I bounced down the stairs. I could hear neighing horses off in the distance. One of the Presidential Hotel’s big winter festivities was horse-drawn sleigh rides. Since there was no snow on the ground, that was out. At least for now.
Shit! I hadn’t listened to the weather this morning. The blizzard of the century could be headed my way, and I’d have no idea it was coming. Looking up at the sky, all I could see was blue. It was a gorgeous morning. Obviously, there was no snow on the way.
Several paths spread out from the tree line. Each one was named, and the difficulty of the hike was included. I chose the Adams Trail. It was listed as Easy. I was in good shape for an egghead who spent his days behind a desk, but wasn’t fit enough to handle an advanced trail, especially by myself.
As I set out down the pine needle strewn path, I was angry at my friends for abandoning me in favor of a big dick and their hangovers. This trip was supposed to be a chance for us to reconnect, to feel like we did back in college. I supposed being five years post-grad was maybe pushing it a bit for trying to rekindle what life was like back then, but this was our tradition.
I paused alongside a gurgling river. The sound of the rushing water soothed me. The riverbed was lined with enormous boulders, probably moved by glaciers during the last ice age. I was being selfish, thinking my friends needed to act and behave like me. This was their vacation too. Maybe we’d all get together for dinner tonight. I mentally promised that I would be kind to Mr. Big Dick if Cabot brought him along.
Digging my phone out of my back pocket, I typed a group text asking if six p.m. would work for everyone. When I pressed the button to send, the message wouldn’t go through. I had no signal. “Fuck,” I whispered into the wind.
It didn’t matter. I’d hike to the top of the trailhead, and then head back to the hotel for a hot shower and some lunch.
Fallen leaves crunched under my boots. I took a deep breath of mountain air, noticing it had gotten colder since I’d left the hotel. I supposed it made sense, I was climbing a mountain. Sort of. Mount Washington’s elevation was a tad over six thousand feet. I wasn’t coming anywhere near that on my little ramble.
An hour later, I was at the top of the trail. I was out of breath, which made visible puffs in front of my face. It was much colder now. Tiny snowflakes sifted through the trees. I looked straight up and noticed, for the first time, how dense the canopy was. Tree tops were covered in snow. Looking back down the trail, I was alarmed to see snow quickly blanketing it.
I’d planned to spend some time sitting here, maybe taking some pictures, but I knew I needed to go, and now. My phone still didn’t have any service. I needed to get the hell out of there before the snow obscured the trail and I ended up falling off a cliff or getting eaten by a moose.
My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I’d have a hot lunch when I got back to the hotel. I’d seen prime rib on the menu when I checked it out online. A juicy cut of meat with a baked potato and chocolate cake would hit the spot.
Climbing up the trail had been so much easier than going down. There was a definite slope to the ground, and I had to hold myself backward a bit to keep my forward momentum from pulling me into a tumble.
Why hadn’t I noticed how steep this walk was on the way up? I slowed my steps as the snow continued to pile up around me. I needed to choose between safely descending the trail and the urgency of getting back to the hotel before the snow got worse. What had I been thinking, not checking the weather this morning?
My life back home was always the same. Up early for my mile walk on the treadmill in my condo complex’s gym, in the office by seven at the latest, a quick homemade sandwich at my desk, and home again after dark. The only scenery I viewed were highway mile markers and the occasional bird. I’d been itching to get outside the minute I’d arrived here yesterday.
In a flash, my right foot skidded, pitching me forward. Before I could pinwheel myself back to balance, I was falling. I hit the ground with a crash. Wet snow and leaves snowplowed against my face. I felt my body pick up momentum before slamming into an exposed tree root. I grabbed fruitlessly for it, and in doing so, flipped onto my back. I spread my arms and legs like I was doing a snow angel, hoping to slow my momentum. It didn’t help.
I could hear the sound of the river getting louder as I continued to fall. The last thing I wanted was to end up in the ice-cold water or slam into a boulder. I flipped to my stomach and tried to grab for anything I could hold on to. I slammed hard against something solid and kept sliding toward a huge tree.
Jesus Christ! Was this it? No one knew where I was. My phone had no signal. It was snowing to beat the band. With that last thought, I fetched up against the tree. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of me.
My heart raced and my breathing was labored. I could wiggle all four limbs, but I knew my left ankle was sprained. Badly, by the feel of it. My head ached from where I’d banged it against something hard. I needed a plan on how to save myself, and I needed one quick. If only I didn’t feel so sleepy.
The snow continued to fall. Faster. Harder. Heavier.
4
Kodi
It had been a mostly quiet shift. People who lived in the Mount Washington Valley knew how to drive in the snow. They were also familiar with running to the grocery store the day before a storm to stock up on the essentials: bread, milk, and booze.
I never understood why people felt the need to empty the bread shelves in the supermarket here in New Hampshire. I’d been through several blizzards in my four years here, and people weren’t usually trapped in their houses for much longer than the duration of the storm. I asked Bill about it once, and he told me it was a holdover from the Blizzard of ’78 where people hadn’t been able to get out of the house for days after the storm hit. New Englanders might be a hardy lot, but they also had long memories.
The first thing I’d done when I’d gotten home was start a fire. The fireplace was made from smoothed river stones. Definitely the showpiece of the cabin. I’d stacked plenty of wood on the back porch last night, along with enough wood by the hearth to get through the night in case the power went out. I hadn’t gotten a generator yet. I knew it should have been the first thing on my list, living in the woods like this, but the fireplace provided all the heat and light I needed. If an outage were extended, I’d shower at work. Thankfully, the stove was gas, so all I needed to do was light the pilot and I could cook.
After a quick shower, I stood in front of open cabinets, trying to decide what to make for dinner. Zeroing in on a can of beef stew, I was reaching for a saucepan when my phone started beeping. That couldn’t be good. I was off duty, but everyone was on call during snow events.
I keyed my password and opened the message. [Missing hiker. Left Presidential Hotel AM. Last seen on hotel property. Tanner Reign. 5’7” Dark hair/eyes. Blue parka.]
Shit! It was half past five, and it had been snowing since mid-morning. The chances of finding him in the middle of a blizzard weren’t good.
[I’m on it.] I texted back quickly. I ran to the closet, pulling out my boots and heavy weather gear. I was about to start gearing up when a thought struck me. Shift.
The most important thing was keeping my bear hidden. It would be disastrous for me if my secret were revealed. I’d already been banished from one place I’d thought of as home. The last thing I needed was to be kicked out of another.