Crash: Northwoods, Book 2

by Grant C. Holland

  “Old Man Johnson. He’ll be here. I’ll bring you some clothes so you can look sharp when they let you out. I might even corral the photographer. When they bring you out in that chair, I want you to look bright and bushy-tailed except for the braces. They pump up the sympathy. People love survivors. You’ll be their hero.”

  Hal tried to find the comfort zone between a whisper and a disgruntled roar. He asked, “Can I just get better first? I think I’ve had enough of the campaign for today.”

  Trent didn’t let it go at first. “24/7’s what campaigning is about. You can’t just turn it…”

  Hal raised the volume of the TV and whispered, “No more.”

  Trent finally got the hint. He reached out and squeezed Hal’s shoulder. “I’m going to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Don’t hurry.”

  5

  Gabe

  Gabe sipped his mug of rum-spiked cider and stared at the flames dancing in a fireplace on the TV screen. He settled into one of his favorite places on the planet, his friend Elle’s living room. Gabe sat with his knees bent, and his socked toes wedged their way under the middle cushion of her sofa.

  Elle entered the room, carrying a tray of tortilla chips, homemade fresh salsa, and queso from a jar. “So we’re pre-empting the Brandon talk for this week?”

  “‘Tales of the Blond God’ is out this week.” Gabe thrust a thumb over his right shoulder. “It’s booted from the starring role for now. A super-sized double-length blond extravaganza will take place a week from now if necessary.”

  “I’m not sure there would be a lot to talk about anyway. I caught Brandon at the Lost Loon this morning. I think I mentioned he was out for a couple of days last week with a cold. It’s taking him a while to get back up to speed. You know, you bailed on us at the Loon.”

  “I didn’t bail. My place was a horrible mess,” said Gabe. “I’ve been working some long hours. After these past few days, I was worried something might creep out from under the couch if I didn’t whip everything back into shape.”

  Elle dipped a chip into the salsa and then bit into it. She grinned when she heard the satisfying crunch. “The tiniest mouse would starve in your place for lack of any crumbs. Gabe, I’d eat off your floor if necessary.”

  “Now, Miss Elle, we both know that embellishments are reserved for me.”

  “You mean exaggerations.”

  Gabe pointed his finger into the air and traced the letters. “Embellish. To make more interesting by adding extra details—like mice and crumbs. There’s a subtle difference between that and untruthful exaggerations. Grandma taught me that. Now hand me some chips and a plate.”

  “Maybe it’s too subtle for me. So, tell me more about the crash—Hal Brentwood, too. Brandon said you haven’t said much to him at all except letting him know that the evil ogre survived. That’s Brandon’s words—not mine.”

  “You don’t want me to eat. Do you? You’re going to make me work for it.”

  “You’ve got all evening to eat. I want details now.”

  Gabe scooped a small pile of queso onto his plate and dotted it with salsa. While Elle impatiently tapped her knee, he stirred the two together. He dipped a single chip into the mixture and closed his eyes, humming with pleasure, when he took the first bite.

  Elle reached out and slapped Gabe’s knee. “Okay, you got to take a bite. Now, you have to tell the story. I’m waiting.”

  “Well,” began Gabe as he set his plate on the coffee table beside the food tray, “It was a dark and stormy night.”

  Elle laughed and nearly choked. “I love you, Gabe. You make me laugh, but seriously.”

  “It was a nasty crash. The plane took out the tops of probably about a hundred yards of pine trees. The pilot never had a chance. Hal got away with mostly just broken bones. He was lucky.”

  “Where’s the drama? The blood and guts. Tell me about the dead pilot.”

  Gabe winced. He had a reputation for reveling in the gory details of his work. It fascinated him sometimes, and the stories held the attention of his close friends. In the case of the plane crash, he’d lost his usual motivation. Gabe didn’t care to share the specific horrors of the incident. The pilot’s fate still haunted him too much to get into details. As he ate another chip, he thought that perhaps he could share a little more about Hal.

  “You know how I hate politics, but after the crash, I’ve decided that maybe I need to re-evaluate what I think about politicians. There is a difference between the two.”

  Elle leaned forward. “Oh, do tell because everything I’ve heard about Brentwood says that he’s a particularly vile individual. I think Brandon suggested he was below the scum that forms a toilet bowl ring.”

  The description sounded like it came from Brandon. “Maybe.” Gabe swallowed hard. The image of Hal lying on the forest floor, his head cradled in Gabe’s right hand, came back. Hal didn’t want to die, but he was ready to accept it until Gabe pulled him back.

  “Okay, it’s good that Brandon’s not here. He’s so knee-jerk in his opinion about politics sometimes, and he lets that bleed into judgments about the people. I think I agree with most of the principles he believes, but I think it’s important to hear people out.” Elle gripped Gabe’s right knee. “Tell me what you found out about Brentwood.”

  “He knew the poem.”

  “The poem?” Elle paused. “Oh, you mean the Emily Dickinson thing. You’ve mentioned it in the past. Honestly, Gabe, I can’t believe you didn’t major in English Lit in college.”

  Gabe scoffed. “I did the biology major that was going to help me find a job.”

  Elle rocked Gabe’s knee from side to side. “Never mind that. How do you know he knew the poem?”

  “I got a little choked up when I recited it, and he finished it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The last two words. I thought I’d lost him, and then he finished the poem.”

  “The hope one?”

  Gabe watched as Elle’s eyes began to sparkle. She was on the edge of tears.

  “Yeah, that’s it. He said, ‘at all’ to finish it.”

  “Oh.” Elle snuffled. “That’s intense. I might cry—shit. How do you do this kind of work and hold it together?” Elle let go of Gabe’s knee and wiped at her eye. “He did that there in the woods?”

  “With my hand wrapped around the back of his head. I couldn’t say the last two words. I was too choked up, but he did it for me. Those were the first words I heard from him. I think he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it.”

  “Gabe, I know I’ve said this before, but you’re such a damned amazing hero. I pale before you. I don’t think I could be so selfless with people I didn’t trust. That’s the thing with Brentwood. He’s from the evil empire—according to Brandon.”

  Gabe nodded. He knew about all of the negatives that people assigned to Hal Brentwood. Brandon rattled them off as soon as the candidacy appeared in the news.

  Seated with his friends in the Lost Loon, Brandon proclaimed, “He’s not even from Minnesota. It’s just a power grab here where the local politicians are weak. Brentwood is a pathetic bully who only cares about money and the dominance of those who aren’t clever enough to see through him.”

  Gabe and Brandon were best friends. They backed each other up, but Brandon could jump to righteous conclusions a little too fast.

  In response to Elle’s “evil empire” comment, Gabe said, “When I’m working, everyone’s a human being. It doesn’t matter what their background is. That’s how I pictured Hal.”

  They both sat in silence for 30 seconds. The only sound was a crunch when Elle ate another chip.

  Eager to change the subject, Gabe asked, “How are you doing with Nate? Is he still whipping up gourmet food in your tiny little kitchen here?”

  Elle’s expression brightened. “Yes, he is. He likes to dabble in different world cuisines when he’s not working. If it were only me, I think I’
d eat Mexican and Tex-Mex every day. We had chicken tikka masala last night and then two nights before that he made dim sum from scratch.”

  It didn’t take many comments from Elle for Gabe to realize that perhaps he’d moved the conversation in the wrong direction. His two best friends were falling in love, and Gabe felt left behind. Elle’s stories about Nate made Gabe’s gut feel hollow.

  Elle met Nate at the Forest Edge Resort, where they both worked. Nate was a chef who was originally from Minneapolis. Elle labored part-time at the resort and served the gorgeous plates Nate created in the kitchen.

  Brandon was in love with Levi, a strikingly handsome guy who lived off the grid deep in the BWCA when they first met. After Levi’s grandmother died, he moved into town in Arrowhead Falls. Almost every time Gabe saw Brandon, he was skipping along on Cloud Nine.

  The monologue continued. Elle said, “Nate talks about working at better restaurants in cities like Chicago or San Francisco, but I think I can keep him here for quite a while.” She slapped Gabe’s knee. “I can’t leave a friend like you.”

  “No, you can’t. That’s not allowed. If you do, then you’ll see my ghost lurking in the corner of your bedroom every night.”

  “Don’t you ever think about leaving the woods? Everybody I know up at Forest Edge says the kids who grew up here can’t wait for their ticket out. Why are you different?”

  Gabe shrugged. He’d never seriously considered going anywhere else. He loved seeing the influx of people from all over the world that began every spring. They came from as far away as Japan and Europe to hop in canoes with people like Brandon and explore the silence.

  “I like it here. I’ve gone on trips to a few other places, but this is home.”

  “But you could do your EMT work anywhere. It’s not like the medical field has an over-abundance of people to choose from.”

  “But when I go on a call here, I know the entire area like the back of my hand.” That was true, but occasionally, something like the plane crash forced Gabe into unfamiliar territory. He had to find his way through pathless acres of the woods. “It would take years to learn somewhere else like I know the lay of the land between here and Ely.”

  “And what if you lost your job amid budget cuts?”

  Gabe was confident that would never happen. “There’s only three of us doing the EMT work over such a large area. How would they cut me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they’d decide to contract with a company or set up one of the Ely guys to come here each month. I’ve heard worse stories out of people working for the school district. We live in an outsourcing world.”

  Gabe dismissed the concern. “I’m staying here. You have to keep putting up with me.”

  “Well, I hope your bull-headedness doesn’t stop you from finding somebody that makes your heart beat fast like Nate does for me. Honestly, Gabe, I’ve never kissed anybody else who made me feel fluttery sensations in my chest every time.”

  “Are you sure that’s not heartburn?”

  Elle grabbed a throw pillow from behind her and tossed it at Gabe. He caught it, and they both laughed long and loud.

  “It’s been a long time since I inspired something like that.”

  “Are you proud of yourself?”

  Gabe dove into serious conversation territory again. “After helping rescue Hal the other day, yeah, I am proud of what I did.”

  “Give me my pillow.” Elle took the cushion and shoved it behind the small of her back. “I don’t want to burst your bubble on Brentwood, but I do know some specific stories that don’t make him look like a nice guy. Also, he wants to tear up everything around here with those mining and lumbering plans. He might put both Brandon and the resort out of business. What would I do then?”

  “What kind of tales? Are they the ones that Brandon’s tossing around? You know how he can sometimes be. If he doesn’t like a celebrity, he’ll pile on every unsubstantiated crank report that he can find on the Internet.”

  “Whoa! You’re a little down on your best friend.”

  Gabe downed another chip half-covered in queso. “No, and don’t worry. He’s still my bestie. He’s always got back. When the chips are down, he’s there. I’d risk my life for Blondie, but he can get carried away. That passion was the best thing when we dated. Those nights that he got worked up from something during the day, and then we headed for the bedroom…”

  Elle held up both hands. “Okay, stop right there. You know the rules. I wasn’t, and I never wanted to be a fly on the wall in the bedroom with you and Brandon. Find me two hot-looking men that I don’t personally know, and that’s kind of exciting, but you two are my friends. If you gave me all the details, that’s all I’d think about when we’re together, and I don’t need that. It doesn’t matter how sexy it might have been.”

  Gabe laughed so loud that he choked for a moment on a chip. “Also, I’m willing to believe that Hal’s not a delightful guy.”

  “Being willing isn’t the same thing as the belief itself. I heard that Brentwood’s family hired illegals to work in their East Coast mansion, and when the press started to raise questions, he let them get sent back to Central America without a word.”

  “That does suck, but it’s not his mansion, is it? Doesn’t that belong to his father?”

  Elle blinked. “It’s the Brentwood mansion. I think he grew up there.”

  “So, wouldn’t his parents be in charge? I didn’t hire the paperboy and the plumber in the house where I grew up. That was my parents. I hope you wouldn’t blame me if the plumber burst a pipe and flooded the place.”

  “I guess you’ve got a point.” Elle downed the last of her mug of cider. “None of the stories are about him killing animals when he was young or cheating to get into college. It sounds like he’s a playboy in relationships. Love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

  “You know who that sounds like. At least until Levi came along.”

  “Damn, it’s a good thing we’re not keeping score,” said Elle. “You’re racking up all the points tonight.”

  “It’s just hard to think about what I saw there in the forest and believe that he’s a horrible person. Hal cleaned up kind of nice in the hospital, too. I want to keep in touch.”

  Elle raised an eyebrow. “Keep in touch? Do you have a little crush there, Gabe? He’s not even into men. All the stories I’ve heard are about women.”

  Gabe wasn’t sure whether he was crushing on Hal or not. Thinking about straight men in situations that could never take place was nothing new to his life experience, but Hal? Maybe he just thought the negative assumptions were a little bit of a raw deal. Either way, he had to distract Elle from the trail she was blazing.

  “Are you kidding? As you said, he’s a straight man. He’s a handsome one, sure, but no—no way. I’m not that dumb.”

  6

  Hal

  Trent’s behavior reminded Hal of the time the boarding school baseball coach shoved him out into right field the day after the cast came off his right leg. He was still hobbling around, and he couldn’t chase down any fly balls. That didn’t stop the coach. He needed a body in the outfield, and when he didn’t see a cast anymore, he insisted Hal was fully intact again.

  When the doctors confirmed Hal’s release date from the hospital, Trent immediately scheduled a “return to the campaign trail” rally for ten days later.

  “How the hell will I be ready for that?” Hal held his left hand splayed out against the right side of his rib cage. It didn’t stop all of the pain, but it made the remainder bearable.

  “Ten more days? You’ll probably be ready to climb on the elliptical at the gym again by then. It’s phenomenal how fast people heal. The doc said you’re getting better faster than most men your age. It’s almost miraculous.”

  Hal didn’t believe in miracles, and even if he did, he knew they wouldn’t happen to him. He squeezed out, “Every time I talk, my ribs hurt, and I won’t be out of the brace in ten days. I don’t want to hobble to the podiu
m on crutches. I’ll feel pathetic in front of the crowd.”

  “The doc said that the pain would go away. Why are you such a worrywart? You survived that nasty crash. That’s the great news, and now you can share your story with all of those people who are going to go to the voting booth and elect you to Congress. Everyone loves a comeback. This is the best kind.”

  Surprisingly, to Hal, Trent’s prediction was on target. By the time the rally rolled around, Hal felt much better. He could have conversations without sharp pains in his chest, and he was confident with his crutches. Three days before the rally, the orthopedist had Hal take the brace off his leg for a few hours every day. It helped him start regaining the flexibility in his knee, a first step toward walking without assistance.

  Hal’s excuses for avoiding the scheduled rally were gone. It was going to take place in front of a crowd eager to hear how a fresh face in politics would bring them jobs and financial stability.

  Shortly before his scheduled re-introduction to the voters, Hal peered around the curtain from backstage. He quickly estimated a crowd of 150 or so. They gathered to watch him step to the podium and say a few words. He didn’t think most of them were there to listen to political comments. They were morbidly interested in seeing a plane-crash survivor. Hal imagined the people in the front row squinting their eyes to see if they could spot any scars. They’d lean toward each other and whisper about the injured body parts. Nobody would remember the downed pilot, Hunter.

  Just before he pulled his head back, Hal spotted a familiar face. To the side of the stage, only a few feet away, was Gabe dressed in a security uniform.

  Although he disliked hearing or seeing reminders about the crash, Hal thought about Gabe at least ten times since the second visit with him in the hospital. He wasn’t quite sure why Gabe’s smiling face kept coming back. Maybe it was because the warmth Gabe projected was infectious. There was something about the way he moved, too. Hal wanted to reach out and hug him.