Home > Cabin Fever(7)

Cabin Fever(7)
Author: Pandora Pine

The Mount Washington Valley was expecting up to three feet of snow, according to the last estimate. If I were to shift in order to help find this hiker, the chances were good the still-falling snow would cover up my paw prints. According to the outside thermometer, it was fifteen degrees. I could hear the wind howling and knew with the windchill, it was even colder than that. This missing hiker was running out of time.

Being caught was a chance I was going to have to take. I stripped and headed outside. The wind tore at my bare skin and stole my breath. I shifted and raced toward the woods. In this state, all of my senses were heightened. I would be able to smell this man long before I’d be able to see him.

The snow was falling harder now than when I’d driven home from work. There was no doubt the quickly accumulating flakes would hide my tracks. I passed the property line from my cabin onto the land owned by the Presidential. According to the text, this Tanner person had last been seen heading toward the hiking trails. I had to choose which trail he might have decided to take.

Being that the guy was out hiking hours before a blizzard was due to strike, I guessed that he’d chosen the Adams Trail. The Jefferson and Madison Trails were more difficult hikes, and I assumed this guy was just out for an easy walk.

I pounded my way toward the trail, slowing down when I saw the depth of the snow covering it. I guessed the pack was a foot deep. I might be a bear, but I could just as easily fall and hurt myself on the snow and ice. How the hell would I explain my presence then? Or worse, explain why a game warden was out in a blizzard buck naked?

Moving slowly up the trail, I was able to smell everything. A stash of squirrel nuts, deer scat, pine needles.

Halfway to the top, I scented something different. Something human. I walked slowly, making sure to keep myself hidden in case the man was awake. Shit. I hadn’t figured out what I was going to do if the man was conscious. How the hell was I going to save him if he thought I was a man-eating bear? I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

The scent got stronger. I knew I was getting close. A boot sticking out of the snow led me right to him. I knew instantly he was unconscious. I gave his boot a tug with my mouth, and he pulled free from the tree he’d been propped up against. I listened closely to his chest and heard him breathing. So far, so good.

As gently as I could, I picked him up by the collar of his parka and dragged him down the trail, praying the entire way that he wouldn’t wake up and realize he was in the jaws of a bear. I ran as quickly as I could, all the while making sure Tanner was breathing.

It struck me odd to know his name without him being introduced to me. He also smelled amazing, like pine mixed with a floral scent and something else I couldn’t quite put a paw on. Something primal stirred within my bear. I didn’t have time to think about it now. What mattered was getting Tanner home and assessing his injuries.

The lights of the cabin came into view. Thank Christ. My jaw was beginning to ache from carrying Tanner. I carefully dragged him up the stairs of the cabin, dropping him in front of the front door near my clothes. I was about to shift back into human form when Tanner grabbed my left front paw.

“Bear?” Tanner’s shaking hand reached up to my face. His fingers brushed over my fur before falling away. His eyes fluttered and slid shut again.

Jesus Christ. That was close. I shifted quickly and pulled Tanner into the warm cabin. I took a few minutes to throw on jeans and a tee. When I turned back to Tanner, he was out cold. I started undressing him, feeling how cold his body was. My body tingled as I got his shirt off. He was slightly built, but in shape. My traitorous dick started expanding. I was one sick bear if the sight of an unconscious man gave me an erection.

By the time I got his pants off, my dick was flying at full staff, uncomfortably tenting my jeans. I wanted to rearrange it but knew I wouldn’t let go once my hand was wrapped around my shaft. I ignored my raging hormones and turned my attention back to Tanner. His left ankle was badly swollen, maybe broken. He had dark bruises on his chest and left shoulder with scrapes on his face and hands. “You must have taken one hell of a fall.” My hands caressed the side of his face.

After cleaning up his injuries, I wrapped him in a blanket and set him on the sofa closest to the blazing fire. Grabbing his pants, I rifled through them, hoping for a wallet or his phone. I hit paydirt on both counts.

The driver’s license in the wallet identified him as Tanner Reign. The license was perfectly intact. I wasn’t interested in anything else inside. His phone hadn’t survived the fall. The screen had a jagged crack from left to right.

I went for my phone, wanting to let dispatch know I’d found Tanner. Halfway to the counter, the lights blinked and went out. “Fuck,” I whispered. When I reached my phone, I saw there was less than two percent charge left. I typed a quick text and shot it off to Bill and dispatch. ‘No Signal’ flashed at the top of my screen. “Double fuck.”

All I could do now was take care of Tanner and hope the snow let up soon.

 

 

5

Tanner

I was burning in the fiery pits of hell. I was a man of science who’d never believed in heaven or hell. Maybe I was wrong.

From the distance, I thought I heard a soft chuckle. I guessed Satan had a sense of humor. Wait! Was he going to fuck me up the ass? What kind of heat, no pun intended, would the prince of hell be packing?

The chuckle grew louder, but there was no hint of darkness in the sound. It was deep and lyrical. Would Satan have a lyrical voice? I doubted it. Something cool landed on my forehead. I tried to bat at it with my hands, but I couldn’t move them. I struggled to free my arms from whatever was keeping me from moving. Was I handcuffed or bound? Satan was one kinky bastard.

Instead of laughter, I heard singing. Someone was singing in a deep but off-key voice. I was confused. Wouldn’t all the best singers be in hell? Kurt Cobain. Elvis. Whitney? Landing here thanks to shit they’d done in life? Maybe I’d landed in the part of hell with people who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Christ, that was all I needed. An eternity spent with a bunch of caterwauling idiots.

The laughter was closer this time. I was sure he knew he was a shit singer.

Why was hell so infernally hot? Didn’t hell have air conditioning? This was the exact reason I could never live in Florida. The high temps would kill me.

Oh… Well, since I was dead, I supposed moving to Florida wasn’t an option. I whimpered. I wanted to move to Florida now. The sun-lapped beaches and hopping night clubs. It could have been mine, but was now lost to me because I lost my stupid balance on a hiking trail I never had any business being on in the first place.

“Tanner?” a gentle voice asked.

Something shook my shoulder. Something gentle. Surely Satan wouldn’t be so kind. Would he? He’d have claws and skin the temperature of lava, with breath that smelled of dead things.

“I’m not Satan,” the voice said, with a hint of laughter in it.

“Minions,” I muttered. “I’m getting settled into hell by a minion.”

“You’re not in hell. I promise.”

A minion would say that very thing.

“Open your eyes, Tanner, and see for yourself.”

“I’m blind. Satan stole my eyes. Fucking Satan.” What does Satan need with my eyes? Can’t he make more? Or steal some from a serial killer?

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