DAY
"17th thru the 20th"
OF THE HAUNTING
PREMONITION
Gray clouds and, occasionally, a mysterious gust of
wind would stir the frozen snowflakes into weird dances that haunted Sarah
daily. No sun, no birdsong, just the occasional crack and shattering of an icicle falling from a great height and the unusual gurgle of air escaping from
the lake were the only sounds that filled her days.
Sarah did her best to chase the blues away. Singing
her favorite songs, Sarah serenaded the ice-filled gorge for her peace of mind
and the echoing accompaniment. Sitting atop the rock in her favorite fishing
spot, she sang as she fished for the fresh dinner she'd planned for Chet's
return. He said he'd be back in a week, if not sooner, either with the rescuers
or just to return to her because the mountain was still socked in.
Sarah hadn't heard the sound of one plane or chopper
the entire week, even though she'd spent hours listening. Meditating, praying, and
visualizing, to no avail. She had not been able to manifest anything positive, but still,
she held on to hope.
She stared over the lake, wondering about Chet's
location when she heard his voice.
"Sarah, you really need to be more
careful. Pay attention. Be prepared, he's coming."
Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw Chet approaching and turned to greet him, but a sudden yank on
her fishing pole had her jerking her attention back to the lake. The rod went
flying. She grabbed for it but lost her balance and slid off the rock straight
down onto the ice. Chet's
makeshift cast on her broken ankle gave way, but so did the ice. Sarah slipped
through and into the cold wetness. The pain surging through her body was
nothing compared to the intense shock of the water as it consumed her.
Photo by Greg Nerantzakis on Unsplash
She fought with all she had to get back to the
surface. But murkiness, tangled reeds, heavy clothes, and a heavier parka
weighed her down. Her lungs felt like they'd explode before she would recognize
which way was up. But she let go of a lung full of air and watched the bubbles
ascend. She kicked off the rocky bottom with her good leg, and with her parka
half on and half off, she broke through to the surface. Grappling to find a
handhold on the ice and laboring not to be pulled back into the icy water by
the heavy parka. She took a deep breath and yelled for Chet. But he was nowhere
to be seen. Maybe he'd gone for some rope. Calming herself, she removed the
water-soaked coat and threw it toward the rocks sticking above the ice on shore
that were out of her reach. After three throws, she managed to secure the hood
of her parka over a large stone. Sarah pulled herself from the lake and across
the rock-filled icy shore.
Breathless and unable to find her crutches, she crawled
back to the cave. She knew how deadly hyperthermia was, and her only goal was
to get to safety and warmth. But as she dragged her broken foot along the
ground, the rest of the splint, mostly gauze, sluffed off. But a section became
caught on a stone. She stopped to tear the rest of the makeshift cast off,
which left her leg unprotected and made her movements even more painful. She
took a moment to catch her breath, pray, and look around. Where the hell was
Chet? She knew she'd seen him. She knew she heard his voice.
But a deep silence covered the area. No wind, not even
a rustle. The pain in her leg was becoming worse. Even more than she remembered
of the initial break. She laid her broken leg across her good leg. Just as a
chill wind blew a swirl of snow like a dust devil at her. The clouds darkened, and
lightning and thunder shook the gorge. Giant icicles by the dozens crashed
to the ground, and blowing snow twirled and blew in all directions.
Darkness had fallen so quickly that it was as though
someone had turned the lights out or closed the curtains. Sarah shivered and
thought her bones would snap from the instant brittleness caused by the Arctic
chill. Then her entire body began shaking uncontrollably. Her extremities
burned as though they were on fire, and then they grew numb almost
simultaneously. She gathered her strength and pulled herself backward with her
hands and arms. She let her good leg protect and haul the broken one.
Eventually, she made it to the entrance of the cavern.
Photo by Chris Ensminger on Unsplash
Sighing in relief, she suddenly froze in place. The
howl of a wolf, something she'd heard several times since the crash, stopped
her cold. The cry was close. This time, the wolf was closer.
She looked up. Atop the cliff was a gray-black wolf,
his vicious fang-filled grin intimated at the terror he couldn't wait to
inflict.
That's when she realized that Chet wasn't coming
back.
He'd warned her.
It was Chet's last heroic deed.
***
842 words
Yolanda Renee © 2023
Tagline: Pay attention to your sixth
sense.
This is another excerpt from the 7th book of my
Alaskan Series, Murder on Mount Fairweather, coming out December 2023.
READ THE OTHER ENTRIES HERE
