“Ufh!” Mariah exclaimed in surprise and pain. Her foot had slid into a shallow root hole covered with leaves and snow; a hole left by a sapling overturned at some point by strong winds. The audible snap of a bone was heard by all. She fell into the low slope, instinctively curling into a ball to protect herself during the tumble down the rock-strewn hill. When she hit her head on a large rock under the snow, Mariah lost control of her fall and fell into another, larger boulder, chest first.
Jenna immediately skidded down the hill to the inert form of her friend and partner. Gently turning her over, she saw the bleeding gash on the right side of Mariah’s head, partially hidden by her dark hair.
“Mariah, can you hear me?” she asked calmly.
Mariah’s eyes fluttered open; she blinked a couple of times, then closed her eyes again and said, “Ow …” eliciting a grin from Jenna.
“Yeah, I bet that hurts.” She turned to the three girls who were now standing around them nervously.
“Is she okay?” Mindy asked.
“No, she’s not okay,” Jenna answered factually. “We all heard a bone break and she has suffered a nasty head wound.” She looked at the three, knowing they needed to keep busy or they might fall apart. “Lily, Helen, you two make a travois; Mindy, help me get her pack off.”
She sat Mariah up and held her gently while Mindy released the straps and pulled the loaded knapsack away, then she propped Mariah up against the boulder.
“Aren’t you concerned about a neck or spinal injury?” Mindy asked.
“We see she’s gashed her head, yes, though the backpack protected her spine and the sleeping bag cushioned her neck,” she explained. “Get the first-aid kit out of her pack.”
Once she saw Mindy digging into the pack, Mariah whispered to Jenna, “I’m hurt, Jen, I don’t know how bad though, and I ache all over. I know I did something to my ankle and I can’t walk, and everything else seems to be intact, but something is wrong.”
“We’ll get you out of here,” Jenna said. In all her years of Search and Rescue, and all her years of survival training, she had never had anyone badly hurt on her watch, least of all one of the trainers.
“Here’s the first-aid kit,” Mindy said, handing over the box. “What can I do?”
“Just be here for now,” Jenna replied, smiling. She knew these two were exceptionally close. Mindy had lost her parents less than a year earlier in a car crash, and Mariah stepped in as a surrogate big sister and mentor when the girl was forced to live with an uncaring, distant aunt. They had been near inseparable since then. Jenna admired and envied the devotion they shared.
Jenna wiped the cut with an alcohol pad and watched as the blood gushed again. “You did a good one on your head, kiddo,” she teased and wiped it again and again until the flow slowed. Wiping the skin dry, Jenna applied two butterfly strips, then some Neosporin cream and finally a gauze pad was taped in place.
The twins arrived with saplings cut and lashed together so an injured person could be safely dragged by one or carried by two. They rolled Mariah’s sleeping bag out across the branches and Jenna, with Mindy’s help, moved her over.
As much as she hated asking for help, Jenna dug further into Mariah’s pack to retrieve the 800 MHz radio. She flipped it on, intent on calling for an airlift out. The radio sputtered with static, and she switched channels, not getting any response. Gripping it tightly, Jenna walked up the slight hill for better reception, and that’s when she felt the broken casing. She turned the radio over, exposing the cracks.
“The radio seems to have been damaged in the fall,” she announced, more to herself than the group. Jenna slipped the radio into the side pocket of her own pack. “Okay, Mindy, you’re with me on the back; you two take the front. Let’s get Mariah out of this ditch.” They struggled; they tugged and they pushed and they finally reached the top.
Jenna pulled out her GPS and took a heading. “We’re switching positions so I can lead us. Let’s go!” The young girls did not even consider questioning Jenna’s leadership; it’s what she did.
They walked for several hours, taking short breaks for water to stay hydrated. The snow continued.
Late afternoon, Jenna stopped them under a copse of pine trees.
“We’ll set camp here for the night,” she announced. She set one tent for her and Mariah to not only keep an eye on her condition, but to add additional heat to the tent, wishing for the heat of an oil lantern instead of the cool light of the battery light. The three teens also grouped in one tent instead of two; both tents were crowded. The night held a definite chill.
Jenna woke early. “Shit!” she said under her breath. In spite of the clearing sky and the hint of blue, almost a foot of fresh snow topped their tents, bowing the thin nylon. “Come on, ladies, we have a lot of ground to cover today.” Jenna passed around part of her emergency stash of energy bars, knowing they all would need the calories. After washing it down with water from their body-warmed water bottles, the girls quickly broke camp and lifted the now unconscious Mariah and set out after Jenna pulled the sleeping bag over Mariah’s face to keep the snow out and her warm breath in.
Jenna took a GPS heading, and frowned when an hour later, she passed what looked like their previous campsite, but the snow made everything look the same. Another reading—another direction. Jenna was now concerned the storm was interfering with the GPS signal or that they had ventured into an area the signal didn’t reach. She knew using a GPS in that area was risky and that there were too many dead zones. Her own usually infallible sense of direction was muted by the dense snow in the air.
The snow falling was unlike anything Mindy had ever seen, and she had lived in the Upper Peninsula all of her life. The flakes were the size of quarters and so close together it was impossible to see more than a few feet away, and it was so quiet it made her heart beat too fast. During a few seconds when the snow seemed to lessen, she spotted a dark, square shape. She tapped Jenna’s arm and pointed.
That looks like a building of some kind, Jenna thought, squinting through the dense white veil of snow. Shelter from this weather is what they needed right now, so she could come up with a better plan than wandering around. As they got closer, she saw it was a small hunting shack. No matter how small, it would hold the five of them; she had seen the scared look on the girls’ faces and knew it well: not being able to see for this long was terrifying and she had to get them out of it before someone cracked.
She stopped a few feet from the door and motioned for Mindy to take over holding the front of the litter. Jenna turned the rusty knob and pushed the door open, then quickly closing it to scoop away the snow piled in front; she knew that much snow falling into the shack was worse than waiting a minute or two more. Finally, she was done and opened the door fully.
The interior was near bare.
Jenna pulled out a flashlight, the tiny beam cutting through the artificial darkness created by the sun being blocked. She quickly slipped off her pack and produced the small yet very bright LED lantern, flooding the small room with welcomed light. The trio shuffled in, carrying the litter that barely fit in the eight-by-eight foot room.
“Let’s get Mariah off that and onto the bunk so I can check her over,” Jenna said. The ultra-tiny cabin had a built-in narrow bed against one wall, and thankfully an old, though very rusty, pot-bellied stove in the opposite corner. She set her lantern on the stove to free her hands and she and Mindy lifted Mariah, sleeping bag and all, onto the cot. “Start taking apart the travois; we need firewood.”
“Won’t we need it to move her again?” Helen asked.
“We will make another one, Helen, so save the paracord. Right now, we need to get her and us warm,” Jenna explained. She moved the small battery-operated lantern to a rusty nail protruding from the wall and started checking the stove. After remo
ving an old bird nest from the flue, she set it inside the stove as kindling. With the knife each of them had and a practiced ease, the three girls started shaving the bark from the travois for kindling, knowing even green it would burn since there was little sap left in it this late in the year. Then they broke the branches apart.
Lily produced the box of strike-anywhere matches they each carried and lit the nest, feeding in bits and pieces until the fire caught.
“We will need more firewood,” Jenna quickly reminded them. “Get out your paracord and tie yourselves to the shack so you don’t get disoriented and lost, and head in different directions to cover as much area as possible. Go!”
With the three safely out the door, Jenna turned to Mariah.
“Hey, there you are,” she spoke softly when Mariah’s dark lashes fluttered. “How are you doing?”
“Not good. Where are we?”
“Lucky for us, someone abandoned this old hunting shed and left us a bed and a wood stove!” Jenna tried hard to sound positive. “Are you in pain?”
“Yeah, and it’s really hard to breathe,” she answered.
“Can I look you over?”
“Sure, I think I hurt something … inside, ya know?”
Jenna pushed the sleeping bag aside, unzipped Mariah’s jacket, and lifted her shirt. A gasp escaped before she could stifle it.
“Am I bruised from hitting that boulder?”
“More than bruised, Mariah. You know me—I’ll give it to you straight. Your entire rib cage is black and purple. You might be bleeding internally.” Jenna pulled the shirt back down and the bag up. “I don’t know what to do for you, Mar. I’ve tried the 800, but all I get is static. It might be broke or the towers might be down, but I won’t stop trying!”
Mariah coughed and groaned. “You got anything besides aspirins? The pain makes me nauseous.”
Jenna leaned backward on her heels. “You know I do.” She thought about the one syringe filled with morphine hidden carefully in the first-aid kit. “It’s for an extreme emergency.”
“This is extreme, Jen.”
The door opened and the twins entered, each with an armload of broken branches. They dropped them on the floor near the stove. Lily put a piece of the travois in the fire and they left again. Mindy came in next and dropped her load.
“How is she?” she asked Jenna.
“Not good, and in a lot of pain.”
A tear leaked out of Mindy’s eye and slid down her wind-reddened cheek. She picked up Mariah’s hand, held it to her other cheek, then kissed it and set it down. “I love you,” she choked out.
A smile spread on Mariah’s slack face. “I love you too,” she whispered without opening her eyes.
With all three girls out again, Jenna got the second first-aid kit out, lifted the false bottom, and took out the syringe. After wiping down Mariah’s arm with an alcohol patch, she jabbed the needle in. “I’m giving you only one-third, Mar. It should take the edge off and let you rest.” She wiped the needle with a fresh patch, put the cap back on, and returned it to her pack.
“Thanks. This really sucks, ya know.” Mariah coughed again and drifted away to sleep.
“Did anyone spot any animal tracks while getting wood?”
“It’s snowing too hard to see much of anything,” Helen replied for them. “And it’s freaky out there. It’s so quiet you’d think you could hear everything, but you can’t hear anything!”
“The snow is absorbing all the sound,” Jenna commented. “With the fire going, it’s warming up in here nicely. Thanks, girls. Now we need to melt some of that snow. It’s better to drink warm water while we can to not drop our core temperature.”
Their tin cups sizzled on the old cast-iron stove as they dropped snow in a little at a time. When they all had a half cup of warm water, Jenna passed around something to eat.
“This is the last of my secret stash so save half for the morning,” she said playfully. “Tomorrow, we need to hunt.”
When the three girls were out collecting the daily wood, Jenna continued to give Mariah a small, daily dose of the morphine until it was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
The governor of Michigan, Alexander Markham, waited impatiently for the call to get through.
“Wade! What’s taking so damn long?” he yelled to his secretary in the next room.
“Sir, the power and phone lines have been up for less than an hour, and we have no information on how the lines are elsewhere,” Wade answered, feeling a bit impatient himself, but not with the phones. Alex Markham had been a close friend for twenty years and Wade had never seen him this harried. “I’ve got six junior senators constantly manning phones right now, trying to get through to any agency that might have snow plows to spare.” He took a steadying breath, “And if I may be blunt, Alex, yelling at them or me isn’t going to help!”
Governor Markham had been taking heavy criticism for over two weeks from mayors and the media alike for not having enough snow plows and other heavy machinery to deal with this natural disaster. Whole towns and cities were snowed in. Whenever a plow managed to clear a road, it quickly became clogged with vehicles desperately trying to leave the area. And to make matters worse, the snow kept falling.
“You’re right, Wade, I’m sorry.” The governor leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the ever-present headache.
“Line two, Alex! The road commission office in Osage Township,” Wade said in relief, and moved to the door to give the governor some privacy.
“Where is Osage Township?” Alex looked confused.
“In the Upper Peninsula, central on the shore of Lake Superior,” Wade answered, tempted to shake his head. Alex Markham was doing a decent job of governing, though he was failing large forgotten segments of his state, mainly the Upper Peninsula.
“Whom am I speaking with?” Alex said after punching the flashing light on his phone.
“Chuck Chandler. Who are you? And how did you get this unlisted number?” the maintenance supervisor retorted.
“This is Governor Alexander Markham, Mr. Chandler, and I’m hoping you can help us out.”
“The governor? Of Michigan?” Chuck said in disbelief.
“That’s me.” Alex gave one of his famous chuckles. “Tell me, Chuck, how are things up there? And before you answer that, let me tell you things are bad, really bad down here.”
“Yes, sir, they’re bad up here too. We’ve been getting one to two feet of snow a day now for the past three weeks. That’s more snow that we normally get in an entire season, and it’s been near impossible to stay on top of keeping the main roads semi-cleared. We’ve had to let the side roads go.”
“That’s a lot of snow, sure, but aren’t you used to it?” Alex asked.
“I hate when someone says that.” Chuck breathed out, getting angry. “No, we are not used to it; no one here is used to that much snow. While we know we will get snow and maybe a lot of it, being caught in a three-week, non-stop blizzard is beyond our capabilities of handling it. It would be like Florida having six hurricanes hit them one right after another. Are you going to claim they’re used to it just because they have an established hurricane season?” His fury boiled over.
The governor was silent. He was unaccustomed to having a low-level worker yelling at him.
“I’m sorry sir,” Chuck apologized. “I’m sure you didn’t call just to ask me about the weather. What can I do for you?”
“I was going to ask if you could spare a plow or two.”
“Even if I could, I would have no way of getting it to you. We have near zero visibility here, and the Mackinaw Bridge has been closed down since this started,” Chuck explained. “I was hoping you were going to offer to send us some relief supplies.”
“No, I’m afra
id not. We have channeled all of our resources to the major cities down here and have nothing to spare,” the governor said.
“Ah, now that’s something we’re … used to.” Chuck Chandler then did something he normally would never have thought of doing: he hung up on the governor of the State of Michigan.
Chuck lifted his once-hefty body out of the old and worn leather chair and headed for the coffee pot. All stores and warehouses had been emptied by the end of the first week. While the maintenance facility had managed to stock up on some supplies, everyone was down to one meal per day, and Chuck had lost almost thirty pounds already from the rationing.
Osage Township, with its sole town of Three-Shoes, was one of the largest townships in upper Michigan; it also had one of the smallest populations. That population though, was rugged and hearty and most had already hunkered down for the winter. The small town was also keeping his crew fed, housed, and safe, and he couldn’t think of a better place to be stranded.
“What’s that sound?” Mary said looking around.
“It’s a clock ticking!” Justine replied. “The power is back on!” She flipped the wall switch and illuminated the room.
Cliff smiled broadly. “I knew it was only a matter of time.” The light flickered and went out, and then came back on. “Just to be on the cautious side, I suggest everyone recharge their cellphones immediately.” With a sigh of relief, he went to his desk and plugged in his laptop too. With the phone still on the charger, he made a quick call to Bob Trudeau.
“Bob, this is Cliff Tucker. I need a huge favor.”
“If I can. What do you need?” Bob asked cautiously.
“Can you get out to the cabin and check on Parker? I know he doesn’t have cell service out there, but I haven’t heard from him since this storm started down here,” Cliff replied. “I guess I’m worried about him. He’s so naïve.”
“The storm is pretty bad up here too, Cliff. The last time I was up there, he was doing fine and really getting the hang of it. I’ll see what I can do and let you know.”
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