Chapter Four
The wind woke him as the sun was coming up, Jennifer still sleeping peacefully. He tossed the last of the wood into the stove and went outside to retrieve more. Close to a foot of snow had fallen overnight, and while fresh flakes were no longer fluttering down from above, the wind was still blowing steadily as if the mountains themselves were taking turns emptying their enormous lungs. He estimated the occasional gusts clocked in somewhere around 50 mph, and the sky still looked sinister, ominous. Even if Jennifer could bear weight on the ankle today, traveling was out of the question. Such a high wind chill would exacerbate the risk of frostbite and hypothermia, not to mention that trudging through the foot-deep pristine snow would be a slow, exhausting proposition. It would be best to stay put for the day. If need be, he'd head for town himself tomorrow, Jennifer's safety and well-being the paramount issue—one much more important than possible capture and unveiling of his secret.
He stepped back inside, arms full with a load of wood, to find her quietly watching him. "We're not leaving today, are we?" she surmised astutely, and then quickly amended the comment. "We can't. Too much snow, right?"
"Yes," he concurred, opening the stove door and feeding it wood as if shoveling coal into a steam locomotive's hopper, "Too much snow to get through, even if your ankle is up for the task, and way too windy. We can't risk being stranded, exposed to the elements and succumbing to frostbite or hypothermia. If it gets to the point where you can't walk, it's too deep for me to be able to carry you, and I've yet to come up with another way to transport you effectively. Even if I did find something we could use as a sled, I'm not sure I'd be able to pull it through that much powder."
"Y'know, you could just turn yourself back into that Hulk thing…" she said, tongue-in-cheek.
He sat back on his heels and graced her with a sad smile. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way."
"Yeah, I kinda figured," she agreed. "I was just joking, you know?" she added with a reticent grin, "Trying to lighten the mood."
"Yeah, I know," he assured her, his tone proving he felt no offense at the comment. He seated himself on the other end of the sofa, the wind whistling among the eaves filling the silence between them.
"So, how does it work?" she asked finally, both curiosity and a small dose of fear playing over her face.
He chose to ignore the question, rising to his feet instead. "If we're going to be stuck here for another day we might as well do it on a full stomach. There's not a lot to choose from, but how about fruit cocktail for breakfast?"
She nodded her assent, content to let the question go unanswered for the moment as she made to stand. He was beside her in an instant. "Easy. Nature is forcing you to rest the leg for another day. Don't look a gift snowstorm in the mouth."
"Easier said than done," she replied. "Much as I'd love to sit here where it's warm and cozy, nature calls, and it seems the only place to answer that call is outside." After wriggling into her coat she started to hobble toward the door.
Again he stopped her. "If you allow me, I'd be honored, m'lady." He presented his back. She laughed and hopped on. It had been many years since anyone had given her a piggyback ride. He crossed to the stove and retrieved the pot before heading for the door. "While you're taking care of business I'll wash the pot and fill it with snow." He could sense her confusion even though he couldn't see her. "We'll need something to wash down the fruit cocktail, right? It's my understanding that pine needles make a very tasty tea."
She giggled. "I hadn't thought of that."
oooOOOooo
They spent the better part of the day talking in front of the stove. He'd rummaged around and found a hatchet under the tarp as well. After helping Jennifer back inside, he spent half an hour procuring more wood in the immediate vicinity of the cabin. When he finally came inside, nose and cheeks red with cold, fingers and toes numb, Jennifer handed him a steaming mug of tea, assuring him that he was right; the pine needle tea was delicious. He'd been about to admonish her when she interrupted, pointing out that she'd been able to reach everything from the safety of the couch, including the two mugs they had used last night for water. She hadn't taxed her ankle at all, and just wanted to do something to help out, to feel useful.
He'd gratefully accepted, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic, letting the steam thaw out his face before downing a healthy swig and then stoking up the stove once again. He crossed to the pantry, retrieving the fruit cocktail and a can of soup. After their unconventional breakfast the two had ensconced themselves next to the archaic heat source as the wind blustered and howled outside. By early afternoon the stiff breeze had chased away the cloud cover, the sun now shining brightly, glinting off the many facets created by the billions of snowflakes draped across the wilderness like a bejeweled afghan.
As before, he allowed Jennifer to do most of the talking, listening as she spoke about her family with the understanding ear of one who made similar mistakes over the years and had come to learn from them—not only about those people he loved, but about himself. And yet it was the fictional tales she spun that positively captivated him. For most of his life he had been a man of science, that which was tangible, visible and therefore believable the things that had shaped his understanding of the world around him. Here was someone who viewed life through a completely different prism than he was accustomed to; where he saw only form and reason she could look beyond the obvious, reach within herself and draw out the intangible in a given situation, throwing out a perspective he hadn't even considered. He was in awe of her gift, certain that her talent as a storyteller would take her far one day.
As the day wore on he came to trust her more and more, and as difficult as he found discussing his "condition" with laymen, he did finally open up to her regarding the factors that led to the transformation, mostly in an effort to ease her mind. It was not a topic that sprang easily from his lips, but he did feel he owed those who had seen the change firsthand something of an explanation. In Jennifer's case, while she appeared to be handling things well, he sometimes caught her watching him when she didn't think he was aware. In those unguarded moments he could sense her apprehension, her fear that despite what had happened yesterday, she believed she might unwittingly do something to trigger the metamorphosis, and that this time the beast may not be so docile. That the rage she had seen teetering at the periphery of the creature's exploits would somehow be directed at her this time. She knew he couldn't control the beast, had no recollection of what the creature did, and therefore he did his best to reassure her, to quell the fear that the next time it happened she might not be so fortunate.
In a show of solidarity he also found himself talking about his recent visit home; how much it meant to him to see his family again, if only briefly, and his difficulties with his own father—problems that reached well back into childhood which finally seemed to be healing, or at least partially scabbing over. As he talked, he was careful not to disclose the exact location of his boyhood home, or his true name. If she were questioned by the authorities at some point he wanted to be sure that she wouldn't be forced to lie to protect his identity, or that nothing he said could lead back to Helen and his father.
She had been genuinely touched by his story, greatly disturbed to think about this gentle and caring man traveling the country alone, hiding a terrible secret, playing a risky game of cat and mouse with that horrible Jack McGee, unable to rely on friends or family for support. It made her that much more determined to get back to her own family; to be thankful for what she had and not to take it for granted, or lightly.
Despite the fact that the weather had cleared, they decided to call the cabin home for one more night. They were already on the backside of the afternoon and really had no idea how long it would take to reach the town. As they were planning their excursion for tomorrow, contingent upon cooperation from the weather, the conversation was interrupted by the roar of a motor. The two exchanged a quick glance, as if to confirm that the other had heard it, too.
"The cavalry?" David remarked as he leapt to his feet and rushed to the door, flinging it wide. His breath left him in an audible gasp of relief as three snowmobiles came into view.
"Hey, am I glad to see you fellas," he shouted, waving his arms above his head. The trio stopped in front of the porch, eyeing him suspiciously. "We were caught in an avalanche yesterday and have been holed up here ever since. My daughter hurt her ankle in the process," he added as the men climbed off their machines, figuring he'd stick with the story Jennifer had concocted for now. "Can you help us?" he asked as the riders climbed the steps to the porch. The three surveyed the scene silently. "Is this your place?" he asked, slightly on edge now. "I'm sorry, we had to break the lock to get in, and we've eaten some of the food you left here. I'll be happy to pay for whatever we've done."
That caused one of the men to look at him. "Yeah, sure, it's my place," he said. "I'd like to look around inside, make sure nothing else is damaged. C'mon, boys," he said to the other two, gathering them with a nod and shouldering past David. The others fell into step behind him with David bringing up the rear.
Once inside, the "owner" surveyed the room, his gaze at last falling on Jennifer. "What's your name, girl?" he asked brusquely.
She looked to David, stationed a little behind the three. He pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, urging caution. "Alice," she answered, turning her attention back to her questioner. "And that's my dad." She thrust her chin toward David.
"Your 'dad' says you were caught in an avalanche yesterday. That true?"
"Yes. We were hitchhiking when it swept us off the road."
The man scoffed at that. "Nearest road is about three miles east of here. It carried you that far? And didn't kill you?" he added as an afterthought.
"No. Once we dug ourselves out we tried to head north, but it was still storming so we couldn't see the sun real well. We might have traveled a little west as well unintentionally."
"The point is," David interjected, coming to stand beside Jennifer, "we're here, and need help. Alice hurt her ankle. Is there any chance you could give us a lift to town, or send help? We're really in a jam."
"I'll say you are, mister. That's a nice story you told me about 'Alice,' but I happen to know her name is Jennifer. I work for the local police department and have seen 'pitchers' of a runaway named Jennifer Wilson." He turned to Jennifer. "That's you, isn't it?"
Shock registered openly on her face as she looked to David, unsure of how to respond.
"Only you didn't run away, right?" the man continued. "Did he hurt you?" he added as he sized up the situation, his gaze swinging to David. He took a step forward, hands clenching at his sides, the man's two companions instantly flanking him.
"It's not what you think," David remarked, palms thrust forward as if to ward off the men, backing slowly away from them. "She is a runaway. I was trying to help her get home."
"It's the truth!" Jennifer screamed. "This man helped me get away from my boyfriend—he's the one who convinced me to run—and is taking me home. Please, he's not the bad guy, he's my friend."
"Then why the story? Why not lead with the truth?" The man's eyes traveled between David and Jennifer.
"Because we really don't know who you are. Yours could just as easily be a story. Do you have ID—a badge or something—to corroborate that you're a police officer?" David asked suddenly, now openly wary, mistrustful of the three.
"Sure," the ringleader said, stepping toward David. "Just let me get it out for you." He reached for his hip but came away with nothing but his fist, which he plowed into David's midsection.
David doubled over from the force of the punch as the man's two cohorts grabbed his arms. He struggled mightily but the "police officer" landed another blow, this time to David's face. He went down in a heap, the three men now kicking at him as he fought to rise.
"Don't do that to him!" Jennifer screamed, leaping to her feet and pummeling the ringleader with balled fists. He pushed her roughly back onto the sofa. "Oh please, stop!" she said, crying now. "You have no idea what will happen!" They continued to kick him, two of them finally picking him up and throwing him through the front door. Jennifer tried to run after David but the man shoved her down onto the couch again.
"How did you know who I am? Are you really a police officer?" she asked through the tears. "Because if you are, then I'll be sure to let your superiors know what a supreme ass you are," she spat bravely.
The ringleader cocked his arm as if to strike her. Jennifer cowered in the face of the blow and he simply sneered at her, lowering his hand. "Like you're ever gonna be able to tell them. Yeah, I do work for the local cops," the man continued, Jennifer glaring openly at him now, "but I'm the night custodian at the precinct. Seen your 'pitcher' when I was emptying trash cans. No reward offered for you," he lied. It wasn't substantial enough to outweigh other 'rewards' he and his friends could glean from her. "No reward means no one will miss you when you're gone, so you're worth more to us in other ways." Jennifer swallowed convulsively. Could it be that her family really didn't care? She looked again to the gaping door, wondering if David was unconscious … or worse.
The sneer became even more pronounced as he reached for her, licking his lips, his two companions chuckling in the background.
Suddenly a low growl erupted from the vicinity of the porch. "What the hell's that?" one of the men asked, "A mountain lion?"
"Go shut the door," the ringleader said. "As long as whatever it is can't get in here it don't mean nothing to us."
As the man turned and started walking toward the door, it was suddenly torn off its hinges and flung outside into the snow, a large, hulking shape now filling the doorway. The beast bent its knees and flexed its arms, bellowing at the men.
"Holy shit!" one exclaimed as they all backed away, leaving Jennifer on the couch to fend for herself. Another found the pile of wood next to the stove and began lobbing logs at the creature. It merely swatted them out of the way, its attention now focused on its attacker, teeth clenched, lips curled into a snarl. It headed toward him with slow, deliberate steps.
The other two ran for the door, believing the green behemoth was otherwise occupied, but it intercepted them, tossing them through the now empty doorway into the snow beyond the porch. The third man came at the beast, this time brandishing a log like a club, but he, too joined his associates outside. The creature made to follow, but a hand on its arm stopped it.
"Don't," Jennifer said. "You've saved me once again, protected me from those awful men, but you shouldn't hurt them, even if they deserve it."
It looked at her and then to the door. Finally it crossed the room and peeked out of the opening. The three men were shaken up but unhurt, busy wresting themselves from the snow, trying to clamber to their feet. It roared at them again, but didn't make a move toward them as Jennifer hobbled over to it. That spurred them into motion. They jumped on their snowmobiles and raced off to the north, the direction from which they'd come.
"Oh my God," Jennifer breathed as the shock of the moment finally caught up with her. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to stop the shaking that wracked her slight form, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. "That could have gone so badly." She sank to the floor, and the creature bent to swing her into its arms, carry her to the couch.
"NO!" she admonished. "We can't stay here anymore. It's not safe, for either of us. We have no idea how close the town really is, and I suspect they'll be back with help. Whether that's in the form of the police or friends of theirs, either way, that's not good for us. We need to leave, and the sooner, the better."
The beast's brow crinkled with confusion as she continued to talk, more to herself than anything. "We need a plan. Gimme a minute," she barked vehemently, unable to hide her annoyance, her mind racing feverishly. "According to what I saw on your map yesterday, there's another road west of here, State Route 6, I think. We should head that way. We can't go to Autlinburg; they might be looking for us. Once we make it to the highway we can hitch rides north again into Wyoming, hopefully bypassing the police. Will they even go to the police?" she argued to no one in particular. The creature merely listened, cocking its head to one side. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to reason things out. "Oh David, I really need to talk this over with you." The beast regarded her evenly. "But that's not gonna happen anytime soon, is it?" Silence. C'mon Jennifer, you can do this, she told herself. Think!
"You can carry me, at least until you change back into you. As to whether we'll make it to the road before then, or before dark … we can't worry about that now. Right now we have to get as far from here as possible, as quickly as possible." She got to her feet and started to hobble about the room, but the beast presented its arm. She smiled up at it. "You are in there, even if you can't talk to me." It grinned back at her in response.
She made for the pegs beside the door, pulling down a shirt and the coat. "You weren't cold when you were like this, but when you change back you'll need these." She gestured to her pack beside the sofa. "Can you bring that over for me?" The creature looked from her to the bag and back again. "Yes, yes," she said in a huff, doing her best to quell her exacerbation, "Bring it here."
Dutifully it retrieved the pack, setting it at her feet. She stuffed the shirt and coat inside, then grabbed a pair of boots and tying the laces together, swung them around her neck. "You'll need these, too at some point," she intoned distractedly, surveying the room to see if there was anything else she could salvage. "Please help me," she said, holding a hand out to the creature. It offered her its arm again. Leaning on him for support she snatched the matches off the table and limped to the kitchen portion of the one-room cabin. David had mentioned that he'd found a jar of kerosene there, used to fill the lamps, no doubt. She added it, along with the matches, to her pack. She considered taking the food as well, but came to the conclusion that a couple of cans of soup wouldn't make or break them. Staying warm was what would matter in the long run. "If we don't make it to the road by nightfall, at least we'll be able to make a fire, hopefully keep from freezing to death." She ended her tour at the chest of drawers, adding a thick sweatshirt and tee shirt to the articles of clothing already in her pack.
Satisfied that she now had everything they'd need that she could carry, she turned to the beast. "Okay, we can leave now." It seemed to understand, gathering her into its arms, retrieving the pack and heading out the door. She stopped it on the porch. "Set me down for a sec, will ya?" It deposited her on her feet, and she pulled the hatchet from under the tarp. "Taking all this stuff is stealing, I know, but I think we need it more," she reasoned aloud, trying to convince herself more than anything. She slid the handle through a loop of fabric on the outside of her knapsack. "Okay, let's go," she said with finality as the green-skinned giant lifted her into its arms once again. It carried her down the steps and stopped, looking to her for instruction.
"That way," she told him, pointing toward the setting sun. "Let's just hope the wind covers our tracks, otherwise things could get ugly."