by Denise Gwen
I wonder when help will arrive.
Jake had just finished doing his rounds. He’d been terribly busy attending to patients all day, and he saw a tree stump over at the nurses’ station, which he had to admit was kind of weird, but he didn’t give it too much thought, so he sat down.
He was filling out a patient chart, when he noticed that his left leg was throbbing with pain, and he recalled someone telling him he’d broken the leg, but that didn’t make sense, because how could he do his work as a doctor’s assistant?
“Jake,” Sarah’s voice cut through the fog.
“Sarah?”
He startled awake. He looked around him at his surroundings with great confusion. Since when did they install a forest in the medical clinic? It didn’t make sense . . . and then, slowly, it came back to him, and when it did, it scared him, the sudden realization as to where he was, and a shock of fear rippled through him.
Jake, you idiot.
He’d been dreaming. He berated himself for being so stupid as to think he was safe at home, in the clinic.
His leg throbbed, and the medicine man inside him told him that he was floating in and out of shock. He decided not to burden Sarah with this information.
Speaking of Sarah . . . he stirred, looked around him, but did not see her anywhere. He knew this ought to worry him, but, oh, how sleepy he was, he felt so sleepy. He rested his head against the tree stump and drifted back to sleep.
Then Sarah was nudging him, gently. “Wake up,” she said, her voice excited. “I’ve found a cabin.”
“Oh, you’re kidding me.”
“No, I’ve found a cabin and it’s not bad.”
“A ringing endorsement, if ever I heard one,” he joked, but when he laughed, a ribbon of pain rippled straight through him.
She gazed at him with concern.
“I’m okay,” he said.
She reached for his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”
He allowed her to pull on his hand and arm until he’d reached a sitting position again, and then, on his own effort, and with a few more pieces of chocolate to encourage him, and the remaining half of the Oxycontin pill, he struggled to a standing position. A thread of fear flitted through him.
I’d better get medical help soon.
“You good to go?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
It was all coming back to him now, floating back into his mind with waves of understanding. He recognized this place. He’d been here before. As they crept through the woods, he was absolutely certain now, and his spirits lifted.
We’re going to find shelter.
When they reached the small hunter’s cabin, tucked away in the woods, his heart lifted with joy.
“You did a good job, young lady, finding this shelter for us.”
She smiled modestly. “I went looking in all directions, and I kept the compass with me, and when I found this place, I knew I’d scored.”
“Good girl. We’ll be safe and secure, out of the harsh elements, as we wait for help to arrive.”
He’d been worried in the woods as they struggled to find shelter. They had to find shelter, because, even if the temperature was balmy, it could get dangerous, having to wait out in the open for help to arrive. And, by the discovery of this cabin, and with the satellite phone firmly in hand, they’d be safe and snug until help finally arrived.
Feeling better than he had in ages, he followed her as she quickened her pace and hurried toward the cabin.
They burst in through the front door and the immediate and acrid odor of mold and dry, dusty leaves, assailed his nostrils. The mold told him nobody had been here in quite some time. The roof was snug, no openings, no tears; the entire cabin appeared to be sound. All they needed to do was build a fire and they’d be set.
But a fire was critical.
The bear wouldn’t stay away, for one thing, if all they had was a wood door to keep it at bay. The grizzly was probably hungry, it’d looked kind of thin.
“What do you think,” she said, glancing nervously around. “Do you think it’s secure enough? Do you think anything will get to us—”
“Sarah, stop,” he said.
She stopped short, tears in her eyes.
He propped the crutch under his arm and gestured for her to come to him. She did so, her shoulders slumped, tears in her eyes, her head down. She put her head on his chest and he stroked her silky brown hair. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Everything’s going to be okay. You did a great job finding this place. We’ll be safe and sound here in this cabin.”
“You sure?” she hiccuped back a sob.
“Yes,” he said, soothing. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, then,” she said resentfully.
“Now,” he said, pulling her away from him a little bit, even though he desired her now more than ever, and wanted to kiss her deeply, passionately. But now was not the time, even though he desired her right down to the bottom of her little toes. “Now then,” he said, aggrieved. “We need to get a fire started.”
“Okay,” she said, the fear evaporating from her face, and giving him a measure of relief. “And by we, do you, perchance, happen to mean me?”
“I might,” he said, and grinned.
“I see how it is,” she said, giving him a small measure of grief.
But, he noticed, with every inflamed comment she made. He also noticed the joy in her voice.
She, too, felt a measure of relief, and her heart was easy enough to give him a hard time over the fact that she’d be the one collecting the wood. She stopped on her way to the door.
“Oh, wait, what about if the helicopter arrives and we’re out here, and we don’t hear it landing?”
He gestured for the knapsack. “I’ve got the satellite phone, remember?”
She scooted out the door, laughing.
She returned soon after with some kindling in her arms. As she walked up to the cabin, laden down with kindling, Jake stood outside, and she could see he’d been busy while she’d been collecting the wood. He’d scraped clean the ground outside their cabin, and prepped it for a new fire circle, not ten feet away from the front door. “Set it down here, honey, and I’ll get a fire started.”
“Okay,” she said. She dropped the wood at his feet and bounded off for the woods again.
She made a bunch of trips, and with each successive trip, Jake had put together the beginnings of a fire. By the time her bones started to ache, Jake had told her there was enough wood.
She noticed he hadn’t started the fire yet. The poor man could hardly bend, so she bent down and started assembling the wood. He handed her a match, and she started the fire. After a bit, it grew to a nice, steady blaze.
“Come here,” Jake beckoned. He leaned up against the cabin door. “Settle down and sit a spell, why don’t you?”
“I need to keep an eye on the fire,” she said.
“It’ll keep itself burning for a good long while.”
“Oh, okay.”
He’d found some stools, and she settled down on one, and he broke off some more chocolate for her and she found a stick and used it to stir the kindling and keep the fire going.
Jake perched, with his broken leg outstretched, on a large stump. He broke off a large chunk of chocolate and held it out for her. She tried to resist for a long moment and then collapsed at his feet, grabbing the chocolate and inhaling it.
“Someone was hungry,” he said.
“Just nerves,” she said, between mouthfuls of chocolate.
But still, it tasted mighty yummy.
“The Brits are mighty particular about their chocolate,” he mused. “They think American chocolate tastes like chalk. What do you think of this American chocolate?”
“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I love American chocolate.”
“And I love you,” he said.
Oops.
She said nothing but stopped chewing the chocolate. It melted in her mouth and she finally swallowed. I
t was the best tasting, most luscious piece of chocolate she’d ever eaten. Was it because she was hungry, or because a gorgeous, handsome man had just let it slip, in the moments after he handed her the chocolate, that he loved her?
She didn’t know what to do… she didn’t know what to think. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions. She didn’t dare look up at him. What was she to do with such a declaration?
As a means of deflecting her disordered thoughts and emotions she spoke.
“My parents agreed with the Brits that Hershey’s isn’t good chocolate. They had me believing that Hershey’s was the worst kind of American chocolate and refused to buy it. But I went to a friend’s house one night, to a slumber party, and her dad was an American, and he served us this big candy bar, and I loved it. I’ve loved Hershey’s chocolate ever since.”
A silence followed.
Jake cleared his throat.
“It’s okay,” she said, looking away.
“I meant it in . . . not jest, really, but in fun, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking quickly up at him and then looking away just as quickly. “No worries, okay?”
“Yeah, all right,” he said, sounding defeated.
Oh, dear.
A long silence followed, during which time she turned her face to the crackling fire and finished eating her chocolate. God, what an uncomfortable thing. She wondered how in the world they’d work through this.
Snap!
The sound came from behind the cabin, a twig snapping.
“What was that?” she asked, instantly on her feet and turning around abruptly to gaze around the side of the cabin. She peered into the woods but saw nothing.
“Did you see anything?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and in that moment, she almost wished there were a charging bear coming after them, anything, anything at all, to help her deal with the terrible tension of this moment.
“Sarah,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Look,” he said. “I just blurted it out, okay? I didn’t really mean it, not really.”
“It’s okay,” she said. She sat down.
And then he said the words that filled her heart with gladness and joy and gave her every reason to believe they were going to get through this terrifying event.
“Actually,” he said, in a husky voice. “I did mean it, I did. But I also know that you’re engaged.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
Another silence. She stood up. “Look, I gotta pee. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t stray too far,” he said.
“I won’t.”
Still wondering what’d made that snapping sound, she wandered around to the back of the cabin, yanked down her jeans, peed, and then stood right up again.
Snap!
There, she heard it again, the snap. She studied the woods, but saw nothing staring back at her, with venomous, hungry eyes, and so she turned back and went to sit in front of the fire. The moment she saw down; her eyelids grew incredibly heavy.
“You ought to take a load off,” Jake said, his voice coming to her as if from far away.
“In the cabin?” she asked.
“Yes, go lie down and take a nap. I’ll keep an eye out.”
She wanted to argue, she wanted to remonstrate, but a nap, oh, a nap sounded like such a good idea. She stood up, dusted off her jeans, and walked into the cabin and gently pushed the door closed. To her surprise, the cabin, although small, and the floor littered with pine needles, dead leaves, branches, and assorted debris, was curiously warm. No doubt, it derived a measure of heat from the fire, and from being a confined space. She bent down, rummaged through her knapsack, hauled out the sleeping bag, and, with one last guilty look at the closed door—as if she could see Jake through it—snuggled into the sleeping bag and fell fast asleep.
As long as he didn’t move, he was fine, but with every inhalation of air, his right leg throbbed. He reached into his front right jeans pocket and sighed with reassurance at the sensation of the smooth, round pill. While Sarah had been gathering wood, he’d palmed a couple of extra pills out of the bottle, to keep as spares, just in case, for just such a situation as this one, were he to find himself without access to Sarah. He listened to her as she rattled around the cabin for a few moments, then the sound of the haversack being opened. Yep, she pulled out the sleeping bag, good girl. After another few minutes, she stopped making her movements, and he suspected she’d finally given herself permission to lie down and sleep a bit.
Poor girl, she really needed it.
Sitting back, he popped an OxyContin into his mouth and swallowed it down with saliva. Help was coming soon. Sure, it was. Chuckling to himself, he looked out at the clearing and wondered if they’d end up spending the night out here.
Worse things could happen, he supposed, but he didn’t quite know what to do with the fire. He looked around him, wondered what he’d use to brace the door? Well, if he dragged some logs into the cabin and pushed them up against the door, it’d keep the bears out.
He thought it’d keep the bears out.
The bullhorn was in the haversack. He could use that, but he really had no useful tools in the event of a bear attack. There were people who knew these things, who regularly camped out in the wilderness, who had access to all kinds of things they set up around a camp to distract and discourage a bear from bothering them as they slept, but he wondered if anything they had on hand was going to be enough to keep a hungry grizzly away.
All he could do was wait.
When Sarah startled awake, at first, she didn’t know where in the world she was. Terror gripped her throat as she rose from the sleeping bag, looking around her, then, when it suddenly hit her, she relaxed, but became edgy again.
Where’s Jake?
She clambered out of the sleeping bag and crawled over to the door. She pressed against it, and it opened slowly. She peered outside, looked around, and to her surprise, didn’t see Jake anywhere. Where in the world was he? She’d expected to see him leaning back, snoozing as the fire crackled, but the fire had died down to a slow-smoldering burn.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she looked around.
Where was Jake?
She cocked her head, listening, and then she heard it. The distinct, feral, snuffling sound of an animal grazing. Her heart thudding dully in her chest, she looked around wildly, but did not see any animals—
There, she saw it, right there, at the edge of the forest, oh dear God, it was a bear. No, wait, it was a grizzly.
Oh, no, she thought, and began trembling.
The bear emerged into the clearing, snuffling, snorting around, its face focused on the ground. And then she saw first one bear cub, then another, then a third. Oh, no, worser and worser. She couldn’t help but stare at the bear. A mama bear, then, a mama bear looking for food. And here it was, late in the season, and what did Jake say? That bears, when they’re getting ready to hibernate, stuff themselves full, trying to get as fattened up as possible so as to be ready for their hibernation.
This female needed to find her winter hideaway, and soon, but if she was still hungry—
The bear looked up, spotted her, growled low and menacing.
Still staring at the bear, she walked backwards into the cabin and pressed the door closed.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
The bear growled, walked closer.
The bear rummaged around, nosed around in the dead detritus of the fire, and then it abandoned the fire and padded right up to the door. Sarah pressed all her weight against the back of the door and wondered how hard a bear would have to claw at a door to tear it down.
She looked at the thin, wood door, at the way shards of light shone through, how thin and brittle the door was.
Probably not too darn hard.
Trembling, she dug her fingers into the dirt and prayed.
The bear growled.
“Oh, help me,” she wept. �
��Oh, help me.”
Jake stood at the helicopter crash site, and the image disturbed him. In the time that he and Sarah had been away, a grizzly or a pair of grizzlies had been attracted to the site. He held the compass in the palm of his hand and played a game of second guessing. Did he give the right coordinates? He thought he’d done it properly, but it’d been a long time since they’d called out for help, and really, the helicopter ought to have arrived by now. He clicked on the satellite, but no sound came from it. Damn. What in the world was going on?
He rested his armpit on the crutch and wondered what to do. As he stood there, he fought back a wave of sleepiness. That was the thing about OxyContin, why the drug addicts loved it so much, it blurred one’s pain to everything and everyone. He remembered a patient whom he’d worked with on his opioid disorder, and the patient had described the use of OxyContin as being able to fall asleep while walking, it was that numbing, that hypnotic. These words reverberated in his head now, as he considered what to do next. Go back to the campsite, check on Sarah, or hobble over to the helicopter control panel, verify the coordinates?
He glanced back into the woods. He’d meant not to be gone so long, and he’d left Sarah fast asleep, and all alone, back in that little cabin, but he’d come so far now, he may as well check the logarithms, right?
Still undecided, he hobbled out into the clearing and went to the cockpit. It took several forevers, but he finally got to maneuver his way to the controls, and he checked the readings. Yep, sure enough, he’d given a proper reading to headquarters. Where were they, and what was he going to do now, especially with the satellite not working anymore? Probably a battery issue. The haversack, back at the campsite, had batteries. He’d better head back.
He turned around and headed back into the woods.
On the way, a sudden, and unyielding, lethargy overcame him, and he very nearly fell asleep right there on his crutch. Dang, this drug was too powerful. He’d better get himself back to the cabin and take a nap.
But first, he needed to change the batteries in the satellite. For all he knew, help was on the way, and trying to reach them, but unable due to the satellite being out of juice.