Page 8 of High Intensity

As I exit the garage, I try not to think about the possible critters I might be carrying. I’m generally okay with bugs—I’d better be, I spend enough time outdoors—but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them in my house, or worse, on my body.

Despite not being able to see much and having my arms full, I make it back to the porch, where I dump my load. I figure since I’m out here anyway, I might as well haul as much wood as I can to the porch. It’ll be dry out here and I’ll have easy access. Who knows how long this storm or this outage is going to last?

Inside one of the dogs starts barking. They can probably hear me out here, so I quickly poke my head in the door.

“It’s just me, guys. I’ll be right back.”

My eyes are getting used to the dark and this time is easier loading up with wood. I’m on my way back, carrying more logs up to the porch, when a deep voice behind me has me jump out of my skin.

“What are you doing out here?”

I hang on to my load as a shield when I swing around. The brim of his hat is tipped down, obscuring his face, but I have no problem recognizing Wolff.

“Me? I live here. What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering me, he brushes past and sets the big box he’s carrying on my porch. Inside the dogs start barking again as I swing my head around to look down the driveway. I don’t see any vehicle and have no idea how he got here, but I doubt he walked. I intend to ask him when I’m suddenly relieved of the load of logs in my arms.

“Fireplace? Wood stove?” he asks brusquely.

“Fireplace.”

The brim of his hat lifts, and I get a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes fixed on mine.

“It works?”

I open my mouth to confirm, but then realize I don’t really know for sure. It’s not like I’ve had a chance to check.

My face is frozen and my teeth are chattering when I respond with, “Since I’m hauling firewood from the garage, I sure hope so. Otherwise, we’ll freeze.”

“You’re freezing now. Grab that box and go inside. I’ve got this.”

“What’s in it?” I want to know, but he’s already heading for the garage.

“Jillian, get inside and calm down your dogs,” he tosses dismissively over his shoulder.

Oh-kay.

Rude, to put it mildly. The man avoids talking to me at all costs and now shows up out of the blue, ordering me around on my own turf? Never mind my freezing hands and chattering teeth.

Pissed, I bend down to pick up the box and just about throw out my back, which doesn’t do much for my mood. I have to set it down to open the door and end up shoving it into the hallway with my foot.

“Hey, guys! Quiet!”

The only two dogs still curled up on the couch are River and Murphy, the other three rush up to greet me, Nugget in the lead.

“Well, hello, and I love you too,” I mumble at the enthusiastic greeting. You’d think I’d been gone for a day and not fifteen minutes at most.

I give each of them attention before I get to my feet and catch sight of Wolff’s box. Which reminds me, I still don’t know how or why he’s here. Part of me wants to peek inside, but I have otherpriorities; it’s getting really cold in here and I need to get a fire going. I look around for my phone, which I spot on the kitchen island in the faint light of the two tea lights. I’m going to need that flashlight to make sure the inside of the chimney is clear.

Peanut crowds me when I get to my knees in front of the chimney, and I have to nudge her aside before I can stick my head in. Aiming the light on my phone up, I can see the flue is closed. Not thinking too clearly, I reach for the lever and have to yank a few times before it gives with a squeal.

The next thing I know, my face is covered in soot.

Wolff

Thank God I was still wearing my heavy winter gear, otherwise I’d be a popsicle by now.

Damn truck slid in the ditch turning onto Jillian’s street. There were some high drifts along the road, distorting the landscape and making it hard to see whether you’re on the road or next to it. I had to leave it there and hoofed it the rest of the way, carrying the box of supplies I thought she might need.

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