Page 1 of Surviving Her

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RIVER

River pressed her palms against the porch railing, her fingers tracing the rough grooves her father had carved into the old oak. Their cabin, nestled in the deep, wild Northanger Mountains, was so much more than a basic hut—it was their refuge, a haven of memories. Even as she started to realize that the world outside might be descending into chaos, the cabin her father had built stood firm, and she felt safe.

The wind howled through the dense forest, whipping the trees into a frenzy. The sky was a strange mix of gray and black. The atmosphere felt heavy with the promise of an imminent downpour. The air was thick with the scent of pine and humid earth and carried a metallic tang of ozone—a sure sign of the storm to come. As she stepped inside, she noticed that the cabin was very dimly lit, with only the flickering glow of the fireplace and a couple of oil lamps.

River took a deep breath, the scent of woodsmoke mingling with the faintest trace of her father’s cologne—a smell she’d always thought of as spicy, warm, and comforting. A heavy feeling pressed down on her shoulders. It had been only a daysince news of the outbreak began, each report more terrifying than the last.

Her father, a man of action with a military background, had insisted they retreat to the cabin. “It’s safe out there, River,” he’d said, his voice calm and laced with authority. “We’ve got supplies for at least three months if there’s just the two of us, and we ration. Let’s head out there and wait this out away from other folks.”

And so they’d set off in the middle of the night, leaving behind everything—home, friends, and normalcy—for the safety of isolation. The cabin, once a place for summer retreats, was to become their fortress, a place to shut out the virus and pretend, if only briefly, that everything would be okay.

But River could see the worry in her father’s eyes. She recognized the fear etched on his face as they listened to the news on their battery-powered radio. The female reporter could be heard very faintly through the noisy static of the radio, her voice without even a hint of emotion.

“The government has issued an…for all citizens to stay in their…contain the spread of the virus and…public health…travel is permitted…emergency services remain operational…around the clock to manage the situation. Stay…stay informed…home.”

“Have you got a phone signal at all, Dad?” River asked as casually as she could manage.

“Nope. Not a thing. Plus, the battery’s running out on the radio.” Her father huffed. “I don’t want to waste any generator power on it. We’ve been through this before, River. It’s a virus. They’ll lock everyone down, and in a couple of months, it’ll pass. Just have faith.”

“You’re right. Let’s turn everything off to save the power,” River said, trying her hardest to smile. “We get the message, right? Virus, masks, yada, yada, work from home, Skype yourfamily, learn to crochet, write a book, get vaccinated, go back to normal…”

Her father laughed. “That’s the drill, hon.”

River pulled her flannel shirt tighter as she closed the curtains. The temperature had definitely dropped. She loved the cabin, but the cold seeped through the walls despite the roaring fire.

“Dad?” she called out. “Should I make some tea?”

But he was gone.

Jesus. What’s he up to now? I only turned my back for a second.

As she opened the door, a blast of icy wind nearly knocked her back. She stepped out onto the porch, her boots crunching on the weathered decking. River squinted through the gloom, trying to spot her father.

“Dad!” she cried out, her voice almost lost in the howling wind. She saw him near the edge of the clearing, struggling with a tarp that had come loose from the woodpile. His tall, stocky frame hunched against the wind, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead by the rain that had just begun to fall.

“Stay inside, baby!” her father shouted, his voice muffled by the storm. He wrestled with the tarp, but the wind was turning it into a losing battle.

Like hell, I will.

River’s feet sank into the muddy ground as she stepped off the porch. The cold seeped into her bones, but she pushed forward, determined to get to her father.

Just as she reached him, he managed to secure a corner of the tarp under a heavy log, but the other side flapped around wildly. River grabbed it. They stood there for a moment, her father panting from exhaustion as rain soaked them both to the skin.

“Dad, come on! We need to get inside!” River shouted, struggling to make her voice audible over the wind.

Her father nodded. “Yeah, let’s—” A loud crack cut off his words. River instantly assumed someone was shooting at them from beyond the clearing. Her heart leaped into her throat as she realized that the tallest tree, one of the towering pines surrounding the cabin that they’d meant to cut down last summer but hadn’t gotten around to, had snapped under the force of the wind. It wobbled for several seconds, then began to fall, its branches slicing through the air like knives.

“Dad! Get out of the way!” she screamed. But it was too late. The tree crashed down, its trunk slamming into the ground. The impact reverberated through River’s body.

Jesus! The ground is shaking!

For a moment, everything went silent. All River could hear was the pounding of her pulse against her eardrum.

River’s eyes widened with horror as she realized what had happened. The tree had fallen directly across the path where her father had been standing. “Dad!” she sobbed, rushing forward to find him. Her feet slipped as she scrambled toward the man she loved most in the world. She saw his body partially buried beneath the massive branches.

He’s not moving!

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