What did they want from her? She was not their mother, and had never wanted this role as leader of their group. It had been forced on her, placed on her head by the unspoken agreement of the others. She couldn’t get out of her leadership position, but she would not stoop to comfort them with platitudes. She would not be their mother.
Bait had not fallen unconscious or been knocked to the ground. He had given up. He had been wounded, he had been hurt, but he had given up when he should have stood and fought. She knew this, and by his lowered gaze Bait knew it as well.
“Do not look to her for comfort,” she told the others, looking each in the eye. “Follow her if you wish, and she will fight with you, she will fight for you, but she will never be your friend or your mother.
“She has told you that you all will most likely die. But if you give up, or you surrender,” now she looked to Bait again, “you will die sooner.”
With that she turned away from the group clustered around Bait. There was nothing she could do that others weren’t already doing for him, and she had no more stomach for discussion.
Looking at the rest of the group, it was clear that Bait was not the only one the worse for wear. Each of them showed numerous gashes or punctures on their faces, arms, and legs. The Mule, who was the most heavily armored of them all, seemed to have come off with the least damage. He had one long gash across his forehead, and there was some blood on one thigh, but that was all she could see. The dog was limping on one leg, and she could see some cuts seeping blood on its face, bit it was but standing and moving well enough. Its armored vest had protected it from the worst that the creatures could do. The Professor and Beast each had several cuts on their hands and legs, with Beast sporting two long gashes on his upper arms, where his leather vest hadn’t been any help.
For her own part, she had to keep wiping blood off of her face as it slowly trickled from a wound on top of her head into her eyes, she could feel another long cut going down one cheek, and the back of her neck was sticky with blood as well. But the punctures on her thigh and her calf hurt the most, with the one on her thigh becoming a bone-deep ache that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. That one was deep.
The group needed to move. They needed to be away from these things before any more showed up, and they needed a place to rest and heal—someplace they could stay for several days, at least. Her almost whimsical choice, deciding to bring them up this road that ended at Timberline Lodge, was now more than just a notion. Now she would put it into action. She knew they could find sanctuary at the top of this road. They only had to get there.
But getting there was tough. For more than two hours, the group hiked, limped and stumbled up the road, seeing nothing but the increasingly expansive views as the road rose up the mountain. In time, they started to see the occasional patch of snow in a shady part of the forest. They were getting higher.
The walking was hard. All uphill with no let-up, and each of them tired and wounded. Bait had the hardest time of it. At first Beast worked to keep him distracted, getting him to think up a name for the creatures that had just attacked us (he came up with sea-squirrels, because they were like flying squirrels covered in seaweed). Then Beast worked to take Bait’s mind off the journey by trading stories, then dirty jokes, then, of all things, favorite racial slurs for a while. In time, though, even these amusements failed to distract Bait, and his usual chatter became morose mutterings instead. Soon enough after that, each member of the group was taking their turn putting one of Bait’s arms over their shoulder, where they would limp along together for a time, until the burden became too much and they passed him to another member.
After everyone else in the group had taken their turn, the Professor called her back from her customary position at the front of the group, caught up with her while she waited, and then unceremoniously leaned Bait against her, draping his arm over her shoulder. The Professor was too tired to care if it would make her angry, and she was tired and hurt enough not to have the energy to protest. Even though by the time Bait was draped over her shoulder he was as close to unconscious as a person could be and still shamble forward, the touch of another person, any other person, made her skin crawl. She actually accelerated her pace, forcing the rest of the group to struggle a bit to keep up, wanting to end this experience.
Still, necessary as it was, this was something she never would have tolerated even a few days ago. She wondered what it was in her that was changing. And was that change for the better, or would it weaken her?
---
In time, they came around a bend and saw buildings ahead. They were the first outbuildings of the resort complex—mostly garages, storage, and workshops. The rest of the group began to slow.
“Oh, thank God,” sighed the Mule, sagging as he let one strap of his backpack slip off his shoulder.
“You aren’t there yet,” she said.
“What?” he asked. He looked like a child being sent to bed without dessert, trying to decide whether he still had the energy left to throw a tantrum.
But she did not like this place. The buildings were in a small hollow, surrounded by slopes on three sides and dense forest on the fourth. It was too closed in. And she had been here before, once. If she remembered correctly, there were better places beyond.
“Not here,” was all she said, continuing on, with Bait still on her shoulder. She realized there was an advantage to carrying Bait now. With her burden being greater than anyone else’s the others were reluctant to complain that they were tired or argue with her choice to keep going.
It wasn’t far, though. Around another bend, a few hundred yards further up the road, came the main lodges of the ski resort. First was an expansive parking area, easily as big as a football field and perhaps the stadium that might surround that field as well.[18] The lot was almost deserted, with only perhaps ten cars scattered about, up close to the first building. That first building was the day lodge. It was very large, made of brown concrete, and had a roughly triangular shape. It sat on the slope of the mountain so that the third floor on the downhill side was the ground floor on the uphill side.
The others gave her hopeful looks as they approached, but this also was not her destination. She followed the roadway around the right-hand corner of the day lodge, still pushing uphill, and as they came up the paved road behind the day lodge, their destination came into view.
Timberline Lodge had been a landmark in the northwest for years. It had even been used as the set for a major film at one time.[19] As hotels go, it was nothing more than medium-sized. But up here, as the last, highest building on the slopes of Mount Hood, it was enormous. It was low and long, just four floors high, with the ground floor done in stone and the top three in gray, painted wood. It had great, sloped roofs, making the building seem as if it were hunched over on the mountainside, holding on, preparing for the great weight of snow it would have to hold up in the winter. The ground floor windows were small and, she thought, could easily be covered to make the building defensible. The main entrance was surrounded by a sort of stone turret, pierced by an arched corrugated metal tunnel that protected the front entryway from the elements. Under the tunnel was the entrance, which guests would access via a set of concrete steps.
Above that, three floors of windows looked out at expansive views of most of Oregon, it seemed. There was nothing higher up on the mountain but a few stunted fir trees and some abandoned ski lifts, as the lodge was placed at the actual timber-line, above which trees would not grow because the air was too thin for them. Next to the lodge was a mixture of rocky slopes, sparse patches of forest, and wide-open ski runs. On three sides, the mountain sloped away from the lodge, allowing its residents panoramic views of the slopes around them. On the fourth side, the stony slopes of the mountain continued up above the lodge to the mountain’s peak, still surprisingly far above them.
They could see what might be coming from any direction for several hundred yards. The windows in the lodge were relatively smal
l and, she guessed, probably made of thick, tempered glass, able to withstand the force of winter storms without the benefit of any sheltering forests. And most importantly, perhaps, the lodge would have large kitchens with, hopefully, large amounts of canned and dry foods that would still be edible. This was a place they could rest.
But was it safe, now? What surprises might be found inside? She hoped nothing—the group was not prepared for another fight.
Leading them to the front door, she passed into the stone entranceway. The front doors were glass and, looking through them, she saw nothing obviously amiss inside. Giving the doors a push, she was relieved to find them unlocked. She walked in, past very stern signs demanding that all ski-boots were to be removed here and not to be worn inside the lodge. The rest of the group trailed behind.
They stepped into a lobby. It was a large but not enormous room, with polished log walls and a stone fireplace in the middle. There were a variety of couches and chairs scattered about the room, mostly facing the fireplace. She saw no people, and no trace of people. No bodies, no mess, not even an open magazine on a chair, or a used glass with lipstick marks on the edge. It was as if the lodge were cleaned up and ready to open, just waiting for its next guests. The only hint that all was not as it should be was the fine layer of dust covering the smooth surfaces.
To the right, doors led to what, guessing from the signs posted next to them, were various functional rooms, such as conference rooms, restrooms, and a business center. To the left she saw the front desk, equally tidy and equally abandoned-looking, followed by a closed set of double doors leading to guest rooms, and a set of stairs with signs indicating they led to the lounge area, the dining room, a pub, and further guest rooms.
There was a lot of territory to check—too much territory to check now, tired and beaten-down as they were. She stood still for close to a minute. She bowed her head, and closed her eyes, listening.
She heard the others moving past her, their sighs and quiet muttering as they looked around the room and, one by one, settled into one of the nearby chairs. Soon, all was quiet again. She opened her eyes, looking around herself.
They weren’t safe yet. They should split up, check out the rest of the lodge, and flush out anything that might be waiting for them.
She looked at the others, each of them slumped in a chair or on a couch, half of them with their eyes closed, and half giving her wary looks, wondering what more she might ask of them.
They weren’t safe yet. But she was so tired. She walked to the closest unoccupied chair and sat down herself, slumping sideways to keep her weight off of her injured thigh. Her head came to rest on the arm of the chair—just a brief rest, just for a moment. Then they would check the rest of the lodge. In just a moment. They weren’t safe yet.
---
She awoke with a start, sensing something different. She sat up quickly, wincing as her injuries protested. The light had changed—the room was dimmer. And the others… she looked about in confusion. Where were they? Only Bait, Beast and the dog were in the lobby with her, each asleep on a separate couch.
She forced herself to stand, stifling a groan. Her many cuts had stiffened while she slept, and the thigh was the worst. She was unable to completely straighten it at first, and it was weak. Even after a moment of stretching and trying to work it out, the best she could manage was a lame hobble about the room as a fresh trickle of blood began to dribble down her leg again. It would have to do. She had to find the others.
The dog perked its ears at her, awakened by her groans, and made its own limping way over to her. Where she went, it seemed to say, it would go too. Even the dog had decided she was the leader. She might have just as much luck talking the dog out of that decision as she would talking the others out of it. At least she resented the imposition of the dog less. It took care of itself, mostly, and made itself useful. And here it was, ready to go to work again despite its wounds, without complaint or protest.
Limping out of the welcoming lobby, she passed the front desk and parted the double doors that led to the first-floor rooms, peeking her head through. The hallway ran straight, ending in a glass door that led outside. She saw nobody and, listening, heard nothing. Turning back, she began to hitch herself up the steps that led to the upper floors of the lodge. It was a slow and painful process, but it had to be done. Where could the others have gone?
As she reached the first landing, half-way to the second floor, she paused to contemplate the second set of steps. It looked like climbing them would be a painful experience to mirror the climb she had just finished up the first flight. She didn’t know why, but she realized she had been hoping the next flight would somehow be easier. She sighed. Nothing was easy any more. She just had to continue.
But as she began to shuffle toward the next flight, she heard voices coming from above. She soon recognized them as belonging to the Mule and the Professor, and with some relief she stopped her climb, waiting for them to come to her.
As they came around the bend in the stairs, it was the Mule that saw her first.
“This place is awesome!” he enthused.
The Professor’s face showed equal satisfaction, if his words were a little more restrained. “This is an excellent place. Hundreds of comfortable beds, cozy communal areas, and we’ve already found three separate kitchens, all well-stocked. And the best part is, we haven’t seen anybody or anything. We’ve been up and down pretty much every hallway, and though we haven’t opened up the individual rooms, everything else looks clear and peaceful.”
That was a partial relief to her. The Mule’s next words gave her the greatest satisfaction though. “And here’s what I think you’ll like best,” he said with a knowing smile. “We’ve only found three entrances, all on the first floor. All of them have sturdy, lockable doors. Also, it looks to me like almost none of the windows open. All the glass seems pretty thick, probably to stand up to the mountain weather, and the ground floor only has a few, very small windows. Heck, I bet they get mostly buried in snow during the winter, anyway, so no use putting in big windows to get a summertime view of the parking lot, huh?”
At first she smiled. This was welcome news.
But then he saw the smiling look on the Mule’s face. It was too… familiar, too satisfied, too… something. It assumed too much of her, hinting at entanglements she didn’t want.
She frowned then, looking him in the eyes.
“It’s a start,” she said. “Have you looked for attics and basements? And why haven’t you looked inside the guest rooms?”
Something closed across the Mule’s face at her cool reception to what should have been welcome news. He opened his mouth once to form a reply, but closed it again, looking away from her with a flush growing on his face. Perhaps she had overreacted, but it was too late to take anything back.
The Professor stepped into the silence. “We will,” he said. “We will. But we wanted to do a broad first check, just to root out any obvious surprises. And you’ve got to admit, so far, so good.”
She turned as she answered, beginning to lever herself down the steps she had so recently surmounted. “A decent start, she can admit. But there is work to be done. This group needs a place to rest for a few days, and to heal. Maybe this is the place, but she will not be sure until every door, hatch, and stairway has been opened and looked into fully. She will wake the others to help.”
She had only made it down two steps during this speech, and the Professor quickly came down those same steps, putting a hand on her shoulder to get her to pause.
“Coyote—,” he began.
She slapped the hand away, hissing as she inadvertently leaned her weight on her injured leg.
“She does not like to be touched.” She stared daggers at the Professor.
He raised his hands in supplication. “OK, OK. I forgot, I guess. Force of habit.”
She stared back, saying nothing.
“I just wanted to talk to you. Listen, we know you’re tough a
nd all, and it’s saved our bacon a couple of times. But look at yourself. You can barely walk. And you’re planning to hobble around the whole lodge, opening every door? Be real. You need to rest.”
“You have injuries as well,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but it looks like you’re worse off than either of us, with that leg. We’re kind of sore, but we’re OK for now. You, on the other hand, need some down time. So does Bait, to be honest.
“Why don’t you just go back to the couch, and let us check things out? We’ll wake up Beast, and he can help us too.”
He paused, looking at her. She looked up at the Mule, wondering if he would contribute to this conversation, but he just walked by them, headed back to the lobby where the others were, his face still flushed.
She looked back to the Professor. “Perhaps you are correct,” she admitted. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to trust others to check the lodge for danger. What if they missed something? On the other hand, he had a point about her leg. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to check even the first floor, let alone get herself up the stairs to check the rest.
Saying nothing more, she turned again, slowly making her way down the stairs. The Professor watched her for a few moments, and then passed her, staying on the opposite side of the stairs, far away from even brushing her elbow as he went by, then headed into the lobby.
By the time she got to the lobby, the Mule, Beast, and the Professor were heading out the door on the other side of the room. Before they left, they all looked back at her as she leaned on the arched entrance to the room. She looked back at them.
“Don’t worry,” spoke up Beast. “We got this.”
She said nothing, but gave a brief nod. Then she began to hobble toward the closest couch, two spots away from where Bait still slept, as the others filed out of the room to do the work—work she should have done herself.
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