I was barely existing, but that’s all I could manage. And honestly, someone should give me a goddamn medal. As I continued to stare at the flakes falling outside the window, Archie pawed at my leg and looked from me to his bowl, then back to me. I bent down and gave him a good rub. Alright, boy. I get the hint. I’ll get your breakfast. I filled up his bowl and placed it on the counter.
“Sit,” I signed, and when he did as bid, I set his bowl in front of him. His brown, hungry eyes pleaded with me, saying just give it to me already. “Eat,” I commanded, and he went at his food with a vengeance. If it wasn’t for that damn dog, the only other living thing that truly relied on me, I probably wouldn’t have made it as long as I had. While Archie gobbled his food, I threw a few logs into the fireplace and lit it up, then went back to the kitchen to fetch my coffee. After filling up my mug, I slumped down onto the sofa with coffee in hand and flipped on the news. The “blizzard show” was on every channel since it was the most newsworthy thing going on in our sleepy little town. I watched the captions roll. It shouldn’t surprise you if you hear thunder and see some lightning during the storm. We are experiencing a rare phenomenon called thunder snow—and some of the most intense snowfall rates we’ve ever seen. The weatherman was practically jizzing his pants in excitement.
Just then, a flash of lightning hit my peripheral and my walls and floors rumbled. Archie quickly curled up next to me, practically crawling onto my lap. He did not like thunder. Ruffling his fur with one hand, and sipping my coffee with the other, I tried to calm him as I watched the weather report.
Countless images of cars off the road flashed before me, and I was thankful I went to the store earlier. Flipping off the news, I sighed and went to my bookshelf. My mind wandered thinking how that morning should have been. Alex sitting by the window, sipping coffee as she read. I imagined myself walking over, covering her with a soft blanket, kissing her softly on the cheek. Shaking my head, I grabbed a paperback and got lost in another fantasy world. After some time, I noticed the logs had begun to die out and I groaned. Shit. I needed to head out onto the deck for more. I dropped my book, leaned forward, pushing Archie off my lap, and I could feel his hefty dog-sigh as I moved him.
Yeah, I know, bud. Same sentiment here.
I threw my jacket on over my boxer-briefs and slipped into my boots. Yeah, I looked ridiculous in nothing but my skivvies, boots, and a jacket, but it’s not like anyone was around for miles. My rentals were all spaced to give each tenant as much privacy as possible. The closest cabin was about five hundred meters away. When it was occupied, I could usually catch a glimpse of the light illuminating it between the trees. Occasionally hikers would stray onto my side of the property, but for the most part it was secluded. Basically, with all my rentals currently vacant, and the abysmal weather, it was a safe enough bet that I wouldn’t be flashing anyone.
I opened the sliding, glass door in all my Cousin Eddie glory and couldn’t help but think about the scene from Christmas Vacation where Eddie is on the curb in a bathrobe and boots, emptying out his septic tank. Slipping out onto my back deck in the twilight, I went to grab the wood. Stacked up on a stand a few feet from my back door was a seasoned rick. I’d split every log myself in the beginning of the summer so it would be dried out by the time winter arrived. Backbreaking, yet therapeutic, work.
My cabins were nice, mine being the larger of all the rentals on the low-end of what some would consider a “luxury” mountain home. Depending on the size, they rented from about two fifty a night up to five hundred. All of them had new appliances and central heat and air, but with the storms up here sometimes I’d lose power, so I always stayed prepared. Plenty of firewood and a few backup generators I could take to my tenants if need be.
As I grabbed several logs and stacked them in my arm, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of light breaking through the snow-covered trees. …What? I heel-turned, squinted, and stared at the other cabin in the distance. The front porch, the only light that should be on, was on the north side of the property and could not be seen from my back deck. So why in the hell was a light on inside my vacant rental? I went inside, dropped the logs, and grabbed my binoculars.
Back outside, I walked around the porch to a better viewing spot, lifting the binoculars to my eyes. The smallest of my rentals was definitely aglow. Not only that, but smoke billowed out of the chimney.
The fuck?
A squatter? It had happened a time or two to me in the city, but never out here. After needing to have the cops come and remove them, I’d gotten smart and had security systems installed. But I never figured it was needed out here, in the middle of nowhere. Sure, I had my home fully automated, but for the other cabins it was not needed.
Fucking hell. I grunted and stormed back inside. Archie’s ears perked up and his head lifted to attention as I barreled past him. It would take the cops an hour to get up here, and that was betting on the fact that the roads were passable at this juncture.
Right as I grabbed my phone to text them, I noticed I had zero bars. Cell tower down, of course.
With Archie now hot on my heels, I dashed to my bedroom and quickly threw on my clothes. When I got to the door, I stopped, turned to Archie, and signed, “Stay.”
Damn. If looks could kill. Archie obeyed, but wasn’t pleased about it at all.
I grabbed my handgun—the only security I’d ever needed up here—and shoved it in the back of my jeans, only as a precaution. Looking back to my dog, his head leaning on his paws, protective eyes peering up at me, I felt saddened. My fatherly instinct to keep my pooch safe was at war with my bro-code for leaving my best friend behind. Of course, he could protect me. And the smart call was to take him, but I’d always felt like it was my duty to protect him. Fine. I could use the company. Decision made, I patted my thigh and Archie raced out the door with me into the drifting snow.
My list of crimes was mounting.
Not only had I faked my own death, which had some massive repercussions, but I’d also committed a felony by breaking and entering.
The front door was a key code entry, solid wood, and impenetrable. Thankfully, the back had a small window above the lock that I was able to bust with a rock.
Once inside, I’d cleaned up the glass and found a box in the pantry, which I used to tape up the window.
I just prayed that my crimes of theft and vandalism didn’t get the police involved. If they did show, I could only hope that my fake documents held up to scrutiny.
The next several minutes I spent inspecting the small cabin. It was actually quite nicer than what I’d expected. The small kitchen had light-oak cabinetry, brand-new appliances, and a small two-seater dinette. It opened up to a living room which was long and rectangular. Newer furnishings adorned the room that was a perfect blend of masculine and feminine. A leather sofa with a knitted, light-blue afghan hung off one arm. A coffee table sat in front of the sofa, with a smaller matching armchair backing up to the kitchen. A flat screen television set hung above the stone fireplace in the center of the room. Around the bend, just off the front door, was the bedroom with a queen bed, a soft comforter, and nice quilt. There was a small bathroom adjacent to it with a claw-foot tub and walk-in, tiled shower.
Whomever took care of this place put time and effort into it. And here I was breaking in like a common criminal. But if they only knew what I was running from, maybe they’d understand.