Page 1 of Wrong Turn, Right Bear
ONE
THEO
“You’re going where?” Vincent stood at the entrance of my office, a puzzled expression plastered on his face.
“You heard me.” I slammed my laptop closed, harder than I intended, and patted the lid as if to say ‘sorry, buddy’. “A mountain resort for a week.” I grabbed my coat from the back of my chair. “Hey, I might decide to stay and never return. I’ll grow a beard because I’ll be too busy to shave while I hunt and fish.”
“Right. Can’t you see living in a tiny cabin off-grid? Do you have insurance? Being medevaced is expensive.”
I grimaced, picturing a rescuer winching me from a cliff into a hovering helicopter. “I’ll be fine.”
“Good luck, Theo.” He slapped my shoulder, and I winced, hoping he didn’t catch my pained expression. That hurt.
“When I return you won’t recognize me.”
“That’s because you’ll be in a full body cast.” After an off-handed wave, he retreated to his office.
But I refused to be intimidated by his comments even though I’d made the rash decision of doing something so out of character that I asked myself constantly what the heck was I thinking. Since booking the trip, I’d almost canceled multiple times, not caring about losing my deposit.
But I was facing burnout at work. And a staycation or lying on a tropical beach sipping cocktails wouldn’t be the antidote I needed for being overworked and stressed. I had to be forced into uncomfortable situations, giving me no time to ponder my life.
That was fine in theory, though friends disagreed, but I was terrified and made a mental list of the many reasons I shouldn’t go. My couch was beckoning, saying, “Stay with me.”
1. Open heart surgery. There was nothing wrong with my heart, but if I continued to stress about dangling from a rope over a deep ravine, it would need defibrillating.
2. Marriage. I’d met the alpha of my dreams and we’d chosen the only available day on the wedding venue’s calendar. Not even close to the truth. I’d been on so many bad dates, I’d given up onfinding not just the one, but anyone I could have dinner or go to the movies with.
3. A missed flight. I couldn’t put that plan into action until tomorrow, when I was supposed to be at the airport.
4. A twisted ankle. Boring and another huge fib, though I was clumsy, so if I tripped over my suitcase it might become reality.
“Where am I?”
My voice echoed around the underground car park. Shoot! I’d been so wrapped up in my list of excuses, I’d taken the elevator unawares and found myself next to my car.
Determined to concentrate on the way home and not have an accident—I didn’t want my get-out-of-the-mountain-vacation card to be me slamming into another vehicle—I kept my eyes on the road, dodging cars pulling into my lane without warning.
Opening the door to my apartment, I ran my eyes over the new clothes, footwear, and equipment I’d bought for the trip laid out on every surface.
I eyed the hiking boots I’d removed from the box and worn around the living room for five minutes. That was enough to break them in, I suspected. There’d be no blisters in my future.
Cap, sunglasses, sunscreen, insect repellent, and a water bottle. I’d been warned about the bugs and didn’twant to be covered in either welts or sunburn. Quick drying shorts and shirts for when I was kayaking. Swimming trunks, hoodies, jeans, sweatpants, sweaters, sneakers, a couple of smart outfits, and a small backpack completed my purchases. If I’d forgotten anything, I’d buy it when I arrived. I added another sweater because it was late summer and it got cold in the mountains.
No way was I backing out. The vacation was paid for and if I hated the activities I’d booked, I could sit on the hotel terrace and enjoy the view or take a leisurely stroll while keeping the hotel in my sights. I wasn’t going to delve into the forest’s deep, dark secrets.
Because I was exhausted, I ordered takeout and packed my bag while I waited for the food to be delivered.
Despite my hesitation about what I was getting into, I slept until the first alarm disturbed a nightmare of me in the woods, alone, shouting for help and nobody came. Not bothering with the second or third reminders, I was in the shower when the phone blasted its sing songy warning and I dripped water into the bedroom to turn it off.
There was no time for breakfast, but a coffee and a croissant at the airport was a mistake. A combination of nerves and a lot of turbulence saw my breakfast almost reappear. At my destination, as I waitedbeside the luggage carousel, I leaned against a post because of my wobbly legs and other passengers steered clear of me when I sagged lower, inch by inch.
When I staggered out of the terminal, a cool breeze smacked me in the face, one with jagged edges that chiseled my skin. My face tingled, and I was thankful for the guy holding up a sign with my name.
“I’m Saul. Rough flight, Mr. Cannon?” The guy swung my bag into the trunk with ease.
“Theo, and yeah.” Maybe my pale cheeks gave me away.
“That’s the thing about our location in the valley. The planes often get buffeted by winds while landing and taking off. Lots of work for the plane cabin cleaning crews, if you get my drift.” He grinned, and my belly churned at the image.
