Page 32 of Haunted By the Mountain Man
"Walt!" I dropped beside him, immediately going into paramedic mode. His pulse was thready and irregular. Classiccardiac event. "Raven, get my med kit.” I pulled out my satellite phone. “Dispatch. I need the bird. Cardiac event, 83-year-old male."
She ran for the medical supplies while I gave our coordinates and I started chest compressions.
"You're not dying on my watch, old man.” I kept my compressions steady. "One and two and three and four..."
Raven returned with my bag, her hands shaking as she opened it.
"I need you steady," I snapped without looking up. "You're mine, and mine don't fall apart. Breathe."
The commanding tone worked. Her hands steadied as she handed me the supplies I needed. I got the oxygen mask on Walt, administered aspirin and nitroglycerin, all while maintaining compressions when his heart stuttered.
"How long until help gets here?" she asked.
"Fifteen minutes.” Too long. But I'd kept people alive for longer.
Walt's eyes fluttered open, focusing on me with sudden, perfect clarity. For the first time in years, he was completely present.
"Shane?" His voice was weak but clear. "I'm... where am I?"
"You're at the lodge, Walt. You had a heart attack. Help's coming."
He looked around, seeing the decay, the abandonment. Understanding flooded his face along with tears.
"It's all gone," he whispered. "They're gone. Rebecca and Jimmy... I should have believed her."
"It wasn't your fault."
"You saved me, son." His hand found mine, grip weak but determined. "You gave me more years than I deserved. But it's time." His eyes looked past me to something I couldn't see. "Rebecca and Jimmy... they're waiting."
"Don't talk like that. You're going to be fine."
But we both knew I was lying. I could hear the fluid building in his lungs, see the gray tinge to his skin.
The helicopter arrived faster than expected, the sound of rotors shaking dust from the ruined ceiling. The flight medics took over, getting Walt stabilized and loaded.
"You coming?" one asked me.
I looked at Raven. She was pale but steady, my warrior woman who'd held it together because I'd told her to.
"Go," she said. "I'll take your truck and head your cabin like usual."
I kissed her hard, possessive and claiming. Then I was running for the helicopter, leaving my woman alone in the abandoned lodge while I tried to save the only father figure I'd ever known.
RAVEN
I watched the helicopter disappear over the tree line, my heart still racing from the adrenaline. Walt's words echoed in my mind: "Rebecca and Jimmy... they're waiting."
The lodge felt different with Shane gone. Emptier. More oppressive, and full of secrets. I headed to Walt's room to gather anything he might need at the hospital. The space was tucked into what had once been the manager's office, and Shane had done his best to make it comfortable. A narrow cot with military-neat blankets. A camp chair beside it where Shane probably sat during Walt's bad nights. Medical supplies organized on metal shelving—insulin vials in a small cooler, blood pressure medications lined up by day, bandages and IV supplies for emergencies.
The walls were covered with Walt's careful notes—ski conditions that would never matter again, staff schedules for employees who'd never come, reminders about the holiday party that existed only in his fractured timeline. My throat tightened seeing his shaky handwriting: "Check heat in dining room" and "Order more salt for walkways."
A small shelf held Walt's few personal items—a faded photograph of the lodge in its heyday, a Swiss Army knife with "W.H. 25 Years of Service" engraved on it, and several library books about Vermont history, all decades overdue.
As I reached for Walt's diabetes medication, the temperature in the room suddenly plummeted. My breath misted in the air. Then, without any wind or vibration to cause it, a book launched itself off the shelf—not fell, but flew horizontally across the room, hitting the opposite wall with a bang that made me scream.
A yellowed newspaper clipping fluttered down from where the book had been, landing at my feet with deliberate precision, face up.
My hands shook as I picked it up. It was an obituary from fifteen years ago:
