by Will Decker
Because I wasn’t there for Amy when she needed me the most, it was doubly important that I be here for Sandy now. Especially since, I’d been given a chance to do something this time; it was a chance that I’d never had with Amy. It was a chance to save her, slim as the chance might be. I’d be damned if I didn’t at least die trying, I couldn’t live with the alternative for a second time in my life.
By shear will, I forced the bad dreams from my mind, and convinced myself that Sandy was alive, and I was sleeping soundly on the floor of her cabin. When the time was right, I’d wake up, and be fully rested. Sandy will have a warm fire burning in the fireplace, and bacon frying on the cookstove.
With these thoughts drifting through my mind, I fell deeper into oblivion. It was warm and comfortable, and we were sailing on the high seas. Life was momentarily blissful.
**9**
A storm came blowing in, sending waves crashing over the stern of our catamaran. An extremely large swell caught us broadside, setting the catamaran up precariously on one hull. We hung suspended in the clear air, reaching toward the blue sky while leaning perilously out over space. My bare foot suddenly slipped on the wet decking, and my head bounced along the rail with a thumping repetition. As one reality faded, I awoke to another.
Someone or something was dragging me across a rough wooden floor by the collar of my snowsuit. With each straining tug, my head thumped softly against the floor. Ironically, the thumping was in identical rhythm with that of my head bouncing along the rail in my dream. It wasn’t coincidence, as one reality was overlapping the other.
Though my eyes were open, it was much too dark inside the cabin to see. Whether it was daylight outside, or still night, I couldn’t be sure. The dark might be from having boards over the windows. I immediately hoped that was the case.
Except for the roughness of the floor against my backside, and the intermittent thumping of my head, I couldn’t feel any sensations in my body. My legs, as well as my arms, felt loose and disjointed, almost non-existent. Both my hands and my feet had to be bouncing along the surface of the floor, and yet, I had no sensation of them except for the dragging effect being exerted on my torso.
A new thought suddenly manifested itself in my conscious, and I immediately grew concerned that I was being dragged by a wolf. It was taking me deeper into the cabin after having mistaken me for dead. My windpipe grew tight, and a chill hand clutched my heart. And then I just as suddenly remembered Sandy’s voice as she softly reassured me, asking me to be quiet.
Taking a deep relaxing breath, I thought of how I wasn’t going to disappoint her on the quiet part, as I became aware of the fact that my face was still frozen solid.
Remembering my earlier attempt at speech, I declined to advise her that I was awake and conscious.
Rolling my head to the side, I studied the area on the wall where the windows should have been. Although my experience inside one of these cabins was limited to my own rental, I assumed they were all laid out the same. There wasn’t any hint of outside light, so I couldn’t have been unconscious for very long. Sandy probably wasn’t even aware that I’d passed out.
With each lunging tug on my collar, I slid farther into the cabin, nearer to the fireplace. As my senses slowly returned, I realized how silly I’d been when I thought it might be a wolf dragging me, and not Sandy. Although nothing had changed since I was jerked bodily into the cabin, I was aware of many things that I wasn’t aware of earlier. The most prevalent of which, was a soft, lightly feminine fragrance lingering in the air. Despite the cold and semi-frozen condition of my face, I could taste, more than actually smell, a dainty forest flower. It seemed almost ironic, so totally out of place here in the dark interior of a cabin, situated well beyond the climatic conditions acceptable for all but the hardiest of fragrant flowers.
It came to me then, what I was really experiencing wasn’t the scent of any one particular flower, but rather the total essence of a woman. Only in a place where a woman has been, can there be the woman’s touch that men can rarely imitate, and never duplicate on their own. It’s what makes a woman a woman. It makes her unique unto herself, setting her apart from man. It’s one of the little things that make a woman unique, because there are never two women whom share the same essence. And it’s one of the little things that make a man fall in love with a woman, and only that woman.
It can just as easily drive him mad when he is far away from her. If by chance, he picks up her scent on something that she so carelessly added to his luggage, he will immediately miss her and long for her. And all the while, she will be oblivious to the effect that her scent is having on him. This is especially true if he discovers her scent after suffering through a difficult day, such as the one he has just had.
This was only the second time in my life that I was experiencing her scent, and yet I recognized it immediately. Somehow, when I’d been near her the first time, even with the cold wind blowing briskly in our faces, I hadn’t been aware of a tangible scent coming off her, only her engaging personality. And yet, this time, half frozen in a dark, frigid cabin, I knew by that unique fragrance, which was currently assailing my olfactory glands, I had indeed beat the odds. By some miracle or magnanimous stroke of luck, I’d made it to Sandy’s cabin.
Breathing deeply of her wonderfully refreshing aroma, I considered my situation. Hypothermia was my most threatening enemy at the moment, but in my euphoric state of mind, I felt confident that with a fire for heat, and Sandy’s company for warmth, I would be fine.
The frostbite that I was suffering could prove to be more detrimental to my health. It would take Sandy’s assistance to determine the severity and locations of all the afflicted limbs and appendages. But I will cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, I am satisfied that Sandy is alive, and by all indications, in better health than me. I can’t ask for any more.
Struggling to drag me farther into the cabin, I slowly grew aware of her hot breath blowing across my face, as her own was just inches above mine. She was tiring from the effort. Although I’d lost a lot of weight in the last six months or so, I was still pushing one hundred and seventy pounds. For a petite woman such as Sandy, I was quite a load to drag across the floor.
My head suddenly dropped, striking the floor solidly with a loud thump, creating a ringing in my ears; her hands, growing numb with the exertion and cold, had failed her, losing their grip on my collar. At the instant of impact with the unforgiving wood of the floor, a white flash sparked before my eyes, and then the colors of the rainbow danced before the black landscape comprising the interior of the cabin.
Unable to move, I lay still, vaguely aware that her fragrance was rapidly growing stronger in my nostrils. Without warning, her face was suddenly beside my own, and she was whispering apologies in my ear. There was the smell of salty tears mingling with her other scents, and I could hear empathy in her voice, as she was sure that she’d injured me even more severely than I already was.
Futilely, I tried to respond to her, to set her fears aside and assure her that she hadn’t harmed me. Though I wanted badly to assuage her unwarranted feelings of guilt, my face and mouth were too frozen to cooperate, and my voice wouldn’t behave. All I could do was make pathetic little grunting sounds.
She sat on the floor beside me, and took my head in her arms, cradling me gently across her lap. Slowly, she rocked back and forth, all the while showering me with words of encouragement mixed with words of apology. She didn’t know that by finding her alive, I had all the encouragement I would ever need. I just prayed that it would be enough. And she had no way of knowing that I didn’t need her apology; there wasn’t anything she could do that would ever require an apology from me.
Although I wanted desperately to ask her how she knew that it was I, outside in the dark, and how she could have known just the right moment to reach out and pull me to safety, I dozed off long before my face thawed enough for me to talk. In the comfort of Sandy’s scent, my head resting contentedly o
n her soft lap, I found complete peace and calm.
In a deep, coma-like sleep that didn’t afford me any hellish dreams, I rested.
As I came around, my senses groggy and sluggish from sleep, I slowly grew aware of the keen smell of bacon frying, and realized that the noise was coming from an open cast-iron skillet, and not my head. In the background, there was the stronger hint of fresh-brewed coffee.
It was like Déjà vu. I’ve been here before. Suddenly concerned that I’d died and gone to Heaven, I craned my head around the dimly lit cabin. A lantern was perched precariously on the upper shelf along the back wall to the right of the stove. It left me in deeper shadows, but it highlighted the face of the woman working over the hot skillet. This was not a dream, but it had all the flavor of a heavenly experience.
All essence of Sandy had been overpowered by the combination of bacon frying and coffee boiling, as my stomach reminded me rather harshly that it’d been too long since I’d tasted such a delectable thing as food. Briefly, I remembered the rabbit that I’d carried in my snowsuit pocket, and quickly put it, along with the ordeal that I’d suffered in order to reach this place, out of my mind.
She was even more beautiful than I remembered. And I suddenly found myself dreamily wondering if it wouldn’t be worth missing the upcoming meal just to smell her essence one more time. Fortunately, I didn’t have to make that decision.
Tearing my eyes away from her vision, I studied the rest of the cabin. The windows were boarded up, which explained the lack of light. It also explained why we were still alive, or surely, the wolves would have crashed through them by now; they were proving to be very resourceful creatures, and it wouldn’t be wise to underestimate them.
My gaze went apprehensively toward the ceiling as I remembered why I had to leave my own cabin in such a hurry. After looking intensely at the wood sheathing in all directions for as far as my head could turn and the limited light of the lantern allowed, I couldn’t detect any sign of the roof having recently been repaired. Or more importantly, I couldn’t see any recent damage. Furthermore, there was no doubt that the wolves had ready access to the roof, since I’d just been confronted by one standing on it not that long ago.
Although I felt that I could relax for the moment, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before they started tearing and ripping the shingles off this cabin too.
The food smelled terrific, and I was feeling optimistic. Without thinking, I rose up on the cot, intending to get into a sitting position and surprise Sandy.
My head suddenly felt as if a depth charge had gone off in it. Shutting my eyes against the onslaught of pain, I slowly lowered myself back down, the pain igniting a sky of bright lights behind my eyelids and incapacitating my body. After taking several deep breaths, I slowly opened my eyes, turning to see if Sandy had noticed my failed attempt at sitting up.
At first, all I could see was dark and darker, with a dim light nearer the center of my vision. My head pounded, and beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and upper lip. Clumsily, I squeezed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger, trying to shut off the pain. Slowly, too slowly, my vision cleared, and the pain subsided, retreating enough so that I could relax. With relief, I noticed that Sandy was oblivious of my actions, her side was still turned to me, and the work area next to the stove required her to turn the other way.
Yet, I was determined to overcome my injuries, whatever they might be, and sitting up was the first mountain to conquer. But before trying again, I decided to rest for a minute. Closing my eyes, I quickly fell asleep.
When I awoke, the air was still redolent of hot bacon grease and coffee. The pain of earlier had receded from my head, and my vision seemed sharp and focused. I also felt stronger; enough so, that I was able to slowly raise myself into an upright sitting position. With my confidence restored, I eased my legs over the side of the cot, careful not to make any sudden moves. It was then that I realized I didn’t see Sandy anywhere.
Turning my head slowly, I looked around the single room cabin until I was sure that I hadn’t missed her. My heart started racing, and I felt that familiar clutch tightening around my chest, squeezing my heart in its frigid grasp. I was on the verge of panicking. Although it was difficult to believe that she’d take such a risk, the only place she could be was outside!
For whatever reason, she had ventured outside, and she was alone! It wouldn’t matter if she went to the meat locker, or more likely, to the woodpile, if the wolves have taken her by surprise.
That feeling of guilt was crawling up my throat again, turning the smell of bacon rancid in my nostrils, and tasting like bile in the back of my mouth. This time however, the guilt wasn’t the byproduct of something that I’d been incapable of doing. Instead, I was feeling guilty because of the risk someone else had undertaken on my behalf.
Sitting anxiously on the edge of the cot, I considered where she might have gone, and why. The same reason kept haunting me; she’d gone to the woodpile for more firewood to keep the fire going for my benefit.
How could she not have realized the danger in going outside? She must have known the wolves would be lying in waiting for her. She was more concerned for my well-being than her own, and it cost her life. If I hadn’t shown up here thinking that I could do something for her, she never would have put herself at such risk! I would have done better by her if I had just frozen to death or been buried in that first avalanche!
She’d obviously been aware of the wolf pack and the danger they meant, or she wouldn’t have survived up here for as long as she had. The last thing she needed was an idiot like me to come along and need her help. She was doing just fine on her own.
My head suddenly felt too heavy for my neck to support; I rested it in my hands, my elbows on my knees. It took a great effort to swallow down the bile in my mouth, and consider the possibility of going on. Life wasn’t fair.
Raising my head, I looked around at the interior of the cabin. Except for a few personal items that Sandy had made from wild things growing in the woods around the cabin and used to decorate the walls, I found myself sitting on the edge of a single cot in the one room that was furnished exactly like the one in the cabin that I’d leased. They were probably all identical, making my judgment based on seeing the inside of only two of them.
It suddenly dawned on me that I was wearing nothing but my long johns. For the first time, my eyes were drawn downward toward my feet; or rather what should have been my feet. With incredible effort, I fought back the impulse to vomit, as I gazed in shock, down at two foul-looking, huge-swollen black appendages. Mortified, I stared down at my feet. A primeval scream forced its way past the vile substance blocking my windpipe, and I fell back on the cot, too staggered to move. It took all of my willpower to suppress a second scream, and then a third. I suddenly felt certain that if they escaped, I would surely go mad. Already, I was only one step away from lunacy.
My feet were so swollen out of shape that they didn’t resemble feet anymore, at least, not of human origin. The black color was thickly interspersed with dark bluish-greenish lines that I distressingly recognized as diseased blood vessels laying just beneath the surface of blackened skin.
Perspiration ran down my forehead and into my eyes. My breathing was coarse and irregular, as well as my heart beat. Even though I knew it couldn’t be possible, I was sure it was the poisons from my feet coursing through my veins that were causing these symptoms.
Relax! I’d done it earlier; just moment’s prior when I smelled Sandy, and then later when I smelled the bacon frying. Relax. Take deep breaths.
When my heart, though heavy from the presumed loss of Sandy, finally slowed down, I slowly raised myself back into a sitting position. Tentatively, I glanced downward at my feet again. Slowly at first, and though I couldn’t help myself, my revulsion slowly turned into fascination. In looking closer at them, they reminded me more of over ripe eggplant fruit, than they did human feet. The toes were barely distinguis
hable. I refused to believe they could be mine as I continued to stare at them, but there was no denying they were on the ends of my legs, and no one else’s.
Walking on them was out of the question. My fascination turned to anger. Not because I was going to die, stranded and alone in this cabin, but because I couldn’t even go out and retrieve Sandy’s remains. It wasn’t fair that the wolves should feast on her; she deserved better than that!
With renewed determination that was fueled by anger, I decided that I would go outside and bring her body back, even though it meant crawling on my hands and knees. She would do the same for me. In fact, she’d already done more for me than I ever could have asked of her.
Suddenly, the door burst open and banged against the back wall of the cabin as Sandy came charging through it. She turned on her heel with one fluid movement and slammed the door shut on the frigid night behind her without breaking stride.
She was alive!
Subconsciously, overwhelmed with joy and relief, I waited silently for the impact of the wolf that I had come to expect following the slamming of a door. When none was forthcoming, my gaze settled on the woman that had just entered. For the second time in my life, she made my pulse rise. And she raised my ire! How dare she risk her life like that!
Seeing me sitting up on the cot, her face broke into a smile, and my anger evaporated instantly. I was reminded of what a beautiful woman she was. In her arms, she held several pieces of firewood, the reason for her outside venture. But they were immediately forgotten, and casually discarded beside the cookstove, as she made her way to the cot.
When she got closer, she suddenly realized that I’d seen the vile condition of my feet, and pulled short. Like an approaching thunderstorm, a cloud of worry and concern quickly descended on her face, vanquishing her smile to another dimension. If anything could bring back her sunshine, and drive away the storm on her face, I would get it or do it for her. It hurt me to see her sad.