by C. L. Wilson
What was it the humans said at times like this? A couple choice curse words came to mind, but he wasn't certain any of them were harsh enough to give voice to his frustration at that moment. He settled for a deep growl and tossed the useless device away.Roan blinked. A gust of icy wind blew down from the mountain ridge and caused a cascade of snow and ice from the tree branches above to hit him squarely on the head and shoulders. That's when he realized his flight suit had been damaged.
He swiped away the blood from his left eye and cheek and glanced down over his tall form. The silver-colored mesh of his garment was torn and frayed and splattered with blood. His left sleeve was gone. His left pant leg had been torn off from below mid-thigh. A large gash over his chest left his torso mostly bare. The air twisting over his bare back and buttocks made clear that the back of his garment had fared no better.
At least his boots were intact. He supposed he should be grateful for that. They'd need to carry him to some sort of shelter. And quickly.
His Nibiruan blood could withstand cold longer than humans, for certain. But the temperature was quickly dropping and even he—half naked, exhausted, and without healing technology or a Nibiruan healer on hand—could survive in such elements for only so long.
Roan closed his eyes and reached out with his senses to scan the miles of isolated terrain around him. Two dwellings appeared in his mind's eye. One was occupied. One was not. He turned and headed southwest, toward the empty one.
CHAPTER TWO
30 miles north of Monterey, TN
December 29
10:00 A.M.
“Are you sure you want to stay here over New Year's?” Garrett Everton hovered in the doorway of the Everton Family log cabin, brown eyes crinkled with concern, seemingly oblivious to the gust of cold wind that swirled past his tall form and dusted snow over his jacket.
White flakes dotted his black hair and tipped his long lashes. Around him, the air shimmered with shades of deep pink and green, indicating his thoughts had turned to concern for his sister.
Not that she needed to see his aura to know that, but be that as it may, aura viewing was a fact of life for Mona.
Mona gave her older brother a wry smile. “For the hundredth time, I'm sure. As much as I've loved being here with you and Hanna and the girls for the holidays, I'm going to enjoy the solitude. It's been forever since I've had some quiet time.”
Mona glanced over her brother's shoulder, to where his family waited in the family minivan, and frowned.
She sensed a heart-to-heart coming. No doubt, Garrett had waited until they were alone and their holiday together was over before broaching this particular subject with her. His wife, Kate, wasn't around to tell him to lay off his sister. And he wouldn't have to spend the holidays dealing with Mona's annoyance over his broaching what he knew was a touchy subject.
“You really should consider moving out by us, Mona. It's quiet. Nearest city is twenty miles. We have a pretty big town library. Bet you could get a job there. It's maybe not as fancy as the one you work at now, but it's nice.”
She suddenly wished she hadn't complained to him about her overbearing boss.
“Haven't you had enough of Nashville yet?” he continued.
“Garrett . . .” Her tone warned him not to go there. He ignored the unspoken plea.
“It's just that ever since you moved there, you've been different. Maybe it's too much for you to handle.”
Mona sighed, knowing Garrett spoke the truth, but the tug in her gut refused to let her agree with him. She wasn't ready to give up on her dream. Not yet.
“I have to try harder. I mean, I'm close to getting a regular gig at The Bluebird. And the Grand Ole Opry tryouts aren't too far off.”
He frowned. “I don't mean to be a pessimist, but the twenty people who came to your show at The Bluebird were too much for you. How are you gonna handle the Opry?”
Mona's jaw clenched with determination. “I'm trying out some new energy techniques.”
Garrett shook his head and released a deep breath. “I remember how you looked after that show, Mona. You always overextend yourself. You don't belong in the city.”
Neither of them remarked on why she didn't belong in the city. It was understood. Mona had struggled with her desire to be a performer and her inability to handle large crowds and their corresponding energy onslaught ever since moving to Nashville. It seemed a cruel, cosmic joke to play on her.
She was gifted with a strong voice and musical acuity along with an equally strong ability to see and feel the emotions and thoughts of those around her. The latter of which left her with an inability to perform worth shit in public.
Mona decided a change of subject was in order. “I'm excited to get some work done this weekend. Maybe I'll work on that tune you helped me with way back when. The one from the poem you wrote when Leigh was born.”
At the mention of his eldest daughter, Garrett grinned. “Hey, yeah? You think you might write some new songs?”
“I might.”
Garrett sighed and glanced over Mona's shoulder, into the cabin that had been part of their family since they were children, the gathering place for many of their family holidays.
“It's strange, isn't it? Not having Mom or Dad here?” Garrett murmured.
Mona swallowed past the lump in her throat. The past two weeks at the cabin with her brother, his wife, and their two daughters had been wonderful. But try as she might, Mona hadn't been able to shake the empty feeling that seemed to follow her from room to room.
It was there when she'd put out Mom's favorite plates for dinner. It was there when Dad's favorite recliner sat empty during the traditional late-night viewing of It's a Wonderful Life. And it was there when presents were opened and no one complained of too much tape on their packages; her mom's specialty.
“Yeah,” Mona finally managed a response. “They'd be glad we're keeping up tradition, though.”
Garrett smiled. “They would. And maybe next year you'll bring what's-his-name with you.”
“You mean Eric.”
“I remember his name. Just making sure you did since you see him so rarely. Is he still on the casual dating list?”
“I told you, I don't want a boyfriend right now. I need to focus on my work.” She paused to consider Garrett's suggestion. “I don't know about bringing him here for the holidays. We'll see. That's a big step.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Don't move too quickly, Sis. That's a whole year from now and all.”
“Shut up,” she retorted.
His gaze turned serious. “All joking aside, no one is meant to spend their life alone. You've got to take a chance on someone sometime.”
She hated it when he counseled her on her love life. “You mean like you did with Kate?”
He stiffened from the slight and she immediately regretted her words.
“I'm sorry; I didn't mean it the way it sounded.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, you did.” He sighed. “But yes, I guess, just like the chance I took with Kate. So she's got Parkinson's. So, our life won't always be a fairy tale, but we've had a lot of good years so far, and two beautiful kids, and I don't regret taking a chance on her.”
Mona's chest constricted. The last person in the world she wanted to hurt was her sweet big brother. What was wrong with her? She reached out and touched Garrett's scruffy cheek. “I really am sorry. You know I love Kate.”
“I know you do.” Garrett's gaze softened. “There are no guarantees in life or love, Mona. You can't let that stop you from being happy.”
Mona blinked back unexpected tears. When had her brother become so wise? She nodded. “I know. You're absolutely right.” She gave him an impish smile. “And I'm an ass. Truly. A complete ass.”
The mood lightened. “I'd say asshole is more like it. But since it's the holidays and all, I'll forgo the hole and think of you merely as a really annoying donkey.”
She punched him in the shoulder, but laughed. “Fair e
nough.” Mona glanced past him once again to the minivan where his family waited. Her nieces had resorted to pressing their faces against the glass and sticking their tongues out at her. Mona stuck her tongue out back at them, which earned her a bemused look of disapproval from her sister-in-law. “You should probably get going.”
“Natives getting restless,” he agreed. “I chopped extra firewood for you. It's in the basement. Oh,—and the weather guy mentioned lots of snow, maybe even a blizzard so—”
“I'll go to town today and get supplies,” she finished. “Stop worrying.”
Garrett leaned in and gave her a hug. “Just be careful. You're all alone out here.”
“Not really,” she said. “I've got Cash.” At the mention of his name, the sleepy golden retriever in the corner raised his head, yawned, and then promptly resumed his slumber.
Garrett rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. “Yeah. Well, remember, Dad's guns are in the basement.”
“That's enough worrying for you, Mister. Get on the road before your kids start saying they have to pee again.”
She shooed him away and he stepped out of the doorway. The cold was beginning to bite through her jeans and sting her skin. Behind her, heat from the potbelly stove in the center of the cabin warmed her back and beckoned her away from the door.
“Love you,” Garrett said.
“You too. Call me when you get home so I know you made it okay.”
“Will do.”
Then he was in his minivan and backing out of the driveway. Two little curly haired girls waved from their window until the van turned a curve in the dirt road leading up to the property, and the vehicle disappeared behind a curtain of white.
CHAPTER THREE
Monterey, TN
December 29
3:00 P.M.
Several hours later, Mona drove to town. She stared at the barren trees lining the narrow mountain roads around her as they twisted from the gusts of wind barreling through them. Her gut clenched with trepidation. The predicted storm was snaking its way to her, and she regretted not having made the drive to town sooner after Garrett had left.
She pulled onto Monterey's main drag, stopped at the small grocery, and purchased enough food to last well into the New Year. Next was a quick visit to the local bakery. Her mouth watered thinking of the fresh bread and cookies made and sold there by the local Mennonite community. She hoped she'd gotten there soon enough to buy some fresh bread before the locals had purchased it all.
Tom Austin's wife and four daughters ran the bakery while Tom and his three sons took on local carpentry jobs. Mona had known Tom since she was child. Tom and his father had practically built her family's cabin by hand.
The scent of baking bread filled the air as she walked through the door of the shop. The eldest Austin daughter was standing behind the counter. She lifted her head from her book and offered Mona a smile. Mona returned the smile, scooped up her purchases, happy to see they hadn't sold out of all the goodies yet, and went to the register to pay.
Mona had paid and was heading out the door with her purchases when Tom appeared from the back room, arms heavy with boxes.
“Happy Holidays, Tom,” she called to him.
“Ah, Mona, good to see you. Up for a holiday at the cabin with your brother and his family, are you?” He paused mid-step and twisted his head around his boxes to offer a smile.
She nodded. “They went home today. I'm staying through New Year's.”
“Be needing any help with firewood or anything?” he asked.
“No, Garrett took care of everything. Thanks for asking.” It was sweet how Tom still looked after her and Garrett like they were kids. She supposed that to him, they were.
Tom's brow furrowed, marking more lines in his already age-worn face. “Well, you be careful up there. A storm is brewing. Power is likely to be sketchy. And it's gonna be a cold one.”
“Good thing I've got the potbelly stove.” It wouldn't be the first time they'd lost power at the cabin. The stove at the center of it did a good job of keeping the place heated. That and some warm clothes and blankets would do her just fine.
“Yah, good thing that,” he agreed. “If you do need anything, you know how to reach me.”
“I do,” she agreed. She flashed him a warm smile, turned, and made her way to her car.
The drive back to the cabin proved trickier than the drive into town had been. The snow, which had seemed to be dying off on her way down the mountain, had picked up density on her return. And instead of melting when it hit the ground, it had started to stick. The narrow roads were turning slick.
Twice, she felt her tires slide a little, but she slowed her speed and was able to right them quickly enough. She was grateful for the four-wheel drive of her jeep. She couldn't imagine taking these roads in the minivan her brother had driven there. It looked like they'd gotten out just in time.
By the time she reached the cabin, visibility had grown weak. Relief flooded her as she stepped from the truck and glanced around. The sun had started to sink behind the mountains in a wash of orange and purple. It would be dark soon.
She scooped up her bags and trudged up the few steps that led to the front porch. She paused on the porch to stare out at her surroundings, awed by the beauty around her. The property was thirty acres total, the closest point to the main road two miles off. Her nearest year-round neighbors were some of the Mennonite community who lived fifteen miles east.
There was a small vacation property five miles east, but the family who owned the place rarely used it anymore. According to Tom, that year they'd come up for a few days only to clean the place out. Tom believed the owners intended to sell it.
The Everton cabin sat at the base of one of many large hills on the property. Two hundred yards to the right, the ground sloped steadily upward in a landscape dotted with pine and juniper. Behind the cabin, amidst trees and brush, a short walk led to a bubbling creek of crisp, pure water. Continue hiking and again the ground sloped upward into the mountains. Everywhere else the eye could see, trees and foliage dominated the view.
At this time of year, very few animals scurried about. The atmosphere was utterly still and serene. And still, but barely, visible in the increasing snow flurries, the dying sun glinted off the snow-tipped branches, making the limbs sparkle like diamonds.
Yeah, she loved this place. Mona let herself in the front door of the cabin, bags balanced on one hip, and braced for the flurry of fur and puppy love that greeted her whenever she left Cash alone. True to form, the dog jumped onto her legs, almost knocking her and her groceries over.
“Hold up, Cashy baby, I'll pet you in a minute,” she cooed, bumping the front door shut with her rear and hurrying to the kitchen to slide her bags onto the counter. Cash followed her, nuzzling the backs of her thighs between barks. She bent and scratched his head in his favorite spots behind his ears. He rewarded her by licking her hands with fervor. She glanced over him toward the window behind the kitchen sink. The snow flurries had thickened even more.
“Come on, boy; let's get you outside to do your business before it gets even worse out there.” She walked to the door and opened it. Cash waited patiently as always while she grabbed his leash from the hook by the door and attached it to his collar.
Thirty minutes later, Cash's business outdoors was done, Mona had lit a fire in the potbelly stove, had fixed Cash some dinner, and was ready to feed herself.
She tucked a can of soda beneath one arm and took her cheese and tomato sandwich to the living room, pausing to throw more logs into the fire and revive the dying embers.
She flipped on both lamps that were on either side of the flower-patterned couch and sat and eyed the guitar, which was safely ensconced in its beat-up black case and leaning against the wall by the door where she'd left it the night before.
The guitar seemed to stare back and mock her while she ate half her sandwich and gulped down the sweet, syrupy soda.
Play me, the guitar s
aid. Write something, the guitar taunted. She set down her drink with a sigh. She'd promised herself that this weekend was not just so she could hide away from the world and the overwhelming sounds, feelings, and sensations that came with it. She'd come here to write too.
Mona stood, retrieved the guitar from its case, and pulled out some scraps of paper she'd tucked into the case to store beneath the instrument. Then she returned to the couch and set the paper on the coffee table in front of her. Guitar nestled in her lap, fingers hovering over the strings, she began to play the chords that accompanied the last song she'd been working on.
And she began to sing.
“With every goodbye I shed a tear.
With each hello I face this fear.
With every kiss I'm filled with wonder
until the rain, until the thunder.
With each new day I hope and then
the coldest rain falls down again.
The coldest rain inside of me
cools the heat that you can't see
The coldest rain inside and out
can't heal me now, can't end this drought . . .”
She paused and bit her lip. Something wasn't quite right with the last chord.
In the silence that ensued, she could swear she heard something off in the distance. The air seemed to hum and vibrate. Then came a screech and a bang, muffled by the roar and whine of the wind. Resting at her feet, Cash lifted his head as though he'd heard it too, then, when no additional sounds followed, he buried his head in his paws and closed his eyes.
Just the wind, Mona thought, but her focus was broken and she set the guitar aside, deciding she'd work on the song more tomorrow.
CHAPTER FOUR
5 miles east of the Everton family cabin
December 30
6:00 P.M.
Roan paced the empty cabin, eager for night to fall so he could leave the place and find food and proper clothing. Whoever owned the cabin had been there recently, he could still see their energy imprint lingering in the air. Unfortunately, this was apparently the owner's last planned stay at the place. The electricity and all utilities had been turned off.