by Sheila Kell
“Reagan, Brandon, you okay? Is it hard to breathe?” Jesse asked, and Lee nodded what appeared to be thanks. Blake knew those two, along with Lee and Devon would do well together and strong bonds would be built.
“It so is, Dad.” He imagined Jesse smiled at his daughter but didn’t see his face for confirmation.
“We’re going to get you out, pumpkin.”
“Dad,” Reagan said in almost a whine, “you aren’t supposed to call me that in public.” At least they knew her air supply was fine.
Watching all his sons—including Devon—holding back chuckles, one of his own snuck up on him.
Since they didn’t want to move Devon until Jacob gave the all clear, Jesse calmed his daughter and did a great job of it by diverting her attention to what was happening around her.
“I thought it was only around your friends and at school.”
Reagan didn’t catch his fun-filled tone. “Anywhere in public, Dad.”
“You know,” Jesse said, rubbing his hand against his jaw while his gaze focused on her, “I read something about a softball camp. I thought you might be interested in checking it out.”
Before she could answer, Lee cut in since Brandon hadn’t spoken. “Brandon, how are you?”
“I’m okay, Dad, but Devon is heavy.”
Another round of chuckles followed that.
Matt lifted the bloody towel to check the wound, and panic seized Blake. “Wait, Jacob’s on his way.” What was taking so long?
Did Matt just roll his eyes at him? Had the situation been different he wouldn’t have tolerated that.
“Dad, remember that I was a SEAL and we each had specialized training. Granted, I don’t have the medical training Dr. Manner has, but I’m quite capable of getting us started while we wait for him.”
Feeling like an ass, he nodded. “Right.”
Ronald rushed to them carrying a red bag with a white cross on it. His employees were on the ball. They ran the business as smoothly as his sons did HIS. Ronald handed it to Matt who thanked him. When he still stood there, Matt looked up at him. “What’s up?”
“I’m a paramedic in training. I was wondering if I could watch.”
Matt nodded. “Go ahead to his other side.”
Jacob approached and knelt beside Matt. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
Matt didn’t leave. He only scooted near his brother’s head, so Jacob could be over the wound.
Ronald looked up at Matt. “Should I leave and give you this space?”
Without looking up, Jacob offered to Ronald, “No. I overheard that you wanted to learn.” He glanced up at Matt. “Sounds like you’re skilled. Will you assist?”
Matt nodded his response.
After a quick inspection, Jacob glanced at Matt. “Let’s get those kids out of there. Are you ready, Ronald? You know what, he’s rather heavy and tall. Matt, why don’t you help him, just in case? Devon, we’re going to help you turn including my controlling your right hip movement. Don’t fight it or you could cause more damage.”
With help, Devon turned on his uninjured side, albeit with a few groans and grimaces of pain. Blake could see the sweat on his son’s face and the developing gray pallor of his skin and parental fear assaulted his system.
Once the kids were free, Reagan hugged Brandon and thanked him, and then she bent down and gave her uncle a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I love you and hope you get better fast.” She bounced up and ran to her Dad, hugging him around the waist. He moved down and held her before she slipped to Jason, who would probably get in trouble for being out here, but Reagan was obviously glad he was.
Blake swiveled his gaze back to Devon. Blake hadn’t wanted to look anywhere but at his injured son, but that granddaughter of his seemed to set a stage that drew you in, even when she wasn’t trying.
“I need you to drop your pants, but not out here in front of everyone,” Jacob explained.
“Thanks for thinking of my sensibilities, Dr. Manner,” Devon voiced like a flirting Southern Belle.
“All right, ass.” Matt laughed. “See how I did that play on words?”
“Fuck you.”
Matt shook his head, keeping an eye on Jacob’s initial evaluation. “That’s no way to treat your doctor’s assistant.”
“I’ll die if I have to rely on you. Having Jacob here is a godsend.”
Matt scoffed. “Jacob definitely will need to be the one to remove that bullet from your ass because I’m not doing it.”
“Thank God for that.”
“The bullet in your tushie or me not taking it out?” Matt’s grin spread across his entire face. Blake could see the focus in his eyes, but Matt kept it lighthearted, which helped ease the tension in the room.
“Well,” Jacob said and the way he said it sounded like they wouldn’t like it, “I brought my doctor bag, but I’m not sure I can take the bullet out in these conditions.”
Devon’s muttered curse broke through the air before he added, “Great. Just great.”
“Don’t worry, Devon. I do have something to keep the infection away. But I won’t lie. We need it out as soon as possible.” He looked up at Blake. “How long before we can get an ambulance here?”
“We expected tomorrow, but with how bad the storm’s been, I’m not sure. Do we need to try a medevac?”
Jacob closed his eyes and took a breath in and slowly blew it out before he reopened his eyes. “Even though it’s not life-threatening, I’d love to medevac him out, but they need to be saved for life-threatening emergencies. We’ll check in the morning when it’s daylight and reevaluate. It appears to be in the fleshy area, but without X-rays, I can’t be sure. We’ll make it work, but, Devon, you have to do what I say tonight. Are we clear?”
“What happens if he doesn’t?” Ronald asked, hanging on every word of the doctor.
Matt answered in a confident voice. “If the bullet moves, it could cause more damage. Or, lead poisoning. Or, infection.”
Ronald’s eyes widened. He must not be far in his training. Although, he couldn’t imagine they had a lot of bullet wound injuries in the area. Mostly stupid hunters. Ronald looked at the doctor. “I thought you said you could prevent infection.”
“I don’t have that size of a supply. I only keep enough anti-biotics so if my wife gets injured when we’re not near a hospital, like now, that I can treat her. She and the baby are my life. I’d do anything for them.”
“Including pilfering?” Matt asked.
Jacob stiffened his body. “It’s my own practice, and I account for it.”
Devon—who’d been rolled back on his stomach—spoke up. “I won’t take it. I can survive until help arrives. I won’t take something meant for your wife.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Matt told him. “We can keep her safe here until help comes.”
Before the conversation could continue, Brad shouted, “Holy fuck! Is that what I think it is?”
Blake’s heart pounded at the loud rumbling growing louder.
Ronald jumped up. “Get everyone away from the windows. The hallway is best since we don’t have enough time to move the babies. I need about six of you, and we need to hurry. We need two or three to follow Chef. We have to be in that hallway before the snow reaches us. Just in case.”
“Madison, Caitlyn, and I are with Chef,” Blake’s baby girl stated like a trooper. Just like her brothers, she took charge when needed.
A new terror worked to upend everything he had. An avalanche. Fear slid its ugly head through his body, setting his nerves on end and a tremble fighting its way out. His chest burned and he hoped he didn’t have another heart attack. He had too much to live for.
Jacob and Matt helped Devon to his feet and, with their arms over each other’s shoulders, they half walked, half dragged him to the hallway. The rest of his sons, plus Kate, followed a running Ronald.
At a storage room, Ronald threw bundles at each of them. Blankets, water, and food.
“If Chef’s go
ing to the kitchen, why do we have these MREs?” Blake asked.
Without breaking his moving and throwing rhythm, Ronald said, “We don’t know how long we’ll be there, and Chef’s food is fresh.”
How long would they be there? Good God. What had he gotten his family into this holiday?
Holding his arms out, Blake was astounded when a large package of toilet paper landed. He didn’t have time to ask, but Ronald must’ve seen his curiosity.
“That’s my addition since to our emergency kit as we only have two bathrooms for all of us, and there are a lot of women.”
Ronald turned around with two backpacks. “Let’s go. Hurry. While those windows should hold, I’m not chancing it.
Blake noticed everyone else had left so he followed Ronald as fast as he could. “Do you think we’ll need all this?”
“I hope not, but I’d rather have enough if the windows shatter and we are stuck here until rescued.”
Great point. What had the previous manager done? Ronald seemed to know and ran everything like he’d expect of the man managing his business.
Mrs. Sterling was shrieking. “An avalanche?” She pointed at Blake. “I can’t believe you allowed this to happen.”
Unwilling to deal with her hysteria, Blake turned his back to her and walked out of the hallway to the registration desk. For some reason, he had to be out here. Maybe it was the tight quarters in the hallway, or maybe he felt like a captain at the helm during a hurricane, he couldn’t say. But he was compelled to see if things would hold up for all the people he was responsible for.
The sight of all the white clouds cascading—no tumbling like kids battling to see who could arrive first—down the slope was both magnificent and horrifying. His entire life was in that long hallway. He rubbed his chest against the fear lodged inside him.
He chuckled at how things had been so calm the last three months he and Elizabeth had lived here. Invite his family, and on the first day, already countless challenges were to be found. He wondered if trouble found them or they found trouble.
The door to the hallway opened and closed. He should probably find a way to fix that squeak so guests didn’t hear it. When more than one body came toward him, he wanted to tear up again, but their sacrifice warmed him, heart and soul.
“What are you doing out here? Especially you, Devon.” That was an educated guess that his stubborn son would be there because all his other stubborn sons were there.
“We thought we’d hold down the helm for you.” Trent completely ignored his question about Devon.
He laughed at Trent’s comment about the helm.
“What’s funny?” Jake asked.
“Nothing. Go back to your wives. They might need consoling.”
Brad snorted. “Have you met our wives?”
“All right, I’ll give you that one. But still—”
They braced themselves as the building shook and the rush of mounds of snows raced under them, filling in from the ground, up the pylons, to the bottom of the lodge. Mrs. Sterling screamed, but no one replied to her. He couldn’t even imagine how fearful it must be for those in the hallway.
“How high up is the building?” Lee asked.
Blake hadn’t realized his nephew had also come. They were making him a sentimental fool. “Not high enough for the potential death trap beating on our front door with a door rammer.”
Within moments of his words, the monstrous avalanche hit the bottom of the mountain-facing windows that shook, but held. The mountain hadn’t stopped punishing them for the gunshots.
“Holy shit,” Brad spit out, capturing Blake’s thoughts exactly.
“This is why I didn’t want that dipshit to keep firing.” Anger bled into Jesse’s voice.
Overhead, the power flickered then died.
“Were there—”
Blake interrupted Lee. “Plenty of candles, lighters, and matches. And, a few generators with plenty of fuel.”
His oldest son turned to him. “You should keep Ronald on.”
Outside, something was happening that could kill them all, yet his sons stood there carrying on normal conversations. Maybe it kept them calm. If that were the case, he wouldn’t try to keep themselves focused. He knew they were.
“I’m going to offer him the manager job.”
Jesse nodded, both of their gazes toward all the white rushing at them through the moonlight. “I would’ve thought he already was with the way he keeps things moving.”
“Think it’s going to cover the entire window?” Brad asked. “That’s damn high. Wow.”
“How are you feeling, Devon?” His son was a trooper. They must all drink a Kool-Aid he hadn’t heard of. Blake had heard them say before that if Jesse was there, they’d be safe. With the exception of a shot or two, here and there, but nothing life-threatening, they had remained safe. That had to be why his sons felt so relaxed. At least he read them as feeling that way. They were masters at managing their emotions.
“I’m great.”
Blake didn’t believe that one bit. There hadn’t been time to get Jacobs bag and painkillers.
As if they were witnessing the next biggest marvel, Jake informed them, “It’s already over our heads.”
“AJ’s got the short-straw,” Devon said.
Blake wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was about to learn.
AJ groaned as if in pain. “Dad, do you have a really tall ladder and an even longer measuring tape?”
“How tall of a ladder?” he asked hesitantly, worried about the answer.
“I don’t know. About how high would you say the snow is from the ground to up there?” He pointed to where the top of the snow hit the windows. “Although I probably should wait until its done sliding toward us.”
“We’ll have to confirm that,” Trent added.
“And,” Brad said, “we’re not digging you out.”
Good Lord. Blake thought he’d survived their childhood by staying alive. As adults, they were definitely going to put him in an early grave.
LANTERNS AND CANDLES brightened most of the area, its light making the shadows flicker. Surprisingly, when Mrs. Screams-A-Lot was at it again, her husband finally stepped in and, although he whispered in her ear, Reagan could only imagine he was threatening her because she finally shut up.
Sitting in a corner that received a small portion of light, she wanted to pout, but she didn’t want Amber or Brandon seeing it. Her Mom gave her a mean talking to. Her mom just didn’t understand that Reagan had a job in training to do. Just because her mom only worked with HIS from time to time, she didn’t fully understand. Her mom worked with her radio stations, and Reagan had hoped to go with her and see a star being interviewed, but no, apparently Reagan wasn’t old enough to run around there.
Not old enough to visit the business her mom owned. Not old enough to be a true HIS agent. And, not old enough for that talk that makes her dad spit out his coffee.
“Where’d all our dads go?” Brandon asked as she slid down the wall to sit beside her.
Amber took her other side, yawning. “They’re out with Poppy watching the snow fall.”
“My dad is what?” Brandon asked surprised. “Out there where it’s not safe? I’m going to find him and bring him back here. I don’t want him to die.”
Before he could spring up, Reagan touched his arm. The roaring outside caused their eyes to grow wide and between the three of them, their fear held them in place.
Like Brandon, she was scared for her dad too. All her uncles. And Poppy. And Cousin Lee. That funny feeling she’d had on the drive down had to with Milton, but a sick and worrisome feeling twisted in her tummy now. Her mom said not to worry, but she still did.
Talking loudly, Reagan told him, “He’ll be okay because he’s with my dad.”
Brandon looked at her like she was stupid, but Reagan knew he’d soon learn about being around her dad. “How can you say that? Devon got shot right beside him?”
She waved her ha
nd to show it didn’t count. “Minor injuries are okay, but they’ll survive because Dad’s here.”
“Where did you get that stupid thought?”
“Brandon,” Amber chastised, “we don’t say stupid about each other.”
With a frustrated huff, he spat out, “You two are impossible. Girls,” he huffed.
“Thank you.” Reagan turned her head with a smile, hoping he’d reciprocate. Instead, he frowned. “Look, don’t worry, it won’t get you anywhere.”
“Ooh. My dad says that too,” Amber added.
Realizing she hadn’t said it already, Reagan turned serious. “Thanks, Brandon, for saving my life. If you hadn’t knocked me to the ground, I would’ve been shot.”
He shrugged like a boy did when the talk was serious. “I didn’t save you. Devon did. And he took the bullet, not me.”
“That’s his job. Actually, his job is on the computer so maybe he was rusty and that’s why he got shot.”
“No,” Amber said, twirling a few strands of her hair. “I heard Dad say that he took it to keep it from hitting you or Brandon.”
Reagan tossed that around. By no means had she wanted someone to be shot because of her. If she and Brandon had realized Uncle Devon and her dad were holding guns, she’d have held Brandon and her back. But she and Brandon hadn’t noticed and not only had someone been shot, everyone was sitting through this avalanche, hoping to survive.
Looking down at her phone that, thankfully, Uncle Devon hadn’t kept, she then waved it to them. “Still no service.”
Brandon pulled his out of his pocket. “Me neither.”
“Me neither,” Amber said, bouncing on her butt.
“You don’t have a phone,” Reagan reminded her.
“So. If I had one, I wouldn’t have service like you and Brandon.”
Brandon stood. “I want to go find my dad. Are you coming?”
Instead of standing, she shook her head. “I can’t. Mom says if I leave again, Santa won’t visit tomorrow.”
“But—” Brandon began.
Reagan cut him off and cast her eyes toward Amber, and she saw his understanding. “No, I won’t slip out again. I promised.”
“Well, I didn’t.