Chapter Three

She continued to tumble end over end, the panic overwhelming now, overriding any rational thought. After what seemed an eternity the world stopped moving and she found herself in a semi-upright position, the backpack helping to provide a pocket in the snow around her. She took a moment to assess herself. Other than a dull ache in her right ankle and some bumps and bruises she felt relatively undamaged.

Quickly her thoughts turned to the man who had been traveling with her. "David?" she called, the word echoing throughout the small cocoon of snow surrounding her. Get a grip, she admonished herself as intuition kicked in. The air in here will only hold out for a short while. Don't go wasting what luck has provided by being galactically stupid. She worked to consciously slow her breathing. Tentatively she reached a mittened hand above her head. I'm not even sure that's up. She closed her eyes, focusing inward, trying to discern through sensation alone in which direction the surface, and freedom lay. She took a deep breath and opening her eyes, she scoured her surroundings, attempting to ascertain even a hint of daylight through the layer of snow. Willing herself to be calm she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness that filled the confined space, certain that things seemed a just a hair lighter above her stomach. I must be on my back, she surmised as she reached up a hand and began to dig with focused determination. After a few minutes she heard noises from above, a scraping sound as if someone was clearing snow from the opposite side.

"David?" she said again. "Is that you?" The grunting became louder, the scraping and shifting of snow more frenetic as light definitely began to filter in, the blackness easing infinitesimally. "Thank God you found me. I'm here," she yelled, as she began to furiously chip away at the compressed layer of white with both hands. Suddenly, something broke through the surface above her—not the normal, flesh-colored hand of her companion as she had expected but an oversized, green-skinned one. Growls and snarls continued to rain down on her from above. At the moment, though she didn't spare a thought for the strange sights and sounds that accosted her senses, her only goal to escape from her frigid prison of white.

Finally fingers closed around her jacket, pulled her out of the small, confining space and deposited her on the surface, littered with bits of tree branches, roots and small rocks. She looked up, words of gratitude for her rescuer forming on her lips, but a scream erupted from her instead upon the sight that met her eyes.

Before her stood what could only be described as a primitive creature, clad only in a pair of pants that ended in tatters somewhere below its knees, snow clinging to its hair and broad shoulders. It flinched at her scream, as if it had expected something else from her, confusion playing over the primeval features, a greenish cast to the skin and hair visible even in the fading light. She made to stand and run, but the injured ankle collapsed under her. She landed unceremoniously on her backside in the snow.

That seemed to upset the creature. It reached toward her, the severe features softening somewhat. She shrank back from the outstretched hand. "Don't touch me," she whispered fearfully as the hand was slowly withdrawn. "David, where are you?" she called, frantic now, eyes never leaving the seven-foot-tall behemoth before her. "Please help me."

He must not have made it, she said silently, a sudden flood of tears burning her cheeks. Great! I'm either going to freeze to death or be torn apart by Bigfoot. A laugh clawed at her throat, a harsh, bitter sound that landed somewhere between terror and fury.

That spurred the beast into motion. It reached for her again. "Leave me alone! Go away!" she shouted, slapping at the green appendage.

Once again confusion clouded the creature's brow, but instead of walking off as she had hoped, it plopped down into the snow, far enough away that it couldn't touch her, but the intention was clear all the same. If she couldn't walk out of here, then it wasn't going, either. So what's the deal? she wondered. Are we both gonna sit here until we're human popsicles? She laughed aloud again, this time the sound dripping with irony. Well, I'll be a human popsicle at least. Lord only knows what you'll be. Keeping her gaze fixed on the creature, she struggled to stand again. It was on its feet and beside her in an instant, a hand held out once more. Shifting her weight to her good leg, she slid the backpack from off her shoulders; it landed with a thud at her feet. Right hand on one of the straps, she reached out and gingerly touched the forearm of the beast with the other, steadying herself, ready to smack it with the backpack if it did anything untoward.

"Are you trying to help me?" she asked. The creature merely scrunched up its nose at her. "I can't walk, get it? No sense in both of us freezing to death, so why don't you just go?" A beat. "Can you understand me?" she asked, frustration winning out over the fear.

It continued to stare at her, the hand now shifting to her waist, the other grabbing her behind the knees. The next thing she knew she was in the beast's arms as it started to walk away, the pack falling from her fingers and landing in the snow.

"Wait," she said softly and the creature stopped, regarding her keenly. "You are trying to help me, aren't you?" It cocked its head to one side, a shy smile forming on the thick lips. "Well, I need my pack," she informed it, gesturing to the canvas bag at its feet. It bent down and grabbed the straps with the fingers of the hand under her knees and retrieved the bundle before walking toward the setting sun which was now playing peek-a-boo with the retreating storm clouds.

"That's the wrong way," she admonished softly. The beast halted again; the look of confusion was back. "The road's east, but it's way too steep for us to go that way. The town David and I were trying to get to is just a few miles north of here, that way," she said, gesturing to the creature's right.

After a cursory glance in that direction the beast looked to her again for confirmation. "It's okay," she assured it. "Our best chance is to go that way."

Turning north the creature set off, its steps sure and deliberate, Jennifer clutched securely to its chest.

oooOOOooo

As they trudged on in silence, the only sound that of the snow crunching under the creature's feet, the precipitation gradually tapered off, finally halting altogether. Once again, Jennifer tried to talk to her green-skinned rescuer.

"Aren't you cold? I mean, no shirt and no shoes. I'm freezing and I'm bundled up." The beast merely tilted its head to look at her, its gaze then shifting to the path ahead of them once again as twilight approached.

"Where'd you come from, and why are you helping me?" As before, there was no answer, the behemoth simply shifting her weight in its arms.

"We need to find a safe place to hole up for the night," she continued, finding that talking aloud helped to ease her jittery nerves, keep her focused. It provided her with the sense of security, of normalcy, she so desperately needed at the moment. "A cave or something. It's gonna get a heck of a lot colder once the sun sets." A beat. "I'm pretty sure you have no clue how to make a fire," she intoned facetiously. Another pause. "At least it stopped snowing for now, but that might change, too." She realized she was rambling, no rhyme or reason present to the string of words that tumbled from her lips. She opted for quiet, trying desperately to make sense of her current predicament.

A dark shape one hundred yards or so in the distance caught her eye. "Hey, what's that?" she asked, raising herself up slightly and craning her neck to see through the dense forest to the cleared area beyond. "Can you please stop?" she said, resting a hand gently on the beast's shoulder.

It glanced down at her again but seemed to understand, halting its forward momentum. "That way," she said, gesturing to the left this time. "Let's go see what that is. Looks manmade," she commented absently. As they approached she couldn't hide her delight. "It's a cabin! Probably a hunting cabin. Looks like no one's there, or has been there in ages, though," she added disconsolately as she observed the undisturbed snow before it, the absence of smoke pouring from the chimney.

They continued onto the front porch, Jennifer motioning for the creature to set her down in front of the door. It deposited her on her feet. She shifted her weight to her left leg, a hand on the doorframe providing her the support she needed to stand. "Locked," she announced, defeated, as she tried the knob. She looked to the creature; it grunted and raised its arms above its head, obviously intending to smash the door down.

"No, don't!" she yelled, inserting herself between the beast and the door, arms also upraised as she made to stop him. "This has got to belong to someone. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't take kindly to us breaking the door down. Besides," she added, "It'll be awfully hard to keep it warm in there, or keep the wind and snow out, without a door. I know in Wyoming it's common courtesy to let others use hunting cabins, particularly if you're lost in the woods and need shelter. Maybe they hid a key around here somewhere," she said, dropping to her knees. She peeled off her mittens, stuffed them in a pocket of her coat, and began feeling around the pile of firewood stacked neatly under a tarp on the porch. After about a minute she sat back dejectedly. "Nothing here, at least that I can find."

The creature picked up on her discomfiture. This time, it reached out and grasped the doorknob, twisting until the lock gave way with an audible pop. It pushed gingerly and the door swung open. It looked to Jennifer again, almost as if asking, "Now what?"

She beamed up at it. "Hey, neat trick. Only thing they'll need is a new doorknob. Let's go in." As she attempted to stand, the beast made to gather her into its arms again. "No, I'm okay. The ankle feels a whole lot better now. Just let me lean on you, okay?" She grasped the muscular forearm and the creature seemed to understand. It walked slowly beside her, serving as a living crutch as she hobbled through the door.

The interior was dark, feeble pools of light puddling on the floor as they spilled through the open door and the four small windows, one on each of the walls. She felt around on the smooth surface located on either side of the door. "No light switch," she mumbled to no one in particular. "Probably no electricity this far out." She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. Finally, a square shape floating about three feet off the floor coalesced out of the darkness, a large, elliptical-shaped object standing upright in the center. "A table, with some kind of lamp on it," she surmised aloud. "Probably kerosene. Wouldn't make sense to use something battery-operated." She swept her hand across the table, her fingers closing on a box of matches. In no time she had the lamp lit and turned to look at her companion but the beast had slumped to the floor, its eyes heavy and unfocused, its body swaying slightly. She watched, transfixed, as the primeval features began to melt, becoming fluid, like wax running down the side of a candle.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, lifting the lamp off the table and holding it closer to the green-skinned giant's head. "What's wrong with you?" Fear was now creeping into her tone again. The contours of the creature's face continued to mutate, shrink into something else altogether. Finally they remolded themselves enough that she was able to recognize the countenance of her previous traveling companion emerge, the green cast to the skin fading. Now only the greenish-white irises remained. She recoiled in horror, the injured leg giving way as she sank to the floor and scuttled backward a few feet until she bumped into a wall and could retreat no farther. After a few more moments, David's eyes resumed their normal hazel color. He was still disoriented, dragging both hands across his face as if to wipe away the cobwebs left by the transformation she had just witnessed. Slowly his eyes focused on her.

"Jennifer?" She didn't answer him, eyes large and round, shining in the light from the lamp she had deposited at her feet. "What happened? Where are we?" he asked, eyes roaming around the darkened space. Suddenly his hands flew to his chest. He glanced down at his bare feet before finally settling his gaze on her.

"Don't you remember?" she responded in a small, meek voice.

"No," he answered honestly, the look on his face shifting once again as he focused his attention inward. "There was an avalanche," he remarked suddenly, a look of alarm flitting briefly across his now-human features. "We were separated. I remember losing my grip on your hand and then…" he stopped, searching her face now.

"Yes," she answered softly. "I was buried, and that thing, which just changed back into you, dug me out. I hurt my ankle and couldn't walk so it—I mean you—picked me up and carried me. We found this place by chance. You broke the lock on the door, we came in, and then … and then…" She stopped, watching him, her emotions running the gamut between profound gratitude and abject terror. "David, what are you?" she asked at last, her voice now skirting the edges of panic.

"Well, for starters I'm a doctor, so please let me check your leg to see if it's broken."

Comprehension dawned quickly. "You're the guy who becomes that Hulk thing." It was not a question. "I've read articles about it in The Register. They say it's a killer." She shrank back, pressing herself closer to the wall.

"Yes. But you of all people should understand how stories can be embellished, how things can be blown out of proportion in order to sell newspapers." He did his best to keep his distance. "I understand that you're afraid of me, but ask yourself this: Did the creature hurt or threaten you in any way?"

"No. It actually saved my life. It was almost like some part of you was still in there, and knew that I needed help." Her gaze shifted to his face. "I tried to talk to it—I mean you—but you didn't answer. It was almost as if it couldn't speak, but did follow my directions."

"Is that how we got here?" he asked.

"Yes. You started carrying me because of my leg. I convinced you to head north toward the town—it was way too steep to climb back up to the road, and besides, there wasn't a lot of traffic on it. I figured my best chance to be rescued from your creature was to go where there were people who could help me. You have to understand—I was terrified, at least at first. I'd assumed you'd been killed, and really had no idea what the beast intended to do with me." She paused, a frown of contrition settling between her brows. "I didn't realize it was you; didn't understand until later that it wouldn't hurt me. I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologize. I don't blame you." Now it was his turn to look inward, his eyes becoming haunted, his expression pinched. "I don't remember anything that happens to me when the creature takes over. I just wake up later and wonder what I did, if I injured anyone, while in that state."

"But why does it happen to you?" she wanted to know.

"That's not important right now, but checking your leg is." He inched slowly toward her, his outstretched hand settling lightly on her shoulder. "Is it all right with you if I look at it?"

"I guess," she conceded, extending the injured appendage before her. "It feels a lot better than it did an hour ago," she admitted as soft, sure hands began gently probing the swollen joint, all the while watching her for signs of pain or discomfort.

"It's not broken," he stated with certainty as he rose to his feet, "just a sprain. Let's get you off of this floor and into something a little more comfortable, and I'll see if I can find something to wrap it with. Do you think you can lean on me and keep your weight off of it?" he, asked, placing the lamp back on the table and reaching a hand down to her.

"Your beast helped me gimp in here. I suppose you could do the same," she said with a sly smile, extending a hand to him. He helped her to her feet and deposited her on a worn sofa across the room. As they were walking he was no longer able to hide his shivering.

"You're cold," she observed. "You weren't cold before, though…" Her voice trailed off. "There's got to be something in here you can wear." Her eyes swept over the one-room dwelling as she attempted to peer into the murky corners from her vantage point on the sofa.

He crossed to the table and picked up the lamp, eerie shadows illuminating the dark places as he made his way about the room. Light splashed onto another table, also adorned with a kerosene lamp, and reflected off a wood-burning stove nestled in a corner. He lit the second lamp, setting it on another small table located to the left of the sofa.

A warm coat and several flannel shirts were hanging on pegs in the wall beside the door, three pairs of different kinds of boots tucked neatly beneath. He tugged down a shirt and slipped it on, his breath visible in the weak light cast by the lamp. He then slid his bare feet into a knee-high pair of rubber boots. "It's still freezing in here," he surmised. "We may be in out of the wind and snow, but we're a long way from being out of danger."

"There's a stack of wood under a tarp on the porch," she informed him. "If that stove in the corner still works, we might be able to take the edge off."

Ten minutes later he had a fire crackling within, the door ajar to allow for maximum heat exchange. "Let's get you a little closer," he said, dragging a wooden chair next to the stove and helping her over to it. Darkness had fallen outside but their eyes had adjusted to the dim space, islands of brightness provided by the lamps and fire. After a while she was able to take off her coat.

Leaving her in the zone of warmth, David continued his exploration of the small space. Two wooden frames, each interlaced with a latticework of rope, could only be rustic beds. No mattresses sat atop the rope springs; seemed they were designed almost as hammocks, a way to keep a hunter in a sleeping bag off the drafty floor. An old, dilapidated chest of drawers rested against a wall. Inside David found a few tee shirts, some hooded sweatshirts, a threadbare blanket which he wrapped around Jennifer's shoulders, and several towels, one of which he proceeded to tear into strips to bind the injured ankle.

"Thanks, David," she said with an affectionate grin when he was done. "That feels much better."

"You bet," he replied with an answering smile of his own. At that moment, Jennifer's stomach decided to protest loudly. "I was just on my way to see if there's anything in the cupboard over there." He climbed to his feet, crossing the room and opening the doors. "The larder is mostly bare," he announced. "Two cans of franks and beans, a can of fruit cocktail, some condensed soup, and a tin of sardines. Does my lady have a preference?"

"The franks and beans will do nicely, kind sir," she echoed, playing along. He rummaged around in some drawers and soon had the can open and emptied into a small pot which he set atop the wood-burning stove. He produced two oversized spoons. "Eatin' irons, m'lady, and as I had no luck procuring us fine china for dining, I'm afraid we'll have to eat our dinner right out of the pot."

She laughed at that, her look suddenly becoming serious. "Thank you, David, and I mean that," she continued earnestly. "Yesterday I was at my wit's end, feeling all alone in this world, certain I'd never get home to my family. I realize we're not in the best of situations right now," she remarked, gesturing to the space about them, "but I'm not scared, because you're here with me. I just know things will work out for us."

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, buoyed by her confidence in him. "Aw shucks, lil' lady," he said in a poor facsimile of John Wayne. "Maybe we'll get lucky and the cavalry will come a'ridin' over the hill to save us." He switched gears. "Eat up for now, and then let's think about getting some rest. It might be a long, arduous trek tomorrow."

They made short work of the can of beans, David then dragging the beat up sofa over by the stove so Jennifer would have a warm, somewhat comfortable place to sleep. He put one of the makeshift beds next to the stove for himself, assuring her that it would be more than suitable for him. He told her to go to sleep, that he wanted to bring in enough wood to get them through the night and he would join her. She stretched out and closed her eyes, asleep almost instantly. A combination of exhaustion and spent adrenaline he surmised.

He settled the blanket around her before slipping into the coat hanging on the wall and stepping outside. Much to his dismay he realized the storm had resumed, snow falling heavily again, the tracks they had made while coming here almost completely covered by a new layer of powder. He went back and forth several times, depositing an armload of wood beside the stove for each trip, all the while his mind focused on what might happen tomorrow.

He sat, brooding and thinking in front of the stove for several hours. Depending on the amount of snow that fell overnight, whether or not it was still snowing in the morning, and the state of Jennifer's ankle, they might not be able to leave at all tomorrow, or he might have to hike out by himself and bring help for the injured girl. The latter was a scenario he didn't want to entertain. The thought of leaving her here by herself notwithstanding, having to go to the authorities might wind up exposing him, or at least cause him problems if they somehow believed he was responsible for her disappearance. They would need to find a way to go together or not at all, he concluded. With a final stoke to the stove, he lay down on the "hammock" and closed his eyes. No sense fretting over it now. All would hinge on what came with the dawn.