Lone Survivor (Book 1): All That Remains Read online

  That answer didn’t suffice.

  Many felt it was their right to receive water regardless of power outages and so they demanded a better answer. Town officials tried their best to calm them and explain that city water came from reservoirs, rivers and wells, and was pumped into a water tower located at the highest point in a town. From there cold water flowed naturally into homes through gravity. When the power went the only water available was what was left in the water tower. For those in homes that meant continuing to receive water for a short while but at a lower pressure, and that period of time would be shortened based on how many turned on faucets. Those in apartments would often cease to get water because the buildings relied upon a water pumping system in the basement and without electricity, the pump would stop working and so would the flow.

  Unless of course they had a generator but many didn’t.

  That brought them to those who drew water from wells. They were in some ways the fortunate ones, at least in the sense that they were often not sharing that well with neighbors and as long as they had a generator, they could continue to pump the water into the home. Unfortunately, the Manor used city water so Sara knew it was only a matter of time before that ceased.

  “Max, do me a favor, go around to the bathrooms and fill up the tubs and sinks with cold water.” They had fourteen guest rooms and each one had a private bathroom.

  “But it’s hardly coming out?”

  “I know but if we don’t do it now, we might not have anything later.”

  She heard him turn on the tap, and the pipes let out a groaning noise. She looked up at the lightbulb above her head providing ample light. “Oh, and Max. Open the curtains. Try not to use any lights that we don’t need. I don’t want to use the generator too much this morning.” She planned on making hot tea, and having cereal for breakfast, then heating up the boiler to take showers but that was it. It would be a weak shower at best but at least they’d have some heat. After that she would turn off the generator and conserve the gas until the evening when she could use it to power the furnace and a few lights until they went to bed. After that, it would have to be wood logs on the fire to warm the huge Manor.

  As she went about making coffee, her thoughts drifted to Landon and Ellie. Anxiety had been a large part of her life even though she was taking different natural supplements to keep her on an even keel; magnesium for menopause, and B12, D, E and iron for the rest. And on the very worst days she would take CBD to take the edge off.

  With a coffee in hand she took out a pad of paper and made a quick list of additional items that they needed to stock up on such as flashlights, a hand-cranked radio, extra batteries, candles, lamps, matches, non-perishable food and bottled water. Much of it she already had on hand for the running of the inn but without any idea of how long this would last she figured it wouldn’t hurt to go and purchase some more. That’s when it dawned on her. Oh man, the ATMs would be out. No credit card. No debit. Only cash. Fortunately she had stashed away a little nest egg after learning her lesson from the previous temporary outage. She wandered into the pantry and ferreted around for the old tea tin stuffed to the back of the shelf.

  Sara pulled it out, popped the lid and fished out five hundred dollars.

  No sooner was she holding it than she was startled.

  “Sara.”

  She cast a glance over her shoulder and placed a hand on her heart. “You scared the crap out of me.” Standing only a few feet away was Jake Parish. He was close to six foot in stature, broad-shouldered, dark wavy hair and ruggedly handsome. His nails always had oil beneath them from his line of work. A mechanic by trade, he ran a garage in town but had two guys working there while he towed vehicles. They’d known each other since they were knee high, both had attended the same school and rumor had it he’d shown an interest in her but for whatever reason never made a move. He had never married. She might have dated him had he asked as he was a good-looking man but by then she’d met Landon. She quickly stuffed the wad of money back into the tin but not before he saw it. She swallowed hard, raking a few fingers nervously through her hair. It must have looked a complete mess since tearing the beanie off. And smell? She didn’t even want to think about what she smelled like. “Jake? How did you…?”

  He thumbed over his shoulder. “The door was ajar. I knocked, no one answered.”

  “Oh, sorry, my mind is elsewhere,” she said bringing the tin out with her and setting it on the counter. Her eyebrows shot up. “Merry Christmas!” A smile formed then faded. “If you can call this Christmas,” she added, chuckling ever so slightly as she made her way over to the kettle.

  “The same to you.”

  “So what brings you this way?”

  “I brought your vehicle back.”

  “You did? But how?”

  “Oh, Hank’s not the only one in town with a vehicle that works. I have an old 1979 Scout. Anyway, I figured it was best to retrieve it now before the ice rain hits and your vehicle becomes encased in ice.” He looked around. “Landon not home?”

  “No, he hasn’t returned. I…” she trailed off as she poured out two cups and handed him one, then her brow furrowed. “We’re supposed to get ice rain?”

  “If the radio is anything to go by.” He nursed his cup and looked down at the floor as if he wanted to say something. Sara’s stomach sank, thinking he was about to tell her some bad news about Landon and Ellie.

  “What is it, Jake?”

  His mouth opened and closed and he got this serious look on his face.

  “It appears the entire country is without power.”

  11

  Darkness. Light stabbed his eyes followed by excruciating agony and a foggy haze before grimy fingers pushed pills into his mouth. His head tilted and his throat flooded with liquid. A bitter taste. Rinse and repeat. How many times? Twice, three times? Maybe it was only once and his mind was reliving it like some hellish nightmare on loop. One thing was sure, his pain subsided whenever it occurred. Waves of warmth, the sound of popping and crackling. The smell of burnt wood. Something or something clattering beyond this gray cloud. All this was experienced at spaced-out intervals.

  A fleeting memory of snow, the rustle of something large grunting nearby and then a young girl’s face exploding into view. Was it just a bad dream, a state from which he couldn’t wake? No it couldn’t be as he kept seeing her, blurry but it was there at the edges of his peripheral vision. Sometimes hearing her voice. What was she saying? Where was he?

  A howling wind. A dog barking.

  Tears. Someone crying.

  Water being poured. Sizzling.

  The mouthwatering aroma of meat.

  His fragmented mind somehow slowly pieced together reality.

  A cabin, a log fire, a young girl not much older than his own. His own?

  “Ellie!” Landon shot upright, arm outstretched, screaming her name, sweat pouring off him, unaware of his condition only to be reminded when pain steamrolled his body. The girl appeared at his side pressing him back into cushioned warmth.

  “Careful, you need to rest.”

  She was strong, pretty and determined. For the first time he could see her clearly. She was no longer hidden behind a heavy coat. Her body was slender, clothed in a form-fitting green hoodie, faded tight jeans and ankle boots. Her dirty blond hair tickled his face as she leaned over to cover his body in layers of colorful cottage-style blankets. Although he was gripped by the terror of the unknown, she gave him a sense of protection, care and genuine concern.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “On and off, roughly twenty-four hours.”

  “Who are you?” he asked in his groggy state.

  “Beth Sullivan. But most call me Bluebird.”

  Bluebird. What kind of name was that?

  “Where am I?”

  She looked at him and frowned. “I told you. North Carolina. The Blue Ridge Mountains. This is my home.”

  Slowly he said, “You look a little young… to
live alone.”

  “I live with my father but he went into town two days ago and hasn’t returned. The weather has been really bad. Do you remember anything?”

  He gazed up at the A-frame wood panel ceiling. “I…”

  “You were in a plane crash,” she said trying to help.

  His eyes roamed the room, his mind trying to connect the dots. Then the memory flooded in, a series of fleeting images, the plane, darkness, gripping fear, his daughter Ellie screaming. “My daughter. Where is she?”

  Beth looked back at him. “I only found you, and the pilot. He was dead.”

  “No. No, my daughter was with me,” he said, trying once again to get up. “She’s still out there.” He wrestled for control, thrashing his arms within her grip. If it wasn’t for the stabbing pain shooting up his legs, intense burning in his ribs or lack of strength, he might have managed to get up. Tears rolled down his face as agonizing grief gripped him. Even though common sense told him that she hadn’t survived, without a body, his mind tormented him making him think she was out there, cold, alone and on the brink of death.

  “Landon, you’ve broken your right leg. Maybe even fractured the other. You have excessive bruising to your ribs and your shoulder was dislocated. I managed to correct the shoulder and straighten the leg but… you still need a doctor to look at you. I’ve been giving you painkillers every four to six hours but I need to go into town and get help.” She paused giving him a stern look. “Stay put. Don’t get up. I’ve elevated your leg and done what I can but I need to leave now before it’s too late.”

  “Too late?”

  “Internal bleeding. You could get an infection.”

  He frowned. “How do you know my name?”

  “Your wallet was in your pocket.” She crossed the room and retrieved the battered leather wallet Sara had bought for him four years ago. It was jam-packed full of debit and credit cards, ID, and a photo of his family. Those who saw him carrying it always thought he had a lot of money on him because it was so fat but he just kept forgetting to remove the old receipts tucked inside. She handed it to him and he took out the photo and held it between his thumb and index finger. Tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of Ellie.

  “You need to go see. Please. Go look. I need to know for sure.”

  Beth nodded. “I will. You have my word but I’m not sure I will see much. There’s a lot of snow on the ground and I only saw the front end of the plane.”

  He tucked the photo back in and placed his hand on hers. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll be back. I promise. My dog will stay with you. Grizzly. He’ll protect you.”

  “Protect?” He looked over at the mutt that was staring at him, its tongue hung out the side of its mouth and it looked like he was grinning. He’d never been much of a pet owner. His kids wanted one but with his frequent trips and Sara running the inn it just seemed a little too much to take on. Of course there was the cost. They weren’t cheap.

  She stared at him as if he didn’t get it. “This is wild country. We get bears, cougars, feral dogs, and occasionally oddball hikers. You should be safe in here but I’ll leave a rifle with you. Do you know how to shoot one?”

  “Of course.” He’d often taken a gun with him when he delivered planes as some of the places he flew into were remote and safety was a must. Beth cautiously took her hands away from his chest, stood up and went over to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. She took out a few bags of jerky and stuffed them into a backpack. She collected a huge coat and flung it over the back of a sofa nearby.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’ve got soup.”

  “I need to…”

  “Pee?”

  He was embarrassed to say it but it was as if she already knew. She crossed the room and stepped into the bedroom and picked up a silver-colored bedpan. “Don’t worry, you’ve used it twice already.”

  “But…”

  “Yeah, you were a little out of it,” she said filling in the blanks. “Wasn’t easy, that’s for sure.” She looked back at him. “Trust me, I didn’t want to do it either but I wasn’t going to have you piss in the bed again.”

  He didn’t know what to make of that. It was hard to remember in the haze of strong painkillers. He peppered her with more questions about her father, the distance to town nearby and how long she’d been living there. The questions were asked more out of embarrassment than because he was interested. He did the same when he visited his local doctor. While it didn’t change the situation it made him feel less self-conscious, however, that was his doctor, a man, an adult. This was a young girl. Somehow though she managed to help him keep his dignity. Beth put on disposable gloves, and rolled him on his side which made him cry out in pain. Next she placed the bedpan against his buttocks and rolled him back over.

  “Where did you learn to do this?”

  “My mother was a nurse,” she replied as she took away the urine-filled bedpan and emptied it outside.

  The door slammed shut and for a few seconds he was alone barring the dog who just kept staring at him. “Shoo. Go,” he said feeling as if the dog was peering into his very soul.

  Beth returned, glanced at the dog and at him. “You’ll get used to him.”

  Used to him? She made it sound like he was going to be there a long time. He wasn’t. As soon as he could stand, he would make his way home, one way or another. Beth went over to the kitchen and returned with a large thermos.

  “Here, it’s soup.” She perched on the edge of the bed and unscrewed the top which was a cup. She poured some out and brought it to his lips, lifting his body ever so slightly. He took a sip. It was wasn’t hot but warm enough to swallow in one go. It tasted of chicken. “Homemade. Made it myself. There should be enough in there for lunch and dinner though I expect to be back before nightfall.”

  “Beth.”

  “I have to go,” she said getting up and returning a moment later with a pill container. “Take two every four hours. No more. Okay? They’re pretty strong so you’ll probably sleep. Before you know it, I’ll be back.”

  Beth shrugged into her coat in preparation to leave, she then crouched near her dog and whispered something into its ear. The dog looked over at him as if it understood. She patted it on the back and slung her backpack on, then collected a .22 lever-action rifle and placed it beside the bed along with a box of ammo. “You familiar with this?”

  When he didn’t answer her instantly, she showed him how to load it. Once done she looked around the room, biting down gently on her lower lip as if troubled that she’d forgotten something before she palmed a magazine into the P320 and holstered it at her hip. She then collected a bow and quiver, slung it over her shoulder and tucked a small hatchet into the belt around her hip. “Oh, there’s bottled water just below the bed. You think you can reach it?” He let his arm hang down and touched it.

  “Good. Well, I’ll be back soon.” She went across the room and tossed a few more logs into the fire, covered it with the protector, smiled and went to exit.

  “Beth.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  She shrugged as if it was nothing. “Not a problem. Stay warm.”

  She flung the door open. The sight of bright white snow was blinding. “Beth. Where’s your mother?”

  Still holding the door she looked back at him for a second before covering her head with a hood. “Dead.”

  Slowly she backed away from the cabin and stood in the snow that measured up to her knees. The weather had vastly improved over the past few days. It was clear except for a few flurries. Beth had a basic idea of where the start of the trail was and now the blizzard had passed, she had no doubt she could make it into town within the hour. She didn’t like leaving a stranger at the cabin or with her dog but it wasn’t like he was a problem. She had a rough idea of where the plane had gone down and would search for his daughter but she knew after twenty-four hours there was no way in hell his kid was alive. Mountai
n weather could be brutal in the winter and after the storm they’d just been through, and with the number of wild animals out looking for food, the odds of finding her body would be slim to none.

  Time was against her. There was no telling if another storm would sweep in and she didn’t want to be hiking in the dark. Her first priority was to make it to town, head to the outdoor center and see if she could locate her father. Next, she would head over to the home of Gregory Banks, an elderly doctor who worked in a small clinic in town. He’d been a close friend of the family from way back when her mother used to commute to Cannon Memorial Hospital which was the nearest hospital, located a thirty-minute drive away from town.

  Beth gazed up into the deep blue sky as birds squawked overhead.

  Her feet plunged into the fresh powder as she trudged forward. It would take a good thirty minutes of hard slogging through the forest and another ten to reach the town by road and that was if she picked up the pace. She made a beeline for the mouth of the trail, picking up her feet and panting hard.

  Within minutes her thighs burned and sweat trickled from her brow.

  She kept pressing on through the high drifts of untouched snow. Ten minutes passed and she kept her eyes out for the wreckage. She passed birds feasting on something. She shooed them away hoping it wasn’t Landon’s daughter. It wasn’t. It was a torn-up rabbit. It was like hiking through a maze, pines everywhere she turned blocking her view. It would have been easy for someone who didn’t know these mountains to lose their footing and break an ankle. The rough terrain challenged hikers. Continuing on, she crested a rise and saw the familiar distant sight of Ryerson in the valley. Why hadn’t she seen the lights last night? And why was there black smoke drifting over the buildings?