My Dad

Carlisle's Point of View

When I returned home from the hospital in the early evening, I could tell that my family needed to hunt.

We'd been trying to go for the last few days, but each time we postponed for what could be described as silly reasons. Sometimes, hunting was an invigorating thrill, and sometimes, hunting felt tedious, the way some humans might view grocery shopping when they weren't feeling motivated.

This week, hunting definitely felt like a chore. When I assembled the family in the living room, I silently assessed each person's tension level and eye color. I was no Jasper, but I had lived with these folks long enough to know who was at their breaking point.

Esme, Alice, and Jasper could wait until the rest of us returned. Emmett, Edward, Rose and I needed to go now.

As soon as I hugged Esme and enjoyed her whole-hearted return hug, I kissed her cheek again and the four of us were off.

It didn't take long at all for us to be far away from Forks, far away from any sign of civilization. We had been through this particular area dozens of times, and each of us was sure that we knew the location of every small stone, every decomposing tree stump, every deer path.

Emmett lucked into an oversized elk, and he felt guilty when he realized that the rest of us had found nothing. We were so careful to spread out our hunts so we didn't affect the predator-prey balance too noticeably. What happened to the plentiful wildlife in this area? Where did everything go?

"Carlisle, look," Edward whispered and he pointed north. Only a vampire could see the smoky threads coming out of a very small cabin up ahead. This little cabin must have been new. It was not here in the spring.

Rosalie scoffed in irritation, in a way only Rosalie could, "Well THAT explains where my dinner has gone. I'm thirsty, I'm covered in pieces of mush, and my hair has twigs in it. Let's go northwest somewhere. Now."

Emmett laughed under his breath. I imagine he didn't want to laugh too loud; Rose could be difficult when her eyes were totally golden. When they were as black and cold as they were now, she required some special handling. A Rose explosion was never pleasant.

I agreed with Rose that running northwest seemed to be a good idea when I heard a small cat. This cat must be just a few days old. Not a cat at all. It had to be a kitten. Edward heard my thoughts and he surprised me by scrounging some humor out of his ever serious demeanor. "Well, we have scored one oversized, delicious elk for Emmett, and now the rest of us can satisfy ourselves on a kitten. Perfect."

Truly, I just wanted to take care of hunting and get back to the house so the rest could have their turn. I missed Esme. The kitten was an interesting anecdote, but it was time to go.

We had run for only a few seconds when all four of us instinctively stopped. We stood in silence.

The kitten was mewing even more pitifully than before. It was a dreadful sound…I had heard that sound before in the hospital. It was the distressing sound of giving up. It was one of those final sounds that doctors recognize and try to forget by putting them in invisible boxes and only opening them up when necessary.

No one said a word when I took a few steps in the direction of the dying sound. Vampire hearing could be distracting when you were on a simple mission and something was drawing you away from your task. Sometimes I ignored the distraction. I was fighting myself over this one.

"Carlisle, it's a flippin' cat! Let's go," Rosalie growled to herself. Her jaw was set in irritation.

"You go. I'm…I am…." I started to say, and Rose interrupted, "You are going to go check on a stupid cat."

Emmett pulled Rose toward the new trail and I ran to the new, little cabin. It was freezing. The kitten was probably dying of hyperthermia. The temperature seemed to be even colder than usual for this time of year. I had hoped that whoever had built this little cabin had understood the climate of this part of the mountain. I hoped that they had insulated well when building.

Edward started to follow Emmett and Rose who by now were half a mile away, but he had stopped and now stood at my side. I asked him silently if he heard anyone's thoughts from inside.

"There's not much, Carlisle. There's something, but I don't understand it. It's like….noise in my head. Whatever it is, it's slowing down."

I crept silently to the window and pulled the new, fresh sawn shutter open. I let Edward see for himself and I ran to the door. It was locked but I busted it open.

There were two people in their mid to late twenties lying on the floor of what looked like a small kitchen. Their faces were cyanotic and when I felt for a pulse, I knew I wouldn't be finding one.

I quickly surveyed the room for what could have caused their deaths. The kitchen seemed very new, and there seemed to be fairly new boxes strewn around with bits of Styrofoam packing sprinkled here and there.

"Carlisle, look," Edward whispered.

Edward was pulling a small, white booklet off the floor near the young woman's body. As we read the instructions to the gas stove and heater, both of us realized at the same time what had happened to these poor people. I hadn't seen carbon monoxide poisoning often in the ER. Most people never made it to the ER.

"Edward, look for the cat, and let's get out of here, now." The carbon monoxide couldn't harm us, but an explosion could, and I had no idea what went wrong with this stove.

"I don't see anything in here, and I can't smell much with that CO in here. I'll check the closet."

I ran in Edward's direction when I heard his gasp. "Carlisle, it's a baby! A newborn!"

Edward wasn't in a closet. It looked like a little nursery. He grabbed the baby and cradled it under his jacket as best he could and ran about three hundred yards away. I pulled the tablecloth off the table and followed him as fast as I could.

He stopped behind a huge, granite boulder that was at least forty feet high and sixty feet thick. It wasn't a boulder; it was a hill.

Edward kept the baby's body tucked in his jacket and pulled its face out. There was a pulse, but it was faint. There was a slight breathing sound, but this baby was clearly moderately hypothermic and very dehydrated. My fingers were leaving indentions in its skin. I tucked the cotton tablecloth as best as I could around the spaces in Edward's jacket and around the baby's head. "Run, Edward."

We had run for five minutes when we heard the explosion. We slowed our pace for a few seconds, looked at each other and continued the fastest run of our lives.