ideal excuse. I strapped on my snowshoes, lured Scout away from the wood stove with the promise of playing, and headed out.
The snow was more intense than I had expected it to be, but my stubbornness wouldn't allow me to turn back around. Being in the thickest part of the woods provided some protection from the snow and I was able to move more quickly without the flakes stinging on my skin. Scout romped around me happily, occasionally dropping into a deeper drift and sinking until he was almost out of sight, then bounding out again. I tossed a stick ahead of me and watched as he ran toward it, sniffed it, then promptly lost interest. We were nearly to the access road when I heard the sound of gears grinding and a sickening crunch. I knew that sound. It was all too familiar to me. The pain in my leg pulsed as if in acknowledgment, and I shook it hard, trying to force away the sensation and the thoughts that it brought with it.
Calling Scout to me, I increased my pace, pushing through the snow toward the road and the sound of the crash. I dreaded what I was going to see when I came over the ridge and looked down at the tree. The sound had been deep and crushing, enough to tell me that it was serious and the damage could be severe. I stepped up onto the top of the ridge and looked down. The snow blowing in the wind was still too much for me to be able to see clearly, but I could make out the hint of the road weaving through. I hurried down toward the road, my snowshoes preventing me from maintaining as fast of a pace as I would have wanted to, and soon saw the road ahead of me. The narrow passage was bordered on one side by the sharp rocks of the mountain and on the other by a sheer drop. The sound of the crunching had made my stomach drop, making me think that the car might have tumbled over the edge. As I approached the road, however, I saw that that wasn't the case.
The massive tree blocked the entire road, the width of its trunk so expansive that it rose up from the ground over the top of the car. I noticed that it wasn't the front of the car that had smashed into the tree, but rather the back, crushing the little white sedan's trunk into its backseat, but leaving the front fairly unscathed except for a small impact from swinging around after hitting. The angle was strange, and I wondered if the driver had positioned the car that way intentionally. If they had, it was a smart move. Though the car was now a permanent Christmas ornament on the massive tree, turning around prevented the front end from flattening. As it was, the driver's side of the car seemed to have gotten through whatever had brought the car to rest in this position without damage. I walked toward it, wondering who could be driving and why they were up this high on the mountain, using a road that only I ever used. As I got close to the car, however, and was able to see into the driver's side window, the relief I had felt disappeared.
Because of the angle of the car and the fact that it was the back that had crashed into the tree, I had assumed that whoever had been driving had either gotten out and tried to continue on foot, or would be sitting in the front seat already on their phone trying to find a rescuer. Instead, I saw that there was someone behind the wheel and they were draped over the steering wheel, limp and silent. I grasped the handle of the driver's side door and pulled. It wouldn't budge. It was a new model car, something that had likely been driven off the lot within the last few months, which meant that the locks had engaged automatically when the driver started moving. I brushed the snow off of the window and leaned close to the glass, resting my face against my cupped hands to get a better view of the inside of the car. I could see the driver better now and recognized that it was a woman. She was resting on the steering wheel, her head leaned against the top and her hands wrapped around each side. The tightness of the grip around the wheel told me that despite her appearance, she wasn't unconscious. I knocked lightly on the window, not wanting to scare her, but needing her to unlock the door so that I could check on her.
The woman inside jumped when she heard me knock and turned to look at me.
"Unlock the door!" I shouted through the window.
The wind around me had picked up and was starting to wail. She shook her head and I knocked on the window again.
"Unlock the door!" I repeated. "You need to get out of the car."
She looked around as if she had forgotten that she was in the car at all and had no idea what had happened. Seeming to recognize the severity of the situation, she sat up slowly and reached for the lock button. I heard it click and pulled the handle again. As soon as I opened the door, Scout rushed forward, wriggling around me to look into the car at the woman. She didn't recoil from him, even when he hopped up so that his cold, wet paws landed in her lap. I had intended on making him wear boots, but every time that I had tried, he freaked out, shaking his feet and trying his hardest not to keep any of his paws on the ground. He had jumped up and landed with his face in the snow so many times that I eventually gave up and just added drying his paws when we got inside out of routine.
The woman reached down and stroked his head, leaning down slightly to look at him.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
The woman lifted her head and looked at me. My eyes met hers and I felt a flicker of something in the back of my mind. It felt like recognition, but I couldn't quite bring myself to know what it was about her that was familiar, or who she might be. I asked her again and she gave a slow nod. It was as though all of her movements were stretched out, like she was moving through water.
"I think so," she said.
"Come on," I said, patting Scout's side to get him away from her and then reaching into the car for her. "We need to get you out of the car."
She wasn't wearing a seatbelt, making it easy for me to scoop her up and help her climb out. When she turned to face me fully I noticed a cut on her forehead. It wasn't serious, just enough to create a small trickle of blood, and it seemed to be her only injury. She was fully on her feet, but suddenly her legs seemed to give out beneath her and she slumped against me. I grabbed onto her, holding her tightly against me with one arm while I reached around to close the door with the other. The woman didn't seem to be capable of walking through the growing storm on her own, so I scooped her into my arms and carried her up the ridge and into the woods. Under the protection of the trees I was less concerned about her, but the soft moans coming from her made me wonder if her injury was more serious than I had originally thought. I knew that she needed to get out of the cold and snow, and it would be a while before any type of rescue would be able to get to her. The only choice I had was to bring her to the lodge and keep her warm and safe.
I carried the woman into the house and brought her to the back hallway and into the guest room. This was one of the features of the lodge that I had included when designing it because the builder insisted that guest rooms were just something that homes had, but had never actually been used. Now I was glad that I had it as I stretched the woman out across the comforter and looked down at her. Her face was peaceful and comfortable now, and her breath was even. It no longer looked like she had passed out, but rather that she was asleep. Scout tromped into the room after me and looked up at the bed as if questioning me about the woman. I looked down at him.
"She's going to need us to take care of her for a while," I told Scout. "I'm going to go back to her car and see if I can find anything that she might need. You stay here and watch over her."
As if he fully understood what I had told him, Scout jumped up on the end of the bed and curled into a ball close to the woman's feet. He rested his head on his paws as if to fall asleep, but kept his eyes open, staring at her. I hurried back through the lodge and stepped out on the porch, taking a moment to stamp the snow off of my feet and shake it off of my arms. I knew that more would take its place in a matter of minutes, but I figured I shouldn't give it a head start. I made my way back through the woods, my progress slower this time because of the dusk that had settled through the woods. The combination of the darkness of the evening and the snow that was still swirling through the air made it harder for me to get through the trees and I reached into the pocket of my heavy coat to pull out the flashlight that I always kept there. The beam did little to slice through the thick blackness of the woods, but I shined it on the snow ahead of me so that at least I could see if there were any obstacles that would cause me to trip. I was relieved when I made it to the edge of the ridge and could carefully ease my way back down onto the road.
I opened the car and was thankful for the overhead dome light that popped on. I looked around the cabin of the car, trying to find any personal belongings that the woman might have had with her. That strange tickle of recognition was still in the back of my mind and I dug through my memories, trying to figure out why I felt like I knew her, what was familiar about her. I hadn't had much opportunity to look at her, but somehow the curve of her face seemed to me like I had seen it before. A sudden thought came to my mind. It was more like a flash than a true memory. I seemed to remember the woman, her face younger and softer, in the halls of my high school many years before. That girl had been quiet and shy, seeming to exist just on the edge of the popular crowd that I all but ruled. My place in the crowd had been earned by my position on the football team, secured even before freshman year had begun. Hers was different. That girl, whose name I couldn't seem to bring to my tongue, was able to move through the most popular group in the school thanks to the wealth of her family. I wondered if it could be possible that this woman could be the same girl who I was remembering. And if it was, how did she end up on the mountain, so close to my lodge?
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed what looked like the corner of a suitcase. It seems to have once been placed on the back seat of the car, but the impact of the back of the car into the tree had sent it on to the floorboards and wedged it in between the front seats. I grasped the handle and pulled. It gave only a couple of inches and then remained in place. I grabbed onto it with my other hand and I moved it back and forth, maneuvering it until it finally came loose. The suitcase seemed somewhat crumpled, but other than that was intact. I put it on the passenger seat and leaned down to look between the front seat at the floorboards and what of the backseat I could still see. It didn't look like there was anything else in the car. The idea that she had traveled with only one small suitcase struck me as odd, but I still didn't know where she could have come from or how long she had intended to spend on the mountain. I thought about looking in the glove compartment to see if there might be a license or something else that could identify her, but I changed my mind. Bringing her a suitcase that was in plain sight was one thing, but digging through her glove compartment was another. I pulled the keys out of the ignition, locked the doors, and grabbed the suitcase. Ducking my head down against the wind and the snowflakes, I made my way back to the lodge.
I brought the suitcase into the guest room and checked on the woman. She was still lying on the bed, but head turned slightly so she lay partially on her side, still sleeping quietly. Scout lifted his head and looked at me as if to tell me that he had been watching over her and that she was still fine. I patted his head and told him he was a good boy. Apparently, this was enough to relieve him of his duties and he jumped down off the bed and headed into the kitchen to eat. I carefully untied the woman's boots and pulled them off of her feet and draped a blanket over her. I looked at the cut on her forehead again. I noticed that while the blood seemed to be drying, the cut was significant enough that I wanted to make sure it was covered. I went into the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth and a bandage. Moving as carefully as I could so as not to disturb her, I gently cleaned the cut. The fact that she had fallen forward and rested her head on the steering wheel seemed to have spread the blood, making the cut seem more serious than it really was, and I was relieved to see that it was smaller than I had originally thought. The woman groaned slightly in her sleep and I paused to look down at her. She was beautiful even though streaks of makeup down her cheeks were testament that she had gone through something before the car crashed into the tree.
As I went back to cleaning her forehead and putting a bandage over it, my mind continued to search through memories to find her. I saw her again, standing in the hallway, looking at me around the arm of a girl standing much closer. The girl standing closer to me was Staci Boyer, a cheerleader who was eyeing me to finish her football team bed-hopping bingo board. She was bold and forward, willing to do and say anything that she thought that I wanted her to just to get my attention. That had been thrilling when I was younger and first discovering my place in the popular crowd of the high school, but now it was boring at best, disturbing at worst. What was catching my attention at that moment was the shy, quiet girl.
Charlotte.
Her name came to me suddenly, rushing back into my mind as I remembered her noticing that I was looking at her. Her cheeks had reddened, and she had turned away suddenly, scurrying away down the hallway. There had been something about her then that had piqued my interest, making me wonder about her, and I was still wondering about her now as I watched her sleep for a few moments. Why was she on my mountain? What had brought her up this far to a place that I had chosen specifically because of its distance from people? I didn't know what might have brought her to the narrow, dangerous road that led down the mountain, and the thoughts and feelings that were coursing through me were strange and tangled, I couldn't determine if I was glad that she was there, glad to see her again, or if she was an intrusion in the solitude that I had carefully crafted for myself in the lodge.
Scout appeared back at the door to the bedroom and then walked to the bed, hopping up and resuming his position curled up at Charlotte's feet. He looked up at me as if to tell me that my services were no longer needed, and I smiled.
"Alright, boy. You go ahead and watch over her. Make sure she's OK. I'm going to go and try to relax a little."
Scout watched me walk out of the room and when I glanced back in after looking away he had his head rested on his feet again. Confident that Charlotte was safe and comfortable for the time being, I walked out of the guest room and through the lodge to the room in the back hall, a room that I often kept locked even though no one else came into the house. Locking it somehow seemed to keep what was inside more secure, as though it couldn't affect me as much when it was locked away. That way I could go into it when I wanted to, when I needed to, and avoid it when I didn't.