Caveman

by Andrian, V.

  He scratches his silver head in confusion. “Seven years? Lady, that’s way back.”

  “I know. I have here the number of the aircraft and approximate date of when it was here. I need you to help me look in the archives.”

  He shakes his head. “That’s going to be hard considering we hardly ever keep archives from so long ago. I should know since I’ve been working here for ten years.”

  Oh, fuck. That’s not good. Please, let me find out something more. Don’t let it end here. I‘m so close. “Please. I can show you a picture of the man I’m looking for if you think that will work better.” I take out Damon’s photo and hold it out for him. “This is the man. He had a twin-engine aircraft delivered here and, if my assumptions are correct, he flew out of here on the 24th of July, 2008. He would have been alone—”

  “I know this guy,” he cuts me off with lowered eyebrows. “It’s as you said it. He came that night and looked like he was in a hurry. He only had a small bag with him and, when I asked if we should expect him back here, he said he wasn’t planning on returning.”

  My knees nearly buckle with relief. I really need to check my emotional responses when it comes to Damon Sawyers. “Do you happen to know his destination?”

  “Well, you’re lucky because I was the one working here that day. It struck me as odd that he was leaving on his own, without even a co-pilot and I remember him well. I noted his flying route. He was headed to Alaska.”

  “Cole Sawyers.”

  “Mr. Sawyers. It’s Cassandra Hale.”

  “Cassandra. You have something for me?” he asks with clear hope in his voice.

  “Why would your brother go to Alaska?”

  “Alaska?” He was silent for a few moments. “That’s… weird. Well, not weirder than him disappearing but still… Can I call you back? I need to check with Victoria and my mother. They might know something I don’t.”

  “Yes, call me anytime. I’m afraid it’s my only lead other than a meeting I have with Mrs. Fiona Jameson on Wednesday.”

  “It’s already more than anyone else had, Cassandra. I will call you back as soon as I can.”

  I look at his picture one more time. He doesn’t look like his brother other than they both have dark hair. His eyes are a grayish-green and his smile is wide, with sparkling white teeth. He has a strong jaw though not overly harsh. His nose is straight. I think he probably is the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on.

  Why would he leave? Even if things were rough, why would he disappear? Everything I’ve learned about him tells me he is a bright man, strong-willed, passionate and kind. Jeremy is right; he is prince-charming material. Why would a guy like him, someone who could have anything they wanted just up and leave?

  I can’t take my eyes off his photo. Fuck me but I’m obsessing. I can admit it to myself. I need to find him soon because this is getting ridiculous. I’m twenty-five years old and I’ve never been obsessed over someone. And now it’s happening with Damon Sawyers, whom I’ve never even met.

  My phone rings and I answer with a sigh, finally looking away from the photo. “Cassandra Hale.”

  “Cassandra, it’s Victoria Sawyers.”

  “Mrs. Sawyers.”

  “Cole told me what you found out but we have nothing. He is devastated thinking we have hit another dead-end. Please tell me you have something else to work with.”

  “I am booking a flight to Alaska as we speak. Even without an explanation of why he would go, the people working at the airport he landed might give us something. My meeting with Fiona Jameson, as I’ve already told Mr. Sawyers, is on Wednesday. Until then, Alaska is my only lead.”

  “You are amazing. Cole and I will handle all your expenses.”

  I don’t argue with that and after a few more short words, she hangs up. And I’m staring at Damon’s picture once more.

  “You need a haircut,” Layla says as she looks at me thoughtfully.

  “No, I don’t,” I say in mock-offense. The truth is I’ve let my hair grow more than usual. Way more. It is dark brown, forming messy waves that reach just above my lower back. I usually had it cut in layers, with the longest strands settling between my shoulder-blades. Now if I straighten it, it nearly reaches my ass.

  “Yes, you do. You never let it that long unless you’re swamped in work, which you are. That’s it. I’m making you an appointment over at Sally’s for tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to cut it yet,” I say as I pick up a strand and look down at it. “And besides, I can’t do it tomorrow.”

  “Sure you can. It’s Saturday and Jeremy is off. In fact, you’re spending the whole weekend with us to take your mind off work for a while.”

  I roll my eyes and settle back in my armchair. “I’ll be out of town, Layla. Out of state, to be exact.”

  Dean snickers. “Nice, babe. You made your best friend run from the state to avoid your makeover.”

  I stick out my tongue at him.

  “Where are you going?” Layla asks in confusion.

  “Alaska. Following a lead.”

  “He’s in Alaska?” she screeches.

  “Ouch, babe,” Dean says sarcastically while rubbing his ear. “I don’t think dogs are interested in Damon Sawyers so use a lower frequency.”

  She swats at his arm. “Shut up. He’s in Alaska?” she asks again at a more normal tone.

  “Hopefully. It’s my only lead currently.”

  “So what?” Dean asks with a frown. “You’re going to the other side of the country to follow a lead?”

  “It’s my job, Dean.”

  “I know. And it’s part of the reason I’ve told you many times you’d be better off doing another job.”

  “And I’ve answered everytime that I love my job and wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  “It’s dangerous,” he insists.

  I sigh because we’ve had this argument hundreds of times. “Dean, you know I’m not going to quit my job because we’ve talked about this over and over again. I know your worries, I understand and respect them but I’m not changing professions.”

  “Don’t worry, baby,” Layla coos before pressing a kiss on her husband’s lips. “As soon as she finds Damon Sawyers, that’s all going to change. She’s going to drop everything when she becomes his wife!”

  I shake my head in amusement. “I’m not dropping my job when and if I get married, Layla.”

  “But you won’t need it when you’re married to a billionaire,” she insists.

  “Oh for fu—crying out loud, restrain her Dean!” I yell in mock despair.

  “Nah. She’s a good influence on you. You just cut your cussing short.” His amused grin is wide.

  “That’s because of my nephew, smartass. He can’t be hearing his favorite aunt cussing before he even comes out.”

  “She,” Layla corrects me with narrowed eyes. “Your niece has already heard you cussing plenty.”

  “Of course he has. My nephew has amazing hearing.”

  She shakes her head, her lips twitching as she suppresses a smile. “I see what you’re doing there Cass but you’re not getting what you want. I’m making you that appointment for when you get back from AK.” She turns to Dean. “Unless she returns with her future husband and he likes it better this way.”

  “You’re hopeless,” I say, laughing.

  She grins. “I know!”

  The plane reaches Anchorage and I’ve only managed a two-hour sleep on a seven-and-a-half-hour flight. As soon as I pick up my bag from the carousel, I make for the security office and introduce myself. They seem skeptical about helping me until I mention the name of Cole Sawyers. Apparently he has called ahead and informed them I’d need their help and they seem willing to help me now that they know it’s for him. Money can really get you anywhere.

  “Here you are,” the employee tells me as he finishes the search on his computer. “Here is the number of the plane you’re looking for but it’s not register to either Damon Sawyers or Chandler
Sawyers. Are you sure you got the names right?”

  “It’s my job to have the names right,” I tell him as I lean over his shoulder to look at the computer screen. “What name does it say?”

  “It says it’s registered to a William H. Wilson. Here is his home address and phone number.”

  I note it down and step outside. As soon as I’m away from prying ears, I dial his number. “Hello, Mr. Wilson. My name is Cassandra Hale. I was wondering if I could borrow a few minutes of your time?”

  “Well, Cassandra Hale, it depends. What can I help you with?”

  “I’m a PI, Mr. Wilson and I’m looking for someone. Is there somewhere we can meet? I’m currently at the Ted Stevens airport.”

  “Then you’re at the wrong place, Miss Hale. I’m over in McCarthy.”

  I roll my eyes, completely impatient now that I’m here. “I know that, Mr. Wilson. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to make sure you would still be in McCarthy when I find a flight to get there.”

  “Oh, right. Well, yes. I’m not going anywhere. Do you have my address?”

  I repeat his address for confirmation and hang up. Time to find me a flight.

  I return to the control tower and ask for flights to McCarthy. When I find out there aren’t any for two days, I ask for an alternative.

  “You should go see if you can charter a flight since you’re in a hurry. I can give you a list if you’d like.”

  I take the list and arrange for a flight in two hours. It’s close to the sunset but it’s only a fifty minutes’ flight. Hopefully Mr. Sawyers’ money will be well spent and I will find Damon in McCarthy.

  I don’t know how long we’re on the air when it happens. The twin-engine aircraft I’ve charted seems like it was taken right out of a bad movie scenario and I had to close my eyes during the take-off, praying that it would stay in one piece long enough to get me to McCarthy. When the plane starts to shake and I hear the pilot cursing, I know we’re in deep shit.

  “Fuck! Hold on, Miss Hale. We’ve hit a bird. We’re going down.”

  That’s bad. Oh, that’s so bad. I have no idea what to do. We’re crashing and I really feel like I’m in a movie now. These things don’t happen in real life. They just don’t.

  “What do I do?” I yell out in terror.

  “Not much you can do, now. Put your head between your knees and pray.”

  I was never good at praying. I never believed in anything but my gut and now it has failed me. It had assured me I’d find Damon but now I’m going to die. There’s no way anyone would survive a crash landing. The last thing in my mind is him.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t find you. I’m sorry I let you down.

  Then everything is made of noise and pain. And finally darkness.

  Chapter Four

  Fire. Scrunched up metal. Cold. Pain. That’s all that exists in my world. Consciousness though is elusive and I find myself delving into the darkness once more.

  The world is shaking. No. I’m shaking. I’m cold. So cold. Where am I? What is that crisp smell? And that sound. It reminds me of burning wood. Yes. That’ it. Burning. Am I near a fireplace? If so, why do I hurt so much? Like I’m pressed against metal. So cool and hard.

  A strange feeling. Warmth. Safety. The pain is not gone but it’s not all I’m feeling. I slowly manage to open my eyes and what I see has me blinking again. I must be dreaming because I think I’m being carried by Bigfoot. Oh, fuck I died. I died and I’m in a strange limbo where the ferryman is the Bigfoot. Fuck it. If I’m really dead then there’s nothing wrong with going back to sleep. I’m so tired and my head hurts.

  I’m weirdly comfortable. I’m lying on something warm and soft. Are these… sheets? Am I on a bed? God, I must have been sleeping because I had the worst dream ever. That I was in a plane and we hit a bird and crashed. Then something was burning and I was being carried away by the Bigfoot. Only… now that I think about it, it looked more like a man. And why am I in pain?

  I peel my eyes open and my sight slowly focuses on my surroundings. Wooden walls. Wooden furniture. A cabin? Why am I in a cabin? How am I in a cabin? I was… Where was I before I went to sleep? Alaska. Memory comes back slowly. I came to Alaska. To find Damon. McCarthy. I was trying to get to McCarthy. The plane. The crash. It really happened.

  I stir, trying to lift my body. Oh my God, the pain. The pain is getting stronger when I move. My head feels like it’s being split open. And my leg burns. Oh fuck, have I broken it? No. No, I can move it. And then it hits me.

  I survived a plane crash.

  The pilot. Where is the pilot? Where am I and how did I get here? Movement on my peripheral vision catches my attention and I try to spin my head to see who’s there. A man. A man with long, wild, dark hair and an equally long, wild and dark beard. He’s wearing heavy khaki cargo pants and a gray, long-sleeved tee. So not Bigfoot. Or a Yeti for that matter.

  He’s bent over a fireplace, rearranging the logs. I open my mouth to speak but my throat is too dry and my mouth even drier. I cough in an attempt to clear it and he spins around. Our eyes meet and lock and my heart starts beating fast immediately. Those eyes… I feel like they’re connected straight to my soul. But my mind must still be fuzzy because I can’t connect them with the face. Which of course is silly since I’m pretty sure I’ve never met this man in my life before. It doesn’t make sense.

  He pushes to his feet and covers the distance between us in two long strides. His hand lifting up and coming towards my face makes me flinch and then wince from the pain. He stops with his hand hovering over my face and something passes behind those eyes. Grayish-green. They remind me of the underside of leaves when the sun is hidden behind rain clouds.

  He moves his hand again more slowly, opening his palm as if to show me he means no harm. His fingers are rough against my skin as they push strands of hair to the side but their feel makes my stomach clench in a completely pleasant way. He turns his palm and presses the back of his fingers on my forehead, then my temple, then my cheek. He’s only checking for fever but it’s oddly comforting. I feel like I’m being taken care off and my eyes droop. I’m safe.

  My eyes drift completely closed when I feel his palm turn to cup my left cheek. His thumb brushes over the edge of my cheekbone and my head automatically leans into his touch. How can I feel so safe, so comfortable with this man? I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name. I open my mouth to ask him but I can’t get any words out. I’m drifting back to sleep. I’m so tired…

  I wake to the sound of crackling wood. That’s the only sound at first and then I hear more. Birds I think. And leaves being stirred by the wind. Yeah, that’s the sound of nature. How long has it been since I last heard nature so clearly? Nothing compares to it.

  I blink my eyes open slowly. I’m still in the cabin. It wasn’t a dream. Which means the man wasn’t a dream either. A good thing really. How pathetic would I’ve been dreaming of men I’d never seen before?

  The cabin is empty. I turn my head from side to side to take everything in. Small, quaint. Simple. A table, a chair, the bed I’m lying on. A couple of cabinets. The fireplace. As my mind seems to work better, I realize it’s not just simply a log cabin after all. This seems professionally made. The fireplace seems to be a mixture of granite and rock. The whole structure seems solid. Designed. It’s so at odds with the simplicity of its furniture.

  I push my body up to a sitting position. My head throbs slightly but it’s not something I can’t handle. A few deep breaths and most of it goes away. As soon as I’m seated, my eyebrows fly up to meet my hairline. My right leg is bandaged. But there’s nothing traditional about it. No actual bandages or gauzes. I can see a splint – an actual wooden splint – peeking out of cut cloth. Flannel cloth in stripes. What the…?

  I bring to mind the man. If there was one word I could describe him it’d be wild. He was like a caveman. A caveman in long-sleeved t-shirt and cargo pants. Was he wearing shoes? I can’t remember. Which is stupid a
ctually because shoes aren’t important right now. What’s important is I find out where I am and what exactly has happened.

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wince when my right foot meets the wooden floor. That’s going to be hard to walk on. I try the splint and makeshift bandages and see that they stay firmly in place. Good. I wouldn’t want them to fall off along with my leg. God, I hope it’s not broken. If it is, trying to stand is going to hurt like a mother.

  I slowly put pressure on my right leg. It stings a bit but – again – nothing I can’t handle. I push to my feet entirely and hold my arms out to find my balance. Okay, that hurts a little more. Taking a few hesitant steps, the pain grows but I grit my teeth and move slowly towards the door. I think maybe it hurts more because of the splint but I still don’t know the extent of the damage so I’m not going to remove it. Besides, my caveman might think it’s offending to undo his work. He could swing his club and beat his chest in anger. I smile at the ridiculous image I’m creating.

  When I pull the door open I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the light difference. It wasn’t dark inside the cabin but it is way brighter outside. As I finally manage to open my eyes and look around, I’m left breathless. Speechless. Evergreen trees are everywhere yet the sky above is clearly visible. Clear blue against dark green. And the smell… The clean smell of the forest, earth and freshness of the air. There’s really nothing like it. It’s absolutely stunning.

  The cabin stands a little higher than the ground and there are a few steps in front of me. I grab the railing and pull myself forward. My leg has started to throb and I still haven’t gone anywhere. I’m pretty sure it has already started to swell. I never liked feeling helpless though and I push through it. I’m thinking I should call out for my caveman but I’m cut short by a sound. It sounds like it’s coming from a little further into the forest and to the right. Like… something hitting on something else.