The Mountain Town

by Josh Olsen

  Jason came back through, “Yeah I’ve got all the supplies in here, we’re on our way, just hold on Clark”

  “Just get up here as soon as you can, we’re in a tree right off the trail just before the grove, radio me when you get close” Clark said.

  “Copy, are you two gonna be ok up there for that long?” Jason asked.

  Clark turned, staring at the horizon, the early morning sun had finally poked up over the trees. Clark soaked up the warmth and turned back to the radio. “Yeah we’ll be alright, over and out.”

  Jason breathed a sigh of relief, setting the radio back on its hook. Nate turned to him quickly, his words laced with panic. “If, If they made it through that……” he paused, collecting his thoughts, “then…..then Wyatt could still be alive too right?” he choked out through tears and sobs.

  Jason looked hard at Nate, he had known this man only a few mere hours, but yet he felt a sort of connection, a friendship beginning even. He couldn’t do it to this man, not yet, not until they knew for sure, but Jason knew, he knew the mountain itself took people faster than any of the other dangers this forest had awaiting in its darkness. He knew the fact that even experienced locals like Clark or Dane making it out alive was a damn miracle.

  But yet, he humored this panicked man’s frightened pleas, “That’s what we’re counting on” said Jason, looking Nate in the eyes. He saw a temporary break in the fear that had surrounded this man’s eyes since he had met him.

  Jason turned away, feeling guilty almost. Who was he to give false hope? To hurt this man even further. Looking at the floor, feeling guilty, Jason pulled over sharply, “Come on” he said, turning to Nate, “We’ve no time to lose, help me get these chains on.” Throwing the Jeep into park, the two men burst from the jeep doors into the cold air and frost covered ground.

  Chapter 12

  Clark stirred, the light of his bedroom stinging his eyes, “Daddy” he heard it again. He pried his eyes open, blinded by the light. “Daddy” he looked up, his little girl Lizzie stood over him, her tiny, innocent face hovered inches above his. Her fine blond hair pulled back into tight little pig tails.

  “Daddy, will you color with me?” her soft innocent voice asked. Clark smiled pulling himself up kissing her on the forehead, “Sure sweetie, Daddy just needs to do something first,” Clark said pulling himself out of bed.

  He needed a drink fast, the ringing headaches of a hangover were starting and he could feel his thoughts returning. He quickly ripped open the cupboard doors examining the empty shelves. “No, it couldn’t be,” he thought to himself, “I can’t be out.” He pulled open drawers frantically rifled through cupboards and still came up empty. “Fuck!” he yelled throwing his glass hard, downward into the kitchen floor. His daughter jumped from the noise, staring up in fear at her father.

  Clark ran to the calendar, meticulously, he ran his finger over it, trying to remember what day it was. “Shit, check doesn’t get here until next week, God dammit!” he thought to himself, his anger boiling over.

  “Daddy, are you ok?” the soft, voice asked. He looked down at his daughter, her tiny hands clasped her coloring book close to her, her meager assortment of crayons held tightly in one fist.

  Staring at her, Clark thought of it. He knew what to do. “Sweetie?” he asked softly, “go put on your white shirt with the kitties on it ok?”

  His daughter stood still, a look of confusion on her face, and spoke, “But Daddy, that one is old, its all dirty and it has all the holes in it, don’t you like my butterfly one?” she asked softly, gesturing to her tiny blue shirt she now wore.

  “Just!” Clark started, yelling, his eyes clenched tight, the headaches returning. He looked at his daughter now, a sad look of fear she now wore. Clark started again, regaining his composure, “Just, do as Daddy says ok?”

  She looked up innocently and simply said, “Ok Daddy,”

  She returned sometime later, now wearing the ratty, hammered clothes Clark had requested. “Good job sweetie, now come here,” Clark said producing a hair brush. He stooped down, pulling the hair ties out of her pigtails. “Daddy!” she protested, “I just learned how to do pig tails, don’t mess them up!”

  “I’ll fix them when we get home” Clark said, annoyed, using the brush he slowly tangled her soft hair into knots, giving her hair a nappy, messy appearance. Clark stood up, examining his handiwork.

  “Not quite,” he thought to himself. He turned around and started walking, he knew just what to do.

  He returned sometime later, producing black soot and ashes from the fireplace, “Alright honey, stay still, close your eyes.” With careful calculation, he sprinkled the ashes into her knotted hair, rubbing the soot onto her cheeks and arms. “There,” he said. “Perfect, come with me honey.”

  Clark glanced in the rearview mirror, Lizzie in her car seat in the back. Driving, Clark looked up and asked, “Now you remember what to say when the lady at the desk looks at you?”

  Lizzie without looking up, twirled her small fingers together, “I cough and tell her that I am hungry.”

  Clark smiled to himself, driving as quickly as he would allow himself, his head burning and stinging. “Good job sweetie, alright we’re almost there.”

  They pulled into the parking lot, the pavement still wet from the spring, from the snow melting and the constant rain showers, the chilly air awaited them outside the car as they approached the building, the sign above the door read; WELFARE OFFICE.

  The woman at the desk continued, “Well Mr. Davis, the only trouble here is this is the 3rd advance on your welfare benefits that you have requested in a 90 day period. I’m afraid there’s, there’s just nothing we can do.”

  Clark looked back, producing fake tears that would fool even the craftiest of con-artists.

  “I just,” he paused, sniffling, leaning in closer to the woman. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I just need, I need, to feed my daughter, I can’t stand to look at her like this anymore.” He continued looking over at Lizzie, the little girl covered in filth in the ratty clothes, sitting in the oversized chair at the desk.

  On cue, Lizzie looked up and softly said “I’m hungry,” followed by a petite cough.

  “Perfect” Clark thought to himself, he looked back at the woman at the desk, tears welled up behind her eyes, as she looked at the somber little girl.

  She looked back to Clark, “Well,” she said wiping her eyes, “Since you have produced evidence of your search for employment, I’ll authorize this extension for you, just this once.” She filled out the rest of the paperwork and handed Clark the signed check.

  “Oh thank you so much, God bless you,” Clark said, lying through his teeth, he stood up, scooping Lizzie up from the chair and left.

  Re-entering his house, Clark set Lizzie down and hurriedly gathered his things. She started again, “Now can we color Daddy?” She asked, her dirt covered face looked up hopefully.

  Clark, without even turning around, responded, “Sorry sweetie, Daddy is going to be out with his friends until tonight, he has some grown up stuff to do.” He continued, throwing his coat on and walking towards the door. “There should be some cereal in the cupboard, I’ll be back tonight” He said to her, still not looking back. He opened the door and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Tears welled up in Lizzie’s eyes as she set down her notebook and began to cry. Her fragile sobs echoing off the cold, dark walls of the cabin.

  Chapter 13

  Clark snapped up violently, awoken from his dream, nearly falling out of the tree in the process.

  Dane grabbed his coat from behind, “Whoa Clark,” pulling him back as hard as he could. “Are you ok?”

  Clark looked at the deputy, but quickly turned away, doubling over, vomiting violently off the side of the tree. Running a cold sweat, Clark fumbled for his flask, unscrewing it and shaking it over his mouth.

  Empty, not even a drop fell from the metal opening,

  “God Dammit!” Clark
yelled, throwing the flask into the woods nearly falling again. Dane turned, his speech slowed by the cold and the blood loss, “Here, you need to calm down,” he said, slowly extending his hand which held a two cigarettes and a lighter.

  Clark hesitated, not normally someone to accept favors from someone the likes of Dane, but under the circumstances, he accepted. He took one, setting it in his mouth lighting it, turning to light Dane’s as well that now hung limply from his mouth, his lips blue and shaking.

  They sat seemingly forever, suspended from the frozen pine. Waiting, huddling their coats close to stave off the cold. Dane was getting worse, they had to get out soon.

  Finally, the radio buzzed, “Clark, come in,” “We’re nearing Pine Grove, do you copy,? Over.”

  Clark grabbed the radio, exhaling he acknowledged Jason, “Copy, how close are yo-“

  Clark started, but was cut off by the voices he could hear in the distance, he turned back to the radio, “Jason we hear you, keep heading east.”

  “Copy” the voice on the radio said.

  The voices grew nearer and nearer until Clark could begin to hear the crunching of the snow under their feet.

  It was Jason who first reached the bottom of the tree, tugging a sled behind him. He looked upward, “Clark! lets go!” He yelled up. Slowly, with Clark’s assistance, he and Dane descended the tree, Clark hopped off the tree first at the bottom to help pull Dane off the tree, avoiding his marred leg.

  “Jesus,” Jason said grabbing the first aid kit from the sled, rushing to Dane’s side, examining it, he disinfected and bandaged what he could. Turning to the deputy he said, “Dane, we don’t have the tools to get that off up here, just hold the chain so it doesn’t snag anything as we take you down and”

  He stopped, they all heard it, they all snapped their attention up to the noise they heard, footsteps approaching.

  Nate’s head finally appeared over the steep snowbank in front of them, they sighed with relief turning back to Dane, helping him into the sled as Nate stopped, exhausted, gasping for air and leaning on the first tree he could find.

  “I hate to tell you this Nate,” said Jason laughing to himself, helping Dane into the sled, and strapping him in, “We ain’t staying for long, we got another long walk back to the jeep,” Nothing, silence.

  “Nate?” asked Jason, confusion in his voice, he turned around to see Nate, on his knees, quietly sobbing,

  “Oh my God” Nate whispered to himself, “Oh my God.” he sobbed out again.

  Jason stood up, walking to Nate’s side, “Nate are you alright?” He continued over but stopped dead in his tracks, “Oh God.” The sheriff said his hand clasping over his mouth,

  Clark ran over to see, immediately wishing he hadn’t. There in the snow, half buried, just feet in front of Nate was a winter coat, torn to shreds and covered in blood. Amongst the mess, on the tag of the coat, written with a faded permanent marker, one could make out just enough, the letter W.

  W, for Wyatt.

  Chapter 14

  Sparks flew inside the operating room. Not normally a product of a surgeons tools, but after much deliberation between the men, James had concluded that the best tool he could use to remove the bear trap from the deputies leg actually sat out in his truck, his metal grinder from his shop back home.

  Dane bit down hard on the cloth in his mouth, his leg shaking, both from the intense pain, and the stray hot sparks occasionally bouncing off his bare leg.

  When asked why he hadn’t put Dane under anesthesia for the procedure, morbid as it may sound, James had simply said, “He didn’t want to accidentally go too deep with his grinder.”

  Minutes later, the ancient trap gave way, its teeth pulling themselves out of Dane’s leg from its weight, Dane groaned in pain as the trap clattered to the floor beneath him. The doctor disinfected the rust filled wounds and bandaged them tightly, following the procedure with a full tetanus shot, as well as a high dose of morphine, Dane slowly drifted away into a calm sleep.

  Outside, on one of the hospital beds, lay Clark, the nurse disinfecting and bandaging his mangled hands tight. She cleaned out the deep gouge in his shoulder, and wrapped a large bandage over his chest around his ribs. She left to wash her hands and to retrieve the painkiller. As she approached back to Clark’s bed.

  Jason stopped her, “Just a moment Miss, please, police business.”

  Jason pulled up a chair next to Clark’s bed and sat down, pulling the curtain shut around the bed and nightstand, he sat silent for a moment, almost searching for his words.

  “Listen Clark,” he started, searching for his words, “Dane told me what you did….that was a damn brave thing to do Clark”

  Nate stood beside Owen’s bed, his dry red eyes stinging, dried tears stuck to his face. Lost in thought he stood staring into the wall. Wyatt, his little boy, gone. All the times he could’ve had but hadn’t, all the things he had still needed to teach him.

  His eyes began to well up again when Owen stirred on his bed, his attention shifted downward, Owen squirmed, squinting his eyes, finally he opened them focusing in on Nate.

  “Dad” he said weakly, “Wyatt,” he began to choke up, “Wyatt’s…..”

  His Dad stopped him, “I know son, I know” Owen leaned up in his bed, they embraced each other neither wanting to let go. Owen held his father tightly sobbing into his shoulder, Nate stooped down leaning in he held Owen tight, still staring into the wall, nothing left to feel.

  He simply turned to Owen and said, “I love you son.” gripping him tighter.

  “So with my full recommendation I don’t see why I couldn’t make it happen,” Jason continued, “In short Clark,” he said, looking into his eyes, “What would you say if I could get you to see your daughter again?

  Chapter 15

  Nate stood outside The Paradise Hotel, cigarette in his hand, once again he tried to light it, his hands trembling too much to stay still. All around him were noises, voices of guests arriving and the employees greeting them, the automatic doors constantly closing and opening, the noise of cars pulling in and out.

  Yet, Nate felt as though he was in complete silence, completely alone. Staring at the frozen slush, his cigarette finally lit, he tried to put together words, sentences, some way he could explain this to Ashley. Scanning his brain for the best way he could put it. That their son, their son was gone, just, gone.

  The smoldering end of the cigarette burned Nate’s finger, snapping him out of his daze.

  “How long have I been standing here?” He thought to himself, examining the singed butt of the cigarette.

  “Burned right down to the filter,” he thought, “I don’t even remember lighting it.” Flicking the burning stump of the cigarette into the nearby snowbank, he stooped and grabbed a handful of slush, trying to cool off his burn.

  He sighed, turning towards the door, he dried his hands, gritting his teeth. He walked forward, his movements seeming almost surreal, the “Whoosh” of the automatic door snapping him back into reality yet again. He shook his head, and rubbed his temples, squinting his eyes. Trying to gain some sort of concentration, he continued forward, walking towards the elevator.

  When he reached his room on the 4th floor, he raised his arm to knock, almost out of sheer habit.

  “What am I doing?, this is my room.” He gripped the cold brass of the door knob and entered.

  Ashley was already standing in the Archway when he entered, she was stooped over the small, side table, organizing something.

  Startled by his entrance she quickly spun around, her look of content instantly replaced by a look of annoyance upon seeing her husband. “Hello Nathan,” she said coldly.

  “Ashley,” he started, trying to find words, “I need to talk to you,” he grabbed his wife’s hand, leading her into the adjacent living room. She instinctively pulled her hand back at first, but followed.