Page 4 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
My only hope is the logging crew. Maybe if I crawl, I can reach their camp. It's only a few hundred yards away. I gather my strength for one final push…
But as soon as I move, I scream in agony, and this time the pain doesn't dissipate. It's too much to bear. I'm fighting it, but I can feel myself losing consciousness.
Just before I black out, I look up and I swear I see a huge animal standing on the track ahead, staring back at me.
It looks like… a wolf?
Oh, fucking fantastic. A wolf. That's all I need.
CHAPTER 2
Jack
"Awoman? What the hell are you talking about? No, Luke, there ain't no women around these parts. Not for fifty miles or more in every direction. Jeez, I sometimes wonder about you."
I shake my head as I bustle out of the little shed—the one where Luke keeps all the chainsaws meticulously cleaned and maintained. He spends many a happy evening in his little domain, tensioning and sharpening the chains. Sometimes I think he prefers the company of his precious chainsaws to that of human beings. Mind you, there are times I kinda see his point.
This ain't one of 'em though. A woman? Come on… I haven't got time for games. Not today. The storm's hit and hit badly. Getting worse too. Eric says the anemometer's registering gusts over ninety miles an hour, and the pressure's dropping faster than a politician drops support for a businessman who's been outed as a wife beater. We're in for quite a night!
"Take a look for yourself then. She's in the medi-bay." With that, Luke turns back to the Husqvarna 562XP that's on his workbench. A huge workhorse of a chainsaw, its 60cc engine can just about fell anything, especially when it's coupled with the twenty-eight-inch bar. Always assuming you can lift it, that is.But of course, that's not a problem for someone like Luke. We have two of them, and this one's currently running a little hot, so Luke's giving it a service while he can't get outside due to the storm.
I shrug. A woman in the medi-bay? In the middle of a thunder and lightning storm? Doesn't seem very likely to me, but why would Luke make it up? I sigh. Another thing to worry about, as if battening down all the hatches for this storm wasn't enough.
Still, we were nearly done with storm prep. Head Office had warned us yesterday about a massive cold front bringing thunder, lightning, and possibly hail. The morning had started out bright—just enough time for me, Toby, and Luke to get everything secured: shutters closed, gear under cover, generator fired up, and supplies double-checked. We even made a quick run up to the roof to check for loose tiles. All good. All solid.
Meanwhile, our resident scientist, Eric, had kept himself busy tagging and photographing trees. He's already logged over a thousand, each precisely marked on a GPS-linked program that'll use satellite imaging to monitor their growth for the next few decades. He's not part of our crew—he works for the US Forest Service, on loan from Oregon State University. Arboreal sustainability is his thing. Quiet guy, smart, and easy to get along with. He's made himself right at home.
Oh well, I guess I'd better go check the medi-bay.
The main lodge is a single-story timber structure with a communal kitchen, living room, a large office, and a dozen small single bedrooms. Each of us has our own, which is a big improvement over the bunkhouses we used to sleep in. There arealso several outbuildings of various sizes where we store timber and machinery.
One of the bedrooms doubles as the medi-bay. It's stocked with the usual medical supplies: bandages, painkillers, and antiseptic cream. I turn the handle and step inside.
Curled up on the bed, fast asleep—or maybe unconscious—is what I can only describe as the prettiest little pink-haired fairy you could imagine. Lying there, her mouth partly open, her chest rising and falling softly, she looks pure, delicate, and way too lovely for a place like this.
I let out an involuntary gasp.
I’m a rough, tough ex-Army Ranger, who incidentally is at least twice her age. I'm not some poetry-reading college boy. I should know better.
So why am I going weak at the knees? Why’s my heart pounding like a jackhammer?
For thirty years, I’ve had a dream. Not every night, not even most nights—but often enough that it marked my life. It started when I was seventeen, fresh into the army, when days were nothing but drills, mud, and gun oil. But at night, she came to me: a girl with pink hair, blue eyes, and a smile that felt like home. She was always asleep in those dreams, except once—just once—when she opened her eyes, looked straight at me, and smiled like she’d been waiting.
I told myself it was nothing. Just exhaustion, or my head messing with me. I don’t believe in angels or fate, not magic or fairy tales. I buried it, moved on, forgot.
And now… here she is. The girl from my dreams, lying right here in the medi-bay, real as rain.
Something’s happening to me, and I don’t like how little control I seem to have over it.
I back out of the medi-bay and close the door behind me. I rest my back against it for a moment. Jesus… I’m sweating, andmy heart is hammering like I just sprinted up twenty flights of stairs. This will never do. Is this some kind of midlife crisis? Am I imagining the whole thing? Too many years in the wilderness with only men for company? But if so, why now—and why her? Why this girl from my dreams?
A coincidence?
I shake my head, not seeing how it can be.Come on, Jack. Get a grip.Ithasto be a coincidence.
My God… what would my younger brother Toby say if he could see me now?
Laugh?
