Raven sat in an overstuffed armchair and pulled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her shins before she shifted the conversation away from illness to something more upbeat. “I’ll print out a detailed map so you won’t get lost on the way to the cabin. Is there anything else you guys can think of that we need to discuss before I leave in the morning?”
“Take your cell charger,” Hannah reminded her. “We’ll let you know in a few days which weekend we’ll be coming.”
“Thanks Hannah. Let’s say our goodbyes tonight so I don’t have to wake you in the morning. I’m gonna try to get out of here early to avoid rush hour.” The friends sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. It was Raven who broke the comfortable stillness. “I’ve got to get to bed if I’m driving early.” Raven hugged each friend just a second or two longer than she usually did, saving Mick for last. “You take care of these two,” she said, nodding her head at Bobi and Hannah.
“You know I will. You on the other hand, will have to fend for yourself. Be careful out there. Avoid the bears and the local ‘wild-life’, if you know what I’m talking about?”
“Yes, I will and yes, I do. Nothing but writing with the occasional nap for me.” Raven pulled her long-time friend close and whispered in her ear, “Love you Mick, thanks for being there for me.” The two separated, slightly misty-eyed and emotional.
“This is ridiculous – we’re seeing you in just a few days. What could happen? For heaven’s sake, really, what could happen?” Mick concluded, before pushing Raven in the direction of their shared bedroom.
Weeks from this night, Mick would look back on her question and wonder if hell itself had taken a special interest in the lives of the four friends, creating chaos and pain where calm and joy had existed.
Chapter 2
Raven awoke before sunrise and was on the road, headed west toward the mountains before the sun’s early morning rays caught up to her. The extra light was welcome, especially as she hit the foothills where deer, elk and even bear could be milling about on the highway. Fatigue had set in minutes after leaving Calgary’s city limits but she’d managed to fight it off with sheer will and an icy cold soft drink she’d pulled from the cooler. It had been a tough trade off, a blast of caffeine for a bathroom break she’d hoped to avoid.
Her mind swirled with a mix of book ideas, characters and the thought of roommates she’d left behind. A sneaking inadequacy was already rearing its appalling head, inserting doubt into the corridors of her confidence. She tried dodging the negative barbs but couldn’t help creating a mental list of meager excuses, explaining why she was unable to succeed. As she drove, her mind continued to play an unrehearsed 70’s version of good cop – bad cop, entertaining her at times but almost pushing her to despair. Through those early morning hours, and above it all, she strained to remember her mother’s words. “Raven, you are gifted and talented beyond what you know. Believe in yourself and don’t let anything hold you back from becoming your dream.” Her mother had said it often, and even as a little girl she trusted in what she had said.
She missed her mom, taken far too early by an aggressive, silent killer, leaving her and her father to fend for themselves at a time when a girl needed a mother. Eli Falconer had done his best to raise his daughter, acting as both a mother and father. He’d chosen not to remarry, telling Raven the right woman just hadn’t come along, but the maturing young lady suspected it had more to do with his continued love and devotion to her departed mother. Raven's father was her strength and unmovable anchor through some difficult years. His influence and push for excellence helped to propel the striking young girl to the top of her class, where she earned honors in almost every subject. “The sky’s the limit,” he’d assured her, listing a litany of possibilities, including doctor, lawyer or accountant, which was his chosen profession.
She remembered the day she’d come home from her first year of college, her mind made up with what she aspired to be. He’d been less than thrilled but sweet in his feigned enthusiasm. “That’s great dear, your mother would be proud.” Those words rang in her ears now as they did then. Lilith Falconer was the artsy member of the family, encouraging her daughter to explore the creative side of her personality. It was Eli who fostered a more realistic view of the world and kept the young woman grounded and balanced. In their early years, Raven had spent days at museums and libraries, and nights cuddled up reading with her mom. The little Falconer girl had cut her literary teeth on Dr. Seuss, Boxcar Children and Nancy Drew before she advanced to better-known stories such as Little Women and Pride and Prejudice. An author’s ability to create, as well as destroy, had left a lasting impression with the young Raven, and she'd held nothing back in expressing her desires to her father.
Raven, on this lonely morning, couldn’t help but feel she was fulfilling the last words she’d heard escape from her mother’s lips. “Rave,” she’d breathlessly whispered above the sound of the machines keeping her alive, “take care of your dad . . . he loves you so, . . . so much.” Her mom’s eyes had closed for what Raven thought would be the last time, but then, with heroic effort, Lilith had summoned the strength to impart her final thought. “Be happy, you . . .you know who you are. Make . . . me . . . proud.”
In the quiet of her small SUV, a trail of tears streaked down from her sea-blue eyes and splashed on her lap, where the denim of her jeans quickly absorbed them. She missed her mom and on days when life was too much and discouragement clutched at her heart, she openly and vocally spoke to her. Answers, once audible and very real, played through her head, giving her the assurance she needed to carry on. She couldn’t explain it and friends had passed the phenomena off as just her mind telling her what she wanted to hear, but inwardly she knew it was more than memories and synapses. Raven believed a very real connection existed between the ‘here and now’ and the beyond. Perhaps the dead were only a whisper away, anxious to extend a helping hand or utter some needed advice. Regardless, Raven cherished the memory of her mother and the still small voice that echoed in her mind, the lilt and tone unmistakably her mom’s.
“I can do this. I can do this!” she said aloud, lifting her coat’s sleeve to her cheeks and wiping the tears away. “Mom, I will make you proud.” With the negative vibes pushed from her mind, the aspiring author drove on, running apocalyptic scenarios through her head and creating death and destruction for her characters to overcome.
She thought it odd that her first big break would come from a short story she’d written in her last semester of English Literature. Receiving an ‘A’ was all she expected from the assignment, not realizing that her professor had submitted the work to a creative writing competition and she’d won. Raven had actually chosen the Zombie-ish theme more as a joke than an interest. The agency presenting the $500 reward had also extended a publishing opportunity, contingent upon her writing a novel based on the short story. The assignment was taxing, taking her creativity to new, unexplored limits but it was a welcome challenge. Her father had taught her to be grateful for such exercises, ‘for from such, greatness was born’. Raven wasn’t convinced the novel would be great but she recognized it for what it was, a stepping stone on a path to her destiny.
As she’d expected, the carbonated drink hit her bladder at about Banff, where she pulled into a convenience store and gas station for a much needed bathroom break. Her flawless alabaster skin reflected back at her from the bathroom’s mirror; red eyes and parched lips, paled by the cool mountain air, could not hide her impeccable beauty. She mustered a smile before exiting the less than pristine public washroom, being careful to open the door with a paper towel held around the knob.
The little shop was busy for an early morning, travelers were buying up snacks for the hours ahead and locals picked up the morning paper to peruse while they walked their dogs. Raven cruised the narrow aisles until she found a cinnamon bun and small bottle of chocolate milk. Suddenly the line at the checkout was much longer than it had be
en only moments before. Looking about, she noted an influx in early-morning shoppers, some still wearing bathrobes and slippers. What the hell? At the counter she was greeted by a smiling, yet obviously bored teenager, who rang her items through the register before saying a word.
“You seen what’s happenin’ this mornin’?” he asked, tipping his head toward the stack of newspapers to his left.
“No, what’s up?” Raven inquired, reaching for the upper most paper and lifting it into view. From behind she overheard the start of a heated exchange between a heavyset woman with a bandana wrapped around her head and a trucker.
“You don’t need all those batteries. Give me a couple before I take ‘em all!” The gruff, unshaven driver warned, reaching into the red basket the woman had stockpiled with batteries, candles and matches. Throwing a meaty elbow at the bigger man, the woman made a dash for the door, her loot swinging comically as she ambled across the parking lot. “Crazy wench,” he slurred under his voice, as he jostled with other shoppers for the quickly vanishing items littering the shelves.
“Uh, you worried about this?” Raven asked, pointing at the woman running across the lot.
“Not really, that’s my mom,” the youth responded, without giving it a second thought. “So, do you want the paper?” he asked, his voice rising to be heard above the increasing agitation that was building in the background.
“Sure, what do I owe you?” Raven pulled a handful of toonies from her purse and paid for the items, offering a cheerful, “Thank you,” as she left the store.
Outside, the mountain air was frosty, far cooler than she could remember from years past, causing her to clasp her jacket with a couple of quick snaps. As she walked toward her vehicle, she scanned the paper but immediately directed her eyes forward when she heard a voice shout, “Hey, look at all the stuff in the back of this little baby.” Ahead and peering into the back of her SUV was a tanned, shoeless vagabond so typical of the crowd attracted by Banff’s beauty and laidback lifestyle. A mangy mutt sat at his heels, nipping at what must have been an unseen horde of nits and fleas. Seconds later, two other wanderers, equally shabby and unkempt, joined their friend ogling the neatly packed stores, which the roommates had carefully loaded.
“Excuse me, but could you move away from there? That’s my car and those are my provisions. I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly leave,” Raven ordered, being careful to keep her distance from the ragtag lot.
“Oh, hey gorgeous, we’re just checking it out. You look like you can spare some of this stuff. How ‘bout you give us a box?” The original viewer asked, taking an aggressive step in her direction.
“Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I . . .”
“Miss, you need some help?” It was the voice of the trucker she’d overheard inside.
“Well, yeah. These, a . . . men seem to think they’re entitled to my belongings.”
“That right boys?” he asked.
“Butt out, Bozo,” one of them shouted, pulling a small knife from his pocket and slashing the air. Raven immediately stepped behind the trucker, who was unfazed by the show of potential violence.
“That’s what I love about you morons, you’re never quite prepared, are you?” he questioned, as he reached into the back of his jeans and pulled a black pistol from the small of his back. “I’d have been more impressed if you would have brought a gun to this party. Let’s see how fast you and your dog can scatter.”
The three, including the mutt, seemed a bit puzzled, unsure if they should fight or fly but ultimately decided on the latter when the gun-toting driver stepped forward and leveled the gun at the mouthy crew. “That’s what I thought,” he said, before turning back to Raven and tipping his hat. “Ma,am,” and he was on his way.
Seated in her car she unwrapped the bun, laid the newspaper across the steering wheel and read the front page – “Unknown Virus Takes Canada by Storm”. Seemingly overnight the annual flu had changed from widespread, to epidemic, filling hospitals beyond capacity and straining the very limits of the health care system. Deaths, though unconfirmed in number, were reported in several hospitals as those affected were initially hit with an acute lung infection, followed quickly by excessive fluid, cough and a general malaise. Health officials were baffled, unsure of the source or strain of bug they were dealing with, but multiple agencies were aggressively culturing and testing the afflicted to localize the contagion. It was certainly a variant and not anything for which the population was already immunized. Citizens were cautioned to stay home, if they were able, but if not, to use the usual precautions instituted during flu season: wear a mask as needed, wash your hands frequently, and avoid contact with others.
“Holy!” she said, laying her head back against the rest. “Bobi!” Raven immediately grabbed her phone and called her little friend. There was no answer. Seconds later a text message was on the way, requesting Bobi’s whereabouts and more information in regards to the outbreak. Bobi was in her last year of a medical technician program but worked part time at a local lab, honing her skills and keeping her foot in the door of future employment. Of her three roommates, Raven knew Bobi would be the one to have a handle on what was happening. She waited, hoping a reply would shake her phone before getting back on the road. Looking out the windshield she watched patrons coming and going, their coffee steaming and sending curls of mist into the air. One gentleman with a large, tethered retriever stopped at the store’s entrance and coughed, bending over violently before spitting a great glob of yellow debris to the ground. “Gross!” she said, just as her phone alerted her to an incoming message.
Bobi had been in the shower and was getting ready to leave. She’d received a notice that morning asking her to forego the day off and come into work. The facility needed all the help they could get as they were being overwhelmed with medical lab requests. She’d heard nothing more but would text again if she learned anything further. Raven replied with a short but sincere, “Be careful!”
Back on the road she referred to the map, making sure not to miss the main turn-off that would lead her up the mountainous grade to the remote cabin. Smugs had been there a few days before, making it inhabitable and splitting a month's worth of firewood. Raven had been delighted when the ‘all’s a go’ note had come from her eccentric uncle. Herbert, or Smugs as he was called, was the oldest of his mother’s surviving siblings; a strange, yet loveable old goat that cared little for civilization but loved his niece like a daughter. He’d only passed briefly in and out of Raven’s life before Lilith’s death. At her funeral he’d recognized the need to step in and play a more active role, becoming an important part of the young girl’s journey. Over the years, the self-appointed responsibility had been a blessing rather than a duty for the aging man. Raven had gladdened his home and brought joy to his heart, where so often his daughter had brought disappointment and grief. The girl, no longer a child but a woman of 30, was currently doing 90 days in a women’s correctional facility in Lethbridge, Alberta for writing bad checks.
The last portion of the drive was slow and tedious; switchbacks and narrow passes reduced her progress to a crawl but finally, after what seemed like hours, she arrived. The modest, one-story cabin, nestled amongst a grove of ancient trees, was just as she remembered it. Perhaps it stood a little more weatherworn than she recalled but it was a welcomed sight after the long drive. Stepping from the SUV, she stretched and fastened her jacket, mist rolled from her mouth and nose in the mid-morning air. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the clean mountain scent that surrounded her. Raven contemplated unpacking but put it off, at least momentarily, while she took in the scenery and the splendor of the location.
From the front of the cabin a rudimentary drive had been worn into the overgrowth of forest lichens, most likely the result of Smugs’ frequent visits. The lush, green expanse that stretched before her was breathtaking. Rivers and dense forestation spread out in every direction, but it was the peace and calm of the scene that spoke to her heart. Where e
lse could she make her dreams come true? “Well, I better get at it,” she said, returning to her vehicle to begin the task of unloading.
An hour later she was seated at the kitchen table, her laptop computer open and ready to begin the work that lay ahead. She’d brought everything to the table that she thought she might need: notepad, complete with a pile of notes she’d already compiled, pens, cell phone and a cold can of Dr. Pepper. In her mind she’d made the decision to start the manuscript again, using the few chapters she’d already written as ground work and build from there. It would flow more consistently, she reasoned, if the text was worked through from start to finish rather than trying to salvage what little she’d already done. She suspected it would ultimately require less work and would provide a better end product.
“Okay, where to start?” she questioned. It was a dark and rainy night; somehow the cliché kept jumping into her thoughts so she put it down, knowing it would be the first line to be completely deleted. “At least it’s a start.” She hammered away at the computer for a time, getting the first 2500 words entered. Raven read, and then re-read each line, confirming the punctuation, verb tenses and overall direction the story was taking. Happy with the prologue and first chapter she pulled herself away from the table and made a peanut butter sandwich that she consumed while sitting on the front porch. It was perfect; her mind was clear, she’d already had some doors open up in her thought process through which her characters could pass, bringing excitement and an unusual twist to the story. The woman felt a little euphoric, a thrill she’d not quite expected. The sensation brought an easy smile to her face but then, as was her nature; she remembered her friends and the troubles she’d left behind.
Operation Z-Day (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) Page 2
