by Nikki Lewen
Three Sisters is a work of fiction. All the characters and events described in the book are imaginary, and all the character names and descriptions are fictional. In all cases, any resemblance between the characters in this story and real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Real public figures, products, places, businesses, government agencies, or other entities are depicted fictitiously in the book for purposes of entertainment and comment only. No affiliation, sponsorship, or endorsement is claimed or suggested.
Copyright © 2019 by Nikki Lewen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including informational storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the copyright holder, except for brief quotations in a review.
Book cover designed by Anne’ Phillips of AP Grafik Studio, Facebook.com/APGrafikStudio
DEDICATION
Dedicated to my husband, who unfairly, gets neglected while I write. Thank you for supporting me in every way, spoiling me rotten—even when I don’t deserve it—and putting up with all of my obsessions. You make all this possible.
ONE
Hearing her name, she freezes mid-step as the hairs at the base of her skull stand alert and goose bumps cover her arms. It’s an eerie feeling after all these years, and been so long since it’s been spoken, she’s nearly forgotten its sound. Looking around, it’s unbelievable—all the signs she missed. Trampled patches of undergrowth and a trail of broken earth, clearly evident, speak volumes. She’s been careless, unfocused even, which is unacceptable and extremely dangerous. Disappointed by her lapse of attention, suddenly she’s unsure of what to think. Letting her guard down is a crucial mistake and how costly it may be, will depend on what happens next and her ability to think logically.
Dropping into a defendable position with her crossbow drawn, she scans the redwood forest. Staying in the open is another error, so cautiously, she tucks behind a tree, while attempting to control the thoughts and questions penetrating her mind as she glances toward his direction. “How can this be?” she thinks. He doesn’t move. “Where’d he come from…what the hell’s goin’ on?”
Nothing stirs but her mind. A bombardment of uncertainties mixed with vivid images from her past, make things even more challenging for her to decipher. Attempting to figure out how he found her, suddenly her thoughts shift in an entirely different direction. “Maybe, he wasn’t looking…maybe it’s…only coincidence?” With a shake of her head, the notion gets disregarded while she concentrates on circling the area, moving from one cover to the next. After verifying that no one else is around, she steps into the clearing for a better look.
“Damn it,” she mutters aloud, trying to concentrate while stepping around a bloody mess and two motionless bodies.
It isn’t the first time that death has surrounded her, but still, it’s unnerving. Unexpectedly hearing her name and then seeing whose lips it came from makes it all the more uncanny. After a quick survey, she makes her way back towards him. He’s slumped against a tree, filthy, and covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. What clothes he wears are threadbare and hang from a thin frame. His hair is long, matted in clumps, and he hasn’t shaved in years. As for his face, it’s badly beaten and blood drips from both his nose and a cut above the eye.
“Caleb,” she says, lightly shaking him before trying again, “Caleb…you hear me?”
He’s unresponsive and she realizes that gasping her name was the last thing he did. He’s barely recognizable, but somehow the instant she heard her name she knew who it was, and a powerful gut reaction—something she trusts—confirmed it. What isn’t trust worthy is the debate raging between her sense of self-preservation and her instinct to help. Her initial response already pulled her closer, but a sense of safety keeps yelling for her to hide and get away.
Checking his vitals, she’s shocked by Caleb’s presence. He’s breathing, albeit very shallow, and from the look of things an intense battle just ended. He’s bleeding from a serious wound in his side, and from what looks like everywhere else, which makes her concerns grow. Between the grime and blood, it’s hard to tell exactly what injuries he suffers, let alone where they’re located. What’s immediately obvious is the rope burns cut deep into the flesh around both his wrists. She’s wrong. This wasn’t just a recent fight but something that dragged on for some time. Apparently, Caleb was held captive and the extent of his injuries won’t be known until she can get him cleaned up. “But not here,” she thinks. “It’s not safe.”
She leaves Caleb’s side to take a more thorough look around. The other two bodies are obviously those of Splitters. All the telltale signs are present: the military uniforms, the guns and ammo, even a gas-powered, rugged, all-wheel drive, quad. The ATV is beat-up and old, but loaded with supplies. It was never military issue, but knowing how the Nation operates, she assumes they simply confiscated it along their way. In terms of her personal safety, she also assumes others will come looking, and more than likely, there’re already more in the area. She hasn’t been this far in a long time and can’t believe the quad’s engine noise went unnoticed, which means they must have ridden in during the storm. It’s the only thing that would’ve covered the sound.
Of the two Splitters, the one closest to the four-wheeler has a hunting knife stuck hilt-deep into his heart, leaving no possibility he’s still alive. As for the other, he’s face-down only ten feet away and hasn’t moved. If that one’s still alive, she hates thinking of what needs to be done. There’s no way he can remain living, especially if more of his comrades come looking. Walking towards the body her pulse races and an uneasy feeling grows. With heightened senses she closes the gap, looking for signs of life. She hates violence, but the world hasn’t been safe in a long time and unfortunately, sometimes—killing means surviving.
Stopping only inches from the man’s feet, she draws an arrow, aims at his head, and gives the body a sharp kick. No movement, none. She holds aim and kicks harder. Still nothing. Carefully, and with extreme caution, she grabs one of the outstretched arms and rolls the body over, exposing the throat. It’s cut deeply, and his lifeless eyes have rolled into the back of his skull. The sight is unsettling, but a sense of relief washes over her with the realization that he’s dead and it wasn’t by her hand.
After a brief pause while contemplating her options, the problem at hand surfaces. An unconscious man, badly wounded, needs attending to, and there are two dead Splitters who obviously didn’t die of natural causes. She’s at least a half day’s journey away from her nearest shelter, and then another two days away from her main quarters, which she calls home.
In terms of personal preservation, she should have left long ago. Thinking of it now, her conscience won’t allow it. As the notion gets dismissed, a faint moan from Caleb gains her attention, re-affirming she can’t leave him to die. Their paths have crossed once again, and why, she can’t say. How he got here, why the Splitters held him hostage, and how he managed to not only escape, but also kill them, is a mystery she needs to solve.
Back at Caleb’s side, she decides the first thing to do is slow the bleeding from his side wound. She runs back to the quad and rummages through the supplies strapped to the back cargo hold. She finds a small, basic first-aid kit and quickly inspects its contents. It’s extremely old and doesn’t offer much: a few gauze wraps, a couple rolls of medical tape, and some antiseptic wipes. She rips open his shirt where blood oozes, getting a better look at the injury. It’s deep and needs stitches. Using the remaining material from his shirt, she wipes off as much blood as possible. Then, using the wipes, she cleans the area before covering it in gauze and wrapping it up. The dressing should temporarily do the trick, but it’s going to req
uire better care.
A much more complicated dilemma faces her now. “How…am I gonna get him outta here?” she wonders. Caleb’s much thinner than she remembers, but he’s still heavier than her. The four-wheeler can easily carry them both, but its use could attract others. Besides the noise it generates, the quad can’t even get them to where they need to go. These mountains are rugged and steep making it surprising the Splitters even made it this far. They must have followed the old logging road up the ridgeline, which abruptly stops at the overlook. The only options from here were either turning back the way they came or continuing on foot.
Her land isn’t very accessible by vehicle, especially from this side, which is one of the reasons she’s felt safe staying there. Besides being difficult to access, her intimate knowledge of the area also gives her an advantage, and—the redwoods are home. She grew up in these mountains, spent her life exploring and hiking the valleys, canyons, and ridges. But things have drastically changed since her childhood and the days of peaceful explorations are long gone. Now it’s purely survival, and it dictates everything she does. Each day brings her new challenges, but what today presents is especially difficult, creating uncertainty with how she’ll manage it.
Contemplating her options, she decides the real dilemma is figuring how to either carry or drag Caleb. The enormity of the task is overwhelming, especially with her underlying fear of being discovered. Thinking logically, she rechecks the supplies latched to the quad, along with what the two dead men carry, and starts a small pile of salvageable items. There’s a good amount of rope, two rifles with plenty of ammunition, food rations, a single canteen of water, an old army mess kit, a pack full of clothes, one tarp, two bed rolls, and a couple cans of fuel.
Pulling the hunting knife out of the dead guy’s heart and wiping it clean on his clothes; it too, gets added to her mound of goods. Looking between the pile and Caleb’s unconscious body, a strategy slowly emerges. There’s no way to move all that’s gathered, so scouting the area, she finds a stash sight for the guns, ammo, and fuel while deciding to return another time to retrieve them. Satisfied with the hiding place and cover up, she turns her full attention to the remaining items.
Knowing that dragging him is the only viable option, she vaguely recalls a Native American technique used for hauling things behind horses and has a vision to work from. Using the tarp, bedrolls, and rope, she gathers several sturdy redwood branches and builds a makeshift stretcher. It’d work better with two people, one at each end, but since she’s solo—as always—it’ll have to make do. It’s the only way. Pulling it will leave an obvious trail, so she’ll have to continually retrace their route to cover the marks. The only positive aspect of this plan is their destination is mainly downhill.
With a few trials and errors, she eventually finds a sturdy enough design for the task. She rolls Caleb onto the stretcher, uses one of the bedrolls to cover his body, and securely latches everything down. She refuses to cut good rope, so instead, the extra length gets bundled and tucked into the bindings while the rest of the supplies get squeezed into her backpack. Sitting back to inspect her ingenuity, a small surge of pride develops, but it quickly fades as the dragging begins. Only seventy-five yards away, she’s already dripping with sweat. Looking back from where they’ve come, a clear path anyone could follow is visible. She tucks the stretcher behind an outcrop of rocks, uses fern fronds to camouflage Caleb, and goes back to cover their trail.
Back at the clearing, she still needs to figure out what to do with the two dead Splitters. Standing at the edge of the cliff, which ends abruptly, dropping straight down several hundred feet, she looks out. It used to open to an incredible view and on clear days you could see for miles, until the line of the horizon eventually met with the distant ocean. Now, the site below is heart-wrenching and serves as a reminder of terrible times. What used to be some of the most fertile agricultural land in the country is gone; swallowed by the ocean. Then, making things worse, it turned too acidic, killing just about everything except a few species of sea grass and jellyfish.
Originally, checking the view brought her out this far, but looking now, she isn’t sure what was hoped. The rainfall from the other day was so surprising that a part of her thought it might be a sign of change and maybe things were improving. The last real rainstorm hit over five and a half years ago, and since then, only a few light drizzles have broken up the monotonous, grey marine layer permanently hanging over the woods. She’s lucky, though—at least the fog brings moisture. The last she’s heard, this was one of the few places left with any water, although she’s no longer sure what’s happening in the rest of the world or at least—in what remains of it.
After gazing out at the dismal dead ocean and seeing things remain the same, she returns to the bodies. Once again inspecting the quad, she finds a short, blood-stained rope attached at the back. It’s obviously what they used to tie Caleb as they pulled and dragged him while traveling. Searching the back cargo area, she discovers two detachable metal sections and realizes they’re removable ramps, which explains how they navigated the quad this far.
Still unsure of what to do, she observes her surroundings. From the looks of the clearing, they hadn’t been there long, so she decides to hike down the old logging road and scout further. It’s easy to track the four-wheeler’s route, and it’s obvious where the Splitters either drove around, or ramped over logs.
Staying close to the tree line, she proceeds with extreme caution not wanting to run into any more of the brutal militants, especially any still alive. Traveling further down the road, she realizes the effort taken to get the quad this far. In several places it’s hard to tell that a road even existed—it’s so thick and overgrown. Coming this way was chosen with some purpose and she needs to learn why. They must have traveled for weeks, and possibly even months, to make it this deep into the mountains, and wanting to figure out where they came from, she finds it hard to comprehend.
When she finds where they camped, no effort has been made to hide their presence or clean the area. She’s survived this long by hiding her existence, blending in with the surroundings, and covering any and all tracks. The condition of this site is a slap in the face to her careful habits. They intruded into her domain and had the audacity to leave it a mess. Their lack of caution sends a deep shudder through her. Checking around the camp, she inspects their fire ring, debris, empty food pouches, and then, her fear grows. Off to the side, a crumpled mass of bloody cloths lies sprawled about and beyond those, a naked body.
Creeping closer, to her horror, reveals it’s a man who’s been tortured to death. His body has been grossly abused, his fingers and toes are missing, and it’s difficult to make out any facial features: they’re too swollen and misshapen. He wasn’t a Splitter and must have been traveling with Caleb, making her wonder why they only killed him. At this point, she’s seen enough, turns around, and heads back to where she found Caleb.
Along the way, she forms a plan of action. Back at the clearing, she drags the two bodies to the ATV and places them upon it. Using a small section of tubing, she siphons most of the gas and fills one of the empty fuel cans, but leaves just enough to start the engine and drive it a short distance. At the halfway point between the clearing and where they camped, there’s a section of cliff that has recently collapsed. The ground is still soft from the recent rain, making it the perfect spot.
Getting off the quad, she uses the short piece of bloody rope to keep the throttle on. Standing next to it, she releases the brake and lets the ATV go. It starts moving parallel to the cliffs edge, before slowly angling directly towards it. The farther it travels the closer to the edge it gets. As it nears, the ground gives way, and the four-wheeler, along with the two bodies, disappear. If anyone comes looking for these two, she hopes it’ll look like an accident. It’s the best she can do, especially since time’s working against her.
Heading to where Caleb’s been left, she knows there’s no way to get both of them back
to shelter before dark, which means, they’ll have to remain overnight in the woods. The thought is anything but thrilling. For her, the cover of night is always spent hidden in a shelter, but tonight she’s stuck out in the open. Not looking forward to the fast-approaching darkness, she stays alert and hopes they’re not discovered.
Returning to Caleb’s side, she checks him over and attempts dribbling water down his throat—knowing keeping him hydrated is going to be a challenge. She drinks, eats one of the Nation’s MREs, and then looks for a better place to hide for the night. She adjusts the fern fronds covering him, and climbs up the rocks the stretcher butts against. It’s not the best location, but it’s high enough to see in every direction and there’s a crevice big enough to tuck into and hide. Crawling in, she decides another stash of supplies needs to be hidden in this area. It’ll add to her growing resources of shelters and caches that cover these mountains.
Settling in, she’s tired, and fights the urge to sleep. Even though there haven’t been any more signs of Splitters, she can’t allow her guard to drop, especially since they’re so close to the clearly-evident murderous scene. Getting comfortable for the night, she wraps a blanket around her body and keeps the crossbow loaded. The woods grow dark and soon only her hearing can be relied on. Sitting in the darkness, her mind grapples with the day’s events. Concerned with what’s to come, suddenly she’s unsure of her hiding place. They’re too easy to find. Dismissing the negative feeling, she replaces it with another.
If he lives—she’s no longer alone.
TWO
Jerking awake, unaware of having falling asleep, it’s hard to tell whether she slept for minutes or hours. It’s still dark, but clearly becoming lighter. Listening long and hard before climbing down, her fatigue forewarns of the long day ahead and the effort needed to get Caleb to safety, where his wounds can be properly treated. Quietly heading back to the clearing, she checks if anyone else has come this way. Thankfully, all seems okay. Returning to Caleb and finding his forehead warm—a symptom that deepens her worries—she trudges along.